Knowledge and Text Production in an Age of Print: China, 900–1400 Sinica Leidensia

Edited by Barend J. ter Haar Maghiel van Crevel

In co-operation with P.K. Bol, D.R. Knechtges, E.S. Rawski, W.L. Idema, H.T. Zurndorfer

VOLUME 100 Knowledge and Text Production in an Age of Print: China, 900–1400

Edited by Lucille Chia and Hilde De Weerdt

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2011 This volume received support from the “New Perspectives in Chinese Culture and Society” program, which is made possible by a grant from the Chiang Ching- kuo Foundation for International Scholarly Exchange to the American Council of Learned Societies.

On the cover: Cottage on an autumnal hill 秋山草堂圖 (detail). Ink on paper hang- ing scroll by Wang Meng 王蒙 during the Yuan Dynasty. Courtesy, National Palace Museum, Taipei, Republic of China.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

First Impressions: the Cultural History of Print in Imperial China (8th–14th Centu- ries) (Conference) (2007 : Fairbank Center for East Asian Research) Knowledge and text production in an age of print : China, 900–1400 / edited by Lucille Chia and Hilde De Weerdt. pages cm. — (Sinica Leidensia, ISSN 0169-9563 ; v. 100) “The essays in this volume come mostly out of the conference, ‘First Impressions: The Cultural History of Print in Imperial China (8th–14th centuries),’ that took place at the Fairbank Center for East Asian Research, Harvard University, June 25–27, 2007”—Acknowledgements. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-19228-7 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Printing—China—History— To 1500—Congresses. 2. Books—China—History—400–1450—Congresses. 3. Block books, Chinese—History—Congresses. 4. China—History—Song dynasty, 960–1279— Congresses. 5. China—History—Yuan dynasty, 1260–1368—Congresses. I. Chia, Lucille, 1958– II. De Weerdt, Hilde (Hilde Godelieve Dominique), 1969– III. Title.

Z186.C5F57 2007 686.20951—dc22 2010049576 ISSN 0169-9563 ISBN 978 90 04 19228 7

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Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. CONTENTS

List of Illustrations and Tables ...... vii Acknowledgments ...... xi Abbreviations ...... xiii List of Contributors ...... xv

Introduction ...... 1 Lucille Chia and Hilde De Weerdt

PART ONE CHANGE: INTERPRETING ACCUMULATION IN TEXT PRODUCTION AND COLLECTING

To Count Grains of Sand on the Ocean Floor: Changing Perceptions of Books and Learning in the Song Dynasty ...... 33 Ronald Egan Book Collecting in Jiangxi during the Song Dynasty ...... 63 Joseph P. McDermott

PART TWO QUANTIFICATION: ADMINISTRATIVE AND RELIGIOUS BOOK PRODUCTION

Early Printing in China Viewed from the Perspective of Local Gazetteers ...... 105 Joseph Dennis Early Buddhist Illustrated Prints in Hangzhou ...... 135 Shih-shan Susan Huang The Uses of Print in Early Quanzhen Daoist Texts ...... 167 Lucille Chia vi contents

PART THREE CHOICE: MEDIA AND INTEROPERABILITY IN THE PRODUCTION OF TECHNICAL KNOWLEDGE

Governance through Medical Texts and the Role of Print ...... 217 TJ Hinrichs The Cultural Logics of Map Reading: Text, Time, and Space in Printed Maps of the Song Empire ...... 239 Hilde De Weerdt

PART FOUR CONTROL: THE ART OF RECYCLING HISTORY IN PRINT

Chen Jun’s Outline and Details: Printing and Politics in Thirteenth-Century Pedagogical Histories ...... 273 Charles Hartman Challenging Official History in the Song and Yuan Dynasties: the Record of the Three Kingdoms ...... 317 Anne E. McLaren

Afterword: Rethinking Western Printing with Chinese Comparisons ...... 349 Ann Blair

Glossary ...... 361 Bibliography ...... 385 Index ...... 411 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS AND TABLES

Illustrations

4.1 Frontispiece of the Dharani scroll excavated from Leifengta, Hangzhou. Dated 975 ...... 139 4.2 Frontispiece of the Dharani scroll discovered in the Tianning si, Huzhou, Zhejiang. Dated 956 ...... 141 4.3 Frontispiece of the Dharani scroll discovered in Shaoxing. Dated 965 ...... 141 4.4 Yingxian Guanyin (Ōgen Kannon, or Manifestations of Guanyin). Japanese drawing after a 974 Chinese single-sheet print on silk mass-produced by Qian Shu. Twelfth century ...... 143 4.5 Maitreya Bodhisattva. Illustrated by Gao Wenjin. Dated 984. Northern Song Dynasty ...... 145 4.6 The fourth frontispiece of the Lotus Sutra. Printed by the Qian Family, Hangzhou. Dated 1060. Northern Song Dynasty ...... 149 4.7 The third frontispiece of the Lotus Sutra. Printed by the Yan Family, Hangzhou. Dated 1069. Northern Song Dynasty ...... 150 4.8 Frontispiece of the Lotus Sutra. Tenth century (?). Tang Dynasty to Five Dynasties ...... 151 4.9 Frontispiece of the twenty-fifth episode of the Lotus Sutra, Guanshiyin pusa pumen pin (TK 167). Yan Family Publisher, Hangzhou. Eleventh century (?). Northern Song Dynasty ...... 154 4.10 The seventh frontispiece of the Lotus Sutra. Designed by Wang Yi. Twelfth century. Southern Song Dynasty ...... 156 4.11 The second frontispiece of the Lotus Sutra. Designed by Wang Yi. Southern Song Dynasty ...... 156 4.12 The fourth frontispiece of the Lotus Sutra. Designed by Wang Yi. Southern Song Dynasty ...... 157 4.13 The fifth frontispiece of the Lotus Sutra. Designed by Wang Yi. Southern Song Dynasty ...... 157 viii list of illustrations and tables

4.14 Decorative patterns of the character ‘wan’ or twisted rivers from Li Jie, Yingzao fashi, 33.8. First printed in 1103, Northern Song Dynasty ...... 160 5.1 A surviving sheet from Xuandu baozang ...... 181 5.2 Twelfth illustration and first page of corresponding text from the second edition of Xuanfeng qinghui tu ...... 196 5.3 Comparison between birth pictures, blockprint and temple mural ...... 197 5.4 Publisher, blockcarvers, and illustrators of Xuanfeng qinghui tu ...... 200 7.1 “Gujin huayi quyu zongyao tu” (“The General Survey Map of Chinese and Non-Chinese Territories from the Past through the Present”), the first map inLidai dili zhizhang tu ...... 248 7.2 Huayi tu (Map of Chinese and Non-Chinese Territories), 1136 stele ...... 250 7.3 “Chunqiu lieguo zhi tu” (“Map of the Spring and Autumn States”) ...... 259 7.4 “Yuan Wei beiguo tu” (“The Map of the Wei Dynasty and the Northern States”) ...... 262 8.1 Zhu Xi, Zizhi tongjian gangmu, 1219 Wenling edition, folio 1.1a ...... 278 8.2 Chen Jun, Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, Seikadō imprint, folio 1.1a ...... 289 8.3 Chen Jun, Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, Seikadō imprint, folio 21.1a ...... 289 8.4 Chen Jun, Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, Seikadō imprint, mulu folio 9a ...... 290 8.5 Chen Jun, Huangchao biannian beiyao, Shanghai imprint, folio 1.1a ...... 292 8.6 Bukan biannian beiyao wu juan mulu, Shanghai imprint, folio 1a ...... 292 8.7 Sima Guang, Zizhi tongjian mulu, 1084 edition, folios 19.1a–b ...... 296 8.8 Chen Jun, Huangchao biannian beiyao, Shanghai imprint, folio 28.26b ...... 305 8.9 Chen Jun, Huangchao biannian beiyao, Shanghai imprint, folio 30.39a ...... 305 list of illustrations and tables ix

8.10 Zhongxing liangchao biannian gangmu, folio 1.1a (National Library of China) ...... 308

Tables

2.1 Jiangxi Book Collectors in the Song ...... 98 5.1 Extant Quanzhen Works, Late Eleventh-Early Fourteenth Centuries ...... 204 9.1 Revised Histories of Sanguozhi in the Song and Yuan ...... 347

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The essays in this volume come mostly out of the conference, “First Impressions: The Cultural History of Print in Imperial China (8th–14th centuries),” that took place at the Fairbank Center for East Asian Research, Harvard University, June 25–27, 2007. It was preceded by a workshop organized at the Fairbank Center in 2005 by Hilde De Weerdt and Joe Dennis and attended by several of the participants at the “First Impressions” conference. At this earlier meeting it became clear that for the many issues which arise when dealing with early Chinese written culture in the earliest centuries of printing, further research was both feasible and necessary. Thus it was decided that a further conference should be convened, where scholars who had been thinking long and hard about the transmission of knowledge in books and other media could present some of their latest findings. The success of the conference was due in great part to the enthusiasm and hard work of the paper presenters, who demonstrated their formidable knowledge and understanding of how the Chinese transmitted, transformed, and even effaced knowledge in manuscript and print, as well as other media. We were also very fortunate in having three discussants who provided, sometimes at very short notice, incisive and detailed comments and suggestions on how we could improve our own papers by sharpening our arguments and broadening our thinking on Chinese recorded culture. Ann Blair, whose own work focuses on early modern European cultural and intellectual history, provided valuable insights that helped us better understand the differences and similarities, sometimes unexpected, between Western Europe and China in the periods when each was incorporating print into its repertoire of tools for transmitting knowledge. Peter Bol’s deep knowledge of and passion for literati culture helped us understand the transformations of knowledge addressed in this volume, and he offered trenchant comments on what the papers had done well and what they had missed. Cynthia Brokaw’s own research on book culture and the book trade in late imperial China, as well as the volume on Chinese book culture and print in late imperial China that she co-edited, made her a valuable discussant. We are especially grateful for her concluding comments, which have greatly helped us in the shaping of this xii acknowledgments volume. During the three days of the conference, the participants were saved from any sense of insularity by the participation of a keen and interested audience, members of which were quite happy to contribute to the general discussion. In addition to the essays in this volume, five other papers were given at the conference. We thank these authors, whose works have stimulated our thinking as we revised our own papers in this volume. The editorial work of Caroline Mason was invaluable in bringing this volume into being. We gratefully acknowledge funding from the American Council of Learned Societies with the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation, and the National Endowment for the Humanities that made the conference possible. We also wish to thank the Fairbank Center for hosting the conference and the staff for their administrative support. Wilt Idema and Peter Bol generously agreed to be the Harvard faculty sponsors. ABBREVIATIONS

CSJC-CB Congshu jicheng chubian 叢書集成初編. Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1935–37. Reprint. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1991. CSJC-JB Congshu jicheng jianbian 叢書集成簡編. Taibei: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1965–66. CSJC-XB Congshu jicheng xinbian 叢書集成新编. Taibei: Xin Wenfeng, 1985. QSW Quan Song wen 全宋文. Zeng Zaozhuang 曾枣庄 and Liu Lin 劉琳, eds. 360 vols. Shanghai: Shanghai cishu chubanshe, 2006. SBCK Sibu congkan 四部叢刊. Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1919–36. SBCK-CB Sibu congkan chubian 四部叢刊初編. Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1935–37. Reprint. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1991. SBCK-ZB Sibu congkan zhengbian 四部叢刊正編. Taibei: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1979. SD Song dazhaoling ji 宋大詔令集. Beijing: Zhongua shuju, 1962. SGZ Sanguozhi 三國志 SHY Song huiyao jigao 宋會要輯稿. See Works Cited for editions used. SKQS Siku quanshu 四庫全書. Reprint. Taibei: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1983. SKQSCM Siku Quanshu cunmu congshu 四庫全書存目叢書. Tainan xian Liuying xiang: Zhuangyan wenhua shiye youxian gongsi, 1996. SKQSZB-CJ Siku quanshu zhenben chuji 四庫全書珍本初集. Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1934–35. Reprint. Taibei: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1969–70. SKQSZB-EJ Siku quanshu zhenben erji 四庫全書珍本二集. Taibei: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan, 1971. SRZJ Chang, Bide 昌彼得 et al., comp. Songren zhuanji ziliao suoyin 宋人傳記資料索引. 6 vols. Taibei: Dingwen shuju, 1974–76. xiv abbreviations

SRZJBB Songren zhuanji ziliao suoyin bubian 宋人傳記資料索引补编. 3 vols. Chengdu: Sichuan daxue, 1994. SS Song shi 宋史. See Works Cited for editions used. SYFZ Song-Yuan fangzhi congkan 宋元方志叢刊. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1990. Reprint. 2006. T Taishō shinshū Daizōkyō 大正新修大藏經. Takakusu Junjirō 高楠順次郎 and Watanabe Kaigyoku 渡邊海旭, eds. 100 vols. Tokyo: Taishō issaikyō kankōkai, 1924–35. TYG Tianyige cang Mingdai fangzhi xuan kan 天一閣藏明代方志選刊. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji shudian, 1981– 82. Xu Changbian Li Tao 李燾. Xu zizhi tongjian changbian 續資治通鑑. See Works Cited for editions used. ZBT Zhongguo banke tulu 中國版刻圖錄. Beijing tushuguan ed. Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1960. LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Ann Blair is Professor of History at Harvard University.

Lucille Chia is Associate Professor of History at the University of California, Riverside.

Joseph Dennis is Assistant Professor of History at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.

Hilde De Weerdt is University Lecturer in Chinese History, the University of Oxford and Fellow of Pembroke College.

Ronald Egan is Professor of Chinese, Department of East Asian Languages and Cultural Studies, University of California, Santa Barbara.

Charles Hartman is Professor of East Asian Studies, The University at Albany, State University of New York.

TJ Hinrichs is Assistant Professor of History, Cornell University, Ithaca, New York.

Shih-shan Susan Huang is Assistant Professor of Art History, Rice University, Houston, Texas.

Joseph P. McDermott is Lecturer in Chinese Studies at the University Cambridge and Fellow of St. John’s College.

Anne E. McLaren is Associate Professor, Asia Institute, The University of Melbourne, Victoria.

INTRODUCTION

Lucille Chia and Hilde De Weerdt

I. In Search of the Earliest History of Printing

When we first planned the conference that gave rise to this volume, one goal was to address the impact of woodblock printing (xylography) on Chinese recorded culture from the tenth through the fourteenth centuries. As the conference proceeded, however, we quickly realized that thinking of the printing block as an agent of change was only one of many ways to help us comprehend the shifts in transmitting and transforming knowledge for the first several centuries when this technology was in use. Printing was not merely added to the available media—manuscript on paper, inscriptions on stone, paintings, among others—but also changed the relationships among these media. This first “golden age” of print in China, which began in the tenth century, was long in coming. By the beginning of the Song Dynasty (960–1279), woodblock printing had already been in use for two and a half centuries or more, not only in China, but also for nearly as long in the other parts of East Asia heavily influenced by Chinese culture— Korea and Japan. By the end of the Song Dynasty, the Chinese had been printing books and other materials for nearly as long as Western Europe from the time of Gutenberg to the present. Thus, as rich and varied as the materials presented in the nine essays of this volume, they represent neither the first nor the last word on how printing helped bring about important new dimensions of book culture in China during these five centuries. We hope, however, that readers of the volume will be inspired to think further on the questions raised and expand upon the research done. In the first part of this introduction, we reflect on the earliest part of the story of Chinese printing, not to repeat what has been written on the subject,1 but to help us better understand the dramatic quantitative

1 In addition to the well-known older works (Carter, Invention of Printing, and Pelliot, Débuts de l’Imprimerie), somewhat more recent discussions (sections in Tsien, Paper and Printing and in Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua shi), as well as other 2 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt and qualitative changes in the history of books that occurred from the Song onward. The difficulties in studying printing in pre-Song China lie not just in the relative scarcity of extant sources but also in the limited range of these materials, whether religious or secular. Thus, through the end of the Tang Dynasty (618–906), we have short Buddhist dharani sutras, a few longer sutras or portions thereof, and a variety of privately printed materials, but nothing published by the state. Information about these works comes from the extant imprints themselves, manuscript texts copied from printed versions, and occasional references to them in other writings. For the surviving works or their remnants, we have been mostly dependent on archaeological finds. These discoveries consist mainly of Buddhist materials, since many of the other kinds of works listed above were useful references that would be well-read and thumbed until worn out and discarded, rather than buried in a Buddhist stupa or in a tomb.2 That is, the survival pattern probably does not accurately reflect the quantitative distribution of what had actually been printed—a problem common throughout the world for all but recent times. It is even more difficult to estimate the scale of printing of these popular, ordinary books and booklets sold in the market. Indeed, our knowledge about such imprints comes as much or more from the writings of government officials who disapproved of the sale of privately printed calendars, imperial decrees prohibiting these calendars, and descriptions of the poor print quality of the items on sale.3

works (Drège, Les bibliothèques en Chine, “Des effets de l’imprimerie,” “Du rouleau manuscript,” “La lecture et l’écriture”; Su Bai, Tang-Song shiqi de diaoban yinshua; Cao Zhi, Zhongguo yinshua shu; and Seo, “The Printing Industry in Chang’an”) have added to our still scanty knowledge about the earliest history of printing in China. Moreover, this essay owes much to Timothy H. Barrett’s research on this topic, presented in many articles, including one for this conference, as well as his recent book, The Woman Who Discovered Printing. 2 See Seo, “Printing Industry” for a recent tabulation of the known imprints from China, Korea, and Japan from the eighth century through the end of the Tang in the early tenth century (pp. 30–32) and secondary works on these materials. 3 In 835, Feng Su 馮宿 (767–836), a military commissioner in Sichuan, memorialized that privately printed calendars were being sold even before the official one issued by the government’s Astronomy Bureau and that this was to be prohibited. See, e.g., Pelliot, Débuts, 33–34; Tsien, Paper and Printing, 151. In the same year, Emperor Wenzong 文宗 decreed that the provincial authorities should forbid the carving of woodblocks for such works (Seo, “Printing Industry,” 14). Nearly fifty years later, in 883, again in Sichuan, another Tang official, Liu Pian柳玭 , reported seeing poorly introduction 3

Nevertheless, assuming that these known printed materials indicate the range if not an accurate distribution of what was printed, then we may also ask why it was that for two hundred and fifty years or longer, other kinds of works were not printed. As scholars have shown, representatives of the state in the Tang and Five Dynasties (907–59) were clearly cognizant of print technology, even if most individual rulers evinced no great enthusiasm for utilizing it. Even the one notable exception is based on plausible circumstantial evidence rather than hard proof—the case of Empress Wu 武 (r. 690–705), who may have utilized blockprinting to replicate a huge number of copies of a Bud- dhist text in imitation of the Indian ruler Ashoka’s spread of Buddhist relics throughout his kingdom.4 In any case we currently still have no known samples of printed materials which can definitely be dated to eighth-century China. In fact, it is not until the tenth century, after the end of the Tang, when we encounter evidence of printed works sponsored by, or at least favored or permitted by the state (see below). From the ninth century, we have at least some surviving Buddhist printed materials—the short dharani sutras that have survived their centuries-long burial in stupas and tombs, and usually even shorter talismanic texts buried in tombs, as well as the complete Diamond Sutra printed in 868.5 Then why, given the various ways Buddhists used printing, did they not print the entire Canon? Collections of Buddhist

blockprinted character books, divination works, and other imprints on sale (Pelliot, Débuts, 37–41; Tsien, Paper and Printing, 151–52). 4 In The Woman Who Discovered Printing(ch. 6, esp. 89–90), Barrett provides a credible scenario but no hard evidence that Empress Wu actually fulfilled her vow to disseminate over eight million short sutras or that these copies were blockprinted, since such a huge number may have taxed even the efforts of the many scribes available to the court, especially if the copies had to be made quickly. Barrett further argues that the text was the dharani sutra Wugou jing guang da tuoluoni jing 無垢淨光大陀羅尼經, the same text as that printed between 705–51 and found in a stupa in the Sakyamuni Pagoda of Pulguk-sa 佛國寺 in Kyongju 慶州, Korea. Somewhat later (ca. 770), blockprinted excerpts from the same text copies (supposedly a million) were made and distributed by Empress Shōtoko 稱德天皇 of Japan to temples around the country. That the Korean and Japanese texts both contain special characters used under Empress Wu would bolster Barrett’s argument about the latter’s use of blockprinting to replicate a Buddhist text. Finally, Barrett feels that the Tang Dynasty after Empress Wu interrupted it, “apparently turned away from printing from 706 till its demise in 907” (p. 135). For the Korean and Japanese examples, see Tsien, Paper and Printing, 149–51. 5 This entire scroll of theDiamond Sutra can be seen at the International Dun- huang Project’s website: http://idp.bl.uk/database/oo_scroll_h.a4d?uid=9671877789; bst=1;recnum=18824;index=1. 4 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt writings intended to be comprehensive were first compiled in China in the Period of Disunion (220–589), with several imperially-sponsored manuscript collections donated to temples, and other copies financed by wealthy donors. During the Sui Dynasty, Wendi 文帝 (r. 581–604) had forty-six manuscript copies of the “Canon” made and presented to various temples, a practice followed by the Tang emperors.6 Cata- logs of Buddhist texts were also compiled, largely as private individual projects, but occasionally with state sponsorship, including one in 695 under Empress Wu. Despite the compilation of Da Zhou kanding zhongjing mulu 大周刊定眾經目錄 (Catalog of scriptures authorized by the Great Zhou),7 however, there is no indication that Empress Wu intended to print the entire Buddhist Canon of her day, whatever her plans for replicating millions of a short dharani sutra. Similarly the Daoists had long been familiar with earlier technologies for making impressions. They had been using engraved seals with talismanic powers, possibly from the first century ce or earlier, and had also made impressions on paper with such seals, with the earliest record of such use from the seventh or even late sixth century.8 By the Tang, Daoist leaders were thus aware of the capabilities of this technology of replicating text and image on paper. In addition, by the reign of Emperor Xuanzong 玄宗 (r. 712–56) during the Kaiyuan 開元 period (713–41), the earlier practice of collecting Daoist texts for the imperial library had become part of a plan to compile a Canon.9 But, as with the Buddhist Tripitaka, there was no indication that the Daoist Canon was to be printed. In short, given the general Chinese

6 Mizuno Kōgen, Buddhist Sutras, 165. 7 For a discussion of Da Zhou kanding zhongjing mulu compiled by an imperially appointed committee and the political and ideological struggles behind some of the works included in the catalog, see Tokono, “Evaluation of Indigenous Scriptures,” 50–52. 8 On the use of talismanic seals to ward off evil, to invoke spirits, to destroy demons, to heal sickness, and the transfer of the seal’s power by impression on paper, see Strickmann, Chinese Magical Medicine, 123–93. As Strickmann points out, the earliest record of printing the text of such seals on paper is actually in a fifth-century Buddhist work, but the cross-influences of Buddhism and Daoism render pointless attempts to credit one of these religions as the first to use such a practice. See also Barrett, “Feng-tao k’o,” which is a Daoist text dated to between 550–688 (and more likely 658–68) that mentions printing of Daoist icons on paper. 9 Schipper, “General Introduction,” 24–25, in Schipper and Verellen, eds., Tao- ist Canon. Barrett, The Woman Who Discovered Printing, 89, mentions that earlier Empress Wu “had had copied out at least one set of the entire Taoist scriptures,” but the evidence for this is uncertain. introduction 5 obsession with the power and authority of the written word since at least the second millennium bce, why did the availability of suitable quality paper (since at least the first century ce and probably earlier) and a technology of imprinting fail to stimulate either the state or religious institutions to use xylography to produce book-length texts no sooner than the late ninth century? Plausible explanations to why neither the Budhist nor Daoist Canon was printed before the Song are worth mentioning, even briefly, to illustrate the complex early history of blockprinting in China. First, the enormous cost of either canon required financial and human resources that could only have been marshaled by the state, rather than by a single monastery or even several monasteries. Second, handcopying was not only cheaper but perhaps also seen as earning more religious merit than reproduction by blockprinting, until the latter became sufficiently widespread in the tenth century. A more comprehensive answer that also considers non-religious printing requires looking at the complex history of how the process of impressing image or text on soft materials in general and xylography in particular were used in China until the ninth or tenth century.

Xylography and Other Print Technologies Xylography was apparently a relative latecomer among a number of imprinting technologies, each of which used a particular combination of ink or dye on a given material. The various earlier methods differed sufficiently from each other and they may not have obviously inspired the idea of replicating text and image on paper. Printing patterns or images on a piece of cloth using some resist technique may not have readily prompted its practitioners or observers to extend the method to printing texts on paper. Thus, even while Barrett argues that resist- dye technology devised by a Ms. Liu in the early eighth century used woodblocks to impress an “intricate flower pattern” onto cloth, he is careful to point out that it does not “prove that these skills were used for printing text . . .”10 Indeed, as Barrett also mentions, impressing patterns on dyed textiles included a set of related techniques used throughout the premodern world in areas where xylography did not develop.

10 Barrett, “Woodblock Dyeing,” 245. 6 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt

Furthermore, when finally woodblock, ink, and paper were put together for xylography, the products were not necessarily meant to be read or even looked at. For example, as noted above, imprinting on different surfaces was often connected with the transference of religious/magical power: on cloth, paper, clay, sand, and—for healing purposes—on the skin of the sick person. In such applications, the majority of the printed texts, symbols, or images were usually not very long nor meant to be read (at least by humans). As Barrett suggests, the very act of impressing brought to mind such religious notions as the Buddhist transfer of karma by molds or seals, or the Dao as a seal that replicates its image without itself changing or being consumed, or that a text is at once impressed in its entirety (even though humans would have to read it sequentially).11 In short, the talismanic function of these printed texts and images, although it did not preclude them from being read or looked at like mundane works, would not necessarily inspire their makers and users to, in Barrett’s word, “reconceptual- ize” the technology to create new documents.12 It is interesting that in at least three different areas of the world— Europe, the Islamic Near East, and East Asia, blockprinting was first used for religious purposes. In Europe, blockprinting developed a few decades prior to the far better-known “invention” of movable- type printing in the mid-fifteenth century and was used to produce religious prayer sheets, images for veneration with sacred power to protect and heal, amulets,13 and for a short time, full-length block- books, including the fully illustrated “Paupers’ Bibles.”14 Blockprints

11 Barrett, Woman Who Discovered Printing, 108–9. 12 Ibid., 85–86. 13 Skemer (Binding Words, 222), points out that the blockprints for Christian veneration also were emblems of sacred and apotropaic power. Furthermore, “[w]hile woodblocks had been used in the West since the twelfth century to stamp designs on fabric, the earliest examples of paper block-prints date no earlier than the final years of the fourteenth century and more likely from the 1420s. In fact, the West was late to embrace the possibilities of printing.” It seems that scholars like Skemer who study European printing express the same puzzlement as their counterparts looking at China as to why, with the existence of an imprinting technology, printing text on paper should have taken so long to develop. 14 Rather than a predecessor, chronologically or technologically, European blockprinting of books actually peaked in the 1450s through 1470s, after the introduction of movable-type printing. On the other hand, similarities in manuscript and blockbook versions of the Paupers’ Bibles, or Biblia pauperum, suggest that they served much the same functions and “reinforced the interaction of oral and literate strategies that characterized the later Middle Ages.” See Nellhaus, “Mementos,” 321. introduction 7 continued to be used for illustrations where the pictorial woodblock was placed together with movable type for the text until the early seventeenth century, but thereafter became mostly a specialized artistic technique. In the Islamic world, amulets, or tarsh with religious texts were printed on woodblocks from the tenth through the fourteenth centuries.15 These amulets did not lead to further use of printing for other, longer, sacred or mundane texts, and print culture in the modern sense only developed in the nineteenth century.16 The existence and limited use of a particular technology therefore does not inevitably lead to its widespread utilization for other purposes. For an exasperated modern reader cursed with hindsight, the temptation to believe that in China, early uses of woodblock printing for other purposes must surely have led to printing books for wide dissemination proves almost irresistible. But the facts we have adduced resist such an obvious scenario. Moreover, even after groups and individuals in China began using blockprinting to produce new documents, they may well have perceived the relative advantages of printing over handcopying differently from those of us who live in a modern world inundated with print and apt to look upon it as more formal and polished than manuscript. For example, printing was sometimes used to make many copies more speedily but not necessarily better than could be done even by the many scribes at the disposal of an imperial court, a government office, or a large religious institution. A ruler in a hurry, say, to replicate

15 The range of the tenth through the very early fifteenth centuries is generally proposed by scholars in the field, as discussed in Schaefer,Enigmatic Charms, 41–51. The printing might have been done with woodblocks or possibly metal matrices (ibid., 38). Bulliet (“Medieval Arabic Tarsh,” 438) argues that the printed amulets were cheaper than the finely handwritten versions and were sold to the common people by peddlers who were connected to the underworld of Middle East Muslim society. Bulliet speculates that production of these tarsh ceased when organized Sufism, whose leaders wrote their own amulets, successfully won over the people who had been the peddlers’ customers. While this is one possibility, it certainly differs from the situation in imperial China, where handwritten and printed materials coexisted within individual religious groups. For Barrett’s speculation that the undated printed spells found by archaeologists in China were meant to be distinguished from professionally handwritten full sutras, see The Woman Who Discovered Printing, 120–21. 16 For a recent survey of works on print culture in the Arabic world, see Roper, “Printing Press.” For Islamic South Asia, see the two works by Francis Robinson. These treatments all concern developments in the last two centuries and present a very different picture from the continuous and increasing use of paper in the Islamic world as described in Bloom, Paper before Print. 8 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt thousands or millions of copies of small sutras, or to distribute (supposedly) the printed Daode jing 道德經,17 would have resorted to printing.18 Another example, rather late, is that of the eminent Daoist scholar Du Guangting 杜光庭 (850–933), who resolved to reproduce Guang shengyi 廣聖義, a sub-commentary on commentaries of Daode jing, written by the Tang Emperor Xuanzong. In Du’s report to the emperor, he explained that since the size of the thirty-fascicle work had prevented it from being disseminated, Du had woodblocks carved, with a contribution from a high official. This use of print may imply that in the post-Tang era of the early tenth century there was a shortage of scribes even at the court of a ruler.19 Indeed, Du Guangting managed to publish Guang shengyi in 913, ten years before the collected works of Guanxiu 貫休 (832–913), a leading Buddhist figure, were posthumously printed by his disciples, perhaps in a belated effort to compete with Du’s more successful publication.20 It was not until the tenth century that the state, or the elite in general, felt it necessary or desirable to produce and disseminate many non-religious works in print. Certainly the need to guard imperial or elite authority was one reason for their hesitation; all hard evidence concerning printing related to the Tang state has to do with memorials complaining about illegal commercial imprints and imperial decrees prohibiting such materials. Furthermore, much of what the state communicated was aimed at a limited audience easily reachable by manuscript, or at a wider audience through stone inscription or vocal pronouncement. Even into the first half of the tenth century, there apparently remained a feeling among the literati that there was no need to disseminate widely their own writings, and someone like

17 In 940, there was an imperial decree concerning the distribution of Daode jing in north China. Cited in Barrett, “Religion and the First Recorded Print Run,” 460. 18 Ivins (Prints and Visual Communication, 29) in discussing early European woodcuts, makes much the same point: “So far as their buyers were concerned prints were just pictures and not a special kind of pictorial statement that could be exactly repeated. Exact repeatability meant no more to the original purchasers than it does today to the buyers of greeting cards. So far as the maker was concerned a print was merely a picture made by a process which saved time and labour in quantity production. The printing surface from which they were struck off was no more and no less than a capital investment in specialized machinery.” 19 Barrett, “Taoism and the Origins of State Printing,” 26. 20 Ibid., 22. introduction 9

He Ning 和凝 (898–955), who published his own verses, was subject to other scholars’ opprobrium.21 In fact, those who first took advantage of xylography to produce books or booklets seem to have been printers who sold their imprints in the market place. To them we owe works such as the only known medical work—a moxibustion canon,22 a set of admonitions to a daughter about to marry,23 almanacs,24 calendars, rhyming dictionaries, divination works, and starting from the tenth century, dharani sutras. Those texts that identify their printers show that the latter were located in major urban centers, including Chang’an, Chengdu and the surrounding area, Luoyang, and, by the tenth century at the latest, the Jiangnan area, especially around Hangzhou, areas that would grow into larger printing centers in the Song.25

The State and the Proliferation of Printing in the Tenth Century In the several decades before the founding of the Song Dynasty, during the Five Dynasties period, conditions began to change: in addition to the kinds of imprints already mentioned, there were also commercially printed sutras, collections of prose and poetry, and the first printings of collections of the Confucian classics.26 A book trade

21 He Ning printing his own writings in over one hundred juan and circulating them was “an act ridiculed by many men of knowledge” (Xin Wudai shi, 56.640; translated by Davis, Historical Records of the Five Dynasties, 454). But Jiu Wudai shi (127.3898), does not mention this disapproval. Could this evaluation of He Ning’s publishing effort have been Ouyang Xiu’s own? 22 What survives from Dunhuang is a handcopy of Xinji beiji jiujing 新集備急灸經 (Newly collected canon of emergency moxibustion remedies), which had originally been printed by the Li family of the Eastern Market in Chang’an (Chang’an dongshi Li jia 長安東市李家). Lo, “Quick and Easy Chinese Medicine,” esp. 232–236, and Seo, “The Printing Industry,” 14–22. The original imprint would have been published prior to 861, when the copy was made. 23 Seo, “The Printing Industry,” 22–28 and references therein. Of the several hand- copies from Dunhuang, which are based on an imprint from the Li family of the capital (Shangdu Li jia yin 上都李家印), one gives a xinsi 辛巳 date, presumably 921. 24 Seo (“The Printing Industry,” 4–14), discusses fragments of three different almanacs, including one “in big print from the Major Diao family of the Eastern Market of the capital” (Shangdu dongshi da Diao jia dayin liri 上都東市大刁家大印曆日), and another, the “Almanac of the Fan Shang family of Chengdu in Xichuan, Jiannan” (Jiannan Xichuan Chengdufu Fan Shang jia li 劍南西川成都府樊賞家曆). 25 Seo, ibid., Table 3, 30–32. 26 In addition to the printing of the nine Confucian classics initiated by the Later Tang ministers, Feng Dao and Li Yu, in Kaifeng from 932–53, Wu Zhaoyi 毋昭裔 (d. 967), minister under the Later Shu in Chengdu supervised not only the carving of the woodblocks for a set of the Confucian classics, but also a stone inscription of these 10 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt among different regions of the Ten Kingdoms may have existed. Pel- liot suggests that the project to print the Nine Classics and several lexicographical works initiated by Feng Dao 馮道 (882–954) and Li Yu 李愚 (d. 935) may have been inspired by the imprints from the Sichuan and Wu-Yue areas brought by traveling merchants for sale in Kaifeng.27 Perhaps it would have been merely a matter of time before this diversification would have further expanded, but it is clear that dramatic growth in the number and diversity of works truly took off in the Song, due in great part to the willingness of the state to collect, (re-)compile, and publish so many works, combined with a recognition of the potential of print. The Song state’s search for and sponsorship of the (re-)compilation and publication of a wide variety of works, including the Confucian classics, histories, philosophers, and literary collections, was partly a continuation of the re-stocking process that had already begun in the Five Dynasties period.28 Indeed, if the Song really had inherited only a scanty 10,000 juan from the imperial library of the late Tang,29 then the need for replenishing the badly depleted imperial and government libraries was urgent, even if much had been irretrievably lost during the turmoil in the late Tang and afterwards. Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 (1007–72), who wrote “Yiwen zhi” 藝文志 (“Bibliographic treatise”) in Xin Tang shu 新唐書 (New history

works. Wu also printed works like the famous literary anthology, Wenxuan 文選, and two topical collections of literary passages, Chu xue ji 初學記, and Bo shi liu tie 白氏六帖. There is little information on Wu, but the most thorough discussion of the sources remains Pelliot, Débuts, 61–81; see also Tsien, Paper and Printing, 156–57 and Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua shi, 40, 43–44. 27 Pelliot (Débuts, 52–53) argues that Feng Dao had probably never been to the Wu-Yue area or Sichuan, and Li Yu may have been in the Wu-Yue area. Thus it was more likely that either or both men saw imprints from these areas in Kaifeng. 28 Poon, “Books and Printing,” esp. ch. 5. 29 McMullen, State and Scholars in T’ang China, 237. This number is corroborated by that of 13,000 juan for the holdings of the San guan 三館 (Three Institutes) at the start of the Song Dynasty (Jiang Shaoyu, Shishi leiyuan, 393, cited in McDermott, Social History, 49). Both figures are drastically below the peak of over 89,000 rolls in the Jixian yuan 集賢院 (Academy of Assembled Worthies) library alone in 721, according to Tang huiyao (1), 64.23a–b. This figure is problematic, since it is more than the sum of the number of juan given for each of the four bibliographic divisions (81,990 rolls). Either the arithmetic is faulty, or there were duplicates of some works in the collection. Since duplicate copies are usually not specified in the numbers in historical works describing book collections, comparisons of the sizes of imperial libraries in different historical periods can be difficult. introduction 11 of the Tang dynasty) and compiled the bibliography of Tang works therein, lamented the loss of more than half of these texts.30 Similarly, the great loss of Buddhist texts resulting from the persecution under Tang Wuzong 武宗 (r. 841–46), the rebellions and turmoil at the end of the Tang in the early tenth century, as well as a later proscription of Buddhism under Emperor Shizong 世宗 (r. 954–59) of the Later Zhou 後周 Dynasty may have spurred the Song state soon after its establishment to sponsor the first woodblock edition of the Buddhist Canon—Kaibao zang 開寶藏 (972–83). As massive as this project was—far more massive than cutting enough woodblocks for a million copies of one short dharani sutra31—the Song government probably realized that this was the more efficient and quicker way to re-supply monasteries with Buddhist works. In fact, despite already flourishing Buddhist publishing in areas such as the Wu-Yue kingdom (especially in and around its capital of Hangzhou), certain works incorporated into the Kaibao Tripitaka came from copies from Japan.32 Even more important was the Song state’s need to publish authorized, standardized editions of the many texts needed by its officials, the growing number of men studying for the government examinations, scholars in general, and students attending the growing numbers of government and private schools. In this process, scholars were appointed to collate editions of each existing work and expend efforts on compiling and writing new ones. These efforts would have kept hundreds of government copyists fully employed, so that it was far more efficient to print rather than handcopy finished copies of all these texts. In short, print culture among the educated elite truly took off in the Song because of the state’s willingness to devote its considerable resources to put this not very new technology to new use.33 This was

30 Xin Tang shu, 47.1421–23. 31 The number of copies that a woodblock can yield before becoming totally worn depends on the kind of wood, its treatment, the climatic conditions, etc. Assuming that one woodblock could produce 5,000 printed copies, then 200 woodblocks would be needed to make a million copies. The Kaibao Tripitaka required some 130,000 blocks (Mizuno Kōgen, Buddhist Sutras, 173). 32 On the loss of Buddhist works during the persecution under Tang Wuzong (845) and late Tang rebellions, see Fang Guangchang, Zhongguo xieben Dazangjing, 324, 327, 341. The importing of Buddhist texts from Japan (Mizuno Kōgen,Buddhist Sutras, 169) did not necessarily mean that there were no surviving copies in China, but that they were so rare that it was easier to obtain them from known sources abroad. 33 For a general but detailed look at publishing in the Song, see Poon, “Books and Printing.” 12 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt done, however, not with the fanfare accorded a self-conscious technological “revolution,” such as the ongoing developments today stimulated by computer-based information technology, but with almost the same matter-of-factness that accompanied an apparently obvious and easy technology like photocopying. Print was emphatically not an agent of change that eliminated a thriving manuscript culture; manuscript continued to exist until at least the late nineteenth and in some cases into the twentieth century. The shared features of a page produced by handcopying and blockprinting were as important as the differences between these two methods; indeed, a blockprinted page inevitably begins with a hand- drafted copy. The parting of the ways between xylography and manuscript follows a different course from that between typography and manuscript.34 Furthermore, the debate about the merits of manuscript vs. print continued through the Song. Those who saw benefits in print generally referred to its making the work more available.35 In fact, the educated reader in the early days of the Song may have been primarily grateful to get any copy of a work, print or manuscript, and remained fairly oblivious to the potentially great differences between the two forms. For example, as Susan Cherniack points out, many Song scholars were dismayed to discover that all the errors in manuscript texts and more appeared in the printed version. Thus even for the prestigious and supposedly authoritative editions issued by the Directorate of Educa- tion in the Northern Song, several successive re-collations were often required to arrive at relatively error-free versions of even the most

34 But even as McKitterick (Print, Manuscript, esp. 47–52) points out, typographi- cally printed books “cohabited” easily with manuscript, to the point that many volumes had printed and manuscript pages intermingled. Thus, even for typography, “It is misleading to speak of any transition from manuscript to print as if it were a finite process, let alone an orderly one, or indeed that the process was all in one direction” (p. 47). 35 For example, Poon (“Books and Printing,” 118–19) cites the famous story of Xing Bing 邢昺 (932–1010), the head of the Directorate of Education who proudly told Emperor Zhenzong 真宗 in 1005 that the Directorate had gone from holding no more than 4,000 woodblocks at the beginning of the dynasty to several hundred thousand, for the Confucian classics and commentaries and histories, and that unlike the situation in his youth, “at present block-printed books are plentiful so that scholars and commoners alike can easily own their own copies.” Xing Bing was most likely exaggerating, since the Directorate publications were never cheap nor that plentiful, and at the beginning of the eleventh century Song commercial printing had yet to burgeon. introduction 13 fundamental works, such as the Confucian classics and related commentaries and the dynastic histories.36 It would be impossible, however, to deny that printing in Song China helped effect revolutionary changes in Chinese book culture, something that many of the essays in this volume will amply demonstrate. And if, as Timothy Barrett claims in the title of his new book, Empress Wu was the “woman who discovered printing,” she was not alone. In every age when printing was and still is applied to new and different uses, or on a different scale of known uses, the authors, editors, publishers, printers, and consumers of print all discover the uses of printing anew.

II. The Essays

The Problem of Quantification According to standard accounts of the history of printing, at least those that take a global approach to the history of this technology, printing developed in China in the seventh or eighth century, but was largely limited to government offices, Buddhist and Daoist temples, and religious practitioners in the first few centuries after its invention. Scholars and officials continued to rely almost exclusively on handcopied editions of the classics, histories, and the literary works of past and contemporary authors. This situation changed dramatically during the eleventh and twelfth centuries. These centuries were marked by the expansion of commercial printing, the diversification of the kinds of texts in print, and experimentation with new printing technologies such as movable-type and multi-color printing—even though the latter was initially only applied in the printing of New Year pictures.37 Did the adoption of printing, used, as the papers in this volume underscore, in conjunction with other media, lead to increases in book production and changes in circulation? During the first millennium ce secretaries, clerks, and copyists produced enormous quantities of administrative records, religious texts, and various kinds of literature in manuscript for the literate elite.38 Court libraries, central and local

36 Cherniack, “Book Culture,” esp. 57–73. 37 Based on De Weerdt, “Chinese Printing, 1000–1500.” 38 Barrett, Woman Who Discovered Printing, 31–55. 14 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt government agencies, monasteries, as well as the homes of literate elite families contained collections ranging from a few thousand to tens of thousands of scrolls and, by the end of the first millennium, codices.39 Precise counts or reliable estimates of either manuscript or print book production are not available for any time period in imperial Chinese history. The main reason why the papers discussing text accumulation in this volume will not change that state of affairs relates to the impossibility of obtaining reliable figures. As the best documented studies of Chinese printers in the second millennium ce indicate,40 unlike printers working with movable type, woodblock printers may not have recorded print runs, as their investment in block carving and storage was akin to a print-on-demand system and typically generated income over a longer period of time. Alternatively, whatever records and ledgers were kept were discarded or recycled. Reliable figures for book production cannot be obtained from extant titles and copies, or even from catalogs, because of an even greater unknown. Loss is a constant theme in the history of Chinese book collecting and one that merits further attention. Jean-Pierre Drège has recounted in detail the frequent conflagration and pillage of court libraries between the second century bce and the tenth century ce, a story that continued into the second millennium.41 Joseph McDer- mott’s work illustrates the similar fate of family collections as inheritance law, downward mobility, as well as political and military unrest led to the dispersal of most of the larger private book collections after just a few generations. The papers of Lucille Chia and Joseph Dennis in this volume further underscore that the numbers of titles transmitted from the period between the eleventh and the fourteenth centuries represent a tiny fraction of the number of titles circulating. Dennis shows that most gazetteers have been lost or exist in only one out of a handful of editions, and Chia lifts a tip of the veil that shrouds the large-scale printing activities of Daoist communities in north China. Their papers show that, besides the more common reasons already mentioned above, books disappeared because of a wide variety of political and cultural practices including de-canonization, proscriptions, censorship, and (permanent)

39 Drège, Les bibliothèques en Chine, chs. 1 and 3. 40 Chia, Printing for Profit; Brokaw, Commerce in Culture, esp. 20–28. 41 Drège, Les bibliothèques en Chine, ch. 1; Winkelman, “Imperial Library in Southern Sung China.” introduction 15 borrowing from larger collections. Chia suggests in addition that the on-demand nature of woodblock printing made Chinese books more vulnerable to extinction than European books. Orders to destroy the blocks, increasingly featured in publishing regulations since the eleventh century, had an immediate impact on the further distribution of titles that may have existed in only small numbers of copies. Yet, like production, loss is very difficult to quantify. The catalogs of missing titles compiled by the editors of the Daoist Canon and by court librarians can in some ways serve as indicators but ultimately point to a need to further query the meaning of loss. The catalogs served as indices of titles to seek out in other locales and, in the case of the court collections, resulted in the recovery of many titles and the acquisition of new ones. Similarly, as other papers in this volume show time and again, the factors quoted above as political and cultural causes for loss also stimulated the preservation of selected titles. Ronald Egan, for example, recounts how the proscription of Su Shi’s 蘇軾 (1037–1101) work brought out the commercial appetite of the bureaucrat supposed to implement it. Joseph Dennis provides examples of how the practice of borrowing led to the recovery and printing of rare items. I have argued elsewhere that during times of political and military upheaval in particular loss was invoked as a justification for the launching of printing projects and cannot necessarily be taken at face value as an indicator of the actual extinction of material objects.42 The experience of loss as well as the experience of accumulation are reflected in the testimony of Song Dynasty writers and collectors. In the absence of systematic and unambiguous statistics on book production before and during this period, these papers substantiate and flesh out through the combination of fragmentary and rough quantitative information and qualitative data the conclusion that during the eleventh and twelfth centuries books became more widely available than they had ever been and were increasingly circulating in print. Joseph McDer- mott’s chapter on Jiangxi book collecting demonstrates that the number of noteworthy collectors increased dramatically from about five for the entire pre-Song era to seventy by the end of the dynasty. The holdings of large private collections grew from “a few thousand juan” in the tenth century to well over 10,000 and even 50,000 in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. What are the implications of these numbers?

42 De Weerdt, “Discourse of Loss.” 16 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt

McDermott notes that the quantitative growth in book collecting underlies broader social changes as well as developments in the geographical distribution and uses of books. The scholar-official collector begins to dominate the scene during the eleventh century and diminishes the once-dominant stature of the Buddhist monastery as book repository and center of learning. This collector is interested in a broad range of subjects including classics, histories, and other literature tested in the civil service examinations but also books on geography, divination, medicine, and fiction, all of which are to shape the persona of the cultured literatus. He can be found in a larger number of prefectures, even though core prefectures house and attract more collectors than peripheral ones. In his case studies of Song Dynasty readers and writers Ronald Egan reflects on changes in attitudes towards and in the uses of books resulting from their wider availability and the increased adoption of printing in the dissemination of the written word. Particularly revealing is the reference game Li Qingzhao 李清照 (1084–ca. 1155) played with her husband. Her ability to cite the exact location of randomly chosen passages illustrates how the paginated layout of the printed book facilitated the use of texts as reference materials. Reference materials of different kinds (historical, literary, and administrative encyclopedias, rhyme dictionaries, style manuals, dictionaries of philosophical or bureaucratic terms, etc.) were widely available from the late eleventh century onwards.43 According to contemporary witnesses they encouraged fragmentary reading among the growing readership of men preparing for the civil service examinations. At the same time selective reading for practical goals stimulated the formulation of reading rules, with some compilers and printers designing guides for scanning texts, and others doing the same to counter the trend of selective scanning.44 Neo-Confucian reading programs provided a direct response to the perceived lack of concentration in elite reading habits by outlining a core list of titles to be read slowly, repeatedly, and with an eye to discovering the moral principles embedded in them. Others celebrated the wider circulation of books and justified the literati desire to collect on the basis of a different understanding of

43 See, for example, Drège, “Des effets de l’imprimerie en Chine” and De Weerdt, “Encyclopedia as Textbook.” 44 Gardner, Learning to Be a Sage; De Weerdt, Competition over Content, 297–209. introduction 17 intertextuality. Even though ‘broad learning’ (boxue 博學) in the sense of extensive reading was a more widely shared value among scholar- officials, Lu You陸游 (1125–1210) provides a theoretical argument for it that closely resembles twentieth-century understandings of intertextuality: a book, a chapter, or any element of a text always refers to other texts and can only make sense through connections with other texts. To read is in his view therefore to collect. As Egan explains, the name of his studio, “The Nest of Books,” is not only a description of the untidy arrangement of the books in it, but also a metaphor of what reading is in essence and an expression of the desire to keep building connections among texts.

Printing and Media Interoperability Scholars generally agree that the eleventh and twelfth centuries witnessed substantial growth in book production and the experience and perception of the abundance of books gave rise to new ways of thinking about texts and their use. However, there are differences of opinion regarding the question of how significant printing was in the growth of book collections and the rise of new ways of reading. Joseph McDermott emphasizes the role of manuscript in building private collections and has elsewhere supported the argument that manuscript remained the dominant tool for disseminating the written word in China until the sixteenth century. Handcopying was also crucial in replenishing court libraries throughout the course of the Song Dynasty. 45 Apart from court collections, these essays illustrate that precise statistics on the ratio of manuscript to print are hard to come by, an indicator of how closely connected both means of knowledge transmission remained throughout the course of imperial Chinese history. Joseph Dennis’s description of the life cycle of a gazetteer is a telling illustration of the interrelationship between manuscript and print. Gazetteers existed as partial or complete manuscripts sometimes for extended periods of time and were then edited into a printed edition. Print versions could be handcopied and then in turn become the basis for a reprint. Despite the blurred boundaries between and interdependence of the two media, Dennis maintains that printing became the norm for the publication of gazetteers over the course of

45 McDermott, Social History, ch. 2, and, “Ascendance of the Imprint in China”; De Weerdt, “Byways in the Imperial Chinese Information Order.” 18 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt the Song Dynasty. The normality of print in the twelfth century is also reflected in collectors’ frequent disregard for distinctions between manuscript and print in their catalogs. Egan suggests here that the normality of print added new significance to the act of handcopying. Friends and acquaintances of collectors and scholars stressed their subjects’ personal involvement in handcopying as an act of scholarly depth and rigor in the face of declining learning standards perceived to be the result of the growing reliance on printed copies. More recent work on manuscript publishing suggests that personal copying was also an expression of respect for the text, its author, or the person to whom the copied text was sent or dedicated in a world where reproduction in manuscript was often left to professional copyists and secretaries. 46 Print and manuscript further interacted with other media such as painting and stone engraving. TJ Hinrichs’s paper on the Northern Song state’s dissemination of medical knowledge suggests that stele and woodblock were considered to be most effective in conveying broadly applicable information about epidemics and cures. Such steles, as well as those carrying maps (De Weerdt), were frequently set up in or near public areas such as government offices, schools, or crossings; as in the case of woodblocks, copies could be produced through applying paper and ink against the stone slabs. Stone tended to be more costly and bulky and thus less useful for the production of longer texts and books, but it carried associations of durability. Moreover, as Lucille Chia suggests, those associations gained added meaning at times when proscriptions only ordered the destruction of woodblocks. As the use of printing proliferated, however, preservation also came to be seen as an attribute of woodblock printing. This is not only illustrated in the massive printing projects sponsored by state agencies and religious organizations, as well as private individuals, since the tenth century, but was also testified to in Shi Zhijing’s 史志經 (ca. 1202–?) thirteenth-century observation that precious stone and metal could be easily destroyed whereas printing had rescued

46 The papers presented at “Manuscript Culture in the Chinese Tradition” (Har- vard University, May 14–15, 2010) will add greatly to our understanding of Chinese manuscript publishing from the Warring States period through the present. Abstracts are available at http://isites.harvard.edu/icb/icb.do?keyword=k12612&pageid=icb.page 328763 The emphasis on personal copying in relation to professional copying is discussed in Hilde De Weerdt’s paper, “Manuscript Transmission during the First Age of Print.” introduction 19 texts from extinction even in the face of bans and campaigns of destruction (Lucille Chia). Similarly to the relationship between print and manuscript, Susan Huang describes a bi-directional relationship between painting and printed images in her paper on Buddhist prints produced in Hang- zhou between the tenth and the thirteenth centuries. Paintings were transferred onto woodblock wholesale. As further shown in Chia’s comparison between Daoist printed images and temple murals, painting also provided inspiration for motifs adopted by woodblock illustrators and carvers. Motifs could be borrowed across different genres, with, for example, a painting of a literati studio sharing elements with a Buddhist sutra frontispiece. Printed illustrations partook in a visual language that rendered the relationship between text and image indirect. The existence of this language, a kind of jargon monopolized by illustrators and carvers, also explains the transferability of print designs from one genre to another. Illustrations featuring buildings in Bud- dhist prints thus incorporated elements of illustrations appearing in the well-known architecture manual Yingzao fashi, 營造法式 (Building standards) and Buddhist prints in turn became sources of inspiration for illustrated fiction. Printed illustrations could also reshape or promote novel painting practices, as, for example, the printed architecture manual fed into the ruler-lined (jiehua 界畫) painting tradition. Moving beyond earlier work on printed illustrations, Huang’s analysis of the visual language of printed images demonstrates how regional traditions and networks can be reconstructed through continuities in particular constellations of motifs and compositional schemes. The differences between Buddhist printed illustrations found at Dunhuang and those produced in Hangzhou substantiate other findings regarding the variability of the relationship between text and image even in the case of similar genres. The use of more generic and iconic images in the Dunhuang area versus the more content-related illustrations found in Hangzhou prints may also help account for the reputation of Hangzhou illustrators and carvers. Hangzhou prints were not only found in Xi Xia; as Lucille Chia’s paper shows, Hangzhou carvers were also recruited by northerners to work on Daoist illustrations. Did the use of different media result in different viewing or reading experiences? Very few papers either in this volume or in other scholarship venture into the Chinese history of reading. This question awaits future research, but some of the papers propose possible lines of inquiry. According to Egan, not only the experience of the abundance 20 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt of books but printing itself facilitated the use of books as reference tools. We still know too little about the ways in which similar types of reference tools were read in manuscript before the tenth century to be able to relate reading for reference to the use of print technology per se. The layout of the printed page and the addition of all manner of paratextual elements to facilitate reference and scanning suggest, however, that printing was among available technologies best suited to satisfy and also further stimulate the pedagogical and broader reading needs of the increasing numbers of literate men (and to a much lesser extent women). De Weerdt’s paper argues that even though paratextual elements such as headings and intralinear markup were used in manuscript, competition in commercial printing led to their normalization, if not their standardization. Paratext shapes reading in multiple ways, but the impact varies depending on the medium, as in the case of map steles and commercial prints of the same map titles. The transposition of disconnected text blocks on the periphery of a large stele (or original silk manuscript) onto codex-size pages of text stimulated a particular type of guided reading and analysis of the map. The text on the printed page was hierarchically arranged as a list of features to mark on the preceding pages which reproduced the graphic part of the map. This reading logic cannot be deduced from the monumental map, but the techniques used to promote it would have been familiar to Song readers from other types of printed manuals such as anthologies and encyclopedias, in which a variety of visual aids were also used to guide readers to the most relevant parts of the crammed pages of text. How did cost considerations play into the selection of media? The question of whether and to what extent printing resulted in cost reduc- tions and thus contributed to the wider social distribution of information has received contradictory answers in scholarship on the topic. The reduction of cost is generally seen as one of the major contributions of print technology to the democratization of the written word in early modern Europe. Historians of late imperial China have argued that printed books only became much more affordable in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries when cheaper paper and labor-saving carving techniques significantly lowered book prices. They suggest that it is also from this time onwards that printed books reached broader social circles including merchants, artisans, farmers, and women.47

47 Brokaw and Chow, eds., Printing and Book Culture; see esp. the papers by Brokaw, Carlitz, Hegel, McLaren, and McDermott in this volume. introduction 21

Joseph Dennis’s exploration of the cost of printing gazetteers between the Song and Ming dynasties highlights the problematic nature of cost and price data, but at the same time suggests some new ways in which the economic history of book production can be written in the absence of systematic quantitative data. By investigating contemporary observations on production costs by the sponsors of gazetteer printing projects at different times, he comes to the conclusion that there is a remarkable continuity in the perception of the real cost of printing. Whether manuscript or print proved more cost-effective remains unclear; earlier work on this question suggests that the answer may vary depending on the number of copies needed. Weng Tongwen found that already by the eleventh century, central government offices saved tenfold by substituting printed forms for the earlier manuscript versions.48 Even though costs for medium-scale printing projects like gazetteers or the works of Daoist or Neo-Confucian masters were not prohibitive, they typically involved substantial planning. In addition to discussing the technical and economic aspects of the production process, several of the papers in this volume consider the socio-political and intellectual relations and tensions that shaped the production of the printed copies that still survive in rare book rooms. Joseph Dennis and Lucille Chia describe the fundraising efforts of local officials, local elites, and Daoist clergy and adepts to finance gazetteers and Quanzhen Dao- ist works. Gazetteers typically involved local communities only, but Quanzhen clergy traveled far and wide to seek support for larger printing projects. Such projects and their outcomes could then turn into tokens of communal identities based on place, social networks, and religious affiliation. Charles Hartman uncovers the multiple political forces that could wrest control over the destiny of a work away from the author during the process of preparing a manuscript for print. Chen Jun 陳均 (1174–1244) most likely compiled four manuscripts on Song history, but friends interested in exploiting the polemical potential of his work re-titled and reformatted it in print, turning it into a more marketable ideological alternative to rival ‘documentary’ types of history. Hartman’s investigative work shows how the author attempted to distance his work from the political associations made for it by its promoters and how the calculation of political risk led to varying printed editions of Chen Jun’s work.

48 Weng Tongwen, “Yinshua duiyu shuji chengben de yingxiang,” 36–37. 22 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt

Given that Chinese history is strongly regional, it follows that regional discrepancies informed the use of different media for knowledge transmission and regular transactions. The major printing centers in Song China were Kaifeng, Jianyang, Hangzhou, and Chengdu; other places lagged far behind their productivity in all manner of information genres. Despite regional differences in productivity and in the availability of books of all kinds, the papers included here suggest that the Song state as well as religious and intellectual organizations and commercial networks significantly widened the geographical distribution of the printed word. Information produced for and by the state was carved onto woodblocks in locales throughout the Song Empire, as illustrated in the papers of Joseph Dennis and TJ Hinrichs. Lucille Chia casts light on the uses of print in the north, an area that has been thoroughly neglected in scholarship on the early history of printing in part because of the dismal survival rates of imprints. Proximity to printing centers could be a comparative advantage for intellectual networks, as Charles Hartman suggests. The rise of Fujianese printing coincided with the spread of Daoxue Neo-Confucianism, while the first invasions of Mongol armies in the southwestern parts of the Song territories led to a decline in the activity of Sichuanese printers and possibly the circulation of the work of Sichuanese scholars. Even though the ready accessibility of print technology may thus be correlated with regional discrepancies in overall cultural impact, Joseph McDermott suggests that this did not necessarily lead to significant discrepancies in terms of consumption. Jiangxi did not host a major printing center, but its collectors traveled and tapped into commercial networks to turn several of its prefectures into centers of book consumption. Quantity, reduced cost, and speed can be considered the key advantages that movable type printing presented over manuscript production in early modern Europe;49 these comparative advantages coincided with other cultural and political developments, with the result that many claims have been made for printing as an epoch-making technology. Some of the papers here similarly attribute fixity, standardization, as well as the acceleration of critical debate to the increased use of woodblock printing from the eleventh century onwards. Historians of Euro-

49 The following is based on the concluding comments made by Ann Blair at the conference in which most of the papers in this volume were first presented, “First Impressions: The Cultural History of Print in Imperial China (eighth–fourteenth centuries),” Fairbank Center for East Asian Studies, Harvard University, June 27, 2007. introduction 23 pean history have cautioned against the technological determinism that may be implied in these kinds of correlations and redefined the historical role of print as a resource that magnified trends towards the commercialization of books and the intensification of scholarly debate which were already emerging in manuscript workshops just prior to the appearance of the new technology.50 Others have treated such effects as fixity as gradual changes playing themselves out over the course of centuries or as the historical byproduct of the industrialization of print rather than as an inherent feature of printing.51 The papers in this volume address a different set of historical circumstances, but are centrally concerned with the question of why printing became a regular activity for state agencies, religious and intellectual movements, families and private individuals and how they used it in shaping and defending positions of authority, in efforts at standardization, and in challenging the perceived standardizing effects of printed texts.

Control and Contestation Printing in the Chinese territories was from the very beginning inter- twined with state legitimation. During the first three centuries of the history of print, successive monarchs, starting with Empress Wu around the turn of the eighth century and including Qian Shu 錢俶 (r. 947–978), the king of Wu-Yue discussed in Huang’s paper, in the mid-tenth century, invested heavily in the mass-production of Bud- dhist prayers. As Timothy Barrett has suggested in the case of Empress Wu, such investments were inspired by the ideal of the Buddhist Chakravartin or Wheel-Turning Monarch who wields spiritual and secular power universally.52 By the early tenth century the state also used print as a means to fix authoritative editions of texts as it expanded from investments in Buddhist literature into the publication of the classics. The printing of the classics by the Directorate of Education under four of the short- lived Five Dynasties was premised on the expectation that this edition would henceforth be the standard for this set of foundational texts for

50 Anthony Grafton articulates this position in a critical review of Elizabeth Eisenstein’s The Printing Press as an Agent of Change in “The Importance of Being Printed.” 51 McKitterick, Print, Manuscript and the Search for Order; Johns, Nature of the Book. 52 Barrett, The Woman Who Discovered Printing, esp. ch. 6. 24 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt the literate elite. In Emperor Mingzong’s 明宗 (r. 926–33) words, “If anyone wishes to transcribe the Classics, he must copy these printed editions. Interpolations from any other sources and the publication of alternative editions are hereby forbidden.”53 The objective to develop standard editions of foundational texts was retained during the early Song period, as the re-established Directorate of Education published standard printed editions of the dynastic histories (McLaren) and medical canonical texts (Hinrichs). The Directorate was not only charged with setting authoritative editions, but also with monitoring texts printed by commercial, local government, and private entities. The Directorate sold copies drawn from the original woodblocks, but, as Mingzong’s order suggests, also allowed other entities to copy and reprint its editions. As the eleventh century progressed, the numbers of potential book buyers expanded as the numbers of students preparing for the civil service examinations increased. Commercial publishers gradually began to displace the central government as a dominant force in the book market. The Directorate’s role shifted from a setter of standards to an arbiter of the standards set by scholar-official elites operating in the provinces.54 Several of the papers in this volume substantiate the by-now standard perception of the Northern Song state as driven by the vision of comprehensive centralized reform. This vision found its clearest expression during successive waves of reform campaigns, first in the 1040s and then again from the late 1060s onwards. That this vision was predicated upon previous efforts at centralization under the founding Song emperors can be deduced from some of the papers included here. TJ Hinrichs traces the history of successive compilation and printing projects in and beyond the medical field starting with the first Song emperor Emperor Taizu 太祖 (r. 960–976) through the early years of the reign of Emperor Renzong 仁宗 (r. 1023–1063). She reads these and later efforts at the dissemination of medical literature to local officialdom as ways in which the government not only extended its reach but also redefined the meaning of governance, including within its scope the responsibility of officialdom to make medical knowledge inform the transformation of the people through education. Ronald

53 Translation adapted from Cherniack, “Book,” 20; Wang Pu, comp., Wudai huiyao, 8.3a. 54 De Weerdt, Competition over Content, ch. 4. introduction 25

Egan cites evidence portraying the first Song emperors as sponsors of large educational projects, adamant that the state should be involved in the business of printing to educate the (literate) population and not, as some of their officials proposed, to raise revenue. Joseph Den- nis further shows the Northern Song state’s interest in collecting and printing local information both in the format of local gazetteers (tujing 圖經) and comprehensive gazetteers of the empire. These same papers also suggest the ascendance of other authorities over the course of the Southern Song period. Gazetteers, now called records (zhi 志), featured more literary content celebrating local writers and families; they were more frequently printed and began to feature prominently in the collections of private collectors in addition to central government offices. Medical knowledge became the preserve of lay specialists who focused on individualized treatment for all sorts of ailments rather than on centralized and standardized cures for epidemic disease; medical knowledge was then increasingly disseminated through commercial printers. Publishing regulations issued with increased regularity over the course of the late eleventh and twelfth centuries ordered closer regional and central governmental oversight but testified to the state’s uphill battle in controlling the expanding book market. The government censored and proscribed periodically, as shown in the papers by Egan, Hartman, and Chia discussing the Northern Song, Southern Song, and Yuan periods; these papers equally show, however, that conscripted titles remained in circulation and that censorship was rather haphazard, so that unflattering por- trayals of imperial behavior were visibly removed from some editions but remained available in other contemporary renditions. Standardization was the perceived effect not only of government imprints, but of printing more generally. Su Shi’s metaphor of the woodblock printing process in describing Wang Anshi’s 王安石 (1021–1085) educational policies expresses the early realization that printing, then exploited by the government in pushing through its cur- ricular standards, could have the effect of stamping out difference.55 Several of the papers demonstrate that commercial and private printers participated in circulating government editions and texts; they also

55 Bol, “Redefinition of Literati Learning,” 174–75. 26 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt contributed to the canonization of particular texts and authors.56 Com- petition drove the systematic use of paratextual elements;57 the reliance on itinerant artisan labor may have further promoted the standardization of visual motifs, as shown in Huang’s and Chia’s essays. Song literate elites were aware of the standardizing effects of government and commercial prints, but they also exploited the medium to contest its perceived negative side-effects. Anne McLaren demonstrates how the Directorate editions of the histories of the Three Dynasties elicited discontent with regard to organization and layout. She argues that the perceived fixity of print stimulated critical response and traces lineages of revisionist histories that did not displace the Directorate editions but became nevertheless complementary to the existence of standard editions in private as well as court collections. Charles Hart- man examines how Neo-Confucian critics of the reigning government reformatted historical texts in accordance with Zhu Xi’s Zizhi tongjian gangmu 資治通鑑綱目 (Outline and details of “Comprehensive mirror for aid in governance”), promoted their publication in print, and endeavored to displace contending histories with them. The contradictions of print were manifold as images of the empire disseminated through commercial printers but derived from geographies sponsored by the Northern Song state could be turned into a rallying cry against the appeasement policies of Southern Song regimes. From the very beginnings of its history in the East Asian world, printing was invested with authority. Due to the perception that it preserved and disseminated information effectively, and at a cost more affordable than comparable public media such as the inscribed stone stele famously exploited by the First Emperor of the Qin,58 it turned into a technology that a wider spectrum of the literate population employed in shaping and contesting political, religious, intellectual, and vocational authority.

Future Prospects The bibliographic range of Song book printing has previously been explored in the work of Ming-sun Poon, Sören Edgren, Lucille Chia,

56 For the circulation of guwen anthologies, see De Weerdt, Competition over Con- tent, 297–301, 309–21. 57 Chia, Printing for Profit, 46–50. 58 Kern, Stele Inscriptions of Ch’in Shih-huang, esp. 50–58. introduction 27 and Jean-Pierre Drège. The papers in this volume seek to further flesh out the diversity of Song printing and book history by exploring the social and political relations that shaped the production and reproduction of printed texts, the impact of new intellectual formations on book production, the interaction between print and other media, implied readership and reading instructions, and the increase of collectors and the growth of collections resulting from the expansion of textual production. The essays confirm the general picture outlined in previous work in Chinese book history: the use of print became a standard procedure in the reproduction and multiplication of all sorts of textual and visual knowledge between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries, albeit that print did not replace manuscript or oral and pictorial means of knowledge transmission. The essays also resonate with current interpretations of the broader social and cultural developments taking place between the tenth and the fourteenth centuries. The early Song court harnessed the power of print in an attempt to either synthesize or control knowledge in a wide variety of fields including medicine, geography, history, literature, and religion. Starting in the eleventh century but more assertively in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries literate elites diverted state authority in knowledge production toward local and regional elite networks. Growing numbers of texts were produced by local elites in conjunction with local governments, and by private and commercial printers. Printing may have strengthened their ability to distribute works that symbolized their domination over other social groups such as preparation manuals for the civil service examinations.59 The use of the printed medium may also have sharpened social distinctions through the dissemination of technical knowledge exclusively destined for literate elites seeking new occupational opportunities in medicine or divination and differentiating themselves from the illiterate practitioners of the same arts.60 The social repercussions of the greater availability of texts in print and other media remains an area that will require further exploration

59 This observation is based on Cynthia Brokaw’s concluding comments to “First Impressions: The Cultural History of Print in Imperial China (eighth–fourteenth centuries),” the conference on which this volume is based. It was held at the Fairbank Center for East Asian Studies, Harvard University, June 25, 2007. 60 Liu, “Divination and Printing in the Song.” On the differentiation between elite and non-elite ritual practitioners, see Davis, Society and the Supernatural. 28 lucille chia and hilde de weerdt by both social and cultural historians. The essays in this volume are mostly focused on elite readers—a characteristic shared by most work on imperial Chinese attitudes towards texts and reading and a partial consequence of the remaining evidence. The representation of non- elite producers and consumers of texts and of their relationship to elite readers, however, is not only important in and of itself, but also key to the question of whether and how printing and the explosive growth of textual production buttressed elite strategies of distinction and thus domination. Similarly, mapping more systematically across time and space the social networks that funded printing projects and those that were formed by the exchange of texts may help us better understand the social dimensions of Song printing and reading; analyzing such social data in conjunction with genre and thematic distributions of text titles and contents should also result in a new and more comprehensive understanding of long-term cultural trends. A basic precondition for this work is the compilation of a bibliography that includes all titles, not only those listed in select Song and later catalogs or those extant in modern public and private collections, but also the large numbers of titles mentioned in prefaces and postfaces in collected writings (wenji 文集), biographical accounts, gazetteers, or notebooks (biji 筆記). An examination of such a list against surviving titles may also give us a better sense of one of the most striking features of Song printing and book production when compared to the early modern European experience: the dismal survival rate of all manner of texts. The question as to what factors led to the disappearance of archives, gazettes, the often referred to single-sheet publications, contracts, travel maps as well as books also deserves further examination, ideally in the context of a comparative assessment of cultural practices promoting preservation and those resulting in willful or accidental destruction, neglect, and recycling.61 Even though cultural historians and literary scholars have begun to venture into the history of reading, most of the work to date has examined readership in general terms, implied reading, and the theory of reading rather than representations of actual reading experiences.62

61 I thank Robert Hymes indirectly for his observations on the scale and problem of loss and Peter Bol directly for relaying his exchange with Hymes on the subject to me. 62 Representative recent examples focusing on the history of reading include Li Yu, “A History of Reading” and all pre-modern contributions in the volume edited introduction 29

Even though source materials are typically blamed for the irretriev- able nature of reading habits, some have shown that careful analysis of the large numbers of dedications and inscriptions preserved in literary collections can lead to a better understanding of individual reading practices and even a new form of intellectual biography.63 Poetry, notebooks, and correspondence could similarly be used for a more systematic understanding of the ways in which different media affected reading experience and of broader trends in both individual and collective reading habits.64 Finally, the temporal scope of this volume has been limited to the eleventh through the fourteenth centuries for practical reasons. We hope that this effort, inspired by the edited volume on later imperial printing and book culture edited by Cynthia Brokaw and Kai-Wing Chow, will lead to a companion volume on pre-Song uses of manuscript and print in the production of textual and visual knowledge, the perception of and mechanisms for coping with the accumulation of texts, and reading publics and practices more broadly.

by Bernhard Führer, Aspekte des Lesens. De Weerdt (Competition over Content) and Gardner (Learning to Be a Sage) touch upon reading instructions in Song times. See also Brokaw, “Book History.” Dai Lianbin’s dissertation forthcoming from the Uni- versity of Oxford aims to address Ming reading practices. 63 Ichiki, “Hakubun yakuchū kō.” 64 De Weerdt, “Court Gazettes” and “Maps and Memory.”

PART ONE

CHANGE: INTERPRETING ACCUMULATION IN TEXT PRODUCTION AND COLLECTING

TO COUNT GRAINS OF SAND ON THE OCEAN FLOOR: CHANGING PERCEPTIONS OF BOOKS AND LEARNING IN THE SONG DYNASTY

Ronald Egan

I. Introduction

The focus of this paper is on the ways that the increased availability of books in eleventh- and twelfth-century China affected ways of thinking about the written word. I will begin by quoting a few sources that suggest how widespread and quantitatively significant was the increase in books, owing largely (but not entirely) to the spread of printing. Most of these passages are well known and have been cited in the considerable amount of scholarship in Chinese on the history of printing during the Song.1 There is first the exchange of 1005 between Emperor Zhenzong 真宗 (r. 998–1022) and Xing Bing 邢昺: The emperor went to the Directorate of Education to inspect the Pub- lications Office. He asked Xing Bing how many woodblocks were kept there. Bing replied, “At the start of our dynasty, there were fewer than four thousand. Today, there are more than one hundred thousand. The classics and histories, together with standard commentaries, are all fully represented. When I was young and devoted myself to learning, there were only one or two scholars in every hundred who possessed copies of all the classics and commentaries. There was no way to copy so many works. Today, printed editions of these works are abundant, and officials and commoners alike have them in their homes. Scholars are fortunate indeed to have been born in such an era as ours!2

1 Key works include the following (listed here in reverse chronological order): Zhang Gaoping, “Diaoban yinshua”; several essays contained in Zhongguo chuban shiliao, 302–455; Zhou Baorong, Songdai chuban; Li Zhizhong, Gudai banyin, ch. 5; and Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua, 53–221. There is also much valuable information on Song printing in Zhongguo cangshu tongshi, vol. 1, sec. 5; and Fan Fengshu, Zhongguo sijia cangshu, sec. 2, ch. 1. In English, the most detailed study of commercial printing during the Song period is Part II of Chia’s Printing for Profit. Also very useful is the article by Cherniack, “Book Culture,” which concentrates on issues related to textual transmission in the period of proliferating imprints, including textual corruption, collation, emendation, and other editorial practices. 2 Xu Changbian (2), 60.1333. 34 ronald egan

A similar exchange between Emperor Zhenzong and Xiang Minzhong 向敏中 took place a few years later, in 1010: [The emperor] again asked Minzhong, “Do students today find it easy to obtain books?” Minzhong said, “At the beginning of our dynasty, Zhang Zhao 張昭 [894–972] was the only person who had copies of The Three Histories [Shiji 史記 (Records of the Grand Historian), Han shu 漢書 (History of the Han), Hou Han shu 後漢書 (History of the Later Han)] in his home. After Taizu 太祖 (r. 960–76) brought peace to all four quarters of the empire and Taizong 太宗 (r. 977–97) promoted Confucian learning, a legacy continued by Your Majesty’s own veneration for the past and fondness for writing, today The Three Histories, Sanguozhi [三國志 (History of the Three Kingdoms)], and Jin shu [晉書 (History of the Jin)] are all available in printed editions. Gentlemen and scholars, without exerting themselves, are all able to have copies of these early classics in their homes. Truly, ours is the most splendid era in a thousand years.3 Even if there is some quantitative exaggeration in the responses to Zhenzong’s questions (the officials are certainly telling him what he wants to hear), these passages make it clear that within the first fifty years of the Song, that is, between the 960s and 1010, the printing by the central government of the Confucian classics and dynastic histories, together with commentaries on the texts, increased dramatically. The result was to greatly enhance the availability of these texts to those who wanted them. As we know, from the early decades of the Song on, the Guozi jian 國子監 (Directorate of Education) actively published such works with the explicit aim of making them widely available to the public. Xing Bing says that woodblocks representing over one hundred thousand pages of such imprints were stored in the Directorate’s Publication Office as early as 1005. Later in Emperor Zhenzong’s reign someone memorialized to the throne suggesting that the price charged for Directorate editions could be raised, bringing in more government revenue. Zhenzong’s response is revealing: “The printing is not done to make a profit! It is simply that we desire such books to be widely distributed.”4 A decree Zhenzong promulgated at the time stresses the didactic aims of Directorate printing, affirming the emperor’s opposition to any attempt to turn it into a revenue-generating policy:

3 Xu Changbian (2), 74.1694. 4 Bi Yuan, Xu Zizhi tongjian, 33.752. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 35

Formerly, we carved many books on square blocks intending that they be transmitted throughout the empire, to spread teaching and learning. Our purpose was to lead people toward the true and proper, and there was no thought of monetary gain. We sought to ensure that students dressed in blue-collared robes would assemble daily in the schools and academies, and that throughout each region of the empire people would attend diligently to our hallowed traditions of learning. We thus intended to solidify what is fundamental and suppress what is superficial: will it not lead to a splendid flourishing? The price of Directorate editions of the classics shall not be increased!5 It was not just the Confucian classics and histories that were issued in printed Directorate editions. Four massive encyclopedias and anthologies were also compiled in the early decades of the Song. Emperor Taizong ordered the compilation of Taiping yulan 太平御覽 (Imperial encyclopedia of the Taiping period) in 1,000 juan 卷, Taiping guangji 太平廣記 (Expanded records of the Taiping period) in 500 juan, and the anthology of literary writings Wenyuan yinghua 文苑英華 (Blos- soms from the garden of literature) in 1,000 juan. To these Emperor Zhenzong added Cefu yuangui 冊府元龜 (Primal mirrors from the records archives), also in 1,000 juan. Wenyuan yinghua seems not to have been printed until the Southern Song (the woodblocks for its intended first printing having been destroyed by fire before the printing could be accomplished), but the other members of this group of the Four Great Compilations of the Song (Songchao si da shu 宋朝四大書), as they came to be called, were printed and disseminated. These made available in printed form a much wider quantity and variety of texts than could be printed as separate titles by the Directorate, and they also provided students with a classified or categorized arrangement of the material contained in the classics and histories, facilitating in their own way the spread of learning. The central government was involved in printing other, less scholarly, types of texts as well. Medical treatises were prominent among its other printing projects, as discussed in detail by TJ Hinrichs elsewhere in this volume. Emperor Renzong 仁宗 (r. 1023–63) was particularly diligent in seeing to it that medical works were made available this way. The bibliophile Chen Zhensun陳振孫 (fl. 1211–49) credits him with having established a special office to collate and edit medical works in

5 QSW, 255 (Zhenzong 44), Zhenzong, “Guozi jian jingshu geng bu zengjia zhao” 國子監經書更不增價詔, 420. 36 ronald egan

1057. When the editorial work was finished, each work was sent to the Directorate of Education for printing. Renzong also had commentaries written on major materia medica and related works. When all of these were printed and distributed, “the entire world knew to study ancient medical treatises.”6 Beyond the printing done by the Directorate of Education and other bureaus in the capital, printing was carried out by lower levels of the vast bureaucracy outside the capital. Circuit offices, prefectures, and even county administrations all printed texts from time to time. Sometimes they did this in the spirit that Emperor Zhenzong evokes in his decree, to spread learning and inculcate ethical values among the people (or to spread medical knowledge); at other times they printed texts to keep local officials well supplied with texts for their own use or to give as presents to dignitaries who passed through. Still other times they printed texts for the purpose of raising revenue for the local administrations.7 Naturally, these motives were not mutually exclusive. Although the cumulative number of texts and editions printed by circuit and prefectural administrations may well have exceeded those printed by the Directorate of Education, these editions were more limited in quantity and may rarely if ever have achieved national distribution. Hence we know much less about these lower levels of Song government printing than about that done directly by the imperial court. Aside from government printing, of all levels and kinds, there was also commercial and private printing. We hear most about commercial printing in the Song sources. During the Northern Song, when commercial printing was still relatively new, we find mention of it most often in connection with the needs of candidates preparing for the civil service examination, and mostly in the capital.8 Examination candidates and would-be candidates must have numbered in the tens of thousands, even in the capital alone, and they would have been des- perate crammers, just the kind of clientele a printer would like to have.

6 Chen Zhensun, Zhizhai shulu jieti (2),13.387. 7 For example, Wang Qi 王琪, when governor of Suzhou in 1059, collated a new edition of Du Fu’s poetry and printed ten thousand copies for sale. He used the pro- ceeds to repay a debt his prefecture owed to the Liangzhe 兩浙 Circuit administration, a debt that had been incurred by the expense of building a new official banquet hall. See Fan Chengda, Wujun zhi, 6.1b–2a. 8 My discussion of this topic has drawn upon the excellent work of Liu Hsiang- kwang, “Printing and Examinations.” to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 37

Not surprisingly, a range of examination aids and cheat books were prepared, printed, and sold to them. These included model collections (often referred to as chengwen 程文), which featured essays and poetic compositions that had earned their author top place in recent examinations.9 Another type of examination crib culled sentences from the classics and histories, perhaps arranging them by topical category or rhyme, and intermingled these quotations with passages from essays on current affairs. These compilations, sometimes called ‘policy essays pared down’ (cegua 策括), equipped candidates to appear both clas- sically erudite and well-informed about current political issues and debates. Su Shi 蘇軾 (1037–1101) pointed out that candidates well versed in these primers need only, once they encountered a real policy question in an examination, to select and choose from paragraphs they had already memorized, perhaps rearranging the ‘head and tail’. Thereby they managed to dazzle the examiners, who mistook this display of brilliance for true mastery of the classics.10 Yet another type of examination aid consisted of entire essays on contemporary political issues, or selections of the same, many of them passages lifted from documents smuggled out from one or another court archive. Anthologies of these were printed for sale. We hear considerable comment about the existence of such anthologies, almost all of it negative. High officials railed against the existence of such works as a threat to what we today would call national security. Since many of the court policy debates concerned questions of how to deal with the Liao and Xi Xia rival empires to the north, officials worried that the publication of the supposedly confidential court discussions would compromise the Song’s ability to deal effectively with its non-Chinese rivals.11 And there is ample evidence that such works did indeed make their way northward across the borders to end up in Tangut or Khitan hands.12 Finally, there were the ‘under arm books’ (xieshu 挾書, xiece

9 We hear of the printing and sale of the poetic composition with which Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 (1007–72) took top honors in the shengyuan 省元 examination, see Wenying, Xiangshan yelu, C.1428. 10 Su Shi, Su Shi wenji, “Yi xuexiao gongju zhuang” 議學校貢舉狀, 25.724. 11 SHY (2), “Xingfa” 2/24, entry dated Kangding 1/5/2 (1040). Throughout, references to this work adopt the juan and section numbers in the version of the text available on-line. 12 SHY (2), “Xingfa” 2/16, entry dated Tiansheng 5/2/2 (1027). For a discussion of the transmission of Chinese imprints north to the Khitan empire and government attempts to regulate such circulation, see De Weerdt, “What Did Su Che See?” 38 ronald egan

挾冊), miniature editions of selections from the classics and commentaries meant to be smuggled into the examination compound by insecure degree candidates. Significantly, when Ouyang Xiu歐陽修 (1007–72) memorialized against these cheat books in 1057 (the year he was put in charge of the examinations), he says that they were written out by hand by copyists who specialized in miniature script and profited handsomely from their skill.13 But a few decades later, purport- edly by the 1080s and definitely by the 1110s, these same miniature books were printed. The quantities of them were so large that when the examinees discarded them as they left the examination compound they lay in piles in the streets.14 This is what Su Shi, writing in 1076, said about the abundance of commercial printing intended, primarily it seems, for sale to examination candidates: I can recall meeting older scholars, long ago, who said that when they were young they had a hard time getting their hands on a copy of Shiji or Han shu. If they were lucky enough to get one, they thought nothing of copying the entire text out by hand, so they could recite it day and night. In recent years merchants engrave and print all manner of books belonging to the hundred schools, and produce ten thousand pages a day. With books so readily available, you would think that students’ writing and scholarship would be many times better than what they were in earlier generations. Yet, to the contrary, young men and examination candidates leave their books tied shut and never look at them, preferring to amuse themselves with baseless chatter. Why is this?15 It may have been partly because so much of what was being printed by booksellers consisted of examination aids, rather than classics and histories themselves, that the ‘real’ books remained unread, even after they were purchased. Su Shi was born in 1037. If the old scholars he remembers meeting were, say, seventy when he was ten, they would have been born around 970. So Su Shi was contrasting the paucity of texts in circulation in the last decades of the tenth century with the plenitude of printed books in the 1070s. His remarks fit well with the impression conveyed by other sources of the tremendous change in printing and the availability of books in just that time period.

13 Ouyang Xiu, Ouyang Xiu quanji, Zouyi 奏議 15, “Tiaoyue juren” 條約舉人, 111.1677–78. 14 SHY (2), “Xuanju” 4/7, entry dated Yuanhe 2/1/24 (1112). 15 Su Shi, Su Shi wenji, “Lishi shanfang cangshu ji” 李氏山房藏書記, 11.359. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 39

The Song court tried time and again to restrict or ban the commercial printing of books of all kinds intended for examination candidates, and frequently directed as it did so that the woodblocks used for printing them were to be destroyed. As early as 1037 we find officials warning about the dire effects examination aids are having, in making candidates ignore the canonical texts in favor of shortcuts.16 The court was particularly concerned about the printing and circulation of anthologies of court documents on border policy, and repeatedly took steps to stop the practice.17 The printing and circulation of examination aids seems to have swelled considerably during the last decades of the eleventh century and the first decade of the twelfth. In 1103 one official advised that the only hope for reforming the examination system and making it meaningful again was to gather all the printed examination aids and model essays and burn them, and the court con- curred.18 Similar bans were promulgated in 1108, 1114, and 1117, all one suspects to little or no effect.19 The new technology of book printing also made it possible for some people to put what the court viewed as even more dangerous and invidious material into wide circulation, right in the capital itself. The climate of viciously partisan politics that dominated the last seventy years of the Northern Song surely factored into the production of such imprints. Just as the controversial New Policies of Wang Anshi 王安石 were being implemented, early in Shenzong’s 神宗 (r. 1067–85) reign in the late 1060s, the censor Zhang Jian 張戩 (1030–76) complained that ‘wicked’ persons had composed writings defaming the court, and had even fabricated imperial decrees (intended, no doubt, to discredit the emperor and his policies), and that printed versions of these were for sale in the market.20 A similar tactic seems to have been used by those out of favor during Huizong’s 徽宗 reign (r. 1100–25). We read of spurious copies of the court gazette (chaobao 朝報) that were put

16 SHY (2), “Chongru” 4/7, entry dated Jingyou 4/10/17 (1037), and “Xuanju” 3/18, entry dated Jingyou 5/1/8 (1038). 17 SHY (2), “Xingfa” 2/38, entry dated Yuanyou 5/7/22 (1090), and 2/41, entry dated Yuanfu 1/3/3 (1098). 18 SHY (2), “Xuanju” 4/3, entry dated Chongning 2/9/10 (1103). 19 SHY (2), “Xingfa” 2/48, entry dated Daguan 2/7/25 (1108), 2/62, entry dated Zhenghe 4/6/19 (1114), and 2/67–68, entry dated Zhenghe 7/7/6 (1117). 20 SHY (2), “Xingfa” 2/34, entry dated Xining 1/run11/25 (1068). 40 ronald egan into circulation in the capital in 1110, and of the court’s efforts to find and punish those responsible for the outrage.21 It would be misleading to convey the impression that by the end of the eleventh century, or even on through Emperor Huizong’s reign, everything a reader could want was available in a printed edition. That was far from true. Different categories of books were available in starkly disparate quantities. Individual literary collections, especially those from earlier times, mostly continued to circulate in manuscript form, to the extent that they circulated at all. Of course, the works of a handful of the most famous writers, perhaps ten or so, were available in imprints, but those of lesser-known writers appear not to have been available in print. In about 1070, the book collector Song Minqiu 宋敏求 (1019–79) compiled an anthology of Tang poetry he entitled Tang baijia shixuan 唐百家詩選 (A selection of one hundred Tang poets), which contained some 1200 poems. Song based the anthology on 108 individual collections of Tang poets that he owned (his personal library was known to be particularly strong in Tang poetry).22 Most of Song Minqiu’s Tang poetry collections must have been manuscripts. One curious feature of the resulting anthology was that it omitted any works by the best known Tang poets (including Li Bai 李白, Du Fu 杜甫, Han Yu 韓愈, as well as Wang Wei 王維, Wei Yingwu 韋應物, Yuan Zhen 元稹, Bai Juyi 白居易, Liu Yuxi 劉禹錫, Liu Zongyuan 柳宗元, Meng Jiao 孟郊, and Zhang Ji 張籍). Rather than to sup- pose that this omission reflects any negative assessment of those poets by Song Minqiu, it is more likely, as Chen Zhensun suggested in the twelfth century, that Song omitted those poets because their works were already in wide circulation in printed editions.23 Song Minqiu must have intended that his anthology itself would be printed. His purpose, after all, was to make ‘Tang poetry’ available to readers in a new way. Indeed, we learn from an early Southern Song source that “the work subsequently circulated abundantly through the world”, which certainly implies that it was printed.24 When Sun completed his selection, he showed it to his friend Wang Anshi, who returned the favor by writing a preface for it (consequently, Wang is often wrongly

21 SHY (2), “Xingfa” 2/54, entry dated Daguan 4/10/6 (1110). 22 Chao Gongwu, Junzhai dushu, 20.1064. 23 Chen Zhensun, Zhizhai shulu jieti (2), 15.444. 24 Xu Du, Quesao bian (2), B.4500. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 41 credited with being the anthology’s compiler).25 “Those who wish to know Tang poetry,” Wang declared in his preface, “need look no further than what is contained here.”26 Manuscripts were still important for the existence and transmission of books, and consequently the copying or production of manuscripts remained important and continued in significant quantity. Manu- scripts, in fact, were still the preferred form of the book in the eyes of elite scholars and collectors. We recall Li Qingzhao’s 李清照 (1084– ca. 1155) description of how she and her husband built up their huge private library.27 Each time they acquired a new title, whether it was a manuscript or imprint, after carefully collating it with other versions that could be found, they would make a clean manuscript copy of the entire work. Only then would it be added to their collection, only then was the acquisition complete. In a perhaps unexpected way, during this era of the advent and spread of book printing, the copying of manuscripts gained new meaning. Ironically, the more imprints there were the more the act of copying was revered and even perceived by some as necessary. In the eyes of the elite, the older generation, or the conservative-minded of any generation, printed books were for those who did not truly care about books. It was opportunistic young men who snapped up print books in the market, then (as Su Shi opines) took them home and never bothered opening them. The real scholar or true connoisseur of books prided himself on copying them, after editing and collating them. The act of copying was important not just to demonstrate one’s commitment to books but also, of course, to the process of learning and mastering their contents. The quotation from Su Shi earlier comes from the dedicatory inscription he composed for his friend Li Chang’s 李常 library, housed in Bai- shi an 白石庵 (White Stone Abbey) at the foot of Lu Mountain. This was a manuscript library, made up entirely of manuscripts that Li had personally written out in his own hand, amounting to 9,000 juan in all. Subsequently, in accounts of Li Chang’s life (e.g., his tomb inscription, his biography that would eventually appear in the Song dynastic history), the fact that he had copied out such a large quantity of books

25 It is Chao Gongwu who points out this mistake, Junzhai dushu, 20.1064. 26 Wang Anshi, Linchuan xiansheng, “Tang baijia shixuan xu” 唐百家詩選序, 84.883. 27 Li Qingzhao, Li Qingzhao ji, “Jinshi lu houxu” 金石錄後序, 3.309. 42 ronald egan is mentioned as significant.28 This way of treating that fact is already anticipated in Su Shi’s inscription, with his pointed criticism of young men who purchase printed books in the marketplace. Su Shi wants us to appreciate the difference between those men and Li Chang, who went about building up his book collection the old-fashioned way. In Su Shi’s eyes, Li Chang’s unselfish devotion to learning and scholarship was further illustrated by the fact that when he moved away from his Lu Mountain retreat, he left his library intact in the abbey, speci- fying that it could be used by anyone who visited the place.29 That a literatus like Li Chang would, first, choose to store his personal library in an abbey and, later, bequeath it to the abbey when he left the area, reminds us of the important role Buddhist institutions still played as repositories of book collections. The history and dynamics of that role are explored by Joseph McDermott elsewhere in this volume. Li Chang was the exception, as we can already infer from what Su Shi says. For our purposes, the key point is that the production of books, whether by the rapidly expanding method of printing or the traditional method of copying, was multiplying throughout the eleventh and into the twelfth centuries, and multiplying on a scale that was unprecedented in Chinese history. Once a semblance of peace was restored in the south after the Jurchen invasions of the 1120s and early 1130s, book printing became even more prolific through the twelfth century. Although the extant sources do not permit us to accurately measure the rate of increase or to approximate the number of titles printed (much less the total quantity thus produced), it does appear that the increase early in the Southern Song was dramatic, and that the great losses of book collections and entire libraries associated with the Jurchen invasion and chaotic Chinese flight south were instrumental in advancing the cause of book printing once peace was reestablished and in making the elite relax their hostility to the new technology.30 One useful indicator of the proliferation of writings already during the Northern Song is the steady growth in the size of the Palace

28 Su Song, Su Weigong wenji, “Ligong muzhiming” 李公墓誌銘, 55.844, adopting the textual variant ‘nine thousand’ instead of ‘several thousand,’ since it makes the text match what Su Shi had said in his prose account of Li Chang’s library, which Su Song certainly knew of; and SS (1), 344.10929. The point about the significance assigned to Li Chang’s book copying in accounts of his life is made by Wang Yugen, “‘Ten Thousand Scrolls.’” 29 This is noted at the end of Su Shi’s inscription. 30 This point is made by Zhang Gaoping, “Diaoban yinshua,” 15–17. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 43

Library collection. We do not have data on the entirety of Palace Library holdings, but we do have information at key points in the period that is revealing on the holdings in the “San guan” 三館 (Three Institutes): Zhaowen guan 昭文館 (Zhaowen Institute), Shi guan 史館 (History Institute), and Jixian guan 集賢館 (Jixian Institute). At the start of the dynasty, the holdings of the Three Institutes are said to have amounted, collectively, to a total of 13,000 juan of writings. Over the next sixty-three years, that is, through the end of Emperor Zhenzong’s reign in 1023, the number increased to 39,142 juan. Over the ensuing forty-five years, through the end of Yingzong’s reign in 1068, the number swelled to 47,588 juan. Through the next fifty-nine years, through the end of the Northern Song in 1127, the number grew to 73,877 juan.31 There were several other imperial libraries aside from those in the Three Institutes. These included the Longtu ge龍圖閣 (Longtu Hall), Taiqing lou 太清樓 (Taiqing Tower), Yushu yuan 御書院 (Yushu Pavilion), Yuchen dian 玉宸殿 (Yuchen Palace), Shuji lou 屬籍樓 (Shuji Tower), Qingxin dian 清心殿 (Qingxin Palace), Zizheng dian 資政殿 (Zizheng Palace), Chonghe dian 崇和殿 (Chonghe Pal- ace) among others.32 There were also, of course, the collections housed in the imperial academies. There must have been considerable duplication between these many libraries, but certainly there are likely also to have been individual works held in each, thus further augment- ing the number of works available in the Three Institutes collections. Naturally, the total number of juan, counting duplicate copies, that must have been held in all the imperial libraries combined would have been several times the number of primary copies housed in the Three Institutes. Aside from the printing projects of the central government, carried out primarily by the Directorate of Education, the impressive growth in the size of the Three Institutes collections was largely a result of the court policy of actively seeking out books from private collectors, and rewarding individuals who ‘donated’ books to the court either with degrees, cash, or even direct official appointments. Repeat- edly throughout the Northern Song, decrees were sent out from the emperor, directed not just to the court but to all circuit and prefectural officials, urging that books be forwarded to the court for addition to

31 Figures from Fu Xuancong and Xie Zhuohua, Zhongguo cangshu, vol. 1, 312. 32 For a more complete list and description, see ibid., vol. 1, 297–302. 44 ronald egan the imperial collections. Sometimes these requisitions were accompanied by lists of book titles that were not held in the imperial libraries. As much as one thousand cash was offered for the donation of a single juan of writing, or a degree offered for a donation of three hundred juan. If a private collector did not wish to donate his copy of a title, the court would arrange to have a copy made and returned the original to the collector. It appears that every Northern Song ruler issued such decrees. The cumulative effect was that tens of thousands of books were obtained in this way from local government and private collections. The donations swelled the imperial libraries.33 The impact of the new printing technology and with it the proliferation of written materials of all types (in printed and manuscript form) upon attitudes towards texts, reading and writing, and learning generally, must have showed itself in many ways. The transition from manuscript to print culture, the early stages of which seem to have occurred roughly between 1000 and 1200 in China, likely affected many aspects of the way people thought about and used books. Yet this is a topic that has received little attention to date. The topic is related to print history in the Song period but it is distinct from print history. It is the history of changing attitudes towards writing and learning as affected by the explosion of books ushered in by the spread of print technology. One effect of the new abundance of books that has been discussed is the impact it had on ideas about poetic composition in the late North- ern Song and on into the Southern Song. Both Zhang Gaoping 張高評 and Wang Yugen have written about the Jiangxi School of Poetry (Jiangxi shipai 江西詩派) and the relation of its key precepts to the expanded quantity of written materials available to would-be poets.34 They argue persuasively that the Jiangxi School’s insistence that every word in a poetic line have a textual source or precedent, that poets train themselves by reading exhaustively in earlier texts, and that the source of poetic inspiration lies in books rather than the poet’s observance of the world—all these are best understood as springing from the print revolution and the new abundance of books from the time of Huang Tingjian 黃庭堅 (1045–1105), credited with being the founder

33 Ibid., vol. 1, 315–17. 34 Zhang Gaoping, “Diaoban yinshua,” especially 19; Wang Yugen, “‘Ten Thousand Scrolls.’” to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 45 of the ‘school’, on through that of later Jiangxi School proponents in the Southern Song. In the pages that follow, I hope to add to the insights of Zhang Gaoping and Wang Yugen by discussing some other ways in which the new abundance of books seems to have affected thinking about the written word at the time. My topics are discrete and not directly related to each other, although each is drawn from the period between the 1070s and 1200. My effort being a preliminary one, it necessarily has a piecemeal quality, and there are large gaps between the few events and persons I am looking at. But I hope that this effort, incomplete as it is, might be a step towards a more systematic and comprehensive treatment of the subject at some future time. At the least, by selecting distinct and unrelated topics all belonging to the particular historical period, I hope to suggest how ubiquitous was the impact of the new flood of books the period witnessed upon thinking about reading and writing. I am sure that many more examples could be adduced. I would not be surprised to find that, in fact, some influence of the expanded availability of books during the era may be discerned in many topics in the fields of intellectual history and literature of the time.

II. Sima Guang Confronts the Expanded Record of the Past

It is interesting to think of Sima Guang’s 司馬光 Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 (A comprehensive mirror for aid in governance) in this context. There is more than one way to connect that great project, probably the most important historiographical undertaking of the era and certainly the one with the greatest legacy, to the expanded availability of books at the time. We note that the years Sima Guang worked on the project, during his seclusion in Luoyang (1071–84) correspond to the period that the imperial collection was growing to its most voluminous size, to judge from the figures for the Three Institutes holdings cited earlier. Materials from the imperial libraries were made available to Sima Guang during these years. The key documents that describe the inception and plan of Zizhi tongjian repeatedly refer to the surfeit of books that exist as historical sources. The overwhelming quantity of sources is alternately represented as a blessing and a curse: it is posi- tive because it holds out the possibility of detailed understanding of the past in all its complexity. It is negative because the sheer number of works constitutes a daunting challenge to anyone who would gain 46 ronald egan mastery of the historical past; notice is also taken of the numerous inconsistencies and contradictions between overlapping accounts of events. This is what Sima Guang says in the memorial that accompanied his submission of Zizhi tongjian to the throne in 1084, when he finally completed the compilation project he had been commissioned by Shenzong to undertake seventeen years before: I humbly observe: I am obtuse by nature and my learning is uncouth and paltry. In a hundred tasks I always come out beneath other men. But to one field and one field alone I have clumsily devoted my mind, that of historical studies. From my youth to old age, I have had a taste for that field that has never been sated. Yet I have always been troubled that, from Sima Qian and Ban Gu on down to the present, the writings in the field are so numerous. Even a gentleman wearing the cotton cloth of a commoner cannot read all of them. How, then, could a ruler who must daily attend to ten thousand affairs ever have time to peruse them all? Consequently, disregarding my capacity and abilities, I was determined to pare down the ponderous quantity and select the essentials, retaining only what bore upon the rise and fall of dynasties or accounted for the contentment and suffering of the people, that which could be models of goodness and warnings about wickedness, and to fashion them into an annalistic history that was logical in its evaluations and did not indis- criminately mix the coarse with the refined.35 In the preface to the printed edition of Sima Guang’s work published by the Yuan court in ca. 1274, Wang Pan 王磐 echoes and expands upon the same theme:36 The quantity of written works from ancient and recent times that are extant in the world today is truly large. If a person does not know how to select among them and wants, instead, to look at them all, he will come to the end of his lifetime before he can scrutinize all the words; he will leave this world behind before he can master their meaning. The task is like counting grains of sand on the ocean floor—what year can one finish?37 In both passages, the achievement of Sima Guang’s work is that it tackles the problem of overabundant written sources from the past. By

35 Sima Guang, Sima Wenzheng, “Jin Zizhi tongjian biao” 進資治通鑑表, 17.262. 36 On the date of this Yuan edition, see Wang Guowei, “Liang Zhe gu kanben kao,” B.4620–21, in Guantang jilin. 37 Wang Pan, “Xingwen shu xinkan Zizhi tongjian xu” 興文署新刊資治通鑑序, in Sima Guang, Zizhi tongjian, xxxi. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 47 culling through the massive number of books, paring away the superfluous and isolating the essentials, Sima Guang managed to make the past intelligible again. We have seen earlier references to the expanded availability of the early dynastic histories in the first decades of the Northern Song, owing to printed editions of them brought out by the Directorate of Education. By the time Sima Guang began his work on Zizhi tongjian, all seventeen of the dynastic histories (from Shiji through Xin Wudai shi 新五代史 (New history of the Five Dynasties)) had been so printed and were in wide circulation. This wide availability of so much of the official canon of historical writing must have already constituted a sea change in historiography. But this was only one type of the material on the historical past that was now readily accessible. The growing tide of written sources included vast numbers of unofficial histories, collections of edicts and memorials, annals, biographical collections, veritable records, collections of statutes, anecdotal collections, and individuals’ literary collections. Some of these were printed, others circulated in manuscript form. Equally significant were the enormous and newly compiled encyclopedias and anthologies, mentioned earlier, that quoted from countless more such sources that might not circulate independently or perhaps even still survive. The multiplication of historical sources may often have been thought of as overwhelming, but it also constituted a great opportunity for the historian to move beyond the standard histories in reconstructing a portrait of the past. This is the other, alternative way that the new abundance of written works is invoked by Sima Guang and others when they describe Zizhi tongjian. Sima Guang and his assistants clearly saw themselves as taking full advantage of the new quantity of written works to produce a kind of history unlike any produced in earlier ages. The relevant passage of Sima Guang’s submission memorial says this, after referring to his posting to Luoyang in 1072, five years after he had first been commissioned to produce Zizhi tongjian, and the permission he received then to take documents from the imperial collection in Kaifeng with him for his project: I had no other demands on my time, so that I was able to distill the essential, bringing all thought to bear, and to exhaust the materials in my possession. When my efforts during the day were insufficient, I continued working on into the night. I perused all the old histories, and supplemented them by drawing upon collections of anecdotes and tales. Slips and folios were piled high, and were as abundant as the misty sea. 48 ronald egan

Hidden secrets were plucked out and brought to light, and the tiniest detail was compared and assessed for accuracy.38 There is, here, unmistakable pride in having tackled the voluminous sources with all the diligence needed to realize their full potential. As is well known, Zizhi tongjian departs from earlier historiography precisely in the extent to which it utilizes a range of source types, going beyond the standard dynastic histories, and weaves diverse materials together into a coherent narrative. Sima Guang cast his net wide: he made an effort to consider all available materials. He did not use sources simply because they existed. He evaluated their plausibility and then drew upon what he determined to be the most reliable. Still, the process of initial consideration was as inclusive as possible. From his “Kaoyi” 考異 (“Investigation of discrepancies”) we have some sense of the wealth of sources Sima Guang consulted. There are some 350 sources named in “Kaoyi,” including thirty-five sources for the Han period, twenty for the Jin period, seventeen for the short-lived Sui dynasty, and no fewer than 138 for the Tang period.39 The breakdown by type is as follows: twenty-fivezhengshi 正史 (standard histories), thirty-eight annals (biannian 編年), eight chronological biographies (pulu 譜錄), fifty-six unofficial histories (yeshi 野史), seventy-five uncategorized histories (zashi 雜史), forty-three histories of hegemons (bashi 霸史), thirty-two biographies (zhuanji 傳記), thirteen funerary inscriptions (beijie 碑碣), seventeen collections of memorials and policy discussions (zouyi 奏議), eighteen individual literary collections (bieji 別集), eleven geographical works (dili 地理), eighteen anecdote collections (xiaoshuo 小說), and fifteen philosophical works (zhuzi 諸子).40 So as not to overemphasize Sima Guang’s reliance upon the sources of lower stature such as the unofficial histories and anecdote collections, it must be noted that often he refers to their alternative versions of events only to reject them as unreliable or worse. Still, there certainly are times that he favors such works over accounts in the standard histories, and this is remarkable, considering the biases of his era. It is difficult to assess the factors that enabled him to be relatively free of those biases. (A distinction has been noticed in this regard

38 Sima Guang, Sima Wenzheng, “Jin Zizhi tongjian biao,” 17.263. 39 For the lists of titles, see Cui Wanqiu, Tongjian yanjiu, 38–62. 40 Chen Guangchong, Tongjian xinlun, 130–36, who corrects and supplements the figures in Zhang Xu,Tongjian xue, rev. ed., 38–65. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 49 between Zizhi tongjian and the imperial encyclopedia Cefu yuangui, with the latter—completed some seventy years earlier—significantly less apt to draw upon non-canonical materials.)41 Was it because the other sources were available to Sima Guang, or was it because he took pains to ensure that they were available and scrutinized? We cannot know. It seems plausible that the great increase in the circulation of non-canonical sources, some in printed editions and some in manuscript form, directly or indirectly affected Sima Guang’s way of thinking about such works. At the least, we can say that the possibility for the historian to go beyond the standard histories in a very substantial way existed by the time Sima Guang began his project to an extent that it had never existed in earlier times. Sima Guang clearly relished the idea of taking advantage of that potential, evidently intrigued by the prospect of finding in obscure and previously ignored sources historical facts that could enhance understanding of the past (“hidden secrets were plucked out and brought to light”). Finally, the “Investigation of Discrepancies” itself marks the entrance with Zizhi tongjian into a new stage of historiographical inquiry, in which widespread divergence and even contradiction between primary source texts is acknowledged. No doubt some precedents for the critical evaluation of conflicting sources may be found.42 But never before within the field of historiography had such evaluation been carried out so thoroughly and recorded in such detail, with both the conflicting sources and the author’s reasons for his final choice among them fully documented. The “Investigation” amounts to the author’s own critical commentary on his grand historical narrative (“the tiniest detail was compared and assessed for accuracy”). There could hardly be a clearer indication of a new awareness of how voluminous and conflicted was the textual record of the past than this authorial commentary. This is not to suggest that Sima Guang works in his “Investiga- tion” as the modern historian, much less the ‘post-modern’ historian, would work. He is much quicker than we would be to reject alternatives he deems unreliable or undesirable, and to affirm the rightness of a single version he prefers. He is seldom able to produce a true synthesis of divergent accounts, and even less apt to give sustained

41 Wang Debao, “Zizhi tongjian yu Cefu yuangui,” 65–71. 42 I am grateful to Hilde De Weerdt for calling my attention to analogous attention to conflicting sources found in writings that accompany maps compiled by court geographers during the Tang period. 50 ronald egan consideration to contrary versions of events, or to ask the question how such contradictions could exist and use them to break through to a higher understanding of the deep forces or interests at work that generate historical texts in the first place. Quite to the contrary, that he works his way through the morass of sources with a clear political and ethical agenda is all too evident, and he does not hesitate to alter even the source texts he prefers to make the didactic lessons appear with unmistakable clarity in his ‘mirror.’43 That said, the sense of responsibility Sima Guang had openly to adjudicate the relative merits of divergent source texts, and to articulate his reasons for accepting some and rejecting others was new in Chinese historiography, and has rightly earned for him a special place and stature in the field. The point here is that his innovation in this regard was facilitated by the age in which he lived, when the rapid increase in the quantity of source materials virtually demanded a new historical narrative such as his to try to restore coherence to ‘the past’, and one that would deal openly and explicitly with the enhanced awareness of discrepancies in the quickly multiplying textual record.

III. Li Qingzhao: Texts and Pagination, Looking Things Up

The next topic I wish to touch on is just a passing reference, a momen- tary reminiscence really, in Li Qingzhao’s famous epilogue to the notes her late husband, Zhao Mingcheng 趙明誠 (1081–1129), wrote on the inscriptions he collected, known as Jinshi lu 金石錄 (Records on metal and stone). Li Qingzhao’s remark is just a brief comment on a guess- ing game that she and her husband used to play, but her comment has deep implications for the way this singular woman thought about the physical features of books and their contents. Li Qingzhao’s epilogue, celebrated for the intimate picture it gives of her life together with her husband, provides a detailed and well- known account of how they built up their collection of book and art works. So large did the collection come to be that when they had to flee from the invading Jurchen in 1126,after discarding the larger and less precious items, and apart from the ten rooms of books they left

43 On Sima Guang’s use and manipulation of his texts, see Tillman, “Textual Liberties.” to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 51 behind in their home in Qingzhou 青州, they still traveled south with fifteen cartloads of books. The most revealing thing Li Qingzhao says about their books is this: It happens that I have a good memory, and whenever we finished dinner we would sit in our hall named Returning Home and brew tea. We’d point to a pile of books and, choosing a particular event, try to say in which book, which chapter, which page, and which line it was recorded. The winner of our little contest got to drink tea first. When I guessed right I’d hold the cup high and burst out laughing until the tea splattered the front of my gown. I’d have to get up without even taking a sip. Oh, how I wished we could grow old living like that!44 Quite apart from the endearing glimpse this provides of Li Qingzhao’s domestic life, the passage is interesting for what it suggests about books and reading in her life. We note that the way she has learned the texts she owns is inseparable from the physical format of the books they are contained in. It might have been otherwise, of course. She might have committed the contents of each title to memory as one sustained text, without thought of page and line or even, perhaps, of juan. That is presumably the way people memorized texts in the earlier era of scrolls rather than books. But Li Qingzhao thinks of a book’s content in terms of its location in a set of numbered pages, and claims even to remember where on each page a certain segment of text or piece of information is recorded. Her thinking is wholly conditioned by the paginated book. Even the game she devised is completely dependent upon the book format. It is a game that could not be played with texts recorded on scrolls, that is, with texts from an earlier age. But there is something more. Li Qingzhao looked at the pile of books and thought of looking something up in them. She made a game of this, a competition with her husband, to see who knew better where to look. But underlying the game there is a presumption that this is one of the uses of books, to store information that can be looked up, whenever one needed to. As we saw earlier, a few decades before, in the 1070s, Su Shi had written disparagingly of the inundation of the marketplace by cheap printed books. The new abundance of books had the untoward effect of undermining people’s reverence for them. The old men he remembers talking to in his youth thought nothing, he claims they told him, of writing out a fresh copy of the entire Shiji

44 Li Qingzhao, Li Qingzhao ji, “Jinshi lu houxu,” 3.310. 52 ronald egan or Han shu; they only worried that they could not obtain a text to copy out. But in recent times, Su complains, with tens of thousands of pages of texts being printed by booksellers daily, students and degree candidates take books for granted and leave the printed copies that they can so readily acquire “tied shut and never read them.” Su, who makes these observations in the course of celebrating his friend’s manuscript library, is taking the most negative possible view of the new abundance of printed books. To him it may seem that the lazy young men are not even bothering to read the books they have purchased in the market. But that is partly because they know they do not have to master them and commit them to memory in the old way. Su asserts that the younger generation does not read, but we understand that in reality they do not read the way Su Shi grew up reading (much less the way those a generation older than Su grew up reading). Surely, the younger generation of students and scholars acquire books so that they may turn to them when they need to look something up. There is considerably less imperative than in earlier times to digest books in the old way. They are readily acquired, and if they get damaged or lost, they can just as readily be replaced. Books were becoming com- modities, mere ‘utensils and things’ (qiwu 器物), as Luo Bi 羅璧 (fl. 1176) would say despairingly, and were beginning to be thought of as repositories where things could be looked up whenever the need arose.45 Li Qingzhao in her use of books is located somewhere between Su Shi and the young scholars he disparages. She read books through, and did it so thoroughly that she even remembered the chapter and page on which certain passages appeared. But she was also very conscious that books function as repositories of knowledge to which one took recourse in order to recheck, confirm, or refresh one’s memory of a previously read passage.

IV. Literary Inquisitions

In the long history of literary inquisitions in China, the Song Dynasty probably marks a turning point, when the court became more appre- hensive about the threat it perceived in writings by certain individuals and took unprecedented steps to proscribe and destroy such writings.

45 Luo Bi, Luoshi zhiyi, “Chengshu deshu nan” 成書得書難, 1.3a. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 53

Naturally, the court’s heightened sense of paranoia was directly linked to the fact that the dangerous or slanderous writings were now, for the first time, circulating in printed editions that could quickly spread far and wide. No doubt the court was sometimes successful in suppressing written works. But in at least one case what we find is the apparent futility of court efforts at proscription, as popular enthusiasm for one author, supported by booksellers who profited from catering to that enthusiasm, appears to have subverted the imperial decrees of proscription. As early as 1009, Emperor Zhenzong issued a decree decrying literary writings that were insufficiently steeped in moral values and didactic purposes, and instead indulged in empty ornamentation. What is interesting about this imperial admonition against literary ‘shallowness’ is the reference it makes to the printing of the offending works. “We have heard that individuals’ literary collections are now compiled in large numbers, and the quantity of them that have been engraved and printed is large. If they are permitted to advance heterodox notions, they will lead the younger generation of students into erroneous ways.”46 The course decided upon to remedy the problem is to have the zhuanyun shi 轉運使 (fiscal commissioner) of each circuit assess the separate collections compiled in each area and determine which were fit to be printed. The ones that were acceptable were then to be printed by the fiscal commission itself, and a copy forwarded to the court for its holdings. Now, we know that the circuit fiscal commissions were major printers of books in the provinces, and so it comes as no surprise that the court wants to entrust them with responsibility to evaluate and eventually to print certain of the locally compiled literary collections. Obviously, the court is attempting to reassert government control over printing projects that had already slipped out of such control, and, interestingly enough, it perceives a need to do this through its regional administrations. The court evidently recognizes that it cannot impose central control upon the apparently rampant printing that is going on in various quarters of the empire.

46 QSW, 235 (Zhenzong 24), Zhenzong, “Jieyue shuci fuyan lingyu diaoyin wenji zhuanyun shi xuan wenshi kanxiang zhao” 誡約屬辭浮豔令欲調印文集轉運使選文士看詳詔, 415. 54 ronald egan

We have it from Shi Jie 石介 (1005–45) that the immediate target of Emperor Zhenzong’s decree were the writings of the leaders of the Xikun School (Xikun ti 西昆體), namely, Yang Yi 楊億 (974–1020), Qian Weiyan 錢惟演 (962–1034), and Liu Yun 劉筠 (971–1031).47 The criticisms of empty ornamentation in the decree match those often leveled at the Xikun writers, even if the decree does not explicitly name the school and appears to be an attempt to exploit dissatisfaction with the Xikun vogue in order to impose government supervision and, ultimately, control over all non-government printing of literary works. If Shi Jie was right, we see in Emperor Zhenzong’s decree the surprising lengths the court was willing to go to in order to suppress a manner of expression it deemed unfit and damaging. Admittedly, there was more than literary style at stake in the conflict between the Xikun School and its critics: the very ideological basis and didactic intent of writing is what was really in dispute. Still, it is surprising to see the court take such pronounced steps when there was no outright criticism of court policy involved, either directly or indirectly expressed. The best known case of proscription of writing from the Song period is that connected with the writings of Su Shi and other Yuanyou 元祐 (1086–94) partisans. This was a movement that could be described as taking place in two acts. In the first, there was criticism of specific court policies involved, and the court moved to stifle and destroy it. It did so by arresting Su Shi for writing prose and poetry that made frequent reference to Wang Anshi’s New Policies as misguided and the cause of corruption among officialdom and suffering among the people.48 One could say that the court was relatively slow to take action. Su Shi had been sprinkling such policy criticisms into his writings since the New Policies began to take effect, early in the 1070s, and was not arrested for having “slandered the emperor and high officials” until the summer of 1079. He was imprisoned in the Yushi yu 御史獄 (Cen- sorate Prison), held there for some three months, interrogated and required to elucidate the meanings of the politically-charged poems and prose pieces he had sent to friends over the years. Book printing was a key part of this case and the court’s decision to prosecute Su Shi. It comes up in the indictment memorial against him by He Dazheng

47 Shi Jie, Culai ji, “Xiangfu zhaoshu ji” 祥符詔書記, 19.1a–3b; Zhang Gaoping, “Diaoban yinshua,” 32. 48 On this episode, see Hartman, “Poetry and Politics”, and Zhou Baorong, Songdai chuban shi, 105–19. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 55

何大正 (fl. 1079), who tied the heinousness of Su Shi’s offense directly to how widespread his writings are among the populace now that they exist in printed editions.49 The unauthorized printing, for profit, of Su Shi’s poems is an issue that was also addressed by Su Shi himself, who declared himself to be exasperated by the practice, especially after the events of 1079. Su told a friend that he would like to destroy the woodblocks used to print his works; as well he might if the pirate printing of his works could get him into such trouble.50 We see here that commercial printers were apt to incur enmity from all sides, not from the court alone. The second act of this literary inquisition occurred over twenty years later. It was part of the larger political repression that began in the early years of Huizong’s reign, when the court under Cai Jing’s 蔡京 (1046–1126) leadership struck out against the anti-reformers who had dismantled the New Policies during the intervening Yuanyou period. Cai Jing’s purges began in 1102 with the publication of lists of Yuanyou faction officials, who were denounced as ‘heterodox’xie ( 邪).51 In 1103, stone tablets listing the names of ninety-three offenders were distributed throughout the empire. Dozens of these men were sent into distant exile, barred from official service, and prohibited from coming to the capital. By 1104, the list had grown to 309 men, who were denounced as wicked and treacherous. The purges included the proscription of the literary collections of the most prominent writers of the group, including those of Sima Guang, Su Shi, Huang Tingjian, Qin Guan 秦觀 (1049–1100), Zhang Lei 張耒 (1052–1112), and Chao Buzhi 晁補之 (1053–1110). It was not only literary collections that were proscribed. The ban was extended to virtually any work written by a Yuanyou party figure, including Fan Zuyu’s范祖禹 historical work, Tang jian 唐鑑 (Tang dynasty mirror), Fan Zhen’s 范鎮 miscellany, Dongzhai jishi 東齋記事 (Record of events from Eastern Studio), and even Liu Ban’s 劉攽 Shihua 詩話 (Remarks on poetry), and the miscellany by the monk Wenying 文瑩 (fl. 1078), Xiangshan yelu 湘山野錄 (Rustic records from Xiangshan).52 (The decree banning these works, which specified that they were circulating in printed editions,

49 He Dazheng, “Jiancha yushi”, 1b. 50 Su Shi, Su Shi wenji, “Da Chen Chuandao” 答陳傳道, no. 2, 53.1574. 51 For more information on the purges, see Chaffee, “Huizong, Cai Jing,” 43–44. 52 Huang Yizhou, Xu Zizhi tongjian, 21.741, entry for Chongning 2/4/yihai; Zhang Gaoping, “Diaoban yinshua zhi fanrong,” 33. 56 ronald egan is of additional interest as evidence that such miscellanies and remarks on poetry were already in print early in Huizong’s reign.) As usual, Su Shi was singled out in this campaign (though he had died in 1101) for particularly harsh treatment.53 What we learn from the sources concerning the course and effect of the proscription of his works is somewhat surprising. The draconian climate of the purge era was such that local officials are said to have been scared even to preserve an inscription (on stone or wood) done in Su Shi’s calligraphy.54 Of course there were many such inscriptions, especially in the various locales where Su Shi had lived and served during his long career. At this point, consequently, a great number of them were destroyed. The governor of Xuzhou is said to have been unable to bring himself to destroy the inscription on Huang lou 黃樓 (Yellow Pavilion) there, a building that Su Shi had constructed while governor thirty years before, for which Su Che 蘇轍 (1039–1112) had provided the dedicatory inscription, which Su Shi copied out in his calligraphy. So the governor threw the inscribed stone into the moat around the city wall, and at the same time changed the name of the building. Subsequently, toward the end of Huizong’s reign, an unscrupulous new governor assigned to Xuzhou had the stone fished out of the moat. He then made “several thousand” rubbings of the inscription. Suddenly, he announced to his subordinates, “The learning of the Sus is still under proscription. What are we doing preserving this inscription?” He had the stone broken into pieces. When people heard that the inscription had been destroyed, the price a rubbing could fetch rose dramatically. Subsequently, this governor took the stack of rubbings back with him to the capital, where he is said to have profited handsomely from his scheme. Concerning Su’s literary works and the way they were affected by the proscription, we find what are seemingly contradictory accounts in the early sources. Yang Wanli 楊萬里 (1127–1206) reported that booksellers were intimidated by the ban into destroying their copies of Su’s work and the woodblocks they used to print them, so that the price a surviving copy of the works could fetch increased.55 Yang also quotes an eyewitness who describes how, during the period of

53 See for example the degree that bans Su Shi’s works alone, quoted in Huang Yizhou, Xu Zizhi tongjian, 21.739, entry for Chongning 2/4/dingsi. 54 For this and what follows, see Xu Du, Quesao bian (2), C.4511–12. 55 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (1), “Shanxi ji houxu” 杉溪集後序, 84.16a. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 57 the proscription, copies of Su Shi’s and Huang Tingjian’s works were smuggled into the National University. They were eagerly read on the sly by students through the night, then hidden away at dawn.56 But Zhu Bian 朱弁 (d. 1144), who lived through the period of the proscription, tells us something quite different: Whenever Dongpo finished writing a poem or prose piece, people would immediately circulate and recite it . . . During the Chongning and Daguan periods (1102–06, 1107–10), the poetry he wrote on the southern ocean [i.e., in Hainan Island] circulated widely. The younger generation no longer spoke about Ouyang Xiu. At the time, although his writings had been proscribed by the court, and rewards given to informers reached 800,000 cash, the stricter the ban became the more numerous were copies of his works in circulation, and individuals boasted of the quantity they managed to collect. If a gentleman could not recite Dongpo’s poetry, he felt himself lackluster and sapped of vitality, and other people considered him boorish.57 How can these divergent reports be reconciled? There may have been a significant difference in the ways the prohibition was enforced in the capital and the provinces. There probably also was variation every few years, during the twenty-four year duration of the ban (1102–1126), in the stringency of the enforcement of the prohibition. A decree of 1123 points out that printed copies of the writings of Su Shi and Sima Guang from Fujian had recently been forwarded to the Secretariat. The decree directed that all such imprints whether in the capital region, Sichuan, or Fujian, were to be strictly prohibited and specifies punishments for the owners, printers, and sellers of the banned works.58 So it is obvious that a considerable amount of printing was being done late in the period of the ban, in flagrant disregard of the court’s numerous decrees. The long-term effect of proscribing Su Shi’s works, as well as those by others associated with him, was unquestionably to enhance their stature. Soon after the ban was lifted, there was a tremendous resur- gence of outspoken adulation of the late poet, who had become something of a national hero, especially in the wake of the invasions of 1126–31, the loss of the north, and consequent wholesale discrediting of Cai Jing and his politics. Early in the 1130s, Emperor Gaozong 高宗 (r. 1127–62) himself, as he restored Su Shi’s title posthumously, declared (in inflated rhetoric, to be sure), “Every person transmits the

56 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (1), 84.15a. 57 Zhu Bian, Quwei jiuwen, 8.3016. 58 SHY (2), “Xingfa” 2/88, entry for Xuanhe 5/7/13 (1123). 58 ronald egan learning of the Yuanyou ministers, and every household has a copy of Meishan’s (Su Shi’s) writings.”59 Yet what is of particular interest is that even during the period of the proscription, the court’s ban seems to have been particularly ineffec- tive not only in suppressing interest in Su Shi’s works (as we can readily understand) but also in having any real and lasting effect upon their circulation. In what may have been the first showdown in Chinese history in the era of book printing between the imperial will to eradicate one writer’s work and a writer who enjoyed empire-wide repute and admiration, the court clearly was the loser. It would be interesting to compare this case of attempted proscription with later instances during the Ming and Qing periods, for what they tell us about the relative effectiveness of imperial interdiction and commercial printing. One suspects that in Su Shi’s case the court did not yet fully understand the power of book printing or its lack of control over the same. Also, the special difficulty of decreeing from above the elimination of writings that commanded the respect accorded to Su Shi’s must be taken into account. We read of a man who was found to be carrying a copy of Su Shi’s writings as he passed through the gate of the capital’s city wall in the later years of Huizong’s reign. He was arrested for having the banned book in his possession and turned over to the officials for prosecution. It was noticed that he had added a poem of his own on the back page of the book, a poem that extolled the late poet, alluded to the travesty of having his works fall under proscription, and pre- dicted that the gods themselves would safeguard them if mankind was prohibited from doing so. “The governor of the capital,” we are told, “concluded that he was an upright man” and secretly released him.60 If this is the way those charged with the enforcement of the proscription behaved, there was no possibility it could ever succeed.

V. Lu You: The Challenge of Truly Understanding a Single juan

Lu You 陸游 (1125–1210) was a member of a prominent family of book collectors. His grandfather, Lu Dian 陸佃 (js 1070), already had a sizable collection, as did his father, Lu Zai 陸宰. Since the ancestral

59 Li Xinchuan, Jianyan yilai, “Jiaji”, “Su Wenzhong zengguan” 蘇文忠贈官, 8.163. 60 Fei Gun, Liangxi manzhi (2), 7.3412. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 59 home was in Shaoxing 紹興 (modern Zhejiang Province), probably the family collection of books survived relatively intact through the turmoil of the Jurchen invasion, unlike so many other collections in the north. Still, Lu You redoubled his efforts to add further to the collection. It is said that when he returned from his years of service in Sichuan, the only local product he brought back with him were Sichuanese books (presumably, titles and editions that were unavailable at home), and that these added substantially to the size of his collection.61 Lu You called his studio Shu chao 書巢 (Nest of Books) and wrote a humorous essay explaining the odd name. The essay opens with a visitor who questions the appropriateness of the name. The visitor reviews numerous ways the word ‘nest’ has been used in earlier writings, both to designate various types of bird’s nest and, figuratively, to designate various human dwellings that resemble a bird’s in one sense or another (e.g., tree houses used in times of flood, Daoists’ cliff dwellings, etc.) and finds that none of them seems to resemble Lu You’s usage. How, he demands, can Lu You possibly justify the name? This is Lu You’s answer: Your words are well-reasoned, but you haven’t ever been inside my studio. Inside it, whether they are stored in cabinets or spread out on my desk or lying strewn all over my bed, in all directions wherever I look, there are nothing but books. As I eat and drink, sit or stand, no matter if I am moaning sadly or intoning poems, consumed by grief or over- whelmed with anger, I am always together with my books. Guests do not come calling, and I pay no attention to my wife and children. Wind, rain, thunder, and hail come and go and I am unaware of them. From time to time if I feel like going out, I find that the haphazard piles of books surround me, like bundles of dried twigs, so that sometimes I am actually trapped and unable to move. Whenever this happens I laugh at myself and say, ‘Isn’t this precisely what I mean by ‘nest’? With this, [Lu] led the visitor in to take a look. At first he was unable to find a way inside, and once he got inside he was unable to find a way out. Then he too gave a great laugh and said, “It really is like a nest!”62 What makes this more than merely amusing is the assertion that we find elsewhere in Lu You’s writing that books are mutually illuminating and that, in fact, to understand a single book or even a single juan

61 Kuaiji zhi (1), 16.30a; quoted in Fan Fengshu, Zhongguo sijia cangshu, 101. 62 Lu You, Weinan wenji, “Shu chao ji” 書巢記, 18.2142–43. 60 ronald egan of one you need to have access to a whole collection of books. This idea throws a new light on his account of his Nest of Books. It is not simply that he owns many books, or that he takes them out and never gets around to putting them tidily away. Rather, being surrounded or engulfed in books is a consequence of the way he reads. Here is the relevant passage, from an inscription he wrote for a friend’s library, named Wanjuan lou 萬卷樓 (Hall of Ten Thousand Juan): Learning must be based on books. A single juan of a book may at first seem extremely limited. But earlier and later sections shed light on each other, and a passage here yields an insight into a statement there. The essential and trivial points and the refined and ordinary observations are all mutually illuminating. In the end, the subjects and issues broached in a single juan will be found to be more than can be enumerated. A single composition or even a single page may have lacunae or words that are out of order. If you do not verify the text by consulting other books, you will accept the mistakes as correct and never realize it. The same character may have different glosses, or the same phrase different meanings. Written forms vary from seal script to ancient script, and pronunciations vary from those of Chu to those of the north. If you do not broadly consult a range of other books, then how could you ever readily master even a single juan of text? This is why those whose minds are set on learning value breadth. Books have been passed down from pre-Qin times and the two Han dynasties down through Tang and the Five Dynasties period. But because of the great turmoil that ensued (the fall of Northern Song), the number of books that survived were few. Students, seeing this relative paucity of works, in their careless way use it to indulge their laziness and indifference, saying “I fear that breadth will inundate my mind.” Is this not debased? Those who truly excel at learning know that it is enough to master a single classic, and those who collect books are not satisfied even when they possess ten thousandjuan .63 It is appropriate to mention here that Lu You was also a printer of books, although not in any commercial or professional sense. It is simply that he arranged to have certain titles printed, works that evidently caught his attention or fancy, from time to time throughout his life. He seems mostly to have used personal funds to do this, although he may also have used his authority as prefectural official to divert some government funds to the printing projects he took up. Lu You did not print his own writings, although he did authorize the printing of a collection of his verse by a subordinate official in Yanzhou嚴州 (modern

63 Lu You, Weinan wenji, “Wanjuan lou ji” 萬卷樓記, 21.2179. to count grains of sand on the ocean floor 61

Jiande, Zhejiang) in 1187, when he was sixty-three.64 Apart from this, the works we know that Lu You arranged to have printed were an interesting and somewhat idiosyncratic collection of types and titles. They include:Cen Shen shiji 岑參詩集 (The poetry collection of Cen Shen [715–70]),65 Jiang jianyi zouyi 江諫議奏議 (The policy memorials of remonstrator Jiang [Jiang Gongwang 江公望 (js 1073)]),66 Liu Binke ji 劉宾客集 (The literary collection of Liu Binke[Liu Yuxi (772– 842)]),67 Huangfu Chizheng wenji 皇甫持正文集 (The literary collection of Huangfu Chizheng [Huangfu Shi 皇甫湜 (ca. 777–ca. 830)]),68 Lushi xuji yanfang 陸氏續集驗方 (A continuation of the Lu clan’s medical prescriptions),69 and Shishuo xinyu 世說新語 (A new account of tales of the world).70 These are just the titles we happen to know about, through Lu You’s colophons or chance references that survive. It is likely there were others that now escape our notice. It is interesting to compare Lu You’s activity as a printer of books with the poetic printing project undertaken by Song Minqiu and Wang Anshi, mentioned earlier. Song Minqiu went through his unusually complete holdings of Tang poetry collections and compiled an anthology designed to acquaint the reading public better with the subject. He evidently saw his anthology as a supplement to the printed editions of the small number of first-rank Tang poets that were already in wide circulation. Wang Anshi asserted in his preface that the anthology contained all that anyone needed to read of Tang poetry (beyond the works of the leading poets). Lu You’s actions as a printer were considerably more inclusive and ambitious. He brought entire collections of, mostly, second-rank authors into print. We know that by Lu You’s time, there were literally hundreds of collections of individual Tang poets circulating in print.71 Lu You did what he could to add to that

64 Zhu Shangshu, Songren bieji xulu, vol. 2, 960–61. 65 See Lu You’s colophon, Weinan wenji, “Ba Cen Jiazhou shiji” 跋岑嘉州詩集, 26.2229. 66 Jiang Gongwang was a policy critic under Emperor Huizong who ran afoul of the grand councilor Cai Jing. On this work, see Lu You, Weinan wenji, “Ba Diaotai Jianggong zouyi” 跋釣臺江公奏議, 27.2240. 67 Listed by Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua, 120. 68 Listed by Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua, 120. 69 Lu You, Weinan wenji, “Ba xuji yanfang” 跋續集驗方, 27.2235. 70 Mentioned by Fan Fengshu, Zhongguo sijia cangshu, 101. 71 Yang Wanli says that in bookstores in the capital and in gentlemen’s private libraries he had seen, altogether, over two hundred individual collections of Tang poetry; see Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (1), “Huang yushi ji xu” 黃御史集序, 80.1a. 62 ronald egan number, or, as in the case of Liu Yuxi, he evidently tried to enhance the quality of what editions were already available. Song Minqiu and Lu You were, in this respect, representative of changing circumstances in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. What Song Minqiu did was, for his time, quite a singular thing to do, and it is not surprising that Wang Anshi felt the work exhausted the field and its print possibilities. By Lu You’s time, eminent and less-than-eminent literati were putting all manner of works into print, dipping far more deeply into the pool of available manuscripts and turning them into printed editions. Lu You himself tells us that “in recent times gentlemen and officials are fond of carving printing blocks wherever they go.”72 If anything, he thought that too much of this is being done, and he complains about the fact that most books are printed before the texts are properly edited and collated, so that in fact low-quality works flooded the empire. With Lu You we reach yet another new stage in the history of attitudes towards printed books and learning itself. Lu You may have objected to low-quality imprints, and as a connoisseur of books he may have valued a fine manuscript over any printed edition. But he accepted book printing as an inevitable fact of the world he lived in, and he even printed certain favorite titles himself, to ensure their wide circulation and survival. More importantly, he generally welcomed the great explosion in the availability of books. He luxuriated in the books he owned, surrounding himself with them in his study to the point he could hardly move. As a reader he pored over not just the page before him but ancillary works as well, using the abundance of his collection to enhance his understanding of any given passage. The surfeit of books available to him made him think of books not as individual titles but as a collective entity consisting of innumerable interconnections. He viewed this not as a daunting circumstance, but as an excit- ing and challenging one in which he could fully absorb himself.

Already in the generation before Yang Wanli, Xu Du said that there were easily “several hundred” such collections in circulation; Xu Du, Quesao bian (2), B.4500. Even if Xu Du is exaggerating (we note that Chen Zhensun’s library catalog includes only a total of 203 Tang collections, counting both literary collections (wenji 文集) [70] and poetry collections (shiji 詩集) [133]), clearly the situation in the mid and late twelfth century is vastly different from one hundred years before, when Wang Anshi compiled his anthology. 72 Lu You, Weinan wenji, “Ba lidai lingming” 跋歷代陵名, 26.2232. BOOK COLLECTING IN JIANGXI DURING THE SONG DYNASTY

Joseph P. McDermott

I. Introduction

As the study of the Chinese book expands beyond the concerns of production, technology, and bibliography, the entire subject becomes more central to the study of Chinese cultural and social history in general. Instead of asking merely how a book was produced, how its text may have changed, and what its text meant, we can also explore how it was crucial to the social reproduction of certain kinds of knowledge as well as of the holders of such knowledge. With this turn of scholarly interest to the dynamics of knowledge transmission, issues of book distribution, circulation, and consumption have naturally come to the fore. The uses that the Chinese found for books other than for reading then become vital topics of historical research. Seemingly arcane topics of libraries, book collectors, and book collecting become crucial to any discussion of how bodies of knowledge are transmitted by social groups and institutions and how an individual’s deep commitment to book learning may expand the range of his commitments beyond kinship to encompass the education of fellow learners and learning in general. In short, Chinese book history, interpreted broadly, prom- ises to tell us much about the making and makers of China’s written traditions. A basic part of the history of these makers is the history of book collectors.1 As conservers and transmitters of this written knowledge, they have played a vital and respected role in Chinese cultural and

1 The act of book collecting of course does not automatically presuppose the notion of a book collector as a distinct category of person, but certainly by the Northern Song the Chinese had for this kind of person a phrase, cangshu zhi jia 藏書之家 (Chao Yuezhi, Songshan Jingyu sheng ji, 6.11a), that was linked as much to a family as to an individual. Although the collectors discussed here often relied on family resources to be a collector, the focus on book collectors as individuals is largely justified, if only because most book collections survived in a family for only one generation and rarely for more than two or three (ibid.). 64 joseph p. mcdermott social life over the past millennium. This essay on the practice of book collecting in the Gan 赣 River Basin—that is, Jiangnanxi 江南西 and the western stretches of Jiangnandong 江南東 circuits, or roughly the area of present-day Jiangxi Province—during the Song Dynasty (960–1279) will explore three questions about these conservers and transmitters of China’s written culture: Who were these book collectors? How did they collect their books? And, what were they able to do with their books? The aim is to explore some of the implications of book collecting, especially at a time like the Song when individuals or their families began in increasing numbers to form private collections away from the Buddhist temple and eventually away from the court as well. Whereas past study of the institutional history of Song Confucian learning has understandably focused on schools and the civil service examinations, the focus here will fall on certain individuals and the objects—that is, books—they collected that were basic to the operation of these Song Confucian institutions. We hope thereby to explain how Confucian scholars became central to learning and learned circles in the Yangzi Valley. Firstly, these collectors of books can be seen, individually and as a group, to have acquired collections larger, more comprehensive, and more widely dispersed than those of any rival, especially Buddhist temples and monasteries. Secondly, during the Song, especially the Southern Song, these scholars located and made use of new sources of imprints outside of court and eventually all government institutions. Thirdly, the collectors devised a variety of uses for their books, not just for the examinations or for the life of a literatus. Some went so far as to turn their collections into private academies that became local centers of learning, sometimes to satisfy the needs of general readers and sometimes to foster patron-client ties with local students in need of books and lectures. In each of these three sections the emphasis will be on the diversity of the book collectors’ practices that put the book at the center of their cultural and at times social life. The study of such diversity has not been easy. Song and later sources mainly disclose the number of book chapters or scrolls (juan 卷) in a Jiangxi collection. Few of them explicitly describe the development of a collection. Still fewer give an account of a collector’s aim in forming these holdings. Some of these collectors, especially in the Northern Song (960–1126), kept their books outside of Jiangxi, often in the capital, and none of them has left a catalogue that survives today. In fact, the list of Song Jiangxi’s book collectors found in Table 2.1 below, though culled widely from book collecting in jiangxi 65

Song sources and modern surveys,2 cannot be described as complete. A collector’s inclusion in this table is due as much to historical acci- dent as to his bibliophilia. His friendship with a writer willing to write about his collection, his fame for reasons other than book collecting, a son’s wish to promote his father’s achievements, and the chance survival of writings about a collection, all these circumstances—at least as much as a collection’s cultural significance—explain the presence of the names in this list. Although the most important collectors have been included, the statistics presented here on Jiangxi’s collectors and collections should be read not as precise data but as general indicators of changes in Jiangxi’s book world between the tenth and thirteenth centuries.

II. Scholar-Officials as Book Collectors

During the Song Dynasty the practice of book collecting in Jiangxi underwent a transformation that was both quantitative and qualitative. In the preceding two and a half millennia of recorded Chinese history fewer than five natives of this area of south China had formed or acquired a collection of books that had won them renown as book collectors.3 During the three centuries of Song rule, however, the number of Jiangxi book collectors multiplied fourteen-fold, to seventy. This figure is the highest for Jiangxi in any dynasty and, according to the most comprehensive survey of private book collectors, the highest for any circuit (i.e., proto-province) in the Song Empire.4 This Song Dynasty surge in the number of Jiangxi’s book collectors betokens a major change in Chinese cultural and institutional history, a shift that histories of Chinese book collecting have tended to overlook due to their focus on court collections and, especially, individual book collectors. Past scholarly emphasis on individual book collectors has in effect turned the history of book collecting into a series of biographies, most notably of Chinese scholars (shi 士), who are cast in the role of the main transmitters of literate culture in China outside

2 These surveys include Fan Fengshu,Zhongguo sijia cangshu shi; Li Yu’an and Chen Chuanyi, Zhongguo cangshujia cidian; Fu Xuancong and Xie Zhuohua, Zhong- guo cangshu tongshi; Ren Jiyu 任继愈, comp., Zhongguo cangshulou; Pan Meiyue, Songdai cangshujia kao. 3 Fan Fengshu, Zhongguo sijia, 40–45, 53–57. 4 Ibid., 62–82, 138–45, 168–86, and 271–320. 66 joseph p. mcdermott of the court for all of Chinese history. Yet, for a substantial portion of the second half of the first millennium ce the situation was quite different. During the Sui (589–617) and Tang (618–906) Dynasties the removal of southern court collections to Chang’an left the important book collections in much of central and south China in the hands of neither private individuals nor their families. Instead, in contrast to the practice there from the eleventh century onwards, “in the Tang, before the spread of printing, the libraries in Buddhist monasteries probably constituted the only sizable collections of books outside the capital.”5 The largest and most distinguished Tang library in central and south China (with the exception of one late T’ang private collection) was housed in the Donglin 東林 Monastery in the northern Jiangxi mountain range of Lushan 廬山. Its generally accessible collection of 10,000-odd juan, half of them the Buddhist Canon and the other half additional Buddhist and non-Buddhist texts, attracted numerous non-Buddhist visitors;6 more than thirty future high officials, including three prime ministers and fifteen celebrated poets, studied on its slopes during the latter half of the Tang.7 In fact, this library’s carefully managed holdings of “the fine words of Confucians and Buddhists”8 enabled the Donglin Monastery to serve as the cultural and intellectual center of south China in the late Tang. In the Northern Song it became a center for literati Buddhism, while numerous other Jiangxi temples and monasteries acquired their own collection of the Buddhist Canon.9 But during the Song the overall significance of the Donglin and other monastic collections in Jiangxi declined. The increasingly popular Chan and Pure Land schools of Buddhism downplayed the importance of texts and textual learning, many larger and more comprehensive libraries were independently established in the Yangzi Val- ley by private individuals and families, and the Donglin collection was ransacked by a crazed emperor’s persecution of Buddhism, unruly sol- diers, and invading cavalry.10

5 Zürcher, “Buddhism and Education,” 28. 6 Fu Xuancong and Xie Zhuohua, Zhongguo cangshu tongshi, vol. 1, 264; Ren Jiyu, Zhongguo cangshu lou, vol. 1, 675; Bai Juyi, Bai Juyi ji, 43.940. 7 Yan Gengwang, “Tangren xiye shanlin siyuan zhi fengshang,” especially 387–95. 8 Quan Tangwen xinbian, 721.8268. 9 Halperin, Out of the Cloister, 87–89. 10 Considerations of space prevent me from providing more detail here on Tang Buddhist monastic collections, but I intend to present my findings on them in the near future. book collecting in jiangxi 67

Thus, it is important to recognize that the presence of so many individual collectors in Table 2.1 represents a sea change in the character and concerns of the book world of Jiangxi and south China (outside of the court area in the Southern Dynasties).11 The change was not just from a few to many collectors and collections but also from one kind of collector and collection to another kind. A largely temple-based world of principally Buddhist textual learning, centered at one main site during the Sui and Tang, evolved into the far more secular and dispersed network of Confucian learning based on private individual and family holdings during the Song. The eventual de-centralization of knowledge transmission and conservation conferred great power on the owners of these collections, that is, the scholar-officialsshidaifu ( 士大夫), whose examination degrees and official careers often depended on their knowledge of certain Confucian books. While recent research has questioned the conventional wisdom that during the Song Neo- Confucianism, Neo-Confucian scholar-officials, and private academies replaced Buddhist thought, institutions, and monks as the center of intellectual culture,12 the clear shift to a preponderance of scholar- officials in Song Jiangxi’s book-collecting circles helps to suggest why Confucian scholars have consistently regarded the growth of Song book culture as a crucial chapter in their rise to cultural and social pre-eminence in late imperial Chinese history. While the Song may no longer be seen as the era when the imprint replaced the manuscript as the principal form of book,13 in Jiangxi it was certainly the era when the scholar-official collector became the dominant social type of book collector outside of the court and capital. If it then comes as no surprise to learn that Jiangxi’s private book collectors were more than mere book collectors, it is best to dismiss one tempting interpretation right at the start: book collection figures do not easily translate into broader indicators of a family’s wealth. Rich Chinese, to state the obvious, tended to put most of their wealth into forms of property other than books. As Yang Wanli 楊萬里 observed in the late twelfth century, “South of the lake (i.e., Jinghunan 荊湖南 Circuit) not a few great households are rich in property, but few are

11 Tian, Beacon Fire and Shooting Star, 77–95, shows the great size of Liang imperial and court collections. 12 Foulk, “Myth, Ritual, and Monastic Practice,” and Halperin, Out of the Cloister. 13 McDermott, Social History, 43–81. 68 joseph p. mcdermott rich in books.”14 Thus, we cannot view the figures of these book holdings as reliable indicators of which Jiangxi families were relatively rich and had surplus capital or even of what portion of its wealth a bookish family tended to put into its books. It is far more profitable to examine the educational and political achievements of these seventy book collectors. Some 80% of them can be seen to have had close ties to the government, holding an examination degree (65%) or just an official appointment or title (15%). As one might expect from the recent scholarly literature, this link was particularly strong in the Northern Song, when over 80% of all our Jiangxi collectors attained both a metropolitan degree (jinshi 進士) and at least one government post. Of the seven remaining Northern Song collectors in this list, that is, its seven non-degree holders, four received either a court appointment (Chen Jingyuan, Fan Duan) or a local posting (Wang Yi 王翊, Liu Yanbi), and the other three (Li Fen, Duan Zhong, and Wu Liangsi) were from families with traditions of book collecting and Confucian learning (Wu Liangsi’s father, for instance, had attained both a metropolitan degree and an official career before passing his collection on to his son). This formal government link played a crucial role in the development and growth of many of these Northern Song collections, since they were by and large formed after their owners’ appointment to office. However much these men had relied upon their own families’ wealth to fund the education needed to win their examination degrees, it was only after their official appointments that most of their own collections grew significantly. Moreover, this shift to the dominance of scholar-officials in book- collecting circles may have come earlier in Jiangxi than elsewhere in south China. Whereas private book collectors outside of the court appear to have gained their significant role in lower Yangzi delta collecting circles only in the twelfth century, in Jiangxi the change came earlier, in the eleventh century, when two-fifths of its recorded Song collectors were born or old enough to have at least started to collect books (See Table 2.1 below). In fact, nearly three-fifths of the table’s collectors were either born or active in the Northern Song, a further sign of how decisive the first half of Song rule was in the history of Jiangxi’s book collectors.

14 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (2), 76.8b–10a. book collecting in jiangxi 69

The eleventh century also saw a dramatic expansion in the size of these scholar-official collections in Jiangxi. Common sense requires that we treat general figures with caution, taking ‘10,000juan ’ to mean simply ‘a large number of books’ and ‘several 10,000 juan’ to mean ‘a very large number of books.’ Even so, the overall rise in the size of private individuals’ libraries over the Song is undeniable. In the tenth century, Jiangxi’s few notable individual collectors gained local fame for having just ‘several thousand juan.’15 Even as late as the end of the eleventh century a Jiangxi scholar-official might be judged “erudite” simply for having “read several thousand juan of books, all of which he mastered.”16 Yet, most recorded book collectors in Jiangxi from the eleventh century onward had 10,000 or more juan of books,17 and one collection reportedly contained as many as 40,000-odd juan.18 In the late twelfth century the peak figure rose to 50,000 juan in the collection of Zhao Shanying (1118–77), a scion of the imperial clan who was newly resident in Jiangxi. This figure, the highest recorded for any Jiangxi book collection in the Song Dynasty, ranks also as the second largest of all privately held Southern Song collections.19 It is also five to ten times higher than the top figure for any individual or family collection in Jiangxi before the Song.20 These Song collections, furthermore, were far more widely dispersed within Jiangxi than during the Sui and Tang, even if less so than at first appearance. The northern tip of Jiangxi, favored by its access to both the Yangzi River and Poyang Lake, had been the location of the Donglin Monastery and other Buddhist library collections at Lushan. It was also the site of most of the first generation or two of these Jiangxi Song collections. But in the eleventh century significant collections were formed by natives of more central prefectures like Yunzhou 筠州, Jizhou 吉州, Fuzhou 撫州, and, on the eastern side of Poyang Lake, Raozhou 饒州. During the Southern Song collectors

15 E.g., Zheng Yuansu 鄭元素, a book-collecting resident of Lushan for forty years in the Five Dynasties era, collected up to just 1,000-odd juan of old books (Lu Shan zhi (1933), 9.39a). 16 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 40b, quoting Huang Tingjian. 17 See Table 2.1. 18 Zhang Bangji, Mozhuang manlu, 5.142. 19 McDermott, Social History, 51. 20 The largest collection I have found for a pre-Song individual in Jiangxi is a 10,000 juan collection that belonged to a native Sichuanese who lived on Lushan in the late Tang (Lushan zhi, 9.31b). 70 joseph p. mcdermott from these same central prefectures still predominated. Jizhou alone provided over a third of all of Jiangxi’s recorded book collectors, and along with Raozhou accounted for nearly half of the Table’s seventy book collectors. Its Luling 廬陵 County had a concentration of book collectors matched by no other Jiangxi county during the Song. This preponderance naturally enough created a sharp imbalance in the spatial distribution of these book collections within Jiangxi. Of modern Jiangxi’s fourteen Song prefectures and commanderies, twelve have at least one book collector in the table; but only five had more than five collectors over the course of the Song. Finally, during the Song the concerns of these collections broadened far beyond classical and literary subjects. In the Northern Song the bookish interests of the Liu family of Gao’an developed from erudition in the Confucian classics and its commentaries21 to a very inclusive knowledge of history, ranging from calendars and administrative positions to geography, great families, and popular stories, for the entire length of dynastic and pre-dynastic China.22 While some late North- ern Song collectors had an interest in books concerned with divination and Daoism to philosophical writings and fictional stories,23 this wider range of interests was expressed more often in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Collectors then admitted to an interest in military books, medical drugs, and divination (Wang Cao);24 astronomy and geography (Wen Yi);25 and, secret information in books about divination and crafts (Zhang Daxun).26 Overall, then, the book world of Jiangxi in the Song saw the emergence of a group of scholar- official, and would-be scholar-official, collectors, whose libraries over the course of the dynasty grew impressively in size and number to reflect a wider range of intellectual concerns. To study how these men formed and maintained these libraries will reveal how they found a place for their books and their families in the midst of great changes to book- collecting practices during the Song.

21 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 24a. 22 Ibid., 56b, 63b; Li Yu’an and Chen Chuanyi, Zhongguo cangshujia cidian, 74–75; Pan Meiyue, Songdai cangshujia kao, 115–17. 23 Ren Jiyu, Zhongguo cangshu lou, vol. 1, 776; and Fan Fengshu, Zhongguo sijia cangshu, 90. 24 Cheng Minzheng, Xin’an wenxian zhi 94 上, 2351–59. 25 Li Yu’an and Chen Chuanyi, Zhongguo cangshujia cidian, 97–98. 26 Wei Liaoweng, Heshan xiansheng quanji, 86.13b–16b. book collecting in jiangxi 71

III. Song Ways to Build a Book Collection

How then did these men acquire their books? On the face of it, it would seem likely that they found them in Jiangxi. The geographic and economic conditions that are usually presented to explain why some areas of Song China produced books existed in Jiangxi throughout the Song. Like the lower Yangzi delta, Chengdu 成都, and Jian- yang 建陽 in the northern Fujian Circuit, Jiangxi had in abundance all the material resources required for book publication. Its mountains were covered with trees useful for making woodblocks, paper, and ink, and its diverse network of navigable rivers would have facilitated the shipment of these products to the lowland cities of the Gan River Basin and elsewhere. Indeed, Jiangxi’s earliest known imprint dates from 847–49,27 two full centuries before that of Jianyang,28 just at the time when its registered population increased six-fold from less than 2,000,000 in 742 to more than 12,000,000 in 122329 and when agricultural improvements turned it into the richest or second richest rice-growing region in the Song Empire.30 Its increased demand for books, so evident in the relatively large number and size of its major book collections, would suggest that Jiangxi had its own important site for book production and distribution. Oddly, it did not turn out this way. Of the 1,500-odd extant Song imprint titles, just 150 (or 170, according to another survey) were printed in Song Jiangxi.31 Hence, no Jiangxi location appears in contemporary lists of important Song publishing centers. Also, whereas northern Fujian had numerous commercial publishing establishments and the lower Yangzi delta’s cities had a mixture of private and government publishers, Jiangxi’s book printing, at least for the literati readership that would have included our book collectors, appears to

27 Seo Tatsuhiko, “Publishing Industry in Chang’an’s Eastern Market.” 28 Chia, Printing for Profit, 77. 29 McDermott and Shiba, “Economic Change in China, 960–1279.” 30 In 987, the combined annual quota in Jiangnanxi and Jiangnandong Circuits for the basic land tax, the Twice a Year tax, was 2,200,000 bushels of rice, that is, more than a third of all the rice sent from south China to Kaifeng. In 1159 this quota was recorded at just 10,000 fewer bushels, thus accounting for nearly half of the rice then sent to the court in the abbreviated empire of the Southern Song (Shiba, Sōdai shōgyō shi kenkyū, 155–56). 31 Poon, “Books and Printing,” 468, 470–71; Du Xinfu and Qi Shenqi, comp., Jiangxi lidai keshu, 1–21, which lists 182 titles, of which 25, all county government publications, are no longer extant. 72 joseph p. mcdermott have been done overwhelmingly by government offices: 86% of the titles of Jiangxi’s extant imprints were printed by government offices and another 5% by private or semi-private academies (shuyuan 書院). By contrast, its private publishing houses, commercial as well as non- commercial, played only a minor role in its publishing activities, printing just fourteen of its 157 (or 170) surviving Song imprints during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.32 Moreover, even these Jiangxi government offices published few titles, quite likely because Jiangxi—unlike modern Henan Province with the Northern Song capital of Kaifeng 開封 and modern Zhejiang Province with the Southern Song capital of Hangzhou 杭州 in the lower Yangzi delta—never became the home of a Song imperial capital. Nor, but for the last few years of the Southern Tang Dynasty (937–76), did it serve like Chengdu for the Kingdom of Shu 蜀 (906–65) as the home of the capital of any of China’s numerous regional kingdoms in the Five Dynasties period (907–60). Its dynastic links thus being relatively weak from the tenth through the thirteenth century, Jiangxi’s Song government printing houses likewise had a production level below that of their counterparts in these capital cities of the Song.33 In sum, despite the availability of resources, Jiangxi’s growing number of major libraries must have been stacked with books acquired elsewhere in the Song Empire. How then did Jiangxi’s private book collectors overcome these obstacles and disadvantages to become the largest regional group of private book collectors in the empire? Elsewhere I have noted the central role of manuscript production in the reproduction and collection of literati books in the lower Yangzi delta right up to the sixteenth century and beyond.34 Such activity was certainly important in Jiangxi as well; witness the predominance of manuscripts in the 9,000-plus juan of Li Chang 李常35 (1019–68) and a temple’s payment for the

32 Ibid., 19–21. Note that seven of these private imprints were published by Zhou Bida 周必大, a Luling native, at the end of his life and another one after his death by his family’s school. As Zhou spent a busy official career almost entirely in Hangzhou, there is no guarantee that the seven titles listed as his family’s publications were actually carved and printed in Jiangxi. If so, then the surviving private imprints from Song Dynasty Jiangxi might number as few as four. 33 See n. 31. Moreover, Poon, “Books and Printing,” 113, mentions that “at least two hundred titles were published directly by the emperors’ various agencies in K’ai-feng and Hang-chou.” 34 McDermott, Social History, 83–94. 35 Su Shi, Jingjin Dongpo wenji shilüe (1), xia, 859–61. book collecting in jiangxi 73 hand copying of the entire Buddhist Canon.36 If our information on Jiangxi manuscript culture is nonetheless too scanty for the writing of its history during the Song, it is enough to indicate the shortage there of all types of books in general and imprints in particular. In theory, such a shortage would have led Jiangxi collectors to pursue two options to initiate or expand their collections throughout the Song. That is, these collectors might have persuaded book owners (including merchants and peddlers) elsewhere to bring their books and learning to Jiangxi, or they themselves or their agents might have set off to acquire their books outside of Jiangxi and eventually bring them back home.37 The first occurred more frequently than our sources indicate, such as when Jiangxi collectors received special presents of books from the Song government (e.g., in 994 it donated 1,000 juan of books to the family of Hu Zhongyao 胡仲堯,38 whose members fled home with their collection from Kaifeng at the downfall of the North- ern Song in 1127, and opened up a school with a teacher summoned from outside the region). For the great majority of our collectors, however, the second of these options, whereby a book collector left Jiangxi and avidly hunted down books during his stay elsewhere, seems to have been the more common practice (recorded use of external agents is negligible). This practice began in Jiangxi no later than the mid-tenth century, when members of three influential families of Jiangzhou in northern Jiangxi—the Chen 陳, the Hong 洪, and the Hu 胡—held a series of scholarly posts at sizeable libraries (eventually 20,000-plus juan) at the Southern Tang court in Nanjing 南京.39 They then proceeded during the first two generations of Song rule to form the first notable individual or family collections in Jiangxi.

IV. Northern Song Practice

In the Northern Song the most explicit instances of outside book collecting by Jiangxi collectors involved the ordering and purchase of books in the capital. For example, having failed to gain the

36 E.g., the decision in 1073 by one Jiangxi temple head to pay for the hand copying of the Buddhist Canon, rather than purchase a printed copy of it (Huili si zhi 1, “Yiwen,” 1b). 37 Xu Xuan, Xu gong wenji, 28.5a. 38 Li Yu’an and Chen Chuanyi, Zhongguo cangshujia cidian, 56. 39 Xu Changbian (1), 16.352. 74 joseph p. mcdermott

appointments he desired, the metropolitan degree holder Wen Cao 文曹 in 1038–39 visited Kaifeng where he presented a letter to the palace, requesting permission to purchase with his own family funds copies of books in the Guozi jian 國子監 (Directorate of Education). His request granted, he brought these non-religious texts back to his home in Shicheng 石城 County.40 More commonly, examination candidates would take advantage of their visit to Kaifeng to acquire books, often at the Xiangguo 相國 Temple.41 Northern Song monks in search of Buddhist imprints also made visits to Kaifeng and Hangzhou to purchase books. Sent there by their Jiangxi temple, they ordered the printing of an entire copy of the Buddhist Canon from woodblocks held in the capital42 or had woodblocks carved in Hangzhou in 1085 for the quality printing of a specific sutra title.43 Few eleventh-century collectors were as rich as Wen and these monasteries. Thus, some serious book collectors from Northern Song Jiangxi, after attaining a metropolitan degree, moved away from their home circuit and set up residence elsewhere. In this new home, they proceeded to acquire books, often by means other than by purchase.44 One such degree holder moved to Changzhou 常州 in the lower Yangzi delta, where in the early twelfth century he made copies of books in the collection of a close friend.45 But most Jiangxi degree-holders anxious to become book collectors hoped for appointments to one of the many central government offices concerned with the collection, publication, or preservation of books (e.g., the posts of director, collator, corrector, or assistant in an institution such as the Bishu sheng 秘書

40 Li Gou, Li Gou ji, 23.253; Shicheng xianzhi (1781), 6.22a, 8.44b–45a. 41 McDermott, Social History, 63, 98, 108. Hence, I suspect the ability of Yang Xiaoben 陽孝本 to acquire his collection. Having failed the metropolitan examination, he returned to Ganzhou 贛州, where he spent twenty years reading in seclusion books he spent his entire fortune on purchasing. Fortune eventually turned his way when he was summoned to the court and promoted to a post in the Palace Library in the early twelfth century (Fan Fengshu, Zhongguo sijia cangshu shi, 70; SS (2), 458.13448). 42 Huang Tingjian, Song Huang Tingjian quanji, vol. 1, “Zhengji,” 17.445. Also Cao Ganghua, Songdai fojiao shiji yanjiu, 26–27, tells of the formal procedures required to obtain a copy of the Buddhist Canon in Kaifeng during the Northern Song. 43 Abe Chōichi, Zōtei Chūgoku zenshū shi no kenkyū, 233–34. 44 The cultural attractions of living in Kaifeng were not, of course, restricted to book collecting. The capital, in addition to being supplied with the goods and luxuries of the empire, had the best education facilities for imparting the skills most needed to pass the civil service examinations. Hence, many officials brought their sons to the capital to be educated (Chaffee,Thorny Gates, 63–64). 45 Cheng Minzheng, Xin’an wenxian zhi 94 上, 2351–59. book collecting in jiangxi 75

省 (Palace Library). These posts, which they sometimes held for many years, provided relatively easy access to the books in the court and palace collections and also enabled younger men to make contacts crucial for later success in official circles. Men holding such appointments were commonly promoted to editorial positions at court, such as the editorship of the annals of a previous reign in the dynasty and the compilation of a book catalog like Chongwen zongmu 崇文總目 for the Palace Library.46 Such access was available to officials, but not to monks or even former monks.47 To mention just two well-known Northern Song examples of such career progression will, I hope, suffice. The famous historian Ouyang Xiu, who is said to have accumulated 10,000 juan, gained easy access to court books and records, when he was appointed to compile some dynastic histories and to make an extensive catalog of the holdings of some court libraries.48 His own favorite among the next generation of scholar-officials, the book collector Zeng Gong曾巩 from Jian- chang 建昌 Commandery, followed up his attainment of a metropolitan degree in 1057 with twelve years of editorial appointments in institutions like the Institute of History and the Jixian yuan 集賢院 (Academy of Scholarly Worthies). After a series of provincial post- ings in south and central China during the era of Wang Anshi’s 王安石 reforms in the 1070s, he was summoned back to the capital in the early 1080s to hold the even more prestigious editorial position of the compiler in the Institute of History of Longping ji 隆平集 (Collected writings on the period of great peace), a dynastic history for the reigns of the first five Song Emperors.49 At times the link between these appointments and the building of their holders’ book collections is made explicit, as in the report that Chen Jingyuan 陳景元 returned to Jiangxi from his appointment in the Hanlin Academy 翰林院 with his baggage containing 100 bushels (dan 石) of books, all of them classified as works on the classics and history.50 More often, the link becomes evident only after repeated

46 Li Yu’an and Chen Chuanyi, Zhongguo cangshujia cidian, 68. 47 Chaffee,Thorny Gates, 54, on the 1044 ban on defrocked monks taking the official examinations. 48 James T.C. Liu, Ou-yang Hsiu, 32, 37, 102–3. 49 Zeng Gong, Zeng Gong quanji, “Zeng Nanfeng nianpu,” 5–12. 50 Li Yu’an and Chen Chuanyi, Zhongguo cangshujia cidian, 71; Ren Jiyu, Zhongguo cangshu lou, 776. 76 joseph p. mcdermott generations of a family gained scholarly appointments at court and proceeded to build up an important collection of books. Song degree- holders enjoyed relatively easy access to book collections in the Three Institutes (San guan 三館) and other government institutions in Kaifeng. Despite fires and management abuses, these collections contained books far more numerous and of better quality than virtually all private collections outside of the capital for most of the North- ern Song. Residence in the capital and especially appointment to a position within these libraries offered aspiring book collectors golden opportunities to read and/or acquire copies of rare and not so rare titles in both government and private collections. Even if an official somewhat exceptionally abided by the government’s ban on borrowing books from these libraries, he was still allowed to read them and to have copies made for his personal possession.51

The Liu 劉 of Gao’an 高安 County Most book collections of high officials and Confucian scholars in the Northern Song were broken up upon the death of their owners,52 but about a third of our thirty-one Jiangxi book-collecting families from the Northern Song were able to avoid this and to establish hereditary collections over two or three generations. The most informative example of such a Northern Song family that built up a collection in the capital and still retained close ties with Jiangxi—they returned with their books to, and were buried in Jiangxi53—is the Liu family of Gao’an County in Yunzhou 筠州 Prefecture. Three successive generations in turn saw to the creation of the collection (mainly the Confu- cian classics), its expansion (mainly through the acquisition of Han and later dynastic history texts), and then its completion (mainly by the inclusion of pre-Han texts and a full catalog). Although the third generation of the Liu family had difficulty building on the successes of the first two generations, their decades of successful book collecting show the opportunities available in the Song capital to ambitious bibliophiles from the provinces.

51 McDermott, Social History, 128–30. 52 Chao Yuezhi, Songshan Jingyusheng ji, 16.11b. 53 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 71a, which tells of the virtual disappearance of their graves in Jiangxi by the late twelfth century. book collecting in jiangxi 77

The first successful scholar-official in the Liu family of Gao’an, Liu Mei 劉浼, thanks in part to his reputation for great classical learning and integrity, won an appointment as a Companion to the Heir Apparent (Taizi zhongyun 太子中允) and to the Palace Library. But in mid-life he returned to Jiangxi with a small collection of books in ca. 1050. His son, Liu Shu 劉怒, having just acquired a metropolitan degree at the age of eighteen, replaced him in Kaifeng, where he spent most of the rest of his life in scholarly appointments at the court and enjoyed many opportunities to build up his own book collection. His desire to move to Kaifeng had been fueled by his repeated frustra- tion in obtaining some famous books to read. He early on read the Confucian classics, even gaining an exceptional command of Li ji 禮記 (Book of rites) and Chunqiu 春秋 (Spring and autumn annals).54 But such basic historical texts as Hou Han shu 後漢書 (History of the Later Han) and [Jiu] Tang shu [舊]唐書 ([Old] dynastic history of the Tang) he had to borrow from others (presumably his father had no copy).55 According to one late Northern Song scholar, he “detested the fact that families of scholars in the south (nanfang shiren 南方士人) did not collect books, and so he paid special attention to collecting.”56 Liu Shu’s hopes about northern collectors were soon dashed. As his friend Weng Shan 翁埏 observed, Kaifeng’s private book collections were at first closed to him: When Liu came to the Eastern Capital, his appearance was like that of a crane in the forest. I had heard of his reputation, and now I saw it. Trust is difficult in the dusty world to attain. The various Confucian scholars in great numbers stored up their treasures, and men who made advances to them were turned away. He made clear the events of a thousand years, and it was I alone who repeatedly discussed them with him.57 Some court appointments in the 1050s and 1060s, especially promotion to the Vice-Directorship of the Palace Library, seem to have improved his position, as he soon had access to a far wider variety of texts, everything from historical annals and chronicles to the texts of numerous schools of thought and popular stories (beiguan xiaoshuo 稗官小說).58

54 Sang Qiao, Lushan jishi, 6.18a, quoting from SS. 55 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 56a. 56 Chao Yuezhi, Songshan Jingyusheng ji, 6.10b. 57 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 29b. 58 Ibid., 56b. 78 joseph p. mcdermott

Improvements in his learning soon followed in two important ways. Predictably, he gained a breadth and depth of knowledge that won him some fame, even though his writings seem not to have circulated widely during his lifetime.59 Whereas some contemporary scholars studied solely Han shu 漢書 (History of the Han) and others acquired a reputation for their erudition just by knowing both Shiji 史記 (Record of history) and Hou Han shu, his command of Chinese history ranged from high antiquity up to the Five Dynasties.60 Sima Guang 司馬光, when compiling his magisterial Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 (Comprehensive mirror for aid in governance), specially invited him to join the project and then relied heavily on his grasp of the historical chronology of dynastic China.61 Their mutual admiration—Liu regarded Sima Guang as his closest friend and Sima treated him with great respect—was often commented on by their contemporaries.62 Secondly, his own collection expanded with acquisitions from non- government collections as well. In the Zhiping 治平 era (1064–67) he, along with others, was able to donate to the court a copy of Hou Wei shu 後魏書 (History of the Later Wei Dynasty) that was far more complete and accurate than any version then in the Palace Library.63 Nothing is said of how this rare book entered his hands, but clearly it, or at least part of it, must have come from a non-government—that is, private—collection, and his acquisition of it would have required wealth, close links to bibliophile circles, or special permission from its owner for the transcription of a copy. Thus, regardless of how he acquired this book, it is clear that his prolonged tenure in scholarly institutions at the court—and the attendant privileges he could share with selected others—opened doors once denied him as a young man from the provinces. These opportunities he then used to build up a book collection that eventually won the accolade of being described as “rich.”64 Disgruntlement with political machinations over Wang Anshi’s reforms drove him to bring his collection into retirement in

59 Xingzi xianzhi (1871), 14.84a. 60 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 63a, 74b. 61 Ibid., 41b, 57a, and 63b. 62 Ibid., 59b. 63 Chao Gongwu, Junzhai dushu zhi jiaozheng, 5.184. See Kōsen Hiroshi and Kawai Kozō, eds., Zuisho keiseki shi shōko, 265. Note, however, that Ren Jiyu, Zhongguo cangshu lou, 775, identifies the submitted text asHou Han shu. 64 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 76a. book collecting in jiangxi 79

Jiangxi, where in his few remaining years his deep commitment to scholarship survived an eye affliction and palsy in his right hand.65 Liu Shu’s son Liu Xizhong 劉羲仲 made a far shorter commitment to this blend of court scholarship and politics, and this probably contributed to the subsequent decline of the family’s role as important book collectors. Like his father and grandfather, Liu Xizhong gravi- tated to the court and its scholarly institutions, but his dissatisfaction with its politics came relatively soon. Withdrawing in the early twelfth century from Kaifeng to the life of a recluse in northern Jiangxi, he brought along both his father’s and grandfather’s collections of books: “From the two previous generations the only thing handed down had been diagrams and books (tushu 圖書).”66 Liu Xizhong’s contribution to this hereditary property was his addition of pre-Han texts, such as Yijing 易經 (Book of changes).67 In the eyes of one contemporary he had “a very rich collection of books,”68 one put together by scholars for scholars and “surely not formed to fill bamboo boxes and boast of silken slipcases and in the manner of a stupid merchant adorn the house with gold and pearls.”69 Thus, in his retirement shortly before the end of the Northern Song he put this collection to scholarly and filial use: he finished a historical compilation initiated by his father, made another of his own about the pre-Qin era, and compiled a catalog of the family’s books (which unfortunately is not extant). In sum, all three of these men spent their lives immersed in books, reading, writing, and not least collecting them, largely through government institutions, before returning with these acquisitions to Jiangxi. Initially, it might seem odd that the book collections of these three members of the Liu family, separately as well as collectively, are said to number only a few thousand or ten thousand juan. Given the length of time these men spent at court, the range of their Kaifeng connections, and their scholarly achievements, these figures may strike us as far too low. Yet, it would be a mistake to assess the command that these scholars (and many other educated Chinese collectors) had of the literary culture of China solely on the figures for their book collections.

65 Li Yu’an and Chen Chuanyi, Zhongguo cangshujia cidian, 74–75; and Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 4b, 41b. 66 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 76a. 67 Pan Meiyue, Songdai cangshujia kao, 116. 68 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 75b. 69 Pan Meiyue, Songdai cangshujia kao, 116. 80 joseph p. mcdermott

The explanation is not simply the vagueness of these numbers. The learning of these members of the Liu family, and in a wider sense their working collection, consisted of more than the volumes arranged on their shelves. It included, at least as much, the books stored in their memories, or to use the Chinese term, “the 10,000 juan in their stomachs.”70 Their remarkable ability to recall texts, as recounted by one twelfth-century observer, would have easily enabled their literary and scholarly resources to go far beyond the confines of their own collections: “Liu Shu daily remembered 10,000 words, and did not forget them to the end of his life. Liu Xizhong could remember 5,000 or 6,000 characters [every day], and what his own son [daily] remembered was 3,000 characters.”71 However exaggerated, this account rightly underlines how important access to a major court collection was to Northern Song scholars wishing to improve not just their family’s book collection but also their own ‘working collection’ of learning. Consequently, after Liu Xizhong left the court, the next generation of the Gao’an Liu family had no degree holder, no court appointments, no close contact with the court’s libraries, and thus made no additions to the family’s collection. Indeed, its books and book catalog as held and compiled by Liu Xizhong ended up in the Nankang 南康 Commandery’s store- house; but they soon disappeared from it, perhaps pillaged by the Jurchen invaders in Jiangxi at the start of the Southern Song.72 In the opening decades of the Southern Song the family’s fortunes further declined, as by no later than 1179 its members had stopped making sacrifices to any of these ancestors’ graves.73 By the early thirteenth century the family was no longer heard of and had dropped out of the historical record for good.74

The Liu of Xinyu 新喻 County Compare then these three Northern Song generations’ pursuit of books and official appointments with similar but longer efforts on the part of another Jiangxi family with the surname Liu, this time from Xinyu County in Linjiang 臨江 Commandery. At first glance, the resemblance

70 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 27b. 71 Ibid., 74b. 72 Hong Mai, Rongzhai suibi, 398; Lu You, Laoxue an biji, 9.114. 73 Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 51a, 52b. 74 Ye Changchi, Cangshu jishi shi, 25. book collecting in jiangxi 81 is striking. If anything, the Xinyu Liu family were the more successful in linking their collecting to their official careers: eleven metropolitan degrees in the first century of Song rule and another seven over the next century and a half up to 121775 (four others won official appointment through the hereditary yin 蔭 privilege).76 Their founder Liu Shi 劉式 (948–997) set the pattern for this success when studying Con- fucian books to become the top-ranked graduate in his examination cohort in the final years of the Southern Tang Dynasty: In his youth he was fond of learning and did not work at production. At the age of eighteen or nineteen he took leave of his family and lived at Lushan, where he borrowed books to read. He studied Zuo 左 (Zuo commentary), Gongyang 公羊 (Gongyang commentary), Guliang 毂梁 (Guliang commentary), and Chunqiu 春秋 (Spring and autumn annals), and on the side took in other classics. For a total of five or six years he did not return home, and in his career as a Confucian scholar he became increasingly proficient.77 Smoothly navigating a transfer of his dynastic loyalty from the van- quished Southern Tang to the triumphant Song, Liu Shi was soon appointed Vice-Director to the Palace Library and eventually headed one of the three agencies in the State Finance Commission as a comp- troller. His own collection of books, retained by his wife at his death, was used to educate his five sons, facilitating their success in the examinations and officialdom and eventually winning literary immortality thanks to the Neo-Confucian philosopher Zhu Xi’s 朱熹 (1130–1200) encomium on this book-laden inheritance as “an ink estate” (mozhuang 墨莊).78 His second son became an Erudite of the National University, another a Director of the Palace Library and a third a scholar at the Academy of Scholarly Worthies. In the third generation two members’ mastery of the Confucian classics won them further scholarly appointments at court and the respect of more highly placed scholar officials: Liu Fen (1023–89) “won the esteem of eminent officials such as Han Ji and Wu Qing” and for a time “the mental submission” of Wang Anshi,79 and Liu Chang gained the appreciation of Ouyang Xiu for his extensive knowledge of everything from Buddhism, Daoism,

75 Xinyu xianzhi (1673), 10.1a–9b. 76 Ibid., 10.49a, and 12.21b. 77 Liu Chang, Gongshi ji 51.607. 78 Zhu Xi, Hui’an xiansheng Zhu Wengong wenji, 77.18b. 79 Ibid., 12.17b–18a. 82 joseph p. mcdermott

divination, and medicine to geography, past and present biographies, local gazetteers, astronomy, Chunqiu, and pre-Qin bronze inscriptions.80 Liu Chang’s second son Liu Fengshi (1041–1113) also gained fame for his scholarship, being proficient like his father atHan shu and in gaining appointments to scholarly court institutions like the Institute of History and the Guoshi yuan 國史院 (Historiography Academy).81 Yet it was not just the duration of their success in officialdom throughout the whole of the Northern Song that collectively distinguished these Liu of Xinyu from the three Liu of Gao’an. In addition, from the end of the tenth century the Liu of Xinyu removed themselves from Jiangxi to the capital. In leaving behind the rural fastness of their Jiangxi home village seventy li east of the county seat,82 they shifted their officially registered residence to the outskirts of Kaifeng.83 Hence- forth, not only would they and their wives (non-Jiangxi natives) be buried here, but also they would keep their book collection here right up to the end of the Northern Song.84 In addition, despite the success of some members of the family in continuing with scholarly work at the court, other members of the family with metropolitan degrees branched out to pursue more varied and practical appointments in officialdom throughout the eleventh century.85 These members seem to have added little if anything to the family’s collection of books, but doubtless did much to broaden the scope of its connections. A further difference probably followed on from this: the collection of this Liu family, despite the praise showered on it by later Neo-Confucians, amounted to just “several thousand juan.” Their decades of access to Kaifeng’s libraries may well have fed their memory-stomachs more than their own collection’s shelves. But, even apart from the question of the size of their collection, the family never matched the Liu

80 SS (2), 319.10386–87; Huang Zongxi, Song-Yuan xuean (1), 4.69. 81 SS (2), 319.10388–90; Xinyu xianzhi (1673), 12.21b. 82 Ibid., 13.4a–b. 83 Zhu Xi, Hui’an xiansheng Zhu Wengong wenji, 90.4a. 84 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (2), 127.2b-3a; Liu Bin, Pengcheng ji, 38.509. By contrast, Liu Huan and Liu Shu were buried initially on Wulao Precipice 五老巉 in Xingzi County (Liu Huan et al., San Liu jia ji, 66a), and Liu Shu reburied by his son at Mount Longquan 龍泉 in Dehua 德華 County, Jiangzhou (ibid., 59a). Also, Liu Chang, Gong shi ji, 36: 435, tells of his father’s elder brother leaving Kaifeng and setting up—not in Jiangxi but in Changshu 常熟 County in Suzhou 蘇州 Prefecture in the lower Yangzi delta—a library building to house his collection of several thousand juan of books. 85 E.g., Liu Fengshi 劉奉世 (SS (2), 319.10386-87). book collecting in jiangxi 83 of Gao’an in establishing a reputation for scholarly commitment and achievement. This account of two Northern Song patterns of book acquisition probably downplays the contribution of book purchasing to the growth of these scholar-officials’ collections. Although these collectors’ purchase of books from other scholar-officials is only infrequently recorded, scholars did play a significant role in the distribution and sale of literati books in the capital even in the eleventh century.86 Furthermore, purchase would have become more common for many collectors once they left these central government institutions for appointments elsewhere. It would have been most common for those collectors, including the sons of official collectors, whose failure in the examinations would prevent them from repeating either of the two Northern Song patterns of book acquisition at the court that we have discerned.

V. Southern Song Practice

The fall of north China to the Jurchen in 1127 brought an end to the court-based arrangements for Jiangxi book collectors. The next century and a half of Southern Song rule saw the emergence of a more socially diverse group of collectors as well as collecting methods that gave greater prominence to purchasing. For the first time one can find in Table 2.1 men who themselves had acquired neither a degree nor a government appointment and whose fathers had not done so either. Born as commoners, they died commoners, and though they did not share, as far as we can see, any identical occupation or source of wealth other than perhaps landownership, their mere presence in this list indicates a broadening of the social base for the ranks of Southern Song book collectors compared to the Northern Song. Not having direct access to court collections and imprint gifts from the government or officials, these collectors would have understandably relied more on the purchase of books than their predecessors in the Northern Song. Yet, note that this type of book collectors represents a distinct minority in Table 2.1 and does not signify a decline in the desirability of an examination degree or official position for at least three-quarters of these book collectors. No fewer than twenty-three (i.e., 70%) of the

86 McDermott, Social History, 108. 84 joseph p. mcdermott table’s forty collectors active in the Southern Song acquired an official degree, position, or status: fifteen had a metropolitan degree; two had the status equivalent to a Ming Dynasty provincial degree; two were students at the National University hoping for a degree; and four had no degree but held at least one official appointment (two of whom as members of the imperial clan gained an appointment to the Hanlin Academy). Eleven other collectors, despite their not having gained a degree or an official position, sought or had ties to officialdom. For instance, Peng Weixiao 彭惟孝, armed with recommendations from his influential Jiangxi friends Zhou Bida 周必大 and Yang Wanli, traveled to Hangzhou, where his knowledge of current affairs and his skill at prose- poems (fu 賦) reportedly won him the offer of employment from no less an authority than Emperor Ningzong 寧宗. (He ended up refusing the offer, presumably because it failed to meet his expectations).87 Four others were brought up in families with a reputation for Confucian learning and with a recent appointment to officialdom, and a further four, including Xu Bochen 徐伯琛, who received a prestige title in his old age,88 collected books for their sons’ education for the civil service examinations (information is lacking for only Zhang Hong 張谹 and Luo Jingfu 羅敬夫). Altogether, then, nearly 80% of the Southern Song collectors as individuals had some sort of link, however complicated, stubborn, or loose, to the central government; the figure for this link rises even higher once we consider family ties. The lure, of course, was the continuing status of officialdom, especially as some of its privileges were extended in the Southern Song to those who passed merely the local and not the metropolitan exams.89 One privilege for officials and degree-holders remained facilitated access to books in government collections or published by the government either at the court or, significantly, in the provinces. Some mid- and late Southern Song book-collecting officials like Zhou Bida remind one of the Liu of Xinyu in the Northern Song, as they continued to follow the pattern of spending most of their careers in the capital, Hangzhou, and keeping most of their books there. Begin- ning with sinecures in the Palace Library and other government book

87 Taihe xianzhi (1753), 17.4b–5a. 88 Fengcheng xianzhi (1664), 9.37b. 89 Bol, “Sung Examination System and the Shih,” and Takahashi Yoshirō, “Sōdai no shijin mibun ni tsuite.” book collecting in jiangxi 85

collections, they worked their way up to high appointments in other ministries. Zhou himself had several library buildings erected for his impressive collection of rare books and paintings, all assembled on the way to becoming a powerful figure around the court for three decades. Born to northern parents who migrated to Luling County, Jizhou, he claimed to have modeled himself on three Northern Song book- collecting officials from Luling.90 He spent so few years of his adult life in Jiangxi, however, that one can understand his absence from most modern lists of Jiangxi book collectors. Other court-based collectors with closer ties to their native Jiangxi, such as Ma Tingluan 馬廷鸞 and Chen Zongli 陳宗禮, followed an alternative Song pattern already seen in the careers of the Liu family of Gao’an. They spent a long time in the capital before their despair over politics at court and over military defeats in western China drove them home to a retirement spent reading books in Jiangxi. Both of these men spent their court careers largely in scholarly appointments to the Palace Library, the National University, and the Compilation Office for the Veritable Records and the Dynastic History.91 They would also have benefited from the presence in the capital of numerous government offices and commercial establishments that printed books for their members and friends. Yet neither of these court-based patterns of book collecting was dominant in Jiangxi’s book-collecting circles during the Southern Song and especially the first half of the Southern Song. The loss of Kaifeng’s court collections to Jurchen fire and capture initially made the court’s newly formed libraries in Hangzhou far less attractive to collectors than the scholarly collections and institutions of the Northern Song had been. Since the Hangzhou court’s Palace Library holdings for officials only regained their peak eleventh-century size in the late 1170s (the very time when Emperor Xiaozong 孝宗 still thought it necessary to send a man to Sichuan in western China to hunt down largely Northern Song government imprints for the Palace Library),92 it is probably not surprising that Jiangxi’s degree-holding book collectors by and large spent less time at the court during the first half-century of Southern Sung rule than they had in the Northern Song. Of the forty

90 SS (2), 391.11965–72. 91 SS (2), 414.12436 and 421.12594–95. 92 McDermott, Social History, 55 and 217 n. 63. 86 joseph p. mcdermott book collectors in the table who were active in the Southern Song,93 just eight made a career at court in scholarly institutions, half in the twelfth century and half in the thirteenth century. These men who continued a preferred pattern for Northern Song collectors thus constituted a minority of the Jiangxi book collectors of their time. None of their families rivaled the Liu of Xinyu or of Gao’an in the persistence of their success in the examinations, appointments to scholarly institutions at the court, and access to their books. Instead, most of Jiangxi’s Southern Song collectors with a degree or government appointments spent their official careers largely in the provinces. It is at this point that the bi-polar distinction usually made to contrast the social and political halves of the Song Dynasty— the capital centralism of the Northern Song political elite versus the localism of the Southern Song political elite—loses its cogency. This model, retaining too much of the bureaucratic structure of the Chi- nese political order, overlooks the ties that people in different South- ern Song provinces formed with one another outside of government mediation, especially when searching for particular items. Whereas in the Northern Song a string of provincial appointments would have cut a collector off from the main offices of government publications in the capital, the seven-fold expansion of provincial publishing sites from thirty in the Northern Song to over 200 in the Southern Song94 suggests a greater availability of imprints away from the court than before (the actual rate of expansion is even greater, since some North- ern Song publishing sites were in north China and thus not part of the Southern Song Empire). Many of the new Southern Song publishing sites were attached to government offices, whose officials enjoyed special access to the use or purchase of such publications. The information on this means of book acquisition remains mainly suggestive (for example, Luo Wujing 羅無競 served as the secretary of Jianning 建寧 in northern Fujian on his way to accumulating 10,000 juan and a

93 I have chosen to use “active in the Southern Song,” rather than birth in the Southern Song, as my frame of reference, since it allows me to deal with all book collectors active as adults after 1126. As a rule then, this category includes all men who were twenty years of age or older in 1127 or whose lives were largely lived and shaped by their experiences in the Southern Song. The number of book collectors active in the Southern Song is thus forty. 94 Poon, “Books and Printing,” 1, 11, 468–74. book collecting in jiangxi 87 reputation for being a bibliophile,95 while Zhang Daxun’s 張大訓 collection of several 10,000 juan surely benefited from his appointment to the book-publishing center of Chengdu Prefecture in ca. 1200).96 The importance of non-court official connections for provincial collectors is underlined by the relative sizes of collections owned by officials and commoners in Southern Song Jiangxi. Scholar-officials, with their privileged access not just to the Palace Library in Hangzhou but also to books published in provincial government offices, had collections far larger than did those Jiangxi commoners who stayed in Jiangxi and thereby forfeited such privileged gifts or even purchases (no South- ern Song commoner’s library is said to have contained more than 10,000 juan). Under these circumstances, for both commoner and official collectors the outright purchase of books from government and commercial establishments was an obvious alternative means of acquiring them. Hangzhou, with publications from its numerous central government offices and some twenty-odd private commercial bookstores, certainly catered to the thousands of officials serving or visiting there at any one time.97 Yet, even as purchasers serious Jiangxi book collectors no longer had to get their books in the capital. Witness the practices of the Liu of Xinyu, whose “books stored up [in Kaifeng] had been scattered and not preserved” with the fall of north China to the Jurchen in 1127. Some of the family survived the flight southward to Jizhou Prefecture in Jiangxi, where, bereft of the libraries, appointments, and emolu- ments that had made their life in Kaifeng comfortable and secure, they were obliged to face a radical decline in their living standards. Some became so poor that they could afford to eat only vegetables for a third of their meals.98 Under these conditions the family’s repeated failure in the examinations threatened to end the interest it had had in book collecting over the past one and a half centuries, until one fifth-generation member took special steps to revive the tradition: “Liu Chu 劉滁 was the only one who was concerned about what had been

95 Jianning xianzhi (1919), 8.6b; and Hu Quan, Hu Dan’an xiansheng wenji, 31.1b–2a. 96 Wei Liaoweng, Heshan daquan wenji, 86.15b; Fan Fengshu, Zhongguo sijia cangshu shi, 74. 97 McDermott, Social History, 98. 98 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (2), 127.3a. 88 joseph p. mcdermott lost and scattered from what former generations had stored up.”99 For twenty years this man, who never acquired a degree but eventually obtained a provincial office and its precious salary, saved and scrimped for a single purpose: “He economized on his clothes and food, devoted all his energy to assembling [books], and only in 1152 did he restore the previous several thousand juan.”100 In 1182 his sons were said to be protecting the collection and making some additions. They gave Zhu Xi a copy of Han shu that Liu Shi had studied in his youth at Lushan,101 but by this time it was being reported that “only barely did [the collection] avoid a collapse.”102 Come the mid-thirteenth century, the Liu family’s interest in books (and success in the examinations) had completely faded. Described now as “lacking wealth” (wu fu 無富) and with only twenty or thirty persons (ren 人; males?) remaining, they had become primarily concerned with maintaining granaries and providing themselves with famine relief rather than with libraries and books.103 In contrast to their Northern Song practice, they had kept their restored collection not in the capital but in Jiangxi throughout the Southern Song. Yet, as their string of examination successes came to an end in the early thirteenth century, they became “local.” Their book collection “collapsed,” and soon afterwards they too dropped out of the historical record. Liu Chu’s purchase of these books outside of Jiangxi in the mid- twelfth century is one further indication that this region still had no significant publishing site. Admittedly, some Jiangxi book owners would seem to have made their purchases in Jiangxi. Wang Yi 王翊 is said to have returned to Luling after the disturbances of the early Southern Song and purchased 10,000 juan with much of his family’s wealth,104 and in the second quarter of the thirteenth century another Luling native, Wen Yi, would also seem to have purchased his books in this area, as he rarely traveled and was reportedly so fond of reading books that in addition to personally copying over 100 volumes (ce 册) he is said to have pawned his clothes to buy books he had not yet

99 Zhu Xi, Hui’an xiansheng Zhu Wengong wenji, 77.19a; Luo Yuan, Ezhou xiaoji 4.37. 100 Zhu Xi, Hui’an xiansheng Zhu Wengong wenji, 77.19a. 101 Ibid., 81.25b–26a. 102 Ibid., 19a, 20a for the date. 103 Liu Chenweng, Liu Chenweng ji, 3.59–60. 104 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (2), 128.8a. book collecting in jiangxi 89 read.105 These two men and eleven others in our list are identified as “men of Luling,” and conceivably they bought and sold books among themselves. But Jiangxi merits not even a dismissal as a book distribution site in an account written in the 1190s about the buying practices of book collectors from Changsha 長沙. When these collectors sought books outside of their native circuit of Jinghunan 荊湖南, they travelled instead to northern Fujian, Hangzhou, or Sichuan.106 One is forced to conclude that Jiangxi’s book publication level remained low, as Jiangxi collectors usually continued to turn to outside sources—publishers, stores, or collectors—to purchase their books, regardless of whether they were from commercial or government outlets. Thus, throughout the Southern Song, even more often than in the Northern Song, we read of Jiangxi men seeking to buy Confucian as well as Buddhist imprints outside of Jiangxi, especially for large orders. One external site of purchase they visited was Nanjing, where in the 1180s Zhu Xi and Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 dispatched men to find books for their recently re-opened Bailudong shuyuan 白鹿洞書院 (White Deer Hollow Academy).107 But Northern Fujian’s publishing houses, famous for their relatively cheap editions, seem to have been favored by Jiangxi’s Southern Song collectors, editors, and book patrons, and not only by Liu Chu in his ca. 1150 purchase there of “500 volumes.”108 In the mid-1170s a monk at a village temple in Anfu 安福 County, Jizhou, collected money from local people to buy sutras for a temple that previously had no sutras at all; he then walked 2,000 li to Fuzhou 福州 in central Fujian to purchase the 5,048 juan of a complete Bud- dhist Canon.109 Two decades later, in 1196 Lu Jiuyuan’s disciples sent an agent to northern Fujian to purchase books for their private academy, “since the private academy had few books (shuji 書籍).”110 And,

105 Wen Tianxiang, Wen Tianxiang quanji, 11.416–20. 106 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (2), 75.3b–4a. Their hunts appear to be for high quality and relatively expensive books—that is, rare books, books with fine paper, and books with big characters—that would interest a keen collector. 107 Mao Deqi, Bailu shuyuan zhi, 2.1068. 108 Luo Yuan, Ezhou xiaoji, 4.37. 109 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (2), 72.7a–b, “Shuyuan.” 110 Huang Zongxi, Song-Yuan xuean (1), vol. 3, 20.11; Fu Xuancong and Xie Zhuo- hua, Zhongguo cangshu tongshi, 400. On this trip Lu Jiuyuan’s disciple visited Zhu Xi and to his surprise heard some world-weary advice on book collecting from the contemporary most famous for his exhortations to Chinese to read books: “When during his visit Zhu Xi asked him why he had come, Peng Xingzong 彭興宗 said that 90 joseph p. mcdermott in 1261, while serving in coastal Fujian, the son of the Jiangxi-born official Xu Yuanjie徐元杰 paid for the carving in Xinghua 興化 Com- mandery of woodblocks for his father’s writings.111 The persistence of the Jiangxi collectors’ practice of going or sending others to order the purchase and/or production of books outside of Jiangxi speaks volumes about Jiangxi’s continued lack of book publishers and merchants, its structural problems of book distribution, and its shortage of books, especially new imprints. In sum, throughout both the Northern and Southern Song the book collectors of Jiangxi relied on a variety of government and private sources outside of Jiangxi to load their shelves. But during the South- ern Song the court’s institutional book collections became less central to their activities, as did also the capital’s costly government and commercial imprints. New sources were found elsewhere, mainly, it seems, in northern Fujian, thus allowing the formation of a greater number of relatively large collections in Jiangxi than during the Northern Song. While collections of just a few thousand juan were still considered noteworthy, the establishment in twelfth- and thirteenth-century Jiangxi of a 30,000 juan, a 50,000 juan, and four “several 10,000 juan” collections (regardless of what number we ascribe to this vague term) bespeaks a growth in book accumulation there despite the declining centrality of government collections in the capital. This growth in scale, it needs to be added, was by and large limited to a handful of collectors and, equally significantly, to just three of Jiangxi’s wealthier prefectures. In all likelihood, then, the Jiangxi collectors’ varied and bumpy path to the accumulation of books provides a more representative example of how relatively significant collections were formed and preserved in most parts of Song China than does the corresponding history of book collections formed in publishing centers like northern Fujian, the lower Yangzi delta, and the Chengdu region.

he came here to buy books, since the private academy had few books.” Zhu Xi replied, “If you want books, you still do not need many juan. I in the past loved them like this. Afterwards, I thought that upon assembling they will invariably disperse. What need is there to be servile to things (yi yu wu 役于物)?” 111 Zhu Shangshu, Songren bieji xulu, 1317. Further Southern Song examples of Jiangxi authors’ writings being published outside of Jiangxi can be found in ibid., 810 (Huizhou 徽州), 891 (Chizhou 池州), 936 (Sichuan), 1107 (Jinghunan), 1245–47 (Sichuan and Fujian), and 1344 (Zhejiang). book collecting in jiangxi 91

VI. Uses of Book Collections

What then were these book collections intended and used for? Their owners rarely provide helpful answers to this question. They never put on paper a vision or seldom even proposals as to what their library could or should be like. A comparison with practices in Jiangxi’s rival region, the lower Yangzi delta, however, provides some insights into the priorities of these Jiangxi collectors. Firstly, for most of the seventy collectors in the table scholarship seems to have been a minor concern. In fact, Jiangxi’s noted scholars—such as the Liu family of Gao’an, Ouyang Xiu, Wang Anshi, and Zhou Bida—tended to spend their collecting and reading careers outside of Jiangxi. Secondly, the practice of collating texts, so often observed for Song and later collectors in the lower Yangzi delta, is mentioned far less for Jiangxi collectors.112 Thirdly, very few Jiangxi collectors, in contrast to their counterparts in the lower Yangzi delta in the mid-Southern Song, published books themselves as family publishers (jiake 家刻).113 And, finally, bibliophilia seems to have operated at a less feverish pitch inside Jiangxi. An obsession with owning the first edition, the oldest copy, the rare titles, and the most costly version, or with discerning the difference between manuscript and imprint copies, between old editions and new imprints, and between various imprints’ quality of ink and paper— these bibliophile concerns appear not to have fired the passions of the great majority of Jiangxi’s book collectors. The exceptions to this observation, examples of men who spent all their wealth on books, who devoted all their time to reading and revising texts, largely come from the Southern Song, and mainly its final years.114 What instead excited the majority, at least on the basis of a few examples, was a book’s provenance—especially the official status of a book’s previous owners115—and the number of books they could collect.116 Their

112 Three Jiangxi scholars, two of them in our list of collectors, who somewhat exceptionally acquired a reputation for their collation of texts are Chen Jingyuan (Lushan zhi, 9.63a), Zhang Hong (Li Yu’an and Chen Chuanyi, Zhongguo cangshujia cidian, 89), and Wang Tingzhen 王霆震 (Luling xianzhi, 32.15b). 113 The most obvious exception, mentioned already, is Zhou Bida, but it is not certain that the woodblocks of his family school’s imprints were actually carved in Jiangxi; see also Gu Zhixing, Zhejiang chuban shi yanjiu, 31–32, 157–60, 194–96, 207, 244. 114 E.g., Wang Bochu (Zhou Bida, Lushan lu, 73.13a–b); Wang Tingzhen (Luling xianzhi, 32.15b); Xu Bochen (Fengcheng xianzhi, 9.37b). 115 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (2), 71.6a–b. 116 Xie Zhaozhe, Wenhai pisha, 7.14a. 92 joseph p. mcdermott

bibliophilia seems singularly unaffected by the scholarly bibliomania and eccentricity that was at times endemic to the practice of book collecting in the lower Yangzi delta.117 Jiangxi book collectors, instead, proved more focused, and their relatively low-key bibliophilia underlines how a fair number of these collectors sought to use their books less to pursue their individual interests than to build an institution around the presence of a book collection, be that institution a large family and its descendants, a library, or a school. Thus, although some used books, as ever, for moral self-cultivation and, occasionally, to provide the learning required in compositions they wrote to eke out a living,118 the most commonly mentioned purpose and use of their collections was education. Usu- ally, this education was directed to their kinsmen. Not only was Li Fen’s commitment to his studies, as well as his own and his family’s book collections, described in an account of his family’s success in the examinations and official life,119 but also the father of Xiahou Lin 夏侯琳, the scion of a twelfth-century commoner family, bought 10,000 juan to entice some highly-placed scholar-officials to come to his house and undertake some teaching.120 In addition, no fewer than ten of the forty collectors active in the Southern Song (as opposed to only two in the Northern Song) were prompted by their family’s commitment to education to put up a library building to house their books.121 Usually located in a separate building near their family residences and in a scenic setting alongside a stream, these structures proclaimed the wish of their owners to preserve their books for generations. Since seven of these ten Southern Song library buildings were put up by men without

117 See the interesting denial of the concept of bibliomania by Chao Gongsu, Song- shan ji, 50.4a–b, where he claims that one can have an obsession about things in general but not about books. 118 Zhou Bida, Lushan lu, 73.13b; Fengcheng xianzhi, 9.37b. 119 Kong Pingzhong, Qingjiang san Kong ji, 19.16b. 120 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (2), 129.15a. 121 For the Southern Song: Duan Liaozhong (Zhou Bida, Lushan lu, 35.5b–7a), Wang Yi 王翊 (1092–1173) (Luling xianzhi, 33.3b), Zhang Hong (Hong Gua, Pan- zhou wenji, 331.16a–b), Wang Yi 王異 (1157–1202), Luo Jun (Liu Kezhuang, Houcun xiansheng da quanji, 164.8a), Zhao Buyu (Yanshan xianzhi, 8.8a–b), Luo Jingfu (Fan Fengshu, Zhongguo sijia cangshu shi, 79), Wen Yi (Jin Junqing, Jinshi wenji, 11.6b, Xu Luqing (Li Yu’an and Chen Chuanyi, Zhongguo cangshujia cidian, 95), and Chen Zongli (Ren Jiyu, Zhongguo cangshu lou, vol. 1, 789). For the Northern Song: Chen Jingyuan (ibid., 776), and the singular case of Xu Bi (Chen Boquan, Jiangxi chutu muzhi xuanbian, 58). book collecting in jiangxi 93 a metropolitan degree, they can easily be seen as a sign of a family’s claim to the attainment of literati learning.122 The owners of Jiangxi’s book collections were anxious also about the perpetuation of their families. Their aim, only sometimes acknowledged by themselves or their biographers, appears often to have been the establishment and continuation of a hereditary collection of books that would instruct multiple generations of their descendants, especially for the civil service examinations.123 This emphasis on using books for their kinsmen’s classroom learning suggests that these books were used more by the younger than the older members of their families. If so, the education imparted would have been at an intermediate rather than advanced level. Quite likely then, these collections had few rare books of interest to bibliophiles and scholars, and so the production of relatively few scholarly works on the basis of these collections is more understandable. In addition, at least eight of Song Jiangxi’s seventy collectors made their books available also to non-family members, as they sought to make their collection central to their area’s cultural and even social activities. The earliest recorded instances of such sharing were undertaken by the three influential Jiangzhou families we have already mentioned as prospering during the first few generations of the Northern Song: the Chen, the Hong, and the Hu. In the process of establishing and maintaining large co-residential surname groups (yimen 義門) each of these families gained fame for opening schools and acquiring books to instruct their own offspring and students from elsewhere.124 The Chen family’s rules of 890 backed up these goals by requiring its school to add regularly to its collection of books and to place all of them under the curatorial care of one of its students. Its 10,000 juan, somewhat exceptionally, could be borrowed, but the student curator was to register their check-out and see to their return without fail.125 A century later Wen Cao housed his book collection in the large school he had built in his native Shicheng County, Qianzhou; he invited scholars from far and near, “taking as his own responsibility

122 The three metropolitan degree holders who built their own libraries were Zhou Bida, Xu Luqing, and Chen Zongli. 123 E.g., Nancheng xianzhi, 11.112b; Shicheng xianzhi, 6.22a (ibid., 8.44a–45a, reprints a 1747 account of this library which treats it as a moral example for contemporary book collectors). 124 Xu Xuan, Xu gong wenji, 28.5a. 125 Fu Xuancong and Xie Zhuohua, Zhongguo cangshu tongshi, vol. 1, 280. 94 joseph p. mcdermott the instruction of disciples and the courteous treatment of guests.”126 Then, in the 1070s Chen Jingyuan purchased books in Kaifeng with a gift of silver from Emperor Shenzong 神宗 for his services at the court. Upon his return to Jiangxi he shared his 100 bushels—or several 10,000 juan—of books with his disciples and students.127 At roughly the same time Li Chang travelled in the opposite direction, from northern Jiangxi to Kaifeng, to take up a post in the Palace Library, and left behind some 9,000 juan for the use of others who came to his former study to read and learn.128 After another century we read of two other Jiangxi-based collectors whose notion of sharing further expanded the scope of the beneficiaries. The scholar Xiao Minwang 蕭民望 was an avid book purchaser, who gained a reputation for his willingness to share his acquisitions of Buddhist books with fellow residents of Luling as well as with his students and disciples from all over Jizhou Prefecture.129 Most remarkable, however, was the generosity of Zhao Buyu 趙不宇, a Yanshan 鉛山 County scholar in south-eastern Jiangxi. Attached to the Hanlin Academy in Hangzhou as an Auxiliary in the Zhi fuwen ge 直傅文閣 (Hall for the Diffusion of Literature), he set up a library for Yanshan readers: Previously, men in the county did not have book collections, and scholars were troubled by requests for books. Now the several ten-thousands of accumulated juan are all divided into four sections of classics, history, literature, and collectanea. Zhao set up one man to be in charge of the key and to handle the collection. Those coming were led into the book pavilion, where he set up several mats and enabled them to look freely [at the books].130 Note that the beneficiaries of this book sharing were by and large not fellow collectors, such as one can observe at times in the lower Yangzi valley. On the whole, Jiangxi collectors were not primarily interested in forging alliances with their peers, that is, with other scholars and their collections, and thus in strengthening their ties as scholar- officials committed to a specific body of learning. They preferred to use books and lectures to win over prospective students, disciples, and

126 Li Gou, Li Gou ji, 23: 253–54; Shicheng xianzhi, 6.22a, 8.44b–45a. 127 Li E, Songshi jishi, vol. 4, 2130. 128 Su Shi, Jingjin Dongpo wenji shilüe (1), xia, 53.859–61. Li Chang’s collection would thus seem to have been formed inside Jiangxi, probably from works he copied at Lushan. 129 Yang Wanli, Chengzhai ji (2), 73.1a–2a. 130 Yanshan xianzhi, 8.8a–b. book collecting in jiangxi 95 fellow readers.131 Individual Jiangxi collectors in the table thus would tend not to use their books to form close friendships or to forge an alternative identity as ‘a scholar among scholars’ that might weaken or replace their obligations to their family. Instead, they would use books to compete for followers who conceivably could become an extension of their family (hence, it seems, their students’ frequent exemption from tuition fees).132 Thus, when a collector sought to institutionalize his books beyond the level of a library building for his family, he commonly chose to open a private school. The fact that during the Song Dynasty the Jiang- nanxi and Jiangnandong Circuits together had the greatest number of recorded private book collections as well as private academies (over 210, four-fifths of which opened in the Southern Song) is probably not accidental,133 as the acquisition of books served as the initial step for at least four Northern Song and five Southern Song book collectors in opening a private academy. Interestingly, half of these collectors lacked a metropolitan degree. It appears as if these men were seeking to overcome this social shortcoming by institutionalizing their books and schools into a large and respectable social base that enabled them to function as powerful local figures, much as if they were scholar- officials. (Some of these schools, of course, could have been set up to cloak their owners’ less legitimate activities with the respectability of Confucian learning.) For instance, the mid-Southern Song collector,

131 Obviously, I am dealing here with serious collectors, not just the owners of a very small number of books, who may well have shared their odd copies with friends in both of these regions (e.g., the famous case of Ouyang Xiu’s dependence on a neighboring family for books during his youth (Lü Zuqian, Ou gong benmo, 1.1a). 132 In the mid-tenth century the Luling resident Zeng Chongfan 曾崇範 probably does not fit this generalization. Though poor, he had inherited copies of the Nine Clas- sics and works of literature and history from the collection of previous generations of his family. When a prefect took them from him and then sought to recommend him for office and pay him for the books, Zeng first rejected him outright, saying, “The classics are the common implements for all under heaven tianxia( gongqi 天下公器). When the world is in disorder, they are stored at home; when the world is in order, they are stored in the country. . . . I am not a book store (shuli 書隶). How could I assess their value for compensation?” Further blandishments from the official, however, persuaded Zeng to go to the Southern Tang capital in Nanjing to be recommended for a court appointment (Luling xianzhi, 32.5a–b). 133 Walton, Academies and Society, 88–89; and Li Caidong, Jiangxi gudai shuyuan yanjiu, 56–57 and 107–15. Earlier, Chaffee, “Chu Hsi and the White Deer Grotto Academy,” 46, provided a provisional figure of 425 academies throughout the Song Empire, 56 in the Northern Song and 261 in the Southern Song (108 are undated). Regardless of the precise numbers, it is clear that a considerably disproportionate share of Song private academies was located in Jiangxi. 96 joseph p. mcdermott

Dong Yi 董儀, the descendant of several generations of Confucian scholars and officials, never obtained an examination degree but opened a school before the age of thirty-two to attract to his side some famous teachers and promising students.134 In other words, these school founders, like the library builders and other book owners sharing their books in Song Jiangxi, were using their collections to establish competitive patron-client ties with examination students and, hopefully, future officials. If a book owner failed the examinations, he conceivably might have used his books and school to form the basis of a broad network of clients capable of providing him, their patron, with otherwise unavailable contacts inside officialdom. Yet, even when housed in specially designated buildings and transformed into school collections, these libraries seldom lasted more than two generations. They fell victim to the wishes of their founders’ heirs, anxious to enjoy their birthright portion of a partible inheritance. Able to circulate through subsequent sales to other collectors, the libraries nonetheless lost whatever potential they might have had on paper to lead to the establishment of long-lasting private institutions dedicated to the preservation and transmission of knowledge. These books thus failed to provide the independent ballast that Chinese institutions have often needed to survive the needs and depredation of heirs and other local parties. In this key sense, Song scholar-official libraries proved less stable institutions than their predecessors in monasteries such as that of Donglin in Tang Dynasty Jiangxi.

VII. Some Questions

The world of learning represented by Jiangxi’s book collections in the Song differed noticeably from that of earlier dynasties. These book collections were far more numerous, their holdings larger, their contents broader, their locations far more dispersed, their sources of acquisition more diverse, and their uses more varied and secular. As a result, not only was the framework of knowledge broadened, deep- ened, and made more specialized, but also the knowledge contained in these books spread far more widely than ever before in Jiangxi’s

134 Zhou Bida, Lushan lu, 75.16a–17a. No mention is made of the examination dis- appointments that Dong in all likelihood suffered before launching this school. book collecting in jiangxi 97 history, beyond the confines of the temple and monastery to many individual and family collectors. The cultural milieu of ninth-century Jiangxi had changed perma- nently, and not just for certain kinds of knowledge and their books. The expansion of Jiangxi’s book collections during the Song marks an important chapter in the establishment of a certain kind of social and political elite. Tested on knowledge in those collections, this scholar- official elite unofficially adopted the book as one of its symbols in art and ritual (as, for example, the warrior rulers of medieval Europe and Japan adopted the sword as their symbol). Likewise, the private book collection, especially when it was represented by an independently standing library, became a well-recognized symbol of a family accus- tomed to mastering this knowledge and gaining legitimate political power without recourse to violence. This process of civilizing, so basic to the Confucian scholars’ sense of purpose, seems to have become more widely realizable in Song Dynasty Jiangxi than it had been in the days when books had been concentrated in one large monastic establishment on the slope of a mountain famous for its eremites. The wider implications of these Jiangxi book collections in the Song, I hope, will now be addressed. To build on this essay’s findings and gain a deeper understanding of the dynamics of the transmission of this book knowledge and the formation of a new social and political elite, we need to ask more specific questions. How did the rise of these private collections alter the social position and activities of Bud- dhist monasteries and monks in Jiangxi? What alternative bodies of knowledge and lines of knowledge transmission, if any, did these new collections provide, apart from the Confucian learning transmitted by the disciples of Jiangxi thinkers like Ouyang Xiu, Wang Anshi, and Lu Jiuyuan? Did readers of the books in these collections in, for example, a relatively educated Southern Song prefecture like Jizhou acquire from them a collective framework of knowledge, of questions and answers, that came to constitute a particular “mindset”? What mis- fortune befell these Jiangxi book collections and collecting families, so that in the early Ming Jiangxi could be described as bereft of notable book collections and collectors?135 And, to what extent did this attested decline of Jiangxi book collections and their owners signal a change in

135 Yang Shiqi, Dongli wenji, 2.14; Hu Yinglin, Shaoshi shanfang bicong, 1.13; Fan Fengshu, Zhongguo sijia cangshu shi, 168–71. 98 joseph p. mcdermott the social composition and intellectual commitments of this province’s scholar-official elite? If these types of issues attract our future study, the history of the book will have the power to become as central in our study of China’s rich and varied past as I claimed earlier. What historian then could dismiss the concerns of book history and book collecting as merely bookish?

Table 2.1. Jiangxi Book Collectors in the Song Name Prefecture and county Size of book holdings (juan) Chen Jingyuan 陳景元 Jianchangjun, several 10,000 (1024–94) Nancheng Chen Xun 陳巽 Jiangzhou, Dehua 10,000 (js 1015) Chen Zongli 陳宗禮 Jianchangjun, Nanfeng several 1,000 up to 10,000 (d.1270) Ding Zhong 丁中 Longxingfu, Xinjian several 10,000 (13th century) Dong Yi 董儀 Jizhou, Yongfeng – (1171–1202) Duan Chong 段冲 Jizhou, Luling several 10,000 (1098–1175) Duan Zichong 段子沖 Jizhou, Luling – (aka 子仲) Fan Duan 范端 Jiangzhou, Dehua 10,000+ (1008–60) He Liangshu 賀良叔 Jizhou, Luling 10,000 (fl. mid-S. Song) Hong Hao 洪皓 Raozhou, Poyang 10,000 (1088–1155) Hu Ye 胡埜 Ganzhou, Ningdu – (ca. 1080–?, js 1118) Hu Zhongyao 胡仲堯 Longxingfu, Fengxin 5,000 or several 10,000 (ca. 940–ca. 1010) Huang Tingjian黃庭堅 Yuanzhou, Fenyi 10,000 (1045–1105) Li Chang 李常 Nankangjun, Jianchang 9,000+ (1027–90) Li Fen 李份 (1062–82) Longxingfu, Xinjian 10,000 (family) Liu Chu 劉滁 Jizhou several thousand (500 vols.) (1099–1159) Liu Hang 劉沆 Jizhou, Yongxin has a 2 juan catalogue (995–1060) Liu Jingzhi 劉靖之 Jianjiangjun, Xinyu – book collecting in jiangxi 99

Table 2.1 (cont.) Name Prefecture and county Size of book holdings (juan) Liu Mei 劉浼 Yunzhou, Gao’an 10,000 (1000–80) Liu Qingzhi 劉請之 Jianjiangjun, Xinyu 10,000 (1139–95) Liu Shi 劉式 (948–97) Jianjiangjun, Xinyu several 1,000 Liu Shu 劉恕 Yunzhou, Gao’an – (1032–78) Liu Xizhong 劉羲仲 Yunzhou, Gao’an – (1059–1120) Liu Yanbi 劉彥弼 Jizhou, Anfu 10,000 (1091–1142) Liu Yanhua 劉彥華 Fuzhou, Chongren 10,000 (1112–92) Liu Yanshi 劉延世 Jianjiangjun, Xinyu several thousand (4th gen.) Liu Yan 劉弇 Jizhou, Anfu 10,000 (1048–1102) Luo Jingfu 羅敬夫 Jizhou, Luling up to 10,000 (mid-S.Song) Luo Jinjun 羅晉君 Longxingfu, Jinxian 10,000 (1196–1266) Luo Liangbi 羅良弼 Jizhou, Luling increased from 10,000 to (1108–62) 20,000 Luo Wujing 羅無競 Jizhou, Luling 10,000 (1082–1135) Ma Tingluan 馬廷鸞 Raozhou, Leping – (1222–89/ 1223–1292) Ning Shi 寧式 Jianchangjun, 10,000+ (1155–?) Nancheng Ouyang Hui 歐陽彙 Jizhou, Luling 10,000 (1135–1203) Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 Jizhou, Jishui 10,000 (1007–72) Peng Weixiao 彭惟孝 Jizhou, Luling 10,000 (1135–1207) Sun Shutong 孫叔通 Jizhou, Ji’an 10,000 (js 1118) Wang Bochu 王伯雛 Jizhou, Luling – (1132–1201) Wang Jieqing 王价卿 Jizhou 30,000 (late 12th c.) 100 joseph p. mcdermott

Table 2.1 (cont.)

Name Prefecture and county Size of book holdings (juan) Wang Pang 王雱 Fuzhou, Linchuan 10,000 (1044–76) Wang Qinruo 王钦若 Jianjiangjun, Xinyu – (962–1025) Wang Yi 王翊 Jizhou, Luling 10,000 (1092–1173) Wang Yi 王異 Jizhou, Luling 10,000 (1157–1202) Wang Zao 汪藻 Raozhou, Dexing – (1079–1154) Wang Zhi 王贄 Jizhou, Taihe 10,000+ (993–1064) Wen Cao 温曹 Qianzhou, Shicheng – (aka 草) (fl. 1038–53) Wen Yi 文儀 Jizhou, Luling – (1213–56) Wu Liangsi 吳良嗣 Raozhou, Poyang as many as 40,000 (N. Song) Wu Shen 吳伸 Raozhou, Poyang 10,000 + slipcases (992–1064) Xiahou Lin 夏侯琳 Yuanzhou, Fenyi 10,000 (1132–83) Xie Gu 解谷 (js 1244) Jizhou, Jishui 10,000 Xu Bochen 徐伯琛 Longxingfu, Fengcheng – (late S. Song) Xu Luqing 徐鹿卿 Longxingfu, Fengcheng – (1189–1250) Xu Qin 徐欽 (13th c.) Longxingfu, Fengcheng several 10,000 Yan Jidao 宴幾道 Fuzhou, Linchuan several 10,000 (1030–1106) Yan Shu 宴殊 Fuzhou, Linchuan (991–1055) Yang Xiaoben 陽孝本 Ganzhou 10,000 (ca. 1030–ca. 1110) Yuan Kang 袁抗 Longxingfu, Nanchang 10,000 (11th c.) Zeng Gong 曾巩 Jianchangjun, Nanfeng 20,000+ (1019–83) Zeng Zhao 曾肇 Jianchangjun, Nanfeng 10,000+ (1046–1108) Zeng Zhen 曾震 (aka Jizhou, Jishui several 10,000 Gua 栝) (1135–93) book collecting in jiangxi 101

Table 2.1 (cont.) Name Prefecture and county Size of book holdings (juan) Zhang Daxun 張大訓 Raozhou, Poyang several 10,000 (fl. ca. 1200) Zhang Gang 張鋼 Jizhou, Yongxin 10,000 (1134–1201) Zhang Hong 張谹 Raozhou, Poyang – (12th c.) Zhao Buyu 趙不宇 Xinzhou, Yanshan several 10,000 (aka 不迂) (mid-S. Song) Zhao Ruyu 趙汝愚 Raozhou, Yugan from 30,000 to 50,000 (1140–96) Zhao Shanying 趙善應 Raozhou, Yugan 30,000 (1118–77) Zhao Xibian 趙希弁 Yuanzhou,Yichun – (13th c.) Zhou Bida 周必大 Jizhou, Luling – (1126–1204) Zou Bin 鄒斌 (js 1211) Fuzhou, Linchuan 10,000

PART TWO

QUANTIFICATION: ADMINISTRATIVE AND RELIGIOUS BOOK PRODUCTION

EARLY PRINTING IN CHINA VIEWED FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF LOCAL GAZETTEERS

Joseph Dennis

I. Introduction

Local gazetteers are a rich source for scholars of Chinese book history. They provide rare information on the production and consumption of books, give insight into connections between manuscript and print culture, and tell us about book production in locales across the vast and varied place that is now China. This essay will examine the ways in which pre-1400 local gazetteers were initiated, compiled, financed, printed, supplemented, lost, and recompiled, mostly by Chinese, but also by Mongols and Central Asians. In the process, we will see that government officials and local elites valued gazetteers, printing was normative for gazetteers by the Southern Song, and their production continued to expand during the Yuan and early Ming, a period generally viewed as a low point for print culture.

II. The Scope of Gazetteer Production and Losses

Sources on the printing of pre-1400 local gazetteers are not nearly as rich as those for later periods. There are about 1,000 extant gazetteers from 1400–1644, but only a few dozen from before 1400, most of which are not original imprints. Although few are extant, that does not mean they were produced in small numbers. Zhang Guogan’s Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao 中國古方志考 (An Investigation into China’s ancient gazetteers) lists about 2,000 Song and Yuan titles. The scope of the losses can be seen by comparing the number of identified titles to the number of Yuan administrative units. Timothy Brook and Jun Fang identified “about 210” extant and lost Yuan gazetteers, but there were more than one thousand counties and several hundred higher-level units in the Yuan, many of which had multiple compilations within 106 joseph dennis this short dynasty.1 Fortunately, even though the number of extant pre-1400 gazetteers is small, hundreds of their prefaces survive because they were copied into later editions and authors’ collected works.2 There also are a few extant administrative orders concerning gazetteer production. How and why did such losses occur? War and rebellion destroyed many gazetteers, and losses were substantial even by the Southern Song, especially in the north. The 1494 gazetteer of Baoding保定 (modern Hebei Province) records that Baoding previously had gazetteers, but one was burned in the “Khitan’s aggression” and another was destroyed in the Zhenyou period (1214–17), when the Jin moved its capital south and the Mongols took Baoding.3 Even when gazetteer woodblocks or manuscripts were not physically destroyed in an attack on a yamen or school, war could indirectly cause their loss. The Jin invasion in the 1120s delayed the printing of Tong’an zhi 同安志 (Tong’an gazetteer) (modern Anhui Province), which was compiled in 1123 but not published until 1143.4 Such delays probably led to the loss of many gazetteers that existed in only one or several manuscript copies. The extent of early losses can be seen in a list of books held in Jiujiang 九江 (modern Jiangxi Province), ca. 1235. The compiler was unable to locate four earlier local gazetteers and three map guides (the precursor to the gazetteer genre).5 Gazetteer compilers were often bitter about lost gazetteers and the local history they documented, even centuries later. The 1537 gazetteer of Neihuang內黃 , Henan, blamed the absence of previous editions first on the Khitans, because they had forced Song local officials to focus on military matters, and then on the Jin and Yuan occupations.6

1 Fang Jun, “A Bibliography,” 123. 2 Song Yuan fangzhi congkan (Collected reprints of Song and Yuan gazetteers, hereafter, SYFZ) is the main collection of Song and Yuan gazetteers. Zhang Guogan’s work is the largest collection of surviving Song and Yuan prefaces. Users should be aware, however, that many are abridged and others omitted. 3 Baoding junzhi, postface. 4 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 289. 5 Wang Duanlai and Liu Xian, eds., Yongle dadian fangzhi jiyi, 1544–45. 6 Neihuang zhi, preface. local gazetteers 107

III. Origins of the Genre and Initiative for Compiling Gazetteers

As James Hargett and Hilde De Weerdt have discussed in detail, the local gazetteer genre had forerunners stretching back to at least the Han, but its immediate precursor was the ‘map guide’ or ‘maps and text’ (most commonly tujing 圖經, but also tuji 圖記).7 Map guides were monographs on localities, composed of maps/illustrations accompanied by treatises on topics such as local infrastructure and products. By the Sui Dynasty (581–618) the textual portion became the focus. From the Sui to the Northern Song (960–1127) local administrators were periodically required to submit map guides to the central government with up-to-date maps and information on local geographic conditions. Local map guides were also the sources for geographies of the entire realm, such as Yuanhe junxian tuzhi 元和郡縣圖志 (Prefecture and county map guides of the Yuanhe Reign), which was completed in 813. According to Hargett, “by the tenth and eleventh centuries, tujing had assumed the form and thematic breadth of the genre known in late imperial China as difangzhi” (地方志).8 Tujing, however, were aimed primarily at administrators, while difangzhi also served “scholarly purposes and local interests” and included more biographical and literary materials.9 In the Southern Song (1127–1279) difangzhi replaced tujing, a change that was reflected in titles.10 For example, when revisions to the 1169 Siming tujing 四明圖經 (Siming map guide) were completed in about 1228, tujing was dropped from the title and replaced with zhi because “the maps were few and the treatises numerous.”11 In order to compile national geographies or national gazetteers, compilers needed local works. For example, in 1107, the court established a bureau to compile a comprehensive geography, Jiuyu tuzhi 九域圖志 (Nine Regions gazetteer with maps), and ordered each locale

7 Hargett, “Song Dynasty Local Gazetteers,” 406–12; De Weerdt, “Regional Descriptions,” 123–29. 8 Hargett, “Song Dynasty Local Gazetteers,” 415. There are various translations of difangzhi 地方志, including, “local gazetteer,” “local history,” “local description,” “treatise on a place” and “local chronicle.” All are problematic, so I am using the most common, “local gazetteer.” 9 Ibid., 421. 10 Ibid., 419. 11 Siming tujing [SYFZ, 4989]. 108 joseph dennis to compile and submit a map guide.12 Compilation of Da Yuan yitongzhi 大元一統志 (Comprehensive gazetteer of the great Yuan Dynasty) began with a 1285 edict ordering the collection of maps and gazetteers from the “10,000 places.”13 In 1296, eleven years into the project, the compilation office circulated guidelines for compiling gazetteers at the circuit level that, in the words of Timothy Brook, were “significant as the first attempt by the central government to regulate the style and contents of local gazetteers.” The project had the effect of universal- izing gazetteers, at least down to the circuit level.14 In addition, the types of materials to be included in gazetteers expanded, and this led to more intensive local efforts that produced works of greater local and translocal interest. The Ming government continued Yuan practices. In 1376 the court wanted to recover the realm’s “essential documentation” (diangu 典故) and ordered each prefecture to compile and submit to the court a new gazetteer with maps (tuzhi 圖志). The new gazetteers were to be based on earlier editions plus newly gathered information.15 In Jiangyin 江陰, the county magistrate found that local “bookcases and libraries” were empty due to the war. He then gathered elders in the school to reconstruct what was lost and supplement what survived. He asked several families for old gazetteers, received thirteen juan of Jiangyin zhi 江陰志 (Jiangyin gazetteer) from one of them, collated the text, copied out a new manuscript, and had blocks cut.16 In Chaozhou 潮州, Guangdong, there had been Song and Yuan gazetteers that “left out nothing,” and the blocks were stored in the prefectural school library.17 The Song blocks survived the Mongol invasion of 1278, and more were cut in the Yuan, but some were destroyed when the Yuan collapsed.18 The gazetteer was restored by assistant censor Zhao趙 , who wanted to understand local customs. He summoned students to the Confucian school and asked them about the prefectural gazetteer. When he learned that the blocks had been damaged he made the gazetteer’s restoration a government matter. The compilers searched for complete imprints and found only a few held by commoners. Lin complained that the

12 (Qiandao) Siming tujing, Huang Ding’s 黃鼎 preface. 13 Wang Shidian and Shang Qiweng, Mishu jianzhi, 4.72. 14 Brook, “Censorship,” 241. 15 Yongzhou fuzhi (Yongzhou Prefecture gazetteer), preface. 16 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 270. 17 Wang Duanlai and Li Xian, eds., Yongle dadian, 2704–6; 2774–75. 18 Ibid., 2699. local gazetteers 109 scarcity resulted from officials who served in Chaozhou always taking copies with them when they left. Although this practice may have caused local shortages when blocks became unusable, in the long run, it increased gazetteers’ chances of survival. When the new gazetteer was completed in 1376, it was printed.19 Such local gazetteers were then used to compile a national gazetteer, Da Ming zhishu 大明志書 (Gazetteer of the Great Ming), which is no longer extant.20 The waves of gazetteer compilation that followed the founding of the Yuan and Ming dynasties could be seen as a reflection of the oft-noted rule that when a territory’s boundaries or place in the administrative hierarchy changed, a new gazetteer should be produced.21 Court orders were important stimuli to gazetteer compilation, but most gazetteers began farther down the administrative hierarchy or with individuals. Officials from superior territorial units and oversight offices were especially active. When assistant surveillance commissioner Šams (Shansi 贍思, 1277–1351)22 visited Wuzhou Circuit 婺州路 in the early 1300s and learned that Dongyang 東陽 County had no current gazetteer, he ordered the reprinting of an old edition and compilation of a new one.23 Most projects, however, were initiated at the local level by a non-native resident administrator, either alone or with native scholars. It was also common for a native scholar to first produce a draft and then obtain permission to make it the official gazetteer. The 1202 Tiantai tujing 天台圖經 (Tiantai map guide) was written by Song Zhirui 宋之瑞, a retired jinshi. He worked on his own, collected widely, edited his materials and stored the manuscript for a year until magistrate Ding Darong 丁大榮 called on him and looked over his manuscript. Ding asked Song to bring it up to date, and when Song finished, Ding had the blocks cut.24 As literati communities expanded numerically and geographically over time, initiative increasingly came

19 Wang Duanlai and Li Xian, eds., Yongle dadian, 2774–75. 20 Zhang Yingpin, Mingdai Nanzhili fangzhi yanjiu, 21. 21 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 366; Dade Changguo zhou tuzhi 大徳昌國州圖志, preface. 22 For more on Šams see Bai Shouyi, Huizu renwu kao, 118–24; Chen Yuan, Western and Central Asian in China, 60–62, 174–76, and the biography of Šams in Yuan shi, 190.4351–54. His name was transliterated into Chinese using either 贍 ‘shan’ or 瞻 ‘zhan.’ Thus, he appears in English as both ‘Shansi’ and ‘Zhansi.’ I am following Chen Yuan, who uses ‘Shansi.’ 23 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 391–92. 24 Ibid., 389, citing Zhengde Tiantai xianzhi. 110 joseph dennis from the local level.25 In more remote locations, however, non-native resident officials continued to initiate most compilations. Once the decision to begin was made, a common pattern was for a compilation office to be set up in the yamen or Confucian school.26 Gazetteer compilation could go hand-in-hand with school construction. The aforementioned Prefect Hu first made a large donation to build a school in Linting and soon thereafter set up an office inside it to compile the gazetteer that would record his good deed, the 1259 Linting zhi 臨汀志.27 Gazetteers initiated by a single local individual were generally started in the home, but when they became official projects the supplementation and collation would be moved to the school or yamen. While the local administrators typically ordered gazetteer compilation, lower-level officials, yamen staff, retired officials, and Confucian school instructors and students generally did most of the work. Once an office was opened, the editorial staff would gather oral and written materials from locals, copy inscriptions and records, and locate information about the locale in outside sources. One or more local degree-holders or instructors at the local school would edit and write introductions and comments on the materials, and the local administrator would approve the manuscript, with or without his own final edits. Some gazetteers record higher-level approval by superior territorial administrators and branch censorial and surveillance officials. For example, the 1344 Zhizheng Jinling xin zhi 至正金陵新志 (New Jinling gazetteer) was approved by the Jiangnan Branch Censorate.28 Compilations frequently spanned multiple administrations because local administrators usually did not start a gazetteer until they had been in office long enough to have accomplishments worth recording. As a result many were transferred before the project was completed. Editorial staff problems also interfered. For example, during compilation of Siming xu zhi 四明續志 (Siming supplemented gazetteer), Wang Housun’s 王厚孫 task was to write about all of the circuit’s temples. Unfortunately, his daughter died after he had written up only one of the temples of Changguo 昌國 Prefecture, and he quit the project. No

25 On the rise of local history, see Bol, “The Rise of Local History.” 26 Examples of gazetteers compiled in yamen compounds include the 1169 Qiandao Siming tujing, Baoqing Siming zhi [SYFZ, 4990], and Jingding Jiankang zhi [SYFZ, 1331]. 27 Wang Duanlai and Li Xian, eds., Yongle dadian, 1468. 28 Zhizheng Jinling xin zhi [SYFZ, 5278–82]. local gazetteers 111 one took over his work and the gazetteer simply omitted Changguo’s other temples when it was submitted to the court.29 Although most gazetteer contributors were local residents or officials serving in the local government, non-local scholars were occasionally hired to write gazetteers. While one might assume this to be part of the late-Ming “commodification of writing” described by Kai-wing Chow, glimpses of a similar phenomenon can be observed prior to 1400.30 For Zhang Zhe 章嚞, compiling gazetteers was a large part of his work for nearly two decades. Before 1307 Zhang compiled the gazetteer of his native place, Yongjia xianzhi 永嘉縣志 (Yongjia County gazetteer), while serving as the Confucian school instructor.31 Yongjia’s yamen was located in the Wenzhou Circuit 溫州路 seat, and after finishing the Yongjia gazetteer, Wenzhou Circuit hired Zhang to compile the gazetteers of two other subordinate units, Pingyang 平陽 (completed in 1307) and Ruian 瑞安 (ca. 1307). In 1310 he finishedWenzhou luzhi 溫州路志 (Wenzhou Circuit gazetteer). In the Yanyou period (1314–20) Zhang compiled another gazetteer of Wenzhou, Dong’ou zhi 東甌志 (Dong’ou gazetteer). Zhang’s work on these gazetteers was apparently impressive, because he was then hired by the administrator of Taizhou, the circuit to the north of Wenzhou, to compile a gazetteer of a subordinate county, Tiantai junzhi 天台郡志 (Tiantai County gazetteer) (ca. 1323).32

IV. Gazetteers as a Manuscript and Print Genre

Gazetteers were never a manuscript-only genre. Even before the emergence of gazetteers, map guides were being printed. In 1007 the court ordered locales to submit map guides that were then edited, printed in 1011 as Xiangfu zhouxian tujing 祥符州縣圖經 (Prefecture and county map guides of the Xiangfu Era), and distributed to government offices.33 The earliest printing of a local gazetteer listed in Zhang Guogan’s study is Taiyuan shiji ji 太原事迹記 (Record of the traces of the matters of Taiyuan), which was printed by Taiyuan Prefecture in the Zhiping era

29 Siming xu zhi [SYFZ, 6668]. 30 Chow, Publishing, Culture, and Power, ch. 3. 31 Some sources call Zhang a native of Pingyang, which was about 35 kilometers from Yongjia. 32 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 406–9; 387. 33 Chen Zhensun, Zhizhai shulu jieti (3), 430. 112 joseph dennis

(1064–67).34 However, it is unclear how many local gazetteers were printed. It was typical for only one preface, if any, of an original set of prefaces to discuss the printing, but most surviving works have come down to us through incomplete hand copies and are missing prefaces. Often the best information on gazetteer printing is found in notes following the prefaces or postfaces and in the principles of compilation (fanli 凡例). These notes and principles, however, were almost never reproduced in later editions or compilers’ collected works. Thus, if one reads a single surviving preface that does not mention printing, one cannot conclude that the gazetteer was not printed. Song book catalogs usually do not say whether a given gazetteer was a manuscript or an imprint. Even Chen Zhensun’s relatively detailed Zhizhai shulu jieti 直齋書錄解題 (Catalog of books with explanatory notes of the Zhi Studio) could mislead one as to which gazetteers had printed editions and which did not. Because Chen’s catalog sometimes states that a gazetteer was printed, one might be tempted to infer that when it does not do so, there was no print edition. But that would not be a safe assumption. For example, Chen’s entries on the 1223 Chicheng zhi and its 1227 supplement, Chicheng xu zhi 赤城續志, do not identify his copies as manuscript or print, but a Ming edition notes that the gazetteer was first printed in 1223 and that the Palace Library had imprints of both Song editions.35 As Hilde De Weerdt’s analysis has shown, many titles in Song private book catalogs that were not described as imprints had printed editions.36 Although information on the printing of local gazetteers is limited, examining them can provide substantial insight into the relationship between manuscript and print culture in pre-1400 China. But in thinking about this relationship it is important to keep in mind that local gazetteers were living texts with complex life cycles. We cannot simply identify titles and label them ‘manuscript’ or ‘imprint,’ count up numbers, and use the totals to argue that gazetteers were mostly one or the other. First we must understand gazetteer life cycles—how they were compiled, printed (or not), circulated, recompiled, lost, and discarded. All gazetteers started out as manuscripts, some were eventually printed, but not always immediately upon completion, and most

34 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 138. 35 Chicheng zhi, 202, 349. 36 De Weerdt, “Byways,” 178–84. local gazetteers 113 that were printed continued to exist in the original manuscript plus additional handwritten copies. Many thousands of short manuscripts were compiled by local governments as part of gazetteer projects of superior administrative units. When this was done, a manuscript copy was generally held locally, and while many of these were not printed, some eventually served as the foundation for revised, expanded, and printed gazetteers. Before going further we must consider our terms. What was a ‘local gazetteer’ in the time period under discussion? As the gazetteer genre became well established in the Southern Song, compilers began to conceive of their works as both individual editions and comprehensive histories of particular places that transcended dynastic changes. Authors at the time used zhi 志 to refer to both a discrete compilation and a set of compilations for the locale, one that included an original plus supplements made in later years. The ideal gazetteer was a ‘complete book’ (quan shu 全書) or a ‘full compilation’ (da bei 大備),37 that is, one that had appropriate coverage and was not out of date.38 The idea of the ‘complete book’ can be seen in Zhou Yinghe’s周應合 1261 preface to his Jiankang zhi 建康志 (Jiankang gazetteer), in which he records his discussion with the prefect, Ma Guangzu 馬光祖. Zhou said to Ma: What is recorded on the 280 blocks of the old gazetteer (jiu zhi 舊志) stops at the Qiandao era [1165–73]. What is recorded on the 220 blocks of the supplemental gazetteer stops at the Qingyuan era [1195–1200]. In making a [new] supplement I dare not treat in a cursory manner those matters that should be included from the 60-plus years from Qingyuan to today, yet I also dare not discard the earlier gazetteer.39 Ma responded: The two gazetteers of Qiandao and Qingyuan have parts that are detailed and parts that are sketchy, and much is not in accord with Liuchao shiji 六朝事跡 (Events of the Six Reigns) and Jiankang shilu 建康實錄 (Veritable record of Jiankang). Now you should collate and unify them. Where the previous gazetteers have omissions, supplement them; where they have errors, correct them; the undocumented matters from after Qingyuan, record them. Only then will it be a complete book.

37 For use of da bei, see Wujun zhi [SYFZ, 693] and Qiandao Siming tu jing [SYFZ, 4874]. 38 Jiankang zhi [SYFZ, 1329]. 39 Ibid. 114 joseph dennis

In this preface, separate editions are identified, but the gazetteer is also treated as a complete text composed of an original and two supplements. Changes were made in the contents, but like the Qiandao-era original, the Jingding-era text still uses Jiankang zhi in the title. The timing of the ascendance of the imprint in China has received substantial attention in recent years. Joseph McDermott has argued, based on studies by Inoue Susumu 井上進 and Katsuyama Minoru 勝山稔, that in most of China, for most types of literati books, the imprint was not ascendant over the manuscript until the sixteenth century.40 Inoue and Katsuyama examined changes over time in the ratio of manuscripts to imprints held in library and book collection catalogs.41 If one wanted to calculate ratios between printed and manuscript gazetteers at various points in time, a central problem would be deciding what counts as a ‘gazetteer.’ Does an unpublished compilation put together by a local scholar on his own initiative and kept in his home count? Or what about a retained copy of materials submitted by a county clerk to prefectural officials for use in compiling a new prefectural gazetteer? If one accepts a broad definition that includes quickly assembled, marginally edited texts, and private compilations, then a majority of gazetteers down to the twentieth century were in manuscript form. But that does not mean we should think of gazetteers as a manuscript genre. Instead, we should keep in mind the gazetteer life cycle. Most gazetteers submitted in response to higher-level collection projects were not compiled first as independent works. Rather, they were put together quickly by local officials, often under a tight deadline, for the express purpose of a larger project. Such quick gazetteers were not usually printed separately and the locally-held manuscript copies were often soon lost. But if one construes ‘gazetteer’ more narrowly to include only mature texts compiled over an extended period, based on wide-ranging collection and carefully edited, then by the Southern Song printing was the norm. A second term that needs clarification is ‘edition.’ The term is problematic when discussing gazetteers, because not only were they repeatedly supplemented and recompiled, but after completion local officials and scholars regularly added new materials, such as the accomplish-

40 McDermott, Social History, 49. 41 Inoue Susumu, “Zōsho to dokusho.” local gazetteers 115 ments of new magistrates, either as handwritten notes or by cutting supplemental blocks. Compilers planned for such additions. One technique was to include blank sheets in the original bound volume. This is described in the compilation notes of the 1261 Jiankang zhi: “At the end of every chapter and section, blank, lined pages have been inserted to await supplements and additions; we dare not consider it a complete book.”42 Another technique for ongoing supplementation can be seen in the gazetteer of Linting 臨汀, Fujian. In 1258, prefect Hu Taichu 胡太初 recompiled the gazetteer because the previous edition was incomplete when compiled sixty years earlier. In his preface Hu emphasized the ongoing nature of the gazetteer project, expressing his hope that like- minded gentlemen of the future would “supplement it without end.” Hu simultaneously compiled a separate local literary anthology and “left the back covers off both works to await supplements by those who come in the future.”43 In the above cases, the living nature of the gazetteer was expressed in both discourse and material form. Whether or not we should consider a supplemented gazetteer to be a new ‘edition’ depends on the extent of the supplements. The updating done between the original gazetteer and the next recompilation (chongxiu 重修) could range from simple handwritten entries on blank lines, a small number of newly cut blocks, or entirely new juan. It is appropriate to treat major supplements as new ‘editions’ because gazetteer compilers, readers, and collectors talked about them as distinct works, and the word “supplemented” (xu 續) was usually inserted into the title. A “supplemented gazetteer” (xuzhi 續志) was a major milestone even as contemporaries recognized the ongoing nature of local history and expected further additions. Minor additions, however, did not result in new titles, and contemporaries did not treat them as separate works. When we know that a printed edition was made, it can be tempting to look backwards to think of the manuscript as simply a stage in the production process leading to printing and to compress in our minds the timeframe between completion of the manuscript and the cutting of the blocks. If a manuscript was printed, cutting was in fact usually done immediately after the manuscript was complete. But sometimes

42 Jiankang zhi [SYFZ, 1331]. 43 Wang Duanlai and Li Xian, eds., Yongle dadian, 1467. 116 joseph dennis there was a time-lag of years. For example, Yongzhou fuzhi 永州府志 (Yongzhou Prefecture gazetteer) was compiled as a manuscript in 1376 pursuant to a central government order. In 1383 a new prefect decided that it needed updating to reflect new tax and population figures, and, upon revision, he had it printed.44 During the interim between completion and printing, manuscripts circulated. For example, according to a 1084 preface to Wu jun tuzhi 吳郡圖志 (Wu Prefecture gazetteer with maps), the 1011 map guides were simple and by the 1070s out of date. About 1078, the Suzhou prefect asked Zhu Changwen 朱長文 to supplement the old map guide, and he completed a three-juan work. The prefect, however, was transferred and Zhu kept the expanded work in his home. Three years later, at the request of a new prefect, Zhu polished his manuscript, had a fine copy made, and placed it in the yamen as a reference.45 Zhu also kept a copy at home and let others read it.46 In 1098, a new vice-prefect decided to publish Zhu’s gazetteer. He said that even with the yamen copy, few people read it, and so he had woodblocks cut in the yamen store- house in 1100.47 Thus, for about twenty years the gazetteer circulated, but only in manuscript form. A similar Yuan case is Qi sheng 齊乘 (Qi chronicle), compiled by Yu Qin 于欽 (1284–1333), a Shandong native who once served as tax commissioner for Yidu Circuit 益都路, his native place. While there, he gathered materials for the gazetteer and completed the manuscript, which he kept unpublished in his home. On his deathbed in 1333, he said to his son, Yu Qian 于潛, “My body is like the morning dew, you must publish it.” The son, who was an official, did not do so until 1351, claiming that until then he was too busy with his duties. In the eighteen years between the author’s death and publication, the Qi sheng manuscript circulated. In a 1339 preface, the famous official Su Tianjue蘇天爵 tells how he first read the gazetteer in Yangzhou and recommended it to officials serving in Shandong.48 Such cases were not unusual. We have so far only considered unidirectional cases—from manuscript to print. But not infrequently printed gazetteers survived only in the form of handwritten copies. These could be brought back into

44 Yongzhou fuzhi, prefaces. 45 Wu jun tuzhi, Zhu Changwen preface. 46 Ibid., Lin Fu 林虙 postface. 47 Ibid., Zhu Anshang 祝安上 postface. 48 Qi sheng, Su Tianjue preface. local gazetteers 117 print, either directly or in updated form. For example, by the early 1500s the blocks for the 1218 Luhe xianzhi 六合縣志 (Luhe County gazetteer) were worn down and no printed copy survived, but a collector had a hand copy (xieben 寫本) that served as the foundation for a new edition.49 Similarly, a preface to the 1343 Chengdu fuzhi 成都府志 (Chengdu Prefecture gazetteer) says that there were several tens of gazetteers of other prefectures in Sichuan, but the Chengdu gazetteer’s woodblocks had been destroyed in fighting. A Sichuan censor then had the blocks re-cut from handwritten copies.50 If we think of gazetteers as living documents, we can see that while they all started out in handwritten form, even after initial printing handcopying still played an important role in the lives of individual gazetteers. Handwritten notes supplemented printed editions, and these notes were often cut into blocks and inserted into the text. Copies of individual sections or the entire work were made by hand, and sometimes it was only these that preserved the gazetteer during times of war or neglect.

V. The Norm of the Printed Gazetteer

The emergence of local gazetteers as a distinct genre coincided with the Song Dynasty printing boom, and almost from the beginning compilers and local officials expected, or at least hoped, that their gazetteers would be printed. After the Song government published empire– wide map guides, an expectation grew that significant towns would turn those map guides into full-fledged gazetteers. Many Song local officials came to consider it their duty to compile a gazetteer for the benefit of subsequent officials.51 By the late twelfth century the lack of a gazetteer might be criticized. In about 1175 the prefect of Jizhou 吉州, Jiangxi, told a subordinate that Jizhou needed a gazetteer because “each of the realm’s territories has a gazetteer; only Luling 廬陵 (Jizhou) lacks one.”52 A preface to the 1199 Chengdu 成都 gazetteer notes that a guest of the prefect said to him, “These days each of the realm’s territories has a gazetteer; how is it that only Sichuan’s capital

49 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 232. 50 Zhou Fujun, Quan Shu yiwenzhi, juan 30, “Chengdu zhi xu” 成都志序. 51 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 236. 52 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 578, Xichang zhi preface. 118 joseph dennis does not?”53 Although the claim that every place had a gazetteer was an exaggeration, the repeated appearance of this stock phrase does suggest that a norm was taking hold by the late twelfth century, at least for prominent locales. In 1300, the prefect of Nanfeng 南豐, Jiangxi, wrote, “No famous department or great county lacks a gazetteer, everywhere I have gone on my official travels I have always obtained the gazetteer and read it.” But even by the first half of the thirteenth century there were hints that gazetteer production had spread well beyond famous locales. A preface to the gazetteer of Deqing 德清 County, (ca. 1237–40), argues that because even distant and remote places had gazetteers it was especially important for a county like theirs in the capital region to have one.54 Authors routinely described a missing or inad- equate gazetteer as a “gap in documentation,” arguing that gazetteers were to locales what histories were to states, and invoking Confucius’ statement that he was unable to comment on the states of Qi 杞 and Song 宋 because they were “insufficiently documented.”55 Some compilers believed that their duty was not merely to compile a gazetteer, but also to print it. This is expressed most clearly in a preface to the 1288 Jiahe zhi 嘉禾志 (Jiahe gazetteer), which argues that even though Jiaxing Circuit officials read and praised the gazetteer upon its completion in manuscript form, “compiling but not printing this gazetteer would be equivalent to not compiling it at all.”56 This emphasis on the importance of print is echoed in a 1304 preface to Leqing zhi 樂清志 (Leqing gazetteer). Assistant Magistrate Feng Fujing 馮福京 notes that he got hold of a facsimile copy (mo ben 摹本) of the old map guide when he arrived in Leqing, but because the state was now unified under the new regime of the Yuan, accounts of all that had changed in Leqing should be “cut and entered into the gazetteer.” Feng also noted that when he served in Changguo 昌國 he made the gazetteer his first priority and compiled and printed it to fill in the territory’s “gap in the literature.”57 As these comments suggest, compilers considered gazetteers to be essential local documentation that deserved to be printed.

53 Yuan Shuoyou, Dongtang ji, juan 18. 54 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 352. 55 Analects, Book 3, ch. 9. 56 Jiahe zhi [SYFZ, 4414]. Tang was a local man and a jinshi under the Song. 57 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 408. Leqing was in Jiangzhe 江浙, Wen- zhou Circuit 溫州路. Feng compiled and printed the 1298 Dade Changguo zhou tuzhi. Changguo was in Jiangzhe, Qingyuan Circuit 慶元路. local gazetteers 119

In the eyes of gazetteer compilers, printing had many important benefits. One was fixity. In 1404, Chuzhou滁州 Prefect Chen Lian 陳璉 read a handwritten copy of the Song Chunxi-era manuscript (1170s–80s), but lamented the lack of a printed edition because errors had been made in recopying the text.58 Keeping gazetteer woodblocks under lock and key in the yamen or Confucian school promoted fixity as long as access was free enough to reduce the need for hand copying, and supervision was tight enough to prevent alterations. The 1261 Jiankang zhi records that the prefect supervised the block cutting and attempted to control access to the cut blocks. He wanted the gazetteer printed before he left office, but because time was running out, as each portion of the manuscript was finished in the book editing hall, artisans cut woodblocks in the prefectural yamen’s garden. Imprints were presented to the emperor and prefect, the 994 blocks (cut on both sides) were locked up in five cabinets in the yamen, and a clerk was appointed to take charge of the cabinet’s opening and closing.59 In every case for which I have information, the woodblocks for pre-1400 gazetteers were cut and stored in the local Confucian school or yamen. Schools were a logical place to print gazetteers because compilation offices were often set up there, most were spacious, they were centers of local literati activity, and school libraries often ended up storing the cut blocks.60 The 1177Piling zhi 毗陵志 (Piling gazetteer) was reprinted after the rebuilding of a school library destroyed in the Mongol conquest of 1275. In 1315, an education official told an instructor, “The library is finished and other books can be bought if you have the money, but the prefectural gazetteer cannot.” They obtained an imprint from a Shandong man who had been an official in Changzhou, assembled artisans on the top floor of the library, and soon the blocks were cut.61

58 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 310, citing Yongyang zhi. Chuzhou is northwest of Nanjing. 59 Jiankang zhi [SYFZ, 1331, 1711]. Other gazetteers cut in yamen compounds include the 1100 Wu jun tujing xu ji [SYFZ, 688], the 1185 Wuling zhi 吳陵志 (Wul- ing gazetteer) [Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 241], and the 1271 Xinding xu zhi, 4.11b–14a. 60 In 1333, the Zhenjiang 鎮江 prefectural Confucian school held 2,007 woodblocks for two editions of the local gazetteer (Zhishun Zhenjiang zhi [SYFZ, 2945]). 61 Other map guides and gazetteers cut in Confucian schools include the 1186 Yan- zhou tujing, the 1251 Yufeng zhi 玉峰志 (Yufeng gazetteer) [SYFZ, 1051–52], 1272 Lian- jiang zhi 連江志 (Lianjiang gazetteer) [Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 421], the 1341 Dongyang xu zhi (Dongyang supplemented gazetteer), the 1578 Jinhua fuzhi 120 joseph dennis

Generally, the cutters’ and printers’ place of residence is unknown, but in some cases it is clear that they were not regular staff, but rather were brought to the yamen or school. The 1230Ganshui zhi 澉水志 (Ganshui gazetteer) (modern Zhejiang Province) and the 1300 Nan- feng junzhi 南豐郡志 (Nanfeng Prefecture gazetteer) (modern Jiangxi Province) state that craftsmen were gathered for the block cutting.62 I have found no evidence of pre-1400 gazetteer manuscripts being sent away for cutting, an occasional occurrence in the late Ming. Thus, if the blocks were held locally, it is likely that they were cut locally. Not all pre-1400 gazetteers were cut by outside craftsmen. At least one, a Song Dynasty edition of Anxi xianzhi 安溪縣志 (Anxi County gazetteer) (Fujian) was printed by the yamen’s own printing office.63 Two other benefits of printing were better chances for long-term survival and increased audience size. A stock phrase in gazetteer prefaces is that the text was being “cut in wood to perpetuate its transmission.”64 A 1363 postface to Qinchuan zhi 琴川志 (Qinchuan gazetteer) notes that there was a rough compilation in 1196 but that it was only in 1210 that the county magistrate became the first to “broaden its transmission,” or print it.65 The connection of this phrase to printing is explicit in Yu Qian’s 1351 preface to Qi sheng 齊乘. Yu wrote that he “ordered workers to cut blocks to broaden its transmission.”66 Access to manuscript copies was often limited by rules or distance.67 When Da Yuan yitongzhi was completed in 1297, it was placed in the Palace Library and was not accessible to “society.”68 In 1418 Zhu Hui printed his gazetteer of Xincheng, Zhejiang in order to “disseminate it to people” because the manuscript he submitted to the Palace Library was “not easy for people to see.”69

金華府志 (Jinhua Prefecture gazetteer), [ibid., prefaces, 2–3, 453], the 1344 Jinling xin zhi (New Jinling gazetteer), and the 1374 Gu Teng junzhi (Ancient Teng Prefecture gazetteer) [Wang Duanlai and Li Xian, eds., Yongle dadian, 3032]. 62 Ganshui zhi [SYFZ, 4659]; for Nanfeng jun zhi, see Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 342. 63 Jiajing Anxi xianzhi 8.73a. 64 For example, the 1376 Sanyang tuzhi [Wang Duanlai and Li Xian, eds., Yongle dadian, 2775]. 65 That “broaden its transmission” refers here to printing can be inferred from the subsequent statement that “the old blocks were gone.” 66 Qi sheng, preface [SYFZ, 511]. 67 Wu jun tuzhi, Zhu Anshang postface. See McDermott, Social History, esp. 127–70, for a discussion of access to libraries. 68 Qi sheng, preface [SYFZ, 509]. 69 Xincheng xianzhi (Xincheng County gazetteer) 11.27b, 826–31. local gazetteers 121

Although not everyone could read gazetteers in the Palace Library, officials stationed in the capital and surrounding areas could. The early Ming official and book collector Yang Shiqi楊士奇 (1365–1444) once read the gazetteer of Raozhou 饒州, Jiangxi in the Palace Library after receiving a request that he write a preface to a Raozhou native’s genealogy. The genealogy compiler, an official stationed in Guizhou named Zheng Jingyue 鄭景曜, sent his work to the capital with a Guizhou surveillance official who approached Yang on Zheng’s behalf. In the genealogy there was a record written for Zheng’s great-grandfather’s ancestral hall. Yang went to the Palace Library, read the Raozhou gazetteer, and noted that the great-grandfather’s affairs were in fact as recorded in the genealogy.70 In this case, Yang used the gazetteer as an independent source to verify a biography, most likely before agreeing to attach his imprimatur to the genealogy. Authors working on gazetteers of their native places were especially interested in using the Palace Library gazetteer collection. In the late 1300s Ma Shou 馬鏞, a native of Xingguo Department 興國州 (modern Hubei Province) compiled a new edition of the departmen- tal gazetteer. Ma’s son, Ma Tao 馬濤, who served as headmaster of the Ba Department school, near Beijing, decided to supplement his father’s gazetteer. To help him in his work he made a complete copy of an early thirteenth-century edition in the Palace Library.71 While the Palace Library’s manuscript gazetteers were accessible to officials, printing increased access by allowing travelers and collectors to quickly obtain copies.

VI. Who Paid to Publish Gazetteers?

To publish a local gazetteer one needed money for labor and materials. Gazetteer prefaces show that local financing was typical and funds came from government coffers or donations by officials or members of the local elite. Whether donations or government funds predominated is unclear. Although there are more records of donations than use of government funds, most gazetteers do not mention financing at all, and government expenditures were probably less likely to be recorded in gazetteers.

70 Yang Shiqi, Dongli ji xu ji, juan 30. 71 Xingguo zhouzhi (Xingguo department gazetteer), postface. 122 joseph dennis

Funds often came from officials currently serving in the locale that was the subject of the gazetteer. An example is the 1300 Nanfeng junzhi, mentioned above, which was compiled on the orders of Prefect Li Yi 李彝. When it was finished, Li wrote, “I donated from my salary to bring in craftsmen to cut the blocks. My colleagues were of like mind and happily contributed.”72 The additional donors were Vice-Prefect Alaowading 阿老瓦丁 (’Alā-al-Dīn), Assistant Prefect Chang Tai 常泰, and Chief of Police Wang Yi 王沂. TheDarughachi (overseer) Boy- anchaer 伯顏察兒 “guided” the project (zhu meng 主盟), but was not mentioned as a donor. While it is clear in this case that an official put up his own money, it is unknown whether he could recover any of it through sales of imprints or other means. Because gazetteers were commonly finished in the later years of an administrator’s term or after he left the area, printing was sometimes financed by successive administrations. The 1201Wuxing zhi 吳興志 (Wuxing gazetteer) was financed by two prefects. The first “entrusted money for cutting the wood to Gui’an County Magistrate Zhou” (Gui’an was a subordinate county whose yamen was located in the prefectural seat). Shortly thereafter, the prefect was recalled and the new prefect “donated additional funds to complete it.”73 This suggests that funds could be disbursed as the project progressed rather than in advance in a lump sum. Superior local officials sometimes financed publication of gazetteers compiled by subordinates. In the fall of 1368, the year when the Ming Dynasty was founded, Chi Liangxin 赤良心 was transferred from Fujian to the Wuzhou 梧州 (Guangxi) registry office (jingli si經歷司 ). The day after he arrived Chi asked the Confucian school students about the gazetteer and learned that there was a printed edition of Cangwu junzhi 蒼梧郡志 (Cangwu Prefecture gazetteer), but the blocks had been burned by “Yao bandits.” He inquired of “surviving elders” and obtained pieces they had copied. He wanted to publish his reconstructed gazetteer but was at first unable to do so. Soon thereafter, however, two new officials arrived and asked him about the prefecture’s maps, books, records, and customs. Chi told them about his gazet-

72 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 561–62. 73 Jiatai Wuxing zhi [SYFZ, 4679]. local gazetteers 123 teer, at which point one of them, Assistant Prefect Fan Wenli 范文禮, offered to give up his salary to have it printed.74 In the early 1200s the magistrate of Haiyan Garrison 海鹽鎮 ordered Chang Tang 常棠, a local, to compile Ganshui zhi, mentioned above. When the magistrate’s term was up, the book was still only in draft form and seven or eight administrations passed before Chang finally completed it. A new magistrate, Sun Ribian孫日邊 , arrived and “donated from his own salary to hire and bring in workers to cut and print” the gazetteer. Sun’s action was praised by Haining Naval Station Commander-General Yuan, who noted that the magistrate was able to print this book even though the local tax coffers were depleted. Yuan then donated wood and materials and the printing was done in 1230 in a garrison office building.75 Yuan’s comment about “tax coffers” suggests that it was not uncommon to use government funds to print gazetteers. In the above cases, local officials decided to publish the gazetteers. Sometimes, however, superior officials ordered publication and this opened up another potential funding source. Compilation of the 1351 Xianxi zhi 仙溪志 (Xianxi gazetteer) (Fujian) began when local scholar Fu Yucheng 傅玉成 presented himself to the touring Assistant Surveillance Commissioner Tian Jiujia 田九嘉, gave him a copy of the 1257 edition as a gift, and requested that the gazetteer blocks be re-cut in the county Confucian school. County Magistrate Daolasha 倒剌沙 then compiled a supplement and the commissioner donated money from his salary for printing.76 In this case we can see that local gazetteers were part of the elite book-giving culture recently described by Joseph McDermott.77 Unlike Tian Jiujia, not all superior officials who ordered subordinates to produce gazetteers paid for them. This was the case when Wenzhou Circuit ordered compilation of the 1307 Pingyang zhouzhi 平陽州志 (Pingyang Prefecture gazetteer), but paid nothing. Instead, Pingyang Assistant Magistrate Pi Yuan 皮元 provided the editor, Zhang Zhe, with a salary, office, and writing supplies. After the manuscript was done, newly-arrived magistrate Xie Zhensun 謝振孫 raised

74 Wang Duanlai and Li Xian, eds., Yongle dadian, 2971–72. 75 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 342; Ganshui zhi [SYFZ, 4659]. 76 Xianxi zhi [SYFZ, 8269]. 77 McDermott, Social History, 84–94. 124 joseph dennis funds for block cutting by donating from his own salary as an example for others to follow.78 When officials were not willing to donate their own money or use government funds for printing, members of local society paid. Huating County Magistrate Yang Qian 楊潛 wrote that when the local “erudite gentlemen” completed the manuscript for the 1193 Yunjian zhi 雲間志 (Yunjian gazetteer) the county government’s funds were exhausted and could not support its publication. Thus, “worthy county gentry” paid.79 By using the term kui 匱, meaning ‘exhausted,’ the magistrate implies that printing with government funds would have been possible at other times. A later Songjiang gazetteer, the 1355 Xu Yunjian zhi 續雲間志 (Supplement to Yunjian gazetteer) also was published by locals.80 The ways in which books for local schools were acquired suggest that some local governments may have used land rents or created special lev- ies to pay for gazetteer printing. In 1333, the summer after construction of a new library for the Confucian school of Teng Department 藤州, Guangxi, yamen and school officials met and decided to impose a levy on each mu of land and take a contribution from the salaries of each official and subofficial. A county school instructor, Liao 廖廕Yin , was put in charge of buying books in southern China (Jiangguang 江廣).81

VII. Production Costs

Data on the costs of producing pre-1400 gazetteers is extremely limited, even compared to the modest amount known for the middle and late Ming. Joseph McDermott has argued that the cost of book publishing dropped substantially in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries due to falling labor, paper, and binding costs.82 In Timothy Brook’s important 1997 article on Yuan gazetteers, he argued that producing a gazetteer was a “rather expensive project” in the Yuan because woodblock cutting was labor intensive and the skill was not widely practiced. In

78 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 409. 79 Yunjian zhi (Yunjian gazetteer), Yang Qian preface. Huating 華亭 was in Jiangzhe. 80 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 260, citing Chongzhen Songjiang fuzhi 松江府志, 1630. 81 “Teng zhou ruxue jishu ji” (“Record of collecting books for the Teng Department Confucian school”), in Wang Duanlai and Liu Xian, eds., Yongle dadian, 3017. 82 McDermott, Social History, 25–31. local gazetteers 125

Brooks’s view, xylographic printing only became a cheap technology “about the turn of the sixteenth century, with the rise of a relatively free labour market”83 and after “the cost of engraving woodblocks had fallen dramatically, as illiterate laborers mastered the necessary skills.”84 To set a Yuan baseline for comparison, Brook relied on Ye Dehui’s discussion of the most detailed description of pre-1400 gazetteer printing, a compilation order from the 1344 Jinling xin zhi.85 In Brook’s words, “[t]he total cost for engraving and printing copies came to over 143 ding (one ding was nominally valued at ten ounces of silver), a considerable sum, which the circuit chose not to absorb.”86 Instead, the circuit placed the burden of printing on four schools within its jurisdiction. Each school received separate juan to print. Ye Dehui used the above figure to compare Yuan cutting costs to those of the late Ming, and found them to be seven times as expensive on a per block basis. At first glance it does seem that the printing ofJinling xin zhi was far more expensive than printing late Ming gazetteers. On closer inspection, however, this sum is less than it seems. The problem is that the cost is given in paper currency, zhongtong chao 中統鈔, not silver. When originally issued in 1260, the currency was convertible to silver at the rate of 50 liang per ding, but it was devalued in 1287 to 10 liang per ding. Thus, 143ding of paper currency was nominally 1,430 liang, or more than 57 kilograms of silver.87 The gazetteer has 1,164 leaves, so at the nominal rate, the per page cost would have been 1.23 liang of silver, or about ten times Kai-wing Chow’s estimate of late-Ming block- cutting costs.88 However, by 1344 the actual value in silver of paper currency was much less than its nominal value. According to Richard von Glahn, zhongtong chao steadily depreciated after 1311 and infla- tion had reached “catastrophic levels” by the late 1340s.89 How far the currency had fallen by 1344 and what 143 ding of paper meant to the schools is a difficult question to answer, but it was certainly worth less than the nominal value. The fact that the cutting was divided between

83 Brook, “Native Identity,” 239–40. 84 Brook, “Censorship,” 181. 85 Brook, “Native Identity,” 239, note 11, citing Brook, “Censorship,” 181, note 10, which cites Ye Dehui, Shulin qing hua, 7.7b, 14b. 86 Brook, “Native Identity,” 240. 87 Von Glahn, Fountain of Fortune, 57, 63. Hanyu da cidian 漢語大辭典, index, 19 contains a list of historical weights based on excavated weights. 88 Chow, Publishing, Culture, and Power, 37. 89 Von Glahn, Fountain of Fortune, 68. 126 joseph dennis schools also does not necessarily mean that the printing was expensive. To cut 1,164 blocks at a single site would entail either a long, but modest, disruption by a small number of cutters, or a large disruption by many cutters. Distributing the chapters to multiple schools may have been done for reasons of space and speed, not cost. Since the 1344 gazetteer appears to be an unreliable basis for comparing Yuan and late Ming printing costs, it is necessary to adopt other approaches. One possibility is to compare the number and type of donors and how they characterized their donations. If it took many donors at one point in history, but few at another, or if only high- ranking officials could pay in one period while low-ranking officials could pay in another, that would suggest either changes in cost or changes in donors’ relative wealth. What is striking from the above cases of donations is that in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, publishing a substantial book was not unduly burdensome for one official, or a small group of officials, making donations from their salaries. Many of these local officials were not highly paid, yet none of the prefaces that discussed financing characterized the donations as large or the printing as expensive. In the late Ming, it also was the case that one or several officials or members of the local gentry financed the printing of a gazetteer. From this perspective, there is remarkable continuity in the number and type of donors needed to print a gazetteer from the start of the thirteenth century until the end of the Ming. While officials did not consider printing a gazetteer to be overly expensive, the impression is given that it was not something done with petty change. When the Huating County funds were depleted the magistrate was unwilling to use government money to print the 1193 Yunjian zhi. Payment for the 1201 Wuxing zhi was spread over the terms of two prefects. A fundraising drive was needed to print the 1307 Pingyang zhouzhi, and a Wuzhou, Guangxi, registry office official was unable to self-publish his 1368 Cangwu junzhi, though the assistant prefect was able to pay for it out of his salary. A second issue related to the cost of gazetteers is the cost of printing a copy. McDermott, citing Inoue, argues that paper was expensive in the Song but cheap by the middle of the Ming. Unfortunately, there is only one known figure from before 1400, that for an imprint ofKuaiji zhi 會稽志 (Kuaiji gazetteer) made in 1202, six months after the book was completed. A note appended to juan 20 says: local gazetteers 127

Shaoxing Prefecture today prints one copy of Kuaiji zhi in twenty juan using 800 sheets of book printing paper, ten sheets of ancient sutra paper, twenty sheets of insert paper, and ten backing sheets for the ancient sutra paper. The printing cost is 800wen .90 How much was 800 wen? One way to work out an approximation is to compare that figure to other figures found inKuaiji zhi, a gazetteer of Shaoxing 紹興 Prefecture. For example, the summer tax on Shao- xing’s 273,343 registered households amounted to 53,582,668 wen. Thus, an average household’s share would be about 196wen . The cost of one copy of the gazetteer was thus equivalent to the summer tax on four households. The summer tax was only one of several taxes and not the largest. Shaoxing’s juan 絹 silk tax was 99,809 bolts (pi 疋), or an average of 0.365 pi per household. The price ofjuan silk in 1202 was about 4,000 wen per bolt,91 so the juan silk tax per household was equivalent to about 1,460 wen, or enough to print almost two copies of the gazetteer. The labor tax came to 614wen per household. While this suggests that not many common farm families could easily afford a copy, someone on the next step up the economic ladder, such as a modestly successful landlord, merchant, or artisan probably could. This conclusion is supported by references to officials obtaining copies of gazetteers from commoners. One tantalizing example is the early Yuan Guangchang xianzhi 廣昌縣志 (Guangchang County gazetteer) from southeastern Jiangxi. He Wenyuan 何文淵, compiler of the 1440 edition, wrote that the gazetteer was compiled in the early Yuan by a local man named Lian Zhongmo 連仲默 and was almost completely destroyed in war. He’s son, Zong 宗, asked all around the local area and obtained the first of the two volumes from the home of a farmer and the second from the home of lacquer artisan Liu Wenxing 劉文興. He put them together and made a complete gazetteer.92 According to a biography, Lian himself came from a humble background. He worked as a tailor and at the age of thirty was still uneducated. One day while he was making clothes in the home of a wealthy family, a Confucian student arrived. The master set out a splendid feast and wine in the reception hall, while Lian ate and drank meager fare in another room. He sighed and said, “What a separation there is between trades and

90 Kuaiji zhi [SYFZ, 7090]. 91 Guo Dongxu, “Songchao de wujia.” 92 Guangchang xianzhi (1683), old prefaces, 1–2. 128 joseph dennis scholarship!” Lian then gave up tailoring and took up scholarship. In ten years he mastered all of the classics and histories and eventually wrote both the Song and Yuan Dynasty county gazetteers.93 Initial print runs of gazetteers were probably modest: copies for the compilers, yamen, officials, donors, schools, interested locals, and various government offices. The number of initial copies is suggested by the only known print run for a pre-1400 gazetteer, the one hundred copies made by Wang Zhen 王禎 for his movable wooden type edition of Jingde xianzhi 旌德縣志 (Jingde County gazetteer), published in 1298. This figure likely represents the number of copies Wang expected to sell or give away, if not immediately, then within a reasonable time. Since gazetteers were typically printed on demand from stored woodblocks, the typical initial run was probably less than one hundred imprints in a county comparable to Jingde. But the initial run was a minor proportion of the total number of imprints. Gazetteer publishers expected that imprints would continue to be made for decades. Magistrate Shi An’s 史安 preface to the 1215 Shan lu 剡錄 (Record of Shan) states, “There is nothing that this book fails to record. Examining these blocks we can tell that one hundred years from now people will not cast them aside even though they be worn down.”94 Of course, blocks did not necessarily last that long. When a new magistrate arrived in Zhangzhou 漳州 (Fujian) in 1243 the blocks for the 1213 edition were already old and the words unclear.95 That the blocks were worn suggests that perhaps well over one hundred copies were made.

VIII. Mongol and Central Asian Officials’ Participation

By the time of Khubilai, Mongol and Central Asian officials were involved in compiling local gazetteers. The comprehensive gazetteer project of the Yuan stimulated a first major round of compilations, and a second major round followed the decision in 1343 to compile the official histories of the Liao, Jin, and Song Dynasties.96 But what

93 Guangchang xianzhi (1683), 4.59a–b. 94 Shan lu 剡錄 [SYFZ, 7195]. Some bibliographies use the pronunciation ‘Yan’ rather than ‘Shan.’ 95 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 433–34. 96 Brook, “Native Identity,” 243. local gazetteers 129 does this tell us about the nature of Yuan gazetteers and their place in Yuan print culture?97 Timothy Brook, while crediting the Mongol central government with stimulating production of local gazetteers, nevertheless argues that gazetteers proliferated in the mid-Yuan because local Chinese scholars considered gazetteer writing to be “an indirect way of resisting Mongol domination.”98 Brook stresses that local gazetteers “were a uniquely native genre, thoroughly Chinese.” He notes that of roughly 130 names of authors and editors he found for Yuan local gazetteers, only four were Mongols and three other Inner Asians. In reading Yuan gazetteers, however, I have come across little that suggests resistance. In the following pages I will revisit this issue, using cases identified by Brook, and a few more that I have found, and question the validity of the resistance thesis. Brook’s cases include four Mongols (Mubala 木八剌,99 Antanbuhua 按攤不花, Duoerchiyunfu 朵爾赤雲甫,100 Xielipuhua 燮理溥化)101 and three non-Mongol Inner Asians (Šams, Xuelijiesi 薛里吉思,102 and Yilinzhen 亦璘真). Two of the seven, Duoerchiyunfu and Yilinzhen, Brook characterizes as spon- soring officials, not authors.103 While almost all Yuan gazetteer editorial staff members were Chinese, we should not overlook the substantial roles played by some Mongols and Central Asians. It is true that a person listed as ‘compiler’ (xiu 修) often did little or no writing or editing; this term is usually attached to the territorial administrator who ordered or approved the compilation. But failure to be listed in the gazetteer or later bibliographic works as an editor (zuan 纂) or author (zhuan 撰) does not necessarily mean the person lacked substantial involvement. For example, Xielipuhua, the Mongol magistrate of Le’an County, Jiangxi, and a 1327 jinshi, is listed as compiler of the 1338 Le’an xianzhi 樂安縣志 (Le’an County gazetteer) rather than author or editor. But his preface reveals that his involvement was substantial. He notes the importance of gazetteers to

97 Ibid., 241. 98 Ibid., 243. 99 Mubala was Fenghua Darughaci. Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 365. He is listed as author (zhuan 撰). 100 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 533. 101 The character溥 can be pronounced ‘pu’ or ‘fu’ in modern Chinese. I am using ‘pu’ because Xielipuhua’s biography in juan 9 of Jie Xisi’s Jie Wen’an gong quan ji notes that he is also called Puhua 普化. He was also known as Jieyuanpu 燮元溥 and Xilabuha 錫喇布哈. See Chen Yuan, Western and Central Asian in China, 238. 102 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 604. 103 Brook, “Native Identity,” 243 n. 22. 130 joseph dennis understanding locales and writes that upon arriving in 1333 he loved Le’an’s high mountains and clear waters, knew there must be documentation of local history, but could find none. Someone then told him that the county had once had a text called Aoxi zhi 鼇溪志 (Aoxi gazetteer) and he located several volumes. They had been compiled in the Song Chunxi (1174–89) and Xianchun (1265–74) periods but were in such disarray that he was unable to read them. Xielipuhua had Aoxi Academy Instructor Li Su 李肅 collate and supplement the old editions. When Li finished, Xielipuhua read it, praised the new edition’s coverage, and said that he was now, “even more convinced that a prefecture or county must not be without a gazetteer.” A local scholar, Chen Liangzuo 陳良佐 took the lead in getting the blocks carved.104 In this case, a Mongol actively sought out the old gazetteer, initiated the recompilation, and worked with local scholars to have the new edition compiled and printed. Both cooperation with local Chinese and the potential censorship by the Yuan of unacceptable gazetteers can be seen in the publication of the 1341 Siming xu zhi 四明續志 (Siming supplemented gazetteer). While Censor Šams was conducting an inspection tour of Ningbo in 1341 he ordered the reprinting of the 1321 Siming zhi and the compilation of a supplement. Wang Housun, a contributor to the 1321 edition, asked Assistant Censor Zhansiding 苫思丁105 for permission to reprint the gazetteer and publish a dozen other books. Someone told Zhansiding that the gazetteer disparaged him, and he decided to destroy the blocks. Learning of Zhansiding’s intention, Wang Housun explained to Ningbo Prefect Wang Yuangong 王元恭 that the gazetteer should not be destroyed because its late author, Yuan Jue 袁桷, was a famous official and great calligrapher. Prefect Wang took the gazetteer to Zhansiding, who changed his mind and had the gazetteer re-carved in the prefectural school. He further ordered the prefect to compile and publish a supplement.106 It is unclear whether the suspect material was removed prior to publication.

104 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 568. 105 Zhansiding (Šams al-Dīn) was the grandfather of poet Ding Henian 丁鶴年. For Ding’s biography, see Goodrich, Dictionary of Ming Biography, 1288. For more on Zhansiding see Bai Shouyi, Huizu renwu kao, 361–63; Chen Yuan, Western and Central Asian in China; and the December 9, 2002 Ningbo Ribao (Ningbo daily news), which reported on the excavation of two stelae relating to him. 106 The supplement was published the following year, 1342.Zhizheng Siming xu zhi, 6888. Yanyou Siming zhi (Siming gazetteer), preface, 4990. local gazetteers 131

It may be that Zhansiding did not have a genuine change of heart, but was simply overruled by Censor Šams. Censor Šams was a well- known scholar who authored and edited numerous works in Chi- nese, including two local gazetteers. In his preface to Dongyang xu zhi 東陽續志 (Dongyang supplemented gazetteer) his interest in gazetteers is clear. He notes that when he first arrived in Wu 婺 (modern Zhe- jiang Province) and was serving as an assistant surveillance commissioner he immediately asked for the gazetteer but was presented with an earlier Yuan edition that was not yet a “complete book.” He then ordered the reprinting of the 1154 Dongyang zhi 東陽志 (Dongyang gazetteer) and began compiling a new edition by collecting documents from subordinate counties. When the supplement was finished he ordered that its blocks be cut in the Confucian school.107 Several other cases show Mongol and Central Asian involvement. The 1300Nanfeng jun zhi was “guided by” (zhu meng) the Mongol Darughaci Boyanchaer, and Vice-Prefect Alaowading 阿老瓦丁108 was one of several officials who contributed financially to the printing, as discussed above.109 Pingjiang zhouzhi 平江州志 (Pingjiang Prefecture gazetteer) (ca. 1315) was edited by Antanbuhua, a Mongol zhou panguan 州判官 (commissioner of records).110 In 1341, Kunshan 崑山 Prefecture Supervisor Bolod Temur hired Yang Hui 楊譓 to compile Kunshan junzhi 崑山郡志 (Kunshan Prefecture gazetteer), and arranged for printing when it was finished in 1344.111 Yiwu zhi 義烏志 (Yiwu gazetteer) was published ca. 1353 by the Uyghur Darughaci Yil- inzhen. The named editor was a famous local scholar, Huang Jin黃溍 , who owned a handwritten Yiwu gazetteer compiled by one of his ancestors. Huang was about seventy-five years old and in poor health, so two students, Wang Yi 王禕 and Zhu Lian 朱廉 did the actual research, writing, and editing of the updated edition. When finished, both students left Yiwu to take the provincial civil service exam and

107 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 391–92. The other gazetteer edited by Šams is Zhenyang feng tu ji 鎮陽風土記 (Zhenyuan Prefecture 鎮遠府, Guizhou). Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 712. 108 The name of ’Alā-al-Dīn, Khubilai’s catapult maker, has the same Chinese trans- literation, Alaowading 阿老瓦丁, but may be a different person. See Endicott-West, Mongolian Rule in China, 75. 109 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 561–62. 110 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 516, citing Guangxu Hunan tongzhi 湖南通志, 249. Translation of title as in Endicott-West, Mongolian Rule in China, 204. 111 Kunshan junzhi [SYFZ, 1111–12]. 132 joseph dennis

Huang Jin collated the gazetteer with another student, Fu Zao 傅藻, then gave it to Yilinzhen, who had blocks cut.112 In other cases we know that a Mongol or Central Asian was in charge of the project but do not know his precise contributions. For example, Xuelijiesi, the darughachi, is listed as having compiled Xinxing xianzhi 新興縣志 (Xinxing County gazetteer), ca. 1333–35, but we know nothing more.113 Xianxi zhi, compiled ca. 1351 (discussed above), resulted from an inspection trip of Xianxi by Duoerzhiban 朵兒只班, the Fujian coastal defense circuit vice-commissioner. When County Magistrate Daolasha was asked to compile the gazetteer, he was “willing to take on the task.”114 In light of the above examples of Mongol and Central Asian involvement in gazetteers we should be careful in viewing Yuan local gazetteers as expressions of resistance to Mongol domination. The relationships seen in prefaces appear more cooperative than subversive. In addition, although local Chinese scholars, students, and officials did most of the actual editorial work, they needed permission to publish an official administrative unit gazetteer, as when Wang Housun asked Zhansiding for permission to reprint Siming zhi. Local officials sometimes even asked permission before beginning. The magistrate of Lian- jiang (Fujian), Li Ying 李縈, asked a shengsi 省司 (provincial office) for permission before starting the 1316 Lianjiang xianzhi 連江縣志 (Lianjiang County gazetteer).115 Permission was required because gazetteers were indeed potential vehicles of subversion. Thus, to understand the likelihood that gazetteers were used to resist Mongol rule requires an examination of how compilers viewed the Yuan state. By the late Yuan, the percentage of low-level local office holders who were Mongols and Central Asians appears to have been small,116 and it was mostly lower-level officials and Confucian school teachers and students who were most deeply involved in writing gazetteers. So it should not be surprising, as Brook notes, that most people listed as authors and editors were ethnically Chinese. But that does not mean that most, or even many, of these

112 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 394, citing Huang xue shi wen ji, juan 19. 113 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 604, citing Daoguang Guangdong tongzhi 廣東通志, 192. 114 Xianxi zhi [SYFZ, 8269]. 115 Zhang Guogan, Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao, 420–21. 116 Endicott-West, Mongolian Rule in China, 86–87. local gazetteers 133 people saw the dynasty as illegitimate, were disloyal, or saw gazetteer writing as a form of resistance. Loyalty to the Yuan and recognition of it as having received the legitimate transmission (zhengtong 正統) of the mandate, was widespread among elite scholars. Those who were known opponents of Yuan rule probably would have been excluded from major roles in gazetteer production. In light of the above, we should reconsider the resistance thesis.

IX. Conclusion

In comparing the production of pre-1400 gazetteers to those of the late Ming, the degree of continuity is striking. Even though there is much less information available on the earlier period, what information does exist shows that printing has been the norm for ‘mature gazetteers’ since the early years of the genre. But that does not mean that most gazetteers were imprints. In fact, if we think of gazetteers in the broadest sense as including quick compilations in response to superiors’ orders under deadlines, then most gazetteers were in manuscript form. While we lack the numbers and context to carry out an elaborate cost analysis, the fact that just one or several officials or gentry donors could finance a gazetteer across the Song, Yuan, and Ming suggests they were not inordinately expensive projects and there may not have been a radical change in the affordability of publishing a gazetteer from the Southern Song to the late Ming. At the same time, some officials and local governments could not afford to finance the printing of a gazetteer, so we should not think of the production costs as insignificant. From the examples cited above, we can see that gazetteers were printed from the early days of the genre and continued to be printed through times of economic difficulties and war such as the late Yuan and early Ming. The printing of gazetteers was more regular in cultural centers, but printing was widely distributed and as the genre became universal at the circuit level in the Yuan and spread down to the county level in the early Ming, many locales were able to print their gazetteers. During the Yuan, officials of Mongol and Central Asian origin cooperated with local Chinese scholars in compiling and publishing gazetteers. Because of pre-publication review it is unlikely that many 134 joseph dennis subversive materials would be found therein. While it is indeed possible that some Chinese scholars saw the writing of local history as an indirect way to resist Mongol domination, it remains to be demonstrated that such sentiments were actually expressed in many, or any, local gazetteers. Although this paper has barely touched on the circulation and reading of gazetteers, it is clear that even in the pre-1400 period, the gazetteer blocks stored in Confucian schools and yamens were important nodes in the production and circulation of information. Gazetteers collected various types of information—government data, historical records, literature, biographies—and made it available to both local and translocal audiences who used it to produce other types of works and give detail to the imagined empire. EARLY BUDDHIST ILLUSTRATED PRINTS IN HANGZHOU

Shih-shan Susan Huang

I. Introduction

In 1073 in the Northern Song capital Kaifeng 開封, the Japanese monk Jōjin 成尋 (1011–81) visited the Chuanfa yuan 傳法院 (Institute for Propagation of the Tripitaka) set up by the government in conjunction with the Buddhist Monastery Taiping xingguo si 太平興國寺 (Mon- astery of the Great Peace and Prosperous State).1 He and his assistants borrowed the woodblocks of Wubai luohan moyin 五百羅漢模印 (Five Hundred Lohans) and of Damo liuzu mo 達摩六祖模 (Six Chan Patriarchs of the Bodhidharma Sect)—both sets of woodblocks bearing Buddhist illustrations—from the repository to print more copies on paper. Although Jōjin stayed in China, he sent the prints back to Japan by boat as soon as the printed copies were made.2 This episode retrieved from a Japanese source highlights religious illustrated prints as a new aspect of Chinese print culture at that time, a topic that has not been fully explored. In this chapter, we will shift the focus from the textual sources to the visual dimensions of early religious printing, drawing on extant Buddhist illustrated prints produced in the Hangzhou 杭州 area as primary sources. It is widely recognized that Buddhism was a driving force behind printing in the Tang Dynasty (618–907), and that large-scale religious printing projects, Buddhist and Daoist alike, were sponsored by the courts and the elites in the Wu-Yue 吳越 (907–978), Song 宋 (960–1279), Liao 遼 (907–1125), Jin 金 (1115–1234), and Xi Xia 西夏 (1038–1227) states. Nevertheless, the mainstream scholarship on Bud- dhist printing has been based thus far primarily on texts, and studies on Buddhist illustrated prints have focused on comparing different

1 Hirabayashi Fumio, San Tendai Godaisan ki, 201, 205. 2 Nakano Genzō, “Sō shōrai zuzō no denpa,” 33. The Japanese drawing of Six Patri- archs of the Bodhidharma Sect was said to be based on the Six Chan Patriarchs print Jōjin acquired in Song China; Fontein and Hickman, Zen Painting, 2–4. 136 shih-shan susan huang versions and assessing the correlation between texts and accompanying illustrations.3 When evaluating prints made during the tenth through thirteenth centuries, modern scholars have followed the lead of the Northern Song book collector Ye Mengde 葉夢得 (1077–1148) and acknowledged the superior quality of prints made in today’s Hangzhou, Zhejiang 浙江 Province, a flourishing printing center in south China for centuries.4 Ye’s evaluation remains valid with regard to Buddhist illustrated prints dating to this period, which are among the richest extant visual databases of such prints.5 The following study will explore the visual vocabulary and visual logic underlying the making of illustrations in early imprints. The first part will focus on the printed frontispieces and the single-sheet prints commissioned under Wu-Yue rule in the tenth century. The study will then move on to the eleventh-century sutra frontispieces, published by some of the earliest commercial publishers ever recorded in Chinese printing history. Finally, we will examine a Southern Song set of sutra frontispieces designed by a recorded illustrator. From this visual angle, we will begin to see the process of standardization and the nascence of a local tradition of visual printing culture in Hangzhou. The wide- ranging visual vocabulary deployed by the Hangzhou Buddhist prints complements the established database of Chinese print visual culture of this period, which consists of technical images concerning agricul- ture, architecture, maps, medicine, military arts, etc.6 This study also adds to the scholarship on Chinese visual culture, which has been expanding its scope from painting and calligraphy by famous masters to anonymous printed matter and religious artifacts.

3 For studies of early Buddhist and Daoist printing, see Fontein, The Pilgrimage of Sud- hana; Loehr, Chinese Landscape Woodcuts; Edgren, “Printed Dharani-Sutra of A.D. 956” and “Southern Song Printing at Hangzhou”; Miya Tsugio, “Sō-Gen hampon”; Naka- mura, “Sō Fukushûhan daizōkyō kō”; Su Bai, Tang Song shiqi; Drège, “De l’icône”; Li Jining, Fojing banben; Saliceti-Collins, “Xi Xia Buddhist Woodblock Prints”; Van der Loon, Taoist Books in the Libraries of the Sung Period, 39–63; Strickmann, “Seal of the Law” and “The Longest Taoist Scripture,” 342–46; Barrett, “Feng-tao k’e”, “Rise and Spread of Printing”, and Woman Who Discovered Printing. 4 Ye Mengde, Shilin yanyu, 8.6b. 5 Another unexplored repository of early Buddhist illustrated prints is that associated with the archaeological discovery in Khara Khoto, a site related to the medieval Xia Kingdom; see Ecang Heishuicheng wenxian. 6 For selected scholarship, see Bray, Dorofeeva-Lichtmann, and Métailié eds., Graphics and Text; Hegel, Reading Illustrated Fiction. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 137

II. Royal Patronage under the Wu-Yue Rule

The tradition of mass-produced Buddhist prints in Hangzhou can be traced to the tenth century, when the area was under Wu-Yue rule, which governed today’s Zhejiang and parts of Jiangsu and Fujian in south China. Literary records highlight Qian Shu 錢俶 as a ruler involved in the mass production of Buddhist material culture.7 According to the thirteenth-century Buddhist text, Fozu tongji 佛祖統紀 (A comprehensive account of Buddhist patriarchs), he imitated the compassionate deed of the Indian King Ashoka, who mass-produced 84,000 stupas in gold, bronze, and iron.8 Outside China, he had his envoys deliver diplomatic gifts of similar stupas to Japan in vast quantities.9 Furthermore, Qian’s Buddhist advisor, Monk Yanshou 延壽 (904–975), who was closely associated with temples in Hangzhou, commissioned 140,000 prints of Mituo tatu 彌陀塔圖 (Charts of Amida stupa) for public circulation.10 Although there is no way to attest to the overwhelming quantity associated with these productions, both printed illustrations published in later books and physical specimens of the miniature stupas unearthed in archaeological sites help to shed light on the visual dimensions of the Buddhist material culture sponsored under Wu-Yue rule.11

Dharani Frontispieces Fozu tongji tells us that Qian not only commissioned 84,000 stupas, but also an equal number of printed Dharani sutra scrolls, and had each scroll inserted inside a stupa before distributing them to different places in his state.12 Archaeological excavations undertaken in Hang- zhou and nearby Wuxing 吳興 and Shaoxing 紹興 have yielded fruitful

7 Zhang Xiumin, “Wudai Wu-Yueguo de yinshua,” 74. 8 Zhi Pan, Fozu tongji, 43.394c. 9 Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua shi (Chatu zhencang zengding ban), 33. 10 Zhang Xiumin, “Wudai Wu-Yueguo de yinshua,” 75. 11 For more visual examples, see Leifeng yizhen, 97, 99–101, 112–13, 121, 130–58; Edgren, “Printed Dharani-Sutra of A.D. 956,” 144, fig. 1. Past scholarship has noted a type of printed scroll illustrated with multi-storied stupa imagery deposited in selected bricks of the Leifeng Pagoda, although no such image has been published; Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua shi (Chatu zhencang zengding ban), 35. 12 Zhi Pan, Fozu tongji 43.394c. 138 shih-shan susan huang discoveries of such prints, which are among the earliest Buddhist illustrated prints ever unearthed in south China.13 To date, the most intriguing find remains the tiny printed Dharani scrolls unearthed from the ruins of the Leifengta 雷峰塔 (Thunder Peak Pagoda) near Xihu 西湖 (West Lake), Hangzhou.14 According to Yu Pingbo 俞平伯, when the pagoda first collapsed in 1924, local people found small printed scrolls deposited inside some hollowed bricks among the ruins. Each scroll was rolled up and wrapped in yellow silk and blue brocade strips in a sutra bag before being placed into a hollowed brick.15 There were more than one thousand copies of these Dharani scrolls discovered in situ, but most of them had rotted.16 Those which were still legible were soon looted,17 resulting in an enthusiastic illicit market for them, where at first “oneyuan could buy many, but afterwards they [the prints] became as costly as 100 yuan per roll,” to quote Hu Shi 胡適.18 Extant specimens of the Leifengta Dharani scrolls are now in various collections (though some scrolls may be modern forgeries). Slightly different versions exist, and thus several sets of woodblocks—perhaps even more than five–were used to produce the scrolls.19 The specimen in the National Palace Museum in Taipei is a good example (Fig. 4.1).20 This scroll is composed of four pieces of paper pasted in consecutive order. A colophon at the beginning of the scroll reads, “The Great

13 Zhang Xiumin, “Wudai Wu-Yueguo de yinshua;” Zhongguo yinshua shi, 44–48; Zhongguo yinshua shi (Chatu zhencang zengding ban), 33–39; Edgren, “Printed Dharani- Sutra of A.D. 956.” 14 Each scroll is 200 cm long and 6 cm high; Leifeng yizhen, 70–71. The complete title of the sutra is Yiqie rulai xin mimi quanshen sheli baoqieyin tuoluonijing 一切如來心祕密全身舍利寶篋印陀羅尼經 (Dhārani of the seal on the casket of the secret whole-body relic of the essence of all tathāgatas). 15 Yu Pingbo, “Ji Xihu Leifengta,” 122; Wang Guowei, Liangzhe gukanben kao, juan shang, 22; Leifeng yizhen, 14, 17. 16 See the colophon by Lin Lang’an 林朗庵 on the version in the Zhongyang tushuguan 中央圖書館 collection (#08807); Leung and Wu, “Qiantan Songban fojing,” 267–68. 17 Yu Pingbo, “Ji Xihu Leifengta,” 122. 18 Li Shuhua, Zhongguo yinshua shu, 155; Edgren, “Printed Dharani-Sutra of A.D. 956,” 142; Daguan: Songban tushu tezhan, 195. Lin Lang’an paid high prices to acquire three copies of the Dharani scrolls in the market; see Leung and Wu, “Qiantan Song- ban fojing,” 268. The sold price for the Leifengta Dharani scroll was more than three hundred thousand dollars; see Lu Jintang, “Ji Leifengta,” 155. 19 Lu Jintang, ibid., 155–56; Edgren, Chinese Rare Books, 50–51; Duoyu, “Qiannian gudian,” 53; Yu Pingbo, “Ji Xihu Leifengta,” 126–28. 20 Daguan: Songban tushu tezhan, 193, 196–97, plate 22. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 139

Fig. 4.1. Frontispiece of the Dharani scroll excavated from Leifengta, Hang- zhou. Dated 975. Woodblock print on paper. National Palace Museum in Taipei. (Reproduced with permission from National Palace Museum, Taipei.)

General of the Army under Heaven, King of Wu-Yue, Qian Shu, has made 84,000 copies of this sutra and interred them in the brick pagoda at Xiguan 西關 as eternal offerings. Recorded in the eighth month of the yihai 乙亥 year [975 ce].”21 Scholars still debate whether the number 84,000 refers to the actual number of prints, or is merely a symbolic number referring to the story about King Ashoka. At the beginning of each printed Dharani scroll is an illustration composed within an elongated panel. It represents a pictorial format known as the frontispiece, whose earliest example dates back to the ninth century.22 Since this is a new illustrative format in Buddhist art which has much to do with the spread of Buddhist scriptures, it will be of special interest for us to consider its newly-formulated pictorial logics and schemes. The Leifengta frontispiece refers directly to the content of the sutra printed in the same scroll, which recounts the miracle of a ruined stupa-mount returning to radiance—a parable attesting to the efficacy of Buddhism witnessed by the Buddha on his way to visit a brāhman’s house.23 According to Eugene Wang, this frontispiece “shows the

21 Ibid., 195. 22 Drège, “De l’icône” and “Du texte à l’image;” Murray, “Evolution of Buddhist Narrative Illustration,” 136–38; Hegel, Reading Illustrated Fiction, 164-66. 23 Yu Pingbo, “Ji Xihu Leifengta,” 126–28. 140 shih-shan susan huang

Buddha present at the ruined mound and causing it to emit radiance. Behind the Buddha is the treasure stupa in its original form. The graphic demonstration of the decaying of what was initially a splendid structure is a rather sobering visual parable.”24 To better evaluate the local features of the Leifengta frontispiece, we can compare its compositional scheme and pictorial elements with other frontispieces found in northwest China, such as those discovered in the Dunhuang library cave. One of the well-studied Buddhist printed frontispieces from Dunhuang is the 868 Diamond Sutra, the earliest dated extant specimen of its kind.25 This frontispiece shows a scene of the Buddha preaching to his entourage, with him positioned diagonally, facing west. As Julia Murray notes, this scene is rather generic and does not have any specific links to theDiamond Sutra.26 Similar generic features apply to the tenth-century Buddhist painted frontispieces from the same region.27 Compared to the Dunhuang specimens, the Leifengta frontispieces reflect a more complex visual plot and a more organic composition blending the general preaching scene with narrative motifs more specifically related to the Dharani sutra. On the right, the Buddha is seated on a lotus seat, flanked by two attendants, with a lay devotee kneeling in front of the triad and an elongated offering table. These elements are arranged in a diagonal fashion in the picture plane. Near the center of the frontispiece, the miracle of the ruined stupa-mount radiating light is illustrated in the foreground. A symbolic image of the stupa is shown just a little above the radiating mound. On the left, a diagonal architectural motif appearing at the border of the frontispiece may refer to the brāhman’s house, which the Buddha is about to visit. Notably, the frontispiece is decorated with two arch-shaped tasseled curtains, which add a theatrical flavor to the design. The motif of the tasseled curtains appears again in a number of Hangzhou frontispiece designs of the Lotus Sutra in the tenth and eleventh centuries, which we will examine later in this chapter. The Leifengta frontispiece compares closely to two other versions of similar Dharani frontispieces made under the Wu-Yue regime. The whereabouts of the 956 version, excavated in 1917 in Tianningsi 天寧寺

24 Wang, “Tope and Topos,” 492. 25 Whitfield et al.,The Silk Road, 300, fig. 262. 26 Murray, “Evolution of Buddhist Narrative Illustration,” 136. 27 Drège, “Du texte à l’image,” 108, 110, 114, 117, 161, 168. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 141 in Huzhou 湖州 (Zhejiang Province), had been lost since the excavation until Sören Edgren published the only known extant specimen in the royal collection of the King of Sweden in 1972 (Fig. 4.2).28 Another version dated 965 was discovered in a construction site in Shaoxing in 1971 and was initially packed in a wooden sutra box inside a miniature bronze stupa (Fig. 4.3).29

Fig. 4.2. Frontispiece of the Dharani scroll discovered in the Tianning si, Huzhou, Zhejiang. Dated 956. Woodblock print on paper.

Fig. 4.3. Frontispiece of the Dharani scroll discovered in Shaoxing. Dated 965. Woodblock print on paper.

28 Edgren, “Printed Dharani-Sutra of A.D. 956.” For an identical copy discovered in a Song Dynasty pagoda in Anhui province, see “Wuchan jieji,” 77. 29 Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua shi (Chatu zhencang zengding ban), 35. 142 shih-shan susan huang

A comparative examination of the 956, 965, and Leifengta (975) versions sums up the shared design and pictorial repertoire of early Bud- dhist printed frontispieces produced in tenth-century south China. All three versions bear colophons at the beginning of the scrolls to indicate Qian Shu’s commission of 84,000 copies, although the phrases used in the colophons vary slightly. The three frontispieces share certain compositional principles, with the Buddha triad arranged diagonally at the right of the picture plane, the miracle of the radiating mound in the central foreground, and the stupa motif assuming a central role at the upper central part of the composition—a compositional scheme which continued to be used in later frontispieces of the Lotus Sutra made in Hangzhou. Architectural motifs also appear at the left border of the composition as an effective device to frame the narrative scene. As we shall see later, architectural motifs continue to play a popular role in the Hangzhou frontispieces made in the Song period; they are frequently placed at the upper and lower right corners of the frontispieces as a framing device, no matter what specific scenarios the frontispieces depict.

Single-sheet Print of Yingxian Guanyin Qian Shu’s patronage of Buddhist illustrated prints marks an impressive legacy in medieval Japanese visual and material culture. A twelfth- century monochrome ink drawing, which bears a title tag at the central top reading “Yingxian Guanyin 應現觀音” (Ōgen Kannon, or Manifestations of Guanyin) (Fig. 4.4) is a Japanese copy based on a tenth-century Chinese single-sheet print mass-produced by Qian Shu, its original dated just a year before the Leifengta Dharani frontispieces were printed.30 The drawing ofYingxian Guanyin serves as a valuable visual document attesting to the media transfer from printing to painting (or drawing) in medieval East Asia. This complements the better-documented transfer from painting (or drawing) to printing at that time. It also suggests the impact of printing in the transmission of ideas across cultures and regions.

30 This drawing is in the collection of the Daitokyu Kinen Bunko大東急記念文庫 , Tokyo. A reproduction is included in Chūgoku kodai hanga, 83, fig. 6. For a study of this drawing, see Uchida Kei’ichi, “Sō shōrai hanga.” early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 143

Fig. 4.4. Yingxian Guanyin (Ōgen Kannon, or Manifestations of Guanyin). Japanese drawing after a 974 Chinese single-sheet print on silk mass-produced by Qian Shu. Twelfth century. Ink on paper. The collection of Daitokyu Kinen Bunko, Tokyo. After Chūgoku kodai hanga ten, 83, fig. 6. 144 shih-shan susan huang

At the bottom of this drawing, the copied inscription spells out exactly the names of the aforementioned twenty-four efficacious visions.31 It goes on to praise the efficacy of Guanyin’s magical charms (shenzhou 神咒), noting that “[if one] practices [Guanyin’s magical charms] secretly (mimi shouchi 祕密受持), [one would] receive boundless luck.”32 Five sets of true words (zhenyan 真言) or charms follow. An important colophon at the end of the inscription gives the date of 974 and states that Qian Shu, the Great General under Heaven, King of Wu-Yue, ordered twenty thousand copies of Yingxian Guanyin, all printed on plain silk.33 The use of silk as the printed material calls to mind the literary record of Monk Yanshou’s commission of 20,000 copies of Ershisi yingxian 二十四應現觀音 (Twenty-four manifestations of Guanyin Bodhisattva) printed on plain silk.34 Many stylistic characteristics reflected inYingxian Guanyin, including the rounded facial features, the slightly downward gaze, and the intensely applied long and fluent drapery lines, recall the well- published Maitreya print now in Seiryōji 清涼寺, Kyoto (Fig. 4.5).35 Designed by the Northern Song court painter Gao Wenjin 高文進 (ca. 950–after 1022), it was carved by Monk Zhili 知禮 in Yuezhou 越州, near Hangzhou, and was dated 984, just ten years after Qian Shu’s Yingxian Guanyin.36 The painterly quality of theYingxian Guanyin drawing and the Maitreya print attests to the sophisticated standard of printing in this region during the tenth century. Further visual evidence concerning the framing design of the Yingxian Guanyin drawing suggests that it is a copy based on a single-sheet illustrated print—a printing format which came into vogue in China, including the Wu-Yue region, during the tenth century. The convention of dividing image and text into upper and lower panels respectively is a compositional feature commonly shared by extant single-sheet Buddhist illustrated prints, such as the 1005 single-sheet Dharani print discovered in the Ruiguang Pagoda (Ruiguang ta 瑞光塔)

31 Uchida Kei’ichi, ibid., 41. 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid., 40; Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua shi, 47–48. 34 Zhang Xiumin recorded 914 as the date of such productions, see Zhang Xiumin, “Wudai Wu-Yueguo de yinshua,” 75. 35 Henderson et al., “The Buddha of Seiryō-ji”; Uchida Kei’ichi, “Sō shōrai hanga,” 44. 36 For a recent study of Gao Wenjin, including the Seiryō-ji print and Monk Zhili, see Heping Liu, “Empress Liu’s Icon of Maitreya,” esp. 131, 148 (footnote 84), 170–74. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 145

Fig. 4.5. Maitreya Bodhisattva. Illustrated by Gao Wenjin. Dated 984. Northern Song Dynasty. Woodblock print on paper. 54.4 × 28.4 cm. Seiryōji, Kyoto. After Higashi Ajia no hotoketachi, 125. 146 shih-shan susan huang in Suzhou 蘇州.37 Moreover, the outermost framing design running through the borders of the drawing is marked by elegant bands consisting of double-contour lines and various symbolic patterns that fill in the bands. This design compares closely to the framing design of the Maitreya print (Fig. 4.5).38 Nevertheless, the copyist of the Yingxian Guanyin drawing seemed to ignore some details of the decorative patterns, as the motifs of a jingang chu 金剛杵 (a ritual tool for Esoteric Buddhism) filling in the upper and left bands are missing in the lower and right bands, and the motif of a wheel that usually occupies the upper right, left, and lower right corners is also absent from the lower right corner. In terms of iconography, Yingxian Guanyin features the twelve- headed and six-armed Guanyin standing at the center, flanked by an array of twenty-four efficacious visions signifying Guanyin’s multiple responses and manifestations. Since it is rare to represent Guanyin as a twelve-headed and six-armed deity, Chün-fang Yü has suggested that this may be a localized iconography uniquely associated with the tenth-century Hangzhou area.39 On the left of the title tag, the efficacious visions feature a stupa, a seated icon of Guanyin, a golden lotus, auspicious clouds, a treasure pearl, a golden lion, Buddha’s feet, a golden drum, a bell, a golden turtle, and a stone Buddha. On the right of the title tag are the Water-moon Guanyin, auspicious grasses, a golden sparrow, a golden chime, a golden elephant, a golden dragon, Buddha’s hand, a golden bridge, a golden wheel, a golden well, and a numinous halo.

III. Standardizing the Frontispiece Art of the Lotus Sutra

During the Northern Song period, Hangzhou publishing firms attained such a reputation for quality that they were commissioned to publish books for both the central government and international patrons

37 Huqiu Yunyan sita, 158. Cf. the 980 Dharani single-sheet print from Dunhuang (Ch.xliii.004) in Whitfield et al.,The Silk Road, 206, plate 127; the tenth-century single- sheet print of Dizang bodhisattva from Dunhuang (Pelliot chinois 4514) in Monnet, Chine, 82, plate 53. 38 Uchida Kei’ichi, “Sō shōrai hanga,” 45. 39 Yü, Kuan-yin, 229. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 147 such as the Korean government.40 Lay Buddhists’ sutra-reciting practices in the growing repentance rites of the Song period created great demand for sutra copies.41 Probably as a result, private publishers in Song Hangzhou frequently published the text of Miaofa lianhua jing 妙法蓮華經 (the Lotus Sutra).42 Compared to earlier illustrations of this sutra, which existed in large-scale murals of jingbian tu 經變圖 or bianxiang 變相 (paintings of the sutra tableaux) in Buddhist caves at Dunhuang,43 printed frontispieces of the Lotus Sutra produced from the eleventh to the thirteenth century demonstrate new visual features which reshaped the art of the Lotus Sutra in the age of printing. When designing the large-scale wall paintings of the Lotus Sutra tableaux, the artists took liberties in freely composing illustrations of selected narrative episodes (pin 品) related to different chapters juan( 卷) of the sutra. They blended the pictorial episodes into a grand composition, which usually consisted of a series of vignettes flanking the peripheral areas of the square-framed central scene which featured the Buddha’s preaching.44 The art of the Lotus Sutra experienced a renaissance in post-Tang frontispiece art.45 One sees in these printed products an ambitious attempt on the part of the makers to establish a pictorial repertoire of recyclable and ‘movable’ motifs, which can be combined freely and effectively to compose new frontispieces for different contents. This trend of standardization in the making of frontispiece art, therefore, marks an important new development in Buddhist illustrated prints in the Song period.

Northern Song Frontispieces by the Qian and the Yan Family Publishers The most important specimens of the Lotus Sutra frontispieces printed in Northern Song Hangzhou are the incomplete sets of folded scrolls discovered in the Song pagoda in Xin xian 莘縣, Shandong 山東 in

40 Edgren, “Southern Song Printing,” 17. 41 Chikusa Masaaki, “Chūgoku kohankyō,” 16. 42 Watson, Lotus Sutra. 43 For studies of the art of the Lotus Sutra in the pre-Song period, see Shi Pingting and He Shizhe, “Dunhuang bihua”; Fahua jing; Wang, Shaping the Lotus Sutra. 44 For visual examples, see Fahua jing. 45 For a list of episodes frequently illustrated in Song and Yuan printed Lotus Sutra frontispieces, see Miaofa lianhua jing tulu. For a classic study of the printed frontispieces of the Lotus Sutra, see Miya Tsugio, “Sō-Gen hampon.” 148 shih-shan susan huang

1968 (Figs. 4.6–4.7).46 Cui Wei 崔魏 first published five frontispieces from this excavation in 1986.47 Of the five published examples, the two frontispieces from the 1060 (Fig. 4.6) and 1063 editions were printed by the Qian family (Qian jia 錢家), and the three frontispieces from the 1068 and 1069 (Fig. 4.7) editions bear the commercial marking of the Yan family (Yan jia 晏家) publishing house.48 The Qian family and Yan family were early examples of non-government publishers in Chinese printing history. Buddhist scholars and eminent monks appointed by the government in Kaifeng and Hangzhou collated the sutras printed by these families.49 The sutra frontispieces produced by the Qian and Yan families show stylistic similarities. Both feature seemingly coherent framing design at the upper border of the frontispieces. This framing design features a series of repetitive fringed and tasseled curtains made of fishnet textiles and pearl-like pendants. The prototypes for such cur- tain motifs can be found in the 975 Leifengta Dharani print (Fig. 4.1) and another drawing frontispieces of the Lotus Sutra discovered in Ruiguang Pagoda in Suzhou, perhaps also tenth-century Hangzhou products (Fig. 4.8).50 Similar fishnet patterns of the tasseled curtains also appear in the dripping design of the canopy engraved in the 984 Maitreya print (Fig. 4.5).51 Another decorative motif commonly shared

46 Cui Wei, “Shangdong sheng.” 47 These frontispieces includejuan 4 of the 1060 set, juan 7 of the 1063 set, juan 1 of the 1068 set, juan 1 and juan 3 of the 1069 set; see Cui Wei, ibid. For a glimpse of what may be lost regarding the incomplete 1069 set of Yan family Lotus Sutra, see the complete series of the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644) painted frontispieces of the Lotus Sutra, whose designs may be based on the frontispiece templates established in the Northern Song Yan family Lotus Sutra. For plates, see Miaofa lianhua jing tulu, 88–89. 48 Cui Wei, “Shangdong sheng.” Two frontispieces associated with the Yan family are dated 1069 and they may be from different sets. For the 1069 frontispiece not published in this chapter, see Su Bai, Tang song shiqi de diaoban yinshua, figs. 32, 145. 49 Chikusa Masaaki, “Chūgoku kohankyō,” 16. 50 According to the conservation report, the seven scrolls of the illustrated Lotus Sutra bear a repair date of 931, suggesting that the original productions may be of a Tang or Five Dynasties date. Among the Ruiguangta deposits, there is a 1001 printed Dharani sheet whose block was initiated (kai 開) by Zhao Zongba 趙宗霸 from Hang- zhou. Scholars speculated that all the deposited treasures were put in the pagoda around 1017. See Xu Mingqi, “Ruiguangta gu jingzhi de yanjiu,” 34–35; Zhongguo huihua quanji, vol. 1, 145, plate 122; “Suzhoushi Ruiguangta,” 24, plates 7.1, 7.2, figs. 14, 15; Huqiu Yunyan sita, 156–57, 159–63. 51 For the legacy of the framing design of the tasseled curtains developed from the tenth-to-eleventh-century Hangzhou Buddhist frontispiece art, see the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644) Lotus Sutra frontispieces executed in silver pigment on indigo paper in Miaofa lianhua jing, 46–47, 88–89; the twelfth-century Korean frontispiece painted in early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 149 . Printed by the Qian Family, Hangzhou. Dated 1060. Northern Song Dynasty. Lotus Sutra Fig. 4.6. The fourth frontispiece of the Discovered in a Song pagoda Xinxian, Shandong Woodblock print on paper. After Cui Wei, “Shandong sheng Xinxian Songta chutu Bei Song fojing.” 150 shih-shan susan huang . Printed by the Yan Family, Hangzhou. Dated 1069. Northern Song Dynasty. Lotus Sutra Discovered in a Song pagoda Xinxian, Shandong. Woodblock print on paper. After Cui Wei, “Shandong sheng Xinxian Songta chutu Bei Song fojing.” Fig. 4.7. The third frontispiece of the early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 151

Fig. 4.8. Frontispiece of the Lotus Sutra. Tenth century (?). Tang Dynasty to Five Dynasties. Drawing in golden pigment on blue paper. Discovered in the Ruiguang Pagoda, Suzhou. After Zhongguo huihua quanji, vol. 1, 145, plate 122. by the frontispieces of the Yan family and the Qian family is a cluster of fully-leaved botanical branches sticking out of the Buddha’s seat as ‘stage props’ (Figs. 4.6–4.7). The designers deploy repetitive and standardized templates to compose different pieces. The best-known such template places the Buddha and his entourage diagonally on the right side of the frontispiece, a compositional convention for frontispiece art first seen in the 868 Diamond Sutra from the Dunhuang library cave, and one which continued to be produced for centuries.52 Although it is a generic scene, to place this template in a west-bound fashion at the beginning (that is, on the right side) of the scroll with Buddha facing the picture plane makes an effective visual link between the imagery of Buddha’s

gold pigment on indigo paper (in the collection of Danzan Jinja 談山神社, Nara) in Meech-Pekarik and Pal, Buddhist Book Illuminations, 263. 52 Murray, “Evolution of Buddhist Narrative Illustration,” 136. 152 shih-shan susan huang preaching and the content (the scripture that follows the frontispiece) he preaches.53 The designers further standardize frontispiece art by recycling individual motifs and arranging them in similar positions in compositions. For example, the motif of a stupa, which appears in a central scene of different versions of the Dharani scrolls commissioned by Qian Shu (Figs. 4.2–4.4), continued to play an important role in the Northern Song frontispieces. The latter also showcase the stupa in the central position near the right side of the Buddha’s entourage (Fig. 4.6).54 Similarly, the theme of a preaching monk seated on a raised platform appears in a similar place in different frontispieces (Figs. 4.6–4.7).55 In the Southern Song frontispieces (see below), this motif is transformed into an even more elaborate and standardized form and appears in a similar location near the center of the picture plane (Figs. 4.12–4.13). Because the aforementioned recurring motifs and compositional scheme (such as placing a stupa and a monk preaching on a high platform at the center of the picture plane) are not seen in the sutra frontispieces produced in eleventh-century North China,56 it seems reasonable to identify them as elements of the local designs popularly shared by carvers or designers working in Hangzhou and the neighboring area in the tenth and eleventh centuries. Zhang Xiumin has examined copyright in the Song, noting that Song publishers copied or recreated editions of books printed by other publishers and popular in the market. Even though some publishers

53 I would like to thank Alex Chermside for sharing his observation on this with me. 54 The placement of a stupa in the 1060 frontispiece of the fourth volume compares to the placement of a stupa in the 1063 frontispiece of the seventh volume. The stupa in the 1060 frontispiece refers to the eleventh episode of “Jian baota pin” 見寶塔品 (Emergence of the Treasure Tower). The stupa in the 1063 frontispiece refers to the twenty-fourth episode of “Miaoyin pusa pin” 妙音菩薩品 (The Bodhisattva of the Wonderful Sound). For more discussions of these episodes, see Miaofa lianhua jing, 32–34, 55–56; Watson, Lotus Sutra, 170–81, 290–97. 55 The motif of a seated monk preaching on a high platform derives from an earlier pictorial convention traceable to a Dunhuang mural; see the mural of the Tang Dynasty Mogao Cave 159 in Fahua jing, 102, fig. 94. The motif in the 1060 frontispiece refers to the tenth episode of “Fashi pin” 法師品 (The teacher of the law). The motif in the 1069 frontispiece refers to the seventh episode of “Huacheng yupin” 化城喻品 (Parable of the phantom city). See Miaofa lianhua jing, 22–27; 30–32; Watson, Lotus Sutra, 117–42, 160–69. 56 Cf. extant specimens of the Lotus Sutra frontispieces produced under the Khitan Liao rule and excavated from the Shijia timber pagoda (Shijia muta 釋迦木塔) at Fogongsi 佛宮寺 (Monastery of the Buddhist Palace) in Yingxian 應縣 (Shanxi 山西 Province); see Yingxian muta, 109, 116, 173. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 153 would claim their authority by getting governmental endorsement to prevent their own productions from being copied by others, it was largely a copyright-free market.57 Although there is no literary record of the operations of the Qian and the Yan family publishers in eleventh-century Hangzhou, the similarities of their frontispiece designs may reflect such an unregulated and free competitive printing market. It also suggests that these two publishers might have shared their pictorial repertoire because the carvers or artisans were working for both publishers. An under-explored aspect of the Northern Song Hangzhou frontispieces is their circulation beyond south China. One such specimen, the TK 167 frontispiece, was excavated among the vast amount of Bud- dhist prints in Khara Khoto (Heishuicheng 黑水城) (Fig. 4.9),58 an archaeological site in Inner Mongolia which was part of the medieval Xia 夏 Kingdom (referred to as Xi Xia 西夏 in Chinese sources) established by the Tangut people.59 The TK 167 frontispiece features the twenty-fifth episode of the Lotus Sutra, “Guanshiyin pusa pumen pin” 觀世音菩薩普門品 (“Chapter on the Guanshiyin Universal Gate”). It bears an incomplete colophon at the right that reads, “Hangzhou Yanjia chongkai dazi Guanyin” 杭州晏家重開大字觀音 (Large-character Guanyin [episode] re-printed by the Yan family from Hangzhou).60 This frontispiece stages the Guanyin Bodhisattva in the frontal seated pose at the center. At the upper left corner of the composition, it depicts a figure standing on an overhanging cliff, which refers to the story of an evil-doer pushing people off the mountain. On the right side of the Guanyin icon, it depicts a thunderstorm at the upper right corner, and the scenario of encountering a snake in the mountains below the storm scene. The overall composition compares closely to a 1069 Yan family frontispiece not illustrated in this chapter.61

57 For a discussion of copyright in the Song, see Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua shi (Chatu zhencang zengding ban), 143. 58 Ecang Heishuicheng, vol. 4, TK 167. For a text of this episode, see Miaofa lianhua jing, 56–58; Watson, Lotus Sutra, 298–306. 59 For recent studies of the Xi Xia Buddhist illustrated prints excavated from Khara Khoto, see Saliceti-Collins, “Xi Xia Buddhist Woodblock Prints;” Hu Jinshan, “Xi Xia wen kanben.” 60 Ecang Heishuicheng, vol. 4, TK 167. 61 This 1069 frontispiece is one of the five frontispieces discovered in the pagoda in Xinxian. Its composition is awkwardly divided into eight vignettes, with the one in the upper right corner depicting a generic scene of Buddha’s sermon, and the other 154 shih-shan susan huang

Fig. 4.9. Frontispiece of the twenty-fifth episode of the Lotus Sutra, Guan- shiyin pusa pumen pin (TK 167). Yan Family Publisher, Hangzhou. Eleventh century (?). Northern Song Dynasty. Woodblock print on paper. Excavated in Khara Khoto. After Ecang Heishuicheng wenxian, vol. 4, TK 167.

In her study of the Xi Xia Buddhist illustrated prints excavated in Khara Khoto, Anne Saliceti-Collins draws stylistic comparisons between the twelfth-century Xi Xia Lotus Sutra frontispieces commissioned by the Xia Emperor Renzong 仁宗 (r. 1139–1193) with the Qian and Yan family prints discovered in Shandong, and concludes that the Xia prints have adopted stylistic features from the Northern Song prints from Hangzhou.62 The presence of the Yan family print in Khara Khoto provides a further substantial link between the Song prints from Hangzhou and the Xi Xia prints. It also suggests that what have been conventionally classified as the Xi Xia prints may preserve some lost features of the Hangzhou prints, and deserve further study from this perspective.

seven scenes referring to different chapters of the sutra. The seventh vignette at the lower left corner of the frontispiece compares to the TK 169 frontispiece. For a plate, see Su Bai, Tang Song shiqi, fig. 32, 145. 62 Saliceti-Collins, “Xi Xia Buddhist Woodblock Prints,” 52–63. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 155

Painterly Imagery in Southern Song Frontispiece Art: The Wang Yi Edition Building on such an illustrious local tradition, printing at Hangzhou saw even further advances during the Southern Song period.63 Previ- ous scholars identified extant printed frontispieces of the Lotus Sutra as products associated with Southern Song Hangzhou, although only few prints could be linked to specific publishers.64 The blockcarvers of these projects were itinerant craftsmen active in Hangzhou and the neighboring Ningbo area, who usually worked in teams.65 According to Miya Tsugio, the Southern Song Hangzhou printed frontispieces demonstrate a common repertoire and a higher level of standardization.66 He compares the Southern Song frontispieces from two seven-volume large character sets (dazi ben 大字本), one by the Ningbo blockcarver Chen Zhong 陳忠 (active 1146–1164) and his fellow carvers in the Rikkoku-an 栗棘庵 collection, and the other by Qin Meng 秦孟, Bian Ren 邊仁, and other carvers from the collection of the Palace Museum in Taipei.67 He dates these two editions to the mid-twelfth century based on other recorded activities of the carvers involved in the projects. After Miya Tsugio’s 1984 study, the National Palace Museum in Taipei published an important exhibition catalogue on the illustrations of the Lotus Sutra in 1995, adding more unexplored specimens for further study.68 One of the highlights from this catalogue is a Southern Song set of seven volumes of the large-character printed sutra copied after the original manuscript written by Su Shi 蘇軾 (Su xieben 蘇寫本) (Figs. 4.10, 4.11, 4.12, 4.13; hereafter referred to as the Wang Yi edition).69 It will be the focus of the following discussion.

63 Some Buddhist and Daoist temples in Hangzhou also published religious or secular books, see Wang Guowei, Liangzhe gu kanben, 22–25. 64 Miya Tsugio, “Sō-Gen hampon (Jō);” Miaofa lianhua jing tulu; Weidner et al., Latter Days, 301–5; Rosenfield, “Sedgwick Statue.” 65 For documentation of the blockcarvers, see Edgren, “Southern Song Printing,” 46–54, 135-68; Wang Zhaowen, Guji Song-Yuan kangong. 66 Miya Tsugio, “Sō-Gen hampon, (Jō).” 67 Although not mentioned by Miya Tsugio, it should be noted that the fifth, sixth, and seventh frontispieces of the Qin Meng/Bian Ren edition in the Taipei collection are later painted replacements; Miaofa lianhua jing tulu, 106. 68 Miaofa lianhua jing tulu. 69 Ibid., 19–23. According to Xu Yuanting 許媛婷, it is more common to see the Song printed sutras bearing the calligraphic styles of Tang Dynasty calligraphers such as Ouyang Xun 歐陽詢 (557–641) (Ou ti 歐體) and Yan Zhenqing 顏真卿 (709–85) 156 shih-shan susan huang

Fig. 4.10. The seventh frontispiece of theLotus Sutra. Designed by Wang Yi. Twelfth century. Southern Song Dynasty. Woodblock print on paper. National Palace Museum, Taipei. (Reproduced with permission from the National Palace Museum, Taipei.)

Fig. 4.11. The second frontispiece of theLotus Sutra. Designed by Wang Yi. Southern Song Dynasty. Woodblock print on paper. National Palace Museum, Taipei. (Reproduced with permission from the National Palace Museum, Taipei.) early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 157

Fig. 4.12. The fourth frontispiece of theLotus Sutra. Designed by Wang Yi. Southern Song Dynasty. Woodblock print on paper. National Palace Museum, Taipei. (Reproduced with permission from the National Palace Museum, Taipei.)

Fig. 4.13. The fifth frontispiece of the Lotus Sutra. Designed by Wang Yi. Southern Song Dynasty. Woodblock print on paper. National Palace Museum, Taipei. (Reproduced with permission from the National Palace Museum, Taipei.) 158 shih-shan susan huang

The Wang Yi edition is associated with the Southern Song Hangzhou milieu. Recent research shows that its sutra paper is a Southern Song imitation of the so-called Jinsu 金粟 paper originally produced by Jinsu si 金粟寺 (Temple of the Golden Nut) in Haiyan 海鹽 in the North- ern Song period.70 From a visual perspective, its illustrative repertoire also compares closely to other Southern Song Hangzhou Lotus Sutra prints studied by Miya Tsugio. The repetitive images of two monks at the lower left corner of each frontispiece provide further visual cues that the clergy of a Buddhist temple may have commissioned these sutra scrolls.71 What makes the aforementioned Lotus Sutra print special is the rare documentation of a little-known illustrator Wang Yi 王儀, who ‘signed’ his name in the final frontispiece (Fig. 4.10). The colophon on the seventh frontispiece reads, “Painted by Wang Yi from the Old Town” (“Guzhen Wang Yi bi” 古鎮王儀筆) (Fig. 4.10).72 While it is a common practice to record the names of carvers, sutra copyists, publishers, and commissioners, surviving Song prints do not name the illustrators. Along with the court painter Gao Wenjin whose name is recognized in the single-sheet Seiryōji Maitreya print as the artist who initially illustrated and designed the print (Fig. 4.5), Wang Yi represents an exceptional case. Because the Wang Yi edition mentioned its illustrator,73 it is reasonable to assume that the illustrator played an important role in designing the frontispieces, a surmise further supported by the exceptional painterly images in this edition. The Wang Yi edition showcases painterly images commonly shared by artists of all media at that time; it also appears to be the most elaborate of all when judged against other similar versions of the Lotus Sutra frontispieces created in the Southern Song period. The following examination will bring to light the basic compositional principles governing such a painterly design;

(Yan ti 顏體), and less common to have a printed sutra in the style of Su Shi; Daguan: Songban tushu tezhan, 239, 241, 243. 70 See Xu Yuanting in Daguan: Songban tushu tezhan, 240. For a study of the Jinsu sutra paper, see Li Jining, Fojing banben, 48–52. 71 Cf. the images of lay figures dressed in Mongolian fashion illustrated in the same position of the Yuan edition (dated around 1331–1346) frontispieces of the Lotus Sutra prints commissioned by lay devotees from Jiaxing 嘉興; see Miaofa lianhua jing tulu, 82–83. 72 Ibid., 23. 73 For documentation on Song and Yuan carvers, see Wang Zhaowen, Guji Song- Yuan kangong xingming suoyin. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 159 it will also identify selected pictorial motifs which travel across media and themes. Compared to the Northern Song Lotus Sutra frontispieces by the Qian and the Yan families, the Wang Yi edition reveals a more standardized compositional template throughout the seven frontispieces. Its compositional scheme and pictorial repertoire reflect the lasting impact of Southern Song frontispiece art in East Asian art history, notably on the works produced in the Xia Kingdom, Yuan China (1279–1368), and Goryeo (Korea).74 In terms of composition, the generic scene of the Buddha’s preaching now takes up a larger space; the elaborate balustrades framing the Buddha’s entourage extend to occupy almost three of the four folding panels that constitute each frontispiece. Within this standardized format, the seven frontispieces deploy a variety of decorative patterns to furnish the balustrades. These patterns include ones widely used in Song architecture, such as the floral, geometric, phoenix, and honey- comb patterns seen in the first to the sixth frontispieces. Appropriately enough, the decorative patterns resembling the character wan (wan zi 万字) or twisted rivers (qu shui 曲水) are showcased in the seventh frontispiece to refer to the stereotypical Buddhist symbol of the Wheel of the Law (Fig. 4.10). None of these decorative motifs was invented by the illustrator; they were available for painters, architects, carvers, and carpenters in the 1103 printed treatise on architecture entitled Yingzao fashi 營造法式 (Manual on architecture; Fig. 4.14), compiled by Li Jie 李誡 (1035–1110), the head of the Jiangzuojian 將作監 (Directorate for the Palace Buildings) under the reigns of Emperors Zhezong (r. 1085–1100) and Huizong (r. 1100–1125).75 The publication of this highly artistic architecture manual benefited not only builders and carpenters, but also painters and illustrators, who translated the technical nuances of man-made things into the rich visual vocabulary that constitutes the so-called ruler-lined painting (jiehua 界畫) tradition. This confidence in thejiehua tradition is further reflected in the heavy application of architectural motifs throughout the Wang Yi edition.

74 For selected comparable specimens of Yuan frontispieces, see Miaofa lianhua jing tulu, 28–31; for the Xi Xia frontispieces, see Drège, “De l’icône;” for the Goryeo painted frontispieces, see Sagyŏng Pyŏnsangdo ŭi segye. 75 Li Jie, Yingzhao fashi, 33.8. See Qinghua Guo, “Yingzao fashi”; Steinhardt et al., Chinese Architecture, 187–89; Shiqiao Li, “Reconstituting Chinese Building Tradition.” 160 shih-shan susan huang

Fig. 4.14. Decorative patterns of the character ‘wan’ or twisted rivers from Li Jie, Yingzhao fashi, 33.8. First printed in 1103, Northern Song Dynasty. Woodblock print on paper.

Now serving as the ‘framing device’ at the border area of each frontispiece, the architectural complexes effectively ‘enclose’ the picture planes. This visual strategy is evident in the episode of the burning house in the second frontispiece (Fig. 4.11), the episode of the phantom city in the third frontispiece, the episode of the poor figure lying in bed in the fourth frontispiece (Fig. 4.12), and the episode of the King giving away treasures in the fifth frontispiece (Fig. 4.13). The same compositional strategy is applicable to the frontispieces of the Rikkoku-an edition and some of the original prints of the Qin Meng/ Bian Ren edition.76 These architecture-oriented frontispiece designs thus reflect a local trend of the print culture in Southern Song Hang- zhou. It forms a visual contrast with the landscape-oriented Buddhist frontispieces associated with the eleventh-century Northern Song or Liao specimens produced in the north.77 Relevant to this interest in architectural motifs is the painterly design of some furniture items in Southern Song Hangzhou prints. This is evident in a recurring ‘stock motif’ in the Wang Yi edition, where it

76 Miaofa lianhua jing tulu, 24–25, 79; Chūgoku kodai hanga, 84–85. 77 For the four 1108 imperially printed illustrations associated with Emperor Taizong’s (r. 976–997) Yuzhi mizang quan 御制秘藏詮 (Imperially composed explanation of the secret treasure; hereafter referred to as Mizang quan), which may be related to the Northern Song Buddhist Canon; see Loehr, Chinese Landscape. For the eleventh-century Korean Goryeo frontispieces based on this Song imperial edition, see Kim Kumja Paik et al., Goryeo Dynasty, 105, plate 25. For the three Liao frontispieces of The Lotus Sutra, see Yingxian muta, 7, 109; Drège, “De l’icône,” 56–58, figs. 13–15. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 161 features a special Buddhist furniture motif known as the gaotai 高台 (Figs. 4.12–4.13), a raised couch-like stand on which a monk preaches.78 Compositionally, it takes a central position in a frontispiece and appears right outside the balustrades flanking the Buddha’s entourage.79 Placing a monk-preaching motif in a central position of the frontispiece may allude to the Lotus Sutra teaching of accumulating merits by reciting and spreading the sutra.80 On the other hand, the elaborate design of the gaotai itself is not directly relevant to the content of the sutra and may reflect the aesthetic choice of an illustrator. Most screens framing the couches are covered with intricate painterly bamboos or mock cursive-script calligraphy, adding extra visual pleasure to the viewing of these frontispieces.81 Such additions of pictorial or calligraphic motifs to a screen are comparable to other painterly renditions of domestic furniture depicted in Song paintings featuring indoor or garden scenes.82 It is likely that such a visual convention, once established in local practice in Southern Song Hangzhou, was also transmitted to Xi Xia, as reflected in the 1196 Xi Xia frontispiece of The Avatamsaka Sutra (Huayan jing 華嚴經).83 A pictorial motif of the thunder troops widely cited in medieval Buddhist and Daoist painting and sculpture also made its way into the printed repertoire of the Lotus Sutra frontispieces.84 The thunder troops are the mythological agencies of thunder, lightning, wind and

78 Miaofa lianhua jing tulu, 20–21. 79 This strategy calls to mind the positioning of a stupa at the center of the frontispiece design in the Wu-Yue Dharani prints. A ‘revisionist’ gaotai motif in the sixth frontispiece shows the doubling of the raised-stand motif, with the slight variation of a layman preaching on one of the stands. This scene refers to the eighteenth episode mentioned in the sixth chapter; Miaofa lianhua jing, 21; Watson, Lotus Sutra, 246. 80 Miaofa lianhua jing tulu, 25, 78–79; Chūgoku kodai hanga, 84–85. 81 Cf. the first frontispiece, where a painter is making a painting of the Buddha against a screen decorated with painterly images of rocks and flowers;Miaofa lianhua jing tulu, 19. Also, see the fourth frontispiece (Fig. 4.12), where a layman lies down on a couch bed with folded screen paintings of bamboo imagery. 82 Cf. Daguan: Beisong shuhua tezhan, 216, plate 34. 83 Ecang Heishuicheng, vol. 2, 360; Drège, “De l’icône,” 51, fig.7. 84 For selected examples of the thunder troops in tenth-to-thirteenth-centuries paintings and sculptures, see the tenth-century scroll from Dunhuang (EO 1142) in Mollier, Buddhism and Taoism Face to Face, fig. 5.4, 197; the twelfth-century paintings of the Five Hundred Lohans in Nihon Bukkyō 1300-nen no genryū, no. 104.19, 123; the thirteenth-century painting of the Daoist Official of Water in Huang, “Summoning the Gods,” figs. 3, 29 (unnumbered pages); the thirteenth-century Dazu relief carvings in Howard, Summit of Treasures, figs. 31–33, 28–29. 162 shih-shan susan huang rain represented in various personified forms. Depending on the context, the depiction of the thunder troops may signify either the posi- tive or the negative power of a thunderstorm, ranging from a natural disaster, a heavenly punishment of evil deeds,85 to the beneficial rain.86 As the therapeutic thunder rite (leifa 雷法) became popular in twelfth- to-fourteenth-century Daoist and Buddhist rituals, the visual representations of the thunder troops may also refer to the magical thunder power summoned in ritual.87 In the seventh frontispiece of the Wang Yi edition (Fig. 4.10),88 the thunder troops appear in the form of two semi-gods at the upper left corner: a boar-headed figure, symbolizing the thunder agency, strikes a chain of drums; another figure, symbolizing lightning, strikes two round gongs amid heavy clouds. In this context, the personified thunder troops signify the natural disaster that the Buddhist deity Guanyin (who appears at the left) is to disperse.89 This scenario compares closely to the 1189 (TK 90) Xi Xia printed frontispiece, which may be based on the Southern Song Hangzhou model.90 Viewed in this way, the frontispieces in the Wang Yi edition must have relied on refined drawings as the pictorial model for carving. It is also possible that the frontispieces are based on the traced copies of paintings designed by a master painter. One possible example to shed light on a preparatory painting for a printed frontispiece or a larger-scale mural is an exquisite Daoist drawing in the Wan-go Weng

85 For example, see the punishing thunder god represented in the Southern Song Hangzhou divination prints in Huang, “Tianzhu lingqian,” figs. 33, 34 (unnumbered page). 86 See the rain-provoking thunder god and dragon depicted in the Liao printed frontispiece in Yingxian muta, 109. 87 For studies of the thunder rites, see Liu Zhiwan, “Rijin shinko to raihō no tenkai,” 69–71; Meulenbeld, “Civilized Demon;” Chao, “Summoning the Thunder Generals.” 88 Miaofa lianhua jing tulu, 23. 89 The presence of the thunder troops threatens a traveler, who, deafened by the thunderstorm, is holding an umbrella in one hand and covering his ear with the other. This scenario refers to the twenty-fifth episode detailing Guanyin’s multi-faceted powers, including being able to disperse thunder. See Miaofa lianhua jing, 58; Watson, Lotus Sutra, 305. 90 Ecang Heishuicheng, vol. 2, color plate 10; Drège, “De l’icône, ” 59, fig. 17. Cf. the printed images of the thunder troops in two Liao frontispieces illustrating different episodes in Yingxian muta, 7, 109; Drège, “De l’icône, ” 56, 58, figs. 13 and 15. In an utterly different context, similar if not more elaborate representations of the thunder troops crowd the 1333 Daoist frontispiece of Yushu jing 玉樞經 (The scripture of the Jade Pivot). See Eichman, “The Art of Taoist Scriptures,” fig. 8a, 40–42; Little and Eichman, Taoism and the Arts of China, 237–39. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 163 collection, executed in a minute monochrome ink-contour drawing (baimiao 白描) style and resembling a sketch.91 A neat signature that reads “[Your] Official Liang Kai” at the end of the scroll further suggests that this is a painting by Liang Kai 梁愷 (ca. 1140–1210), who may have briefly served as a court painter for the Southern Song court, and who painted Lianjing bianxiang 蓮經變相 (Lotus Sutra Tableaux).92 This drawing recalls the quality sketches fenben( 粉本) by the Southern Song court painters praised by later connoisseurs.93 Although the Liang Kai scroll depicts Daoist subject matter, its many motifs are comparable to those seen in the Wang Yi print.94

IV. Conclusion

The exploration of the visual dimensions of early religious prints has highlighted the burgeoning of Buddhist illustrated prints in Hangzhou in a formative period from the tenth to the thirteenth centuries. Com- parative multimedia visual materials, made both in Hangzhou and elsewhere, further allowed us to draw conclusions regarding the local characteristics of Hangzhou print culture as well as its potential links to a broader visual culture in East Asia. Archaeological finds of Dharani printed frontispieces and a Japanese drawn copy of a Chinese single-sheet Guanyin print revealed what seemed to be large-scale religious printing projects undertaken by the Wu-Yue ruler in tenth-century Hangzhou. This legacy of religious print culture fostered the local printing business at a non-governmental level in the following period. The eleventh-century commercial publishers who inherited the earliest extant printed frontispieces of the Lotus Sutra were family-based Hangzhou publishers, who may have

91 Recent scholarship re-identified the painting asLiberating the Soul from the Netherworld; see Lin Sheng-chih, “Nansō no dōkyō ni okeru”; “The Iconography of Daoist Salvation from Hell”; Jing Anning, Yuandai bihua, 77–79; “Descent of the Holy Ancestor”; Little and Eichman, Taoism and the Arts, 178–79. 92 Yuesheng suocang shuhua, 727. 93 Li E, Nansong yuanhua lu, juan 1, 1606; Tang Hou, Hua jian, “Za lun,” 902. 94 These motifs of a painter and a sculptor making icons in the upper right corner of the Liang Kai scroll are comparable to the similar motifs depicted in the lower left section of the first frontispiece of the Wang Yi print. Moreover, both the first frontispiece of the Wang Yi print and the Liang Kai painting use similar motifs to picture hell with suffering souls; see Little and Eichman,Taoism and the Arts of China, 237–39; Miaofa lianhua jing, 19. 164 shih-shan susan huang sold their products to customers from afar, such as the royal clients of the Xia Kingdom. The on-going adaptation of pictorial and decorative motifs from painting and printing enhanced the standardization and painterly quality of Buddhist printed frontispieces in the Southern Song period. A close look at a particular edition designed by an illustrator allowed us to further speculate on the active role of an illustrator in transmitting pictorial idioms from painting to printing. Although the predominantly visual approach deployed in this chapter differs from the other chapters in this volume, which chiefly focus on textual sources, it similarly addressed the questions of the relationship among media and the recycling of past conventions in print. Printed imagery served as a new medium for religion in the age of printing. Recent scholarship on the relationship between media and religion interprets media not only as “instruments carrying a fixed message” but also as “sites where construction, negotiation, and reconstruction of cultural meaning” occur.95 Seen in this way, the imagery imbedded in religious texts did not merely transmit the religious message stated in the associated text. Rather, it is a new “text” loaded with new meanings created by the person(s) producing it. As a result, to read such a hybrid product combining text and image can hardly be classified as a purely religious act, for the frontispiece prompts the reader to be engaged in active “religious seeing,” which inevitably leads to an aesthetic experience. Two main types of printed illustrations, the frontispiece and the single-sheet print, set the trends for a new print visual culture in the Hangzhou region. In particular, the exuberant frontispieces in imprints of the Lotus Sutra mark the high point of Hangzhou printing. Many recurring pictorial, decorative, and architectural motifs suggest that the makers of such prints recycled motifs from past conventions in order to develop standardized templates to further facilitate mass production. Sadly, nothing comparable to the impressive indexes of carvers, patrons, printers, and publishers of early Chinese print is available for illustrators or designers involved in the Buddhist illustrated prints studied in this chapter. The anonymous illustrators or designers may have been folk artisans and craftsmen who designed popular images such as New Year’s posters of door gods and auspicious symbols, bro- chures of illustrated divinations (qian 籤) distributed by temples, paper

95 See Horsfield, “Media,” 113. early buddhist illustrated prints in hangzhou 165 money and “paper horses” (zhima 紙馬) with pictorial or sculptural images of animals and deities for religious burning.96 On the other hand, the illustrators may also be professional painters fully informed of the painting conventions and capable of incorporating trendy pictorial elements into printed designs. The study of Hangzhou Buddhist prints can be further developed in two directions, both regionally and transculturally, across time and space. Viewed regionally and temporally, it would be worthwhile to integrate the early religious specimens with the abundant visual sources retrieved from later Hangzhou prints on religious and secular themes. After the Southern Song, Hangzhou remained a printing center in the Yuan, Ming, and Qing periods. Extant Yuan-Dynasty printed specimens of Lotus Sutra frontispieces associated with the Hang- zhou region demonstrate visual modifications of the Song models.97 All these religious visual materials await further comparison with the popular “paintings of woodblock prints” (banhua 版畫) imbedded in fictional works printed in Hangzhou.98 The mobility of people involved in print culture challenges the stereotyped perception of regionalism as a static condition and may stimulate new scholarship. Shifting from the regional to a broader geo-cultural viewpoint, ample visual examples from the Liao, Jin, and Xi Xia territories, as well as Korea and Japan contemporary with the Hangzhou prints studied in this chapter provide good comparative material to extend the study of early print culture to a transcultural East Asian context.

96 Huang, “Tianzhu lingqian,” 290. 97 Even illustrated prints associated with the Quanzhen Daoism in fourteenth- century north China were illustrated and printed in Hangzhou; see Lucille Chia’s study on the use of print in early Quanzhen Daoist texts in this volume. 98 Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua shi (Chatu zhencang zengding ban), 256–60.

THE USES OF PRINT IN EARLY QUANZHEN DAOIST TEXTS1

Lucille Chia

I. Introduction

This paper explores the uses of print by the Quanzhen全真 2 Dao- ists, a group that began in the third quarter of the twelfth century under the Jurchen Jin 金 Dynasty (1127–1234) and rapidly grew to be the largest Daoist school in north China over the next 150 years. The rise of Quanzhen Daoism has been well studied, so I shall not dwell on the mainly religious aspects of the movement.3 But a look at the ways Quanzhen Daoists used texts, whether engraved on stone or printed on paper, and the religious images depicted in imprints and temple murals can help us understand the impressive spread of this movement from the twelfth through the beginning of the fourteenth centuries. Furthermore, Quanzhen publishing activities allow us to examine some less-studied aspects of the history of books and printing in imperial China, such as the publishing in the north and that done by religious organizations during the Jurchen Jin and Mongol Yuan 元 (1234–1368) periods. Beginning sometime in the eleventh century, the number of books published in China increased markedly, although it is hard to give even rough numerical estimates of the editions produced. Zhang Xiumin, for example, thinks that there might have been several tens of thousands of titles printed in the Song 宋 Dynasty (960–1279), but only

1 The author thanks an anonymous reviewer and Pierre Marsone for their comments and suggestions. 2 The term Quanzhen has been interpreted in various ways: ‘complete perfection,’ ‘completion of authenticity,’ ‘complete reality,’ ‘perfect realization,’ etc., depending on the translator’s overall understanding of Quanzhen teachings. Since I do not intend to focus on the religious ideas of Quanzhen Daoism in this paper, I shall use the original untranslated term. 3 Rather than attempt an exhaustive listing of these works, I refer to the articles in the special section on Quanzhen Daoism in Journal of Chinese Religions 29 (2001) and the references therein. These articles also touch on the evolving historiography of the Quanzhen movement, as does Tsui, Taoist Tradition, especially ch. 1. Studies will be cited below, as they relate to the discussion at hand. 168 lucille chia about 1,500 works are extant,4 suggesting a rather low survival rate of 15 percent or less. For the Jin, a much shorter-lived dynasty, we have perhaps 120, and for the Yuan, 600–700 extant titles.5 In addition to estimating the number of lost works, there is also the issue of geographical distribution—where and why publishing centers arose. Insufficient information about precise dates and venues of imprints have made investigating such questions highly difficult. One overall conclusion remains unchallenged, however: the area north of the Yangzi, or more accurately, north of the Huai 淮 River, produced far fewer imprints than that to the south. During the Northern Song (960–1127), the only region in north China that produced a significant number of publications was Jingji lu 京畿路, where the capital, Kaifeng, was located. Given that the Guozi jian 國子監 (Directorate of Education) alone issued about 130 titles out of the circuit’s total of 171, it seems that central government offices accounted for nearly all that area’s publications. Each of two other circuits in the north, Jing- dong xi lu 京東西路 (southern Hebei) and Hedong lu 河東路 (much of Shanxi) accounts for two imprints.6 Finally, my preliminary survey of Yuan imprints suggests that prior to the Mongol conquest of south China around 1279, books published in Mongol-controlled north China numbered fewer than 150, so that most of the Yuan imprints came from south China after that date. Given these estimates, it is tempting to discount the north of China from the tenth through the late fourteenth centuries in a study of books and printing. But this dismissal neglects at least one important commercial printing center, Pingyang 平陽, in south-central Shanxi, active from the late twelfth through the beginning of the fourteenth centuries. Moreover, religious printing thrived to some extent, as we see from the reprinting of the Daozang 道藏 (Daoist Canon) from blocks cut during the Northern

4 Zhang Xiumin, Zhongguo yinshua shi, 58. My estimate of 1,500 extant Song imprints is based on the figures in Appendices A and B in Poon, “Books and Printing.” 5 The Jin and Yuan figures are my own estimates, based on a wide variety of Chi- nese rare book catalogs. Calculation of the average number of imprints per year shows the Yuan figures to be more impressive than that for the Song, especially considering that most Yuan imprints came from central and southern China, when under Mongol control (ca. 1279–1368). The numbers are for works in Chinese. Although books in Jurchen were printed during the Jin dynasty, nothing has survived, and little in Mon- golian is extant from the Yuan. 6 The estimate of 130 Directorate of Education editions was derived from Poon, “Books and Printing,” Appendix A, while the figures for the three circuits are from Poon’s Appendix B, 468. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 169

Song, and the engraving of new blocks for a Buddhist Canon (Trip- itaka), both in the twelfth century, and the newly-engraved edition of the Daoist Canon, Xuandu baozang 玄都寶藏 (Precious canon of the mysterious capital), in the thirteenth century. What is impressive about the latter two works is that they began as private initiatives and Xuandu baozang never received government financial support, in contrast to similar undertakings in Song China.7 In particular, a study of the publishing activities of the Quanzhen Daoists is feasible because of the information available on their production of the thirteenth-century Daozang, and because some sixty works connected with the movement have survived. Of these titles, about twenty were definitely printed, and probably at least another twelve. Some major limitations to this research do exist. First, the vast majority of the Quanzhen works are known from the Ming edition of the Daoist Canon, Zhengtong Daozang 正統道藏 (Daoist Canon of the Zhengtong period), which was completed 1444–45. Only three canonical and one extra-canonical Quanzhen works have survived as earlier Jin or Yuan printed editions. In fact, Vincent Goossaert has listed eighty-one lost Quanzhen works from the Jin and Yuan—half again as many as those extant.8 Of even the largest Quanzhen printing project, Xuandu baozang, only a few scattered juan have survived.9 This dismal loss of Daoist works from the pre-Ming period results in large part from the burning of Daoist books, including Xuandu baozang itself, along with their printing blocks during the Buddhist-Daoist disputes from the 1250s through the early 1280s. But the loss of the earlier Northern Song Zhenghe Wanshou Daozang 政和萬壽道藏 (Daoist canon [in the Wanshou palace] of the Zhenghe period) (completed ca. 1121) and its expanded reprinting by the Jin government, Da Jin Xuandu baozang 大金玄都寶藏 (Daoist canon of the mysterious capital of the Great Jin) (1192),10 and the destruction due to the turmoils of war in north China from the Jurchen conquest through the Mongol invasion contributed to the overall loss of recorded materials in the entire region. These conditions admittedly make studying book culture and printing in northern China difficult in general during this period. Nevertheless

7 Daoist Canons: van der Loon, Taoist Books; Chen Guofu, Daozang yuanliu kao; Schipper, “General Introduction” in Schipper and Verellen, eds., Taoist Canon. 8 Goossaert, “Création,” 424–33. 9 Van der Loon, Taoist Books, 53, n. 11. 10 Ibid., 37–50. 170 lucille chia scrutiny of a relatively coherent corpus of works for which we have some bibliographic information, even if it pertains to their loss, ultimately allows us to say something not only about how print was used in conjunction with other media by a religious movement but also about blockprinting in China in a time and place in which neither government nor commercial publishing flourished widely. In the following sections, I shall first very briefly trace the history of the early Quanzhen movement from its inception through the beginning of the fourteenth century. Next, I describe the compilation and printing of Xuandu baozang, focusing on the details of publishing such a large work in north China during the thirteenth century. Finally, I discuss some of the individual Quanzhen works whose prefaces and main texts yield information about how the Quanzhen masters, their followers, members of other religious Daoist establishments, and the literati in general considered the varied uses of printing, stone inscriptions, and temple murals to spread Quanzhen teachings.

II. Early Development of Quanzhen Daoism: A Brief Summary

The Quanzhen movement began in the last third of the twelfth century in the Jin Empire in north China. Its founder, Wang Zhe 王嚞 (Wang Chongyang 王重陽, 1113–70), a native of Shaanxi, had received a classical education and for a while might have served as a military official under the Northern Song or the Jin government.11 According to hagiographic sources, his own enlightenment began around 1160, when he encountered in a tavern two strangers (later identified as the Daoist immortals Zhongli Quan 鐘離權 and Lü Dongbin 呂洞賓) who inspired him to leave his family and practice self-cultivation. For a while, he lived in a grave and practiced ascesis and internal alchemy (neidan 內丹) and began trying to make converts. Having almost no success in this last endeavor, he left Shaanxi in 1167 and traveled to the easternmost part of Shandong, where he attracted far

11 See Marsone, “Accounts,” for a short account of Wang Chongyang and his first generation disciples and many references to earlier works, including the hagiographic accounts. See also Hachiya, Kin Gen jidai no Dōkyō; Kubo, Chūgoku no shūkyō kaikaku; and Eskildsen, Teachings and Practices, 3–18. For discussions of the writings of the early Quanzhen masters of the Jin and Yuan, see Boltz, Survey, 143–73. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 171 more followers. There, Wang Chongyang gathered his first disciples, including the Seven Authentics (Qizhen 七真), whose varied back- grounds and personalities helped determine the directions of the early Quanzhen movement. Several among the Qizhen were well-educated, including Ma Danyang 馬丹陽 (Ma Yu 馬鈺, 1123–84); his wife and the only woman among the Qizhen, Sun Qingjing 孫清靜 (Sun Bu’er 孫不二, 1119–83);12 and Tan Changzhen 譚長真 (Tan Chuduan 譚處端, 1123–85). Ma Danyang, recognized as Wang’s chief disciple and heir, became the Quanzhen patriarch after Wang’s death and was in turn succeeded by Tan.13 At least two other of the Qizhen were already versed to some extent in Daoist practices even before meeting Wang Chongyang: Liu Changsheng 劉長生 (Liu Chuxuan 劉處玄, 1147–1203) and Hao Guangning 郝廣寧 (Hao Datong 郝大通, 1140– 1213), the latter apparently a diviner with expertise in Yijing 易經 (The Book of changes). A fifth disciple, Wang Yuyang 王玉陽 (Wang Chuyi 王處一, 1142–1217), seems also to have had religious inclinations from childhood that made him a natural convert to Wang Chongyang’s teachings. The sixth man among the Qizhen, Qiu Chang- chun 丘長春 (Qiu Chuji 丘處機, 1148–1227), is also the best-known because of his journey into Central Asia to meet Chinggis Khan, from whom he received political and economic privileges that helped make the Quanzhen movement the largest of the Daoist schools in northern China, until perhaps the mid-fourteenth century.14 These first-generation disciples of Wang Chongyang, after spending different lengths of time with their master, proceeded to proselytize in different areas of north China, especially in Shandong, Shaanxi, Shanxi, Henan, and Hebei. The Quanzhen masters stressed self-cultivation, by a combination of inner alchemy, meditation, and ascesis, and effected their conversions through their own examples and preaching, as well

12 For a variety of reasons, Sun has been neglected both in the early literature and later studies, and she may not have an extant literary legacy, unlike the others mentioned. What works are attributed to her are of doubtful authenticity. 13 Technically, the position of patriarch was not formalized until the early thirteenth century and had more to do with the ruling authorities’ need to recognize an official leader of the movement with whom they could negotiate. 14 Modern studies on Qiu Chuji abound. To name just a few: Belamide, “Self- cultivation and Quanzhen Daoism”; Chen Minggui, “Changchun daojiao”; Rache- wiltz, “Hsi-yu lu”; Kubo Noritada, “Chōshun shinjin”; Waley, Travels; Yao Tao-chung, “Ch’iu Ch’u-chi and Chinggis Khan,” and Zhao Yi, Qiu Chuji. Brief summaries of Qiu’s life can also be found in many studies, such as Boltz, Survey, 157–60 and Katz, “Writing History,” 164–65. 172 lucille chia as an increasing use of Daoist rituals. Many ideas conveyed in early Quanzhen teachings were syncretic in the tradition of the Three Teach- ings (sanjiao 三教) of Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism. Starting with Wang Chongyang himself, there was a tendency for many Quan- zhen masters to propound the importance of understanding certain fundamental Confucian and Buddhist texts along with Daoist ones. Indeed, observers among the literati in the Jin and Yuan, such as the poet Yuan Haowen 元好問 (1190–1257), were somewhat uncertain whether or not to characterize the Quanzhen movement as Daoist. Yuan’s approval of the Quanzhen school, at least to the extent of writing inscriptions for them, probably was due in part to their differences from the earlier Daoist schools, which he and many other Confucian scholars saw as promoting superstition, leading the people astray, and even contributing to the fall of the Northern Song—through the influence on Emperor Huizong 徽宗 (r. 1100–25) of the Shenxiao 神霄 school. In contrast, the early Quanzhen masters seemed to preach a return to an original, ‘pristine’ Daoism and practice an ascetic life- style emphasizing self-cultivation through the elimination of worldly desires as well as observance of virtues paramount in Confucian thinking, such as filial piety.15 Most telling is that while the Quanzhen leaders were anxious to claim their legitimate place in the Daoist religious establishment, they did so not by producing newly revealed scriptures, but other texts as described below, and by introducing organizational innovations. In addition, Quanzhen teachers learned to become Daoist adepts capable of conducting religious ceremonies, just like the priests of the other Daoist schools. The Quanzhen masters developed a religious order with well- organized institutions connected throughout north China. They also formed strong relationships with Jin and Yuan rulers, who were both wary of and anxious to make use of the influence and appeal of this movement among the people. The popularity of the Quanzhen Dao- ists also derived from their active role in aiding a population suffering from the ravages of war and invasion. These included charitable activities and intervention on behalf of the people to save them from brutal measures by warlords and the invading Mongols. Also important was the exemption from taxes and corvée for Quanzhen Daoists granted

15 For translations of passages from Jin and Yuan literati writing approvingly of the early Quanzhen movement see Tsui, Taoist Tradition, especially 8–14. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 173 first by Chinggis Khan to Qiu Chuji and renewed by later Mongol rulers; such protection under the aegis of a highly favored group was probably inducement enough without any religious motive for many to identify themselves as Quanzhen Daoists. The rapid growth of the Quanzhen school outpaced that of several other new Daoist movements during this period in northern China, such as the Taiyi 太一 and the Zhen Dadao 真大道 schools, which possibly predated Quanzhen Daoism. One modern scholar has estimated that by the end of the thirteenth century, there were around 4,000 Quanzhen monasteries and 20,000 clerics in north China.16 A count of Daoist stele inscriptions from the Jin and Yuan shows clearly that the Quanzhen Daoists were responsible for the lion’s share of them— some 500.17 In a frequently cited passage, Yuan Haowen claimed in 1237 that a fifth of the country were followers of Quanzhen Daoism.18 By the early fourteenth century, however, the growth of the Quanzhen school in north China19 leveled off for a variety of reasons—the continued development of other Daoist schools, a ‘saturation’ effect in the establishment of Quanzhen temples and affiliated congregations, and the continued opposition of Buddhists, who resented the power and influence of the Quanzhen Daoists during the period when the latter had been highly favored by the Mongol rulers. Economic issues such as the Quanzhen Daoists’ taking over Buddhist temples in north China and the Buddhists’ resentment of the former’s exemption from taxes and corvée probably impelled the Buddhists to push the Quanzhen school out of favor with the Mongol rulers.

16 Goossaert, “Création,” 316–21 and an abbreviated version in idem, “Invention of an Order,” 115–117. 17 The estimate of 500 is Goossaert’s, which includes inscriptions that he himself collected. Less complete counts, but perhaps still indicating the relative numbers, can be made from the collection of inscriptions in Chen Yuan et al., Daojia jinshi lüe, which contains 389 for the Quanzhen school, 28 for the Taiyi school, and 154 for the southern China Zhengyi school, plus about 700 whose affiliations are not clear. 18 Yuan Haowen, “Qingzhen guan ji” 清真觀記, in Yishan xiansheng wenji, 35.481– 82. I cite Yuan’s wenji because it has the more complete text, but this record also appears in several Jin and Yuan works, including DZ 973 Ganshui xianyuan lu, 9.11a (“DZ” refers to the numbering in Kristofer Schipper, Concordance du Tao Tsang; see table below). 19 Quanzhen Daoism did spread to south China after the Mongol conquest of the Southern Song, but this topic has been less studied. See Wu Yakui’s dissertation, “Jiangnan Quanzhen Daojiao,” Chen Bing, “Yuandai Jiangnan Daojiao,” and Wang Zongyu, “Wuxing Quanzhen dao shiliao.” 174 lucille chia

In fact, by the mid-thirteenth century, the dominance of Tibetan Buddhists at the Mongol court led to a number of well-known punishments imposed on the Daoists, including the destruction of the recently compiled Canon (see below). Evidence suggests, however, that these developments did not seriously affect the Quanzhen movement outside the capital. Well aware of the Quanzhen Daoists’ numbers and religious, economic, and social power, the Mongol rulers did not long withhold their favor and resumed expressing their approval in various ways, such as granting honorific titles to Quanzhen leaders, especially in 1269 and 1310. But in the early Ming, the Quanzhen school had declined in its political influence compared to some of the other Daoist schools, such as the Zhengyi. Much later, a revival occurred in the Qing, especially in the Longmen group that traced its founding to Qiu Chuji.20

III. The Production and Destruction of Xuandu baozang

One of the signal efforts of the Quanzhen school to establish its legitimacy and place in the Daoist tradition was the production of a new Daoist Canon. The dramatic story of how the woodblocks for Xuandu baozang were carved in the early Yuan in an astonishingly short time (1237–44) and destroyed nearly four decades later has been told before, but is worth re-examining here for the work of compilation and printing involved.21 This edition was meant partly to replace the earlier Da Jin Xuandu baozang, which, in turn, had been a major restoration under Jin imperial auspices of the Northern Song printed edition, Zhenghe wanshou daozang, originally produced under the Northern Song Emperor Huizong.22 The printing blocks, however, were destroyed by 1215, during the Mongol invasions, although printed copies survived.23 In fact, the association of Quanzhen Dao- ists with the Jin Daoist Canon includes the presentation by the chief

20 Esposito, “La Porte du Dragon” and “Longmen Daoism.” 21 See especially van der Loon’s account in Taoist Books, 50–63, which makes full use of the primary sources. 22 The blocks for the Jin ‘edition’ were largely those of the Northern Song edition that were repaired. On the production of the various Daoist Canons, see van der Loon, Taoist Books, 29–63, Chen Guofu, Daozang yuanliu kao, and Yoshioka Yoshitoyo, Dōkyō keiten shiron. 23 Chen Hongyan (Yuan ben, 70) says that the blocks were destroyed in the Taihe 泰和 period (1201–08). Van der Loon (Taoist Books, 50) suggests that the blocks were probably destroyed in 1215, when the Mongols conquered Beijing. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 175 concubine of the Jurchen Emperor Zhangzong 章宗 (r. 1190–1208).24 Later, another set, probably incomplete, was presented by the Mongol Empress Töregene to the Quanzhen patriarch Yin Zhiping 尹志平 (1169–1251) in 1234, and this gift might well have inspired him to encourage his followers to compile a new edition of the Canon. In the fall of the following year, on his travels in southern Shanxi, Yin met Song Defang 宋德方 (1183–1247), a disciple of Qiu Chuji, and placed him in charge of this project.25 Song Defang and his follower, Qin Zhi’an 秦志安 (1188–1244), in turn recruited other Quanzhen clergy to help them gather materials for the compilation.26 It is unclear how much of the earlier Jin Daoist Canon survived by then, either as copies printed from the destroyed blocks, or as manuscript copies made from imprints. One account claims that Song had obtained the only surviving printed copy, while other sources suggest that parts of the Jin Daoist Canon were fairly easy to obtain. It is unlikely that Song managed to obtain any canonical texts from Southern Song China, where combined surviving copies might have constituted the complete Huizong-sponsored edition.27 Another problem was that apparently few libraries or book repositories in Daoist temples made the effort to acquire and preserve as many works as possible, with the books serving primarily a ritualistic rather than scholarly function.28 Such problems suggest that the set of the Jin Canon that Yin Zhiping received may not have been complete, and that Song and his assistants were also relying on tables of contents for earlier editions of the Daozang for their compilation work. Given the way that the Quanzhen masters’ works were printed by their disciples, who shouldered the tasks of compiling the texts and

24 The sources tell conflicting stories—definitely one set was given to the Taixu guan 太虚觀 in Qixia 棲霞 and possibly another set to the Yuxu guan 玉虛觀 in Muping 牟平. Both places are in eastern Shandong, where the Quanzhen movement had devoted followings. See van der Loon, Taoist Books, 46, and n. 67. 25 See Yin Zhiping’s epitaph by Yi Gou, “Qinghe miaodao guanghua zhenren Yin zongshi beiming bing xu,” in DZ 973 Ganshui xianyuan lu, 3.5b. 26 Information on the compilation and printing of the Canon is not very detailed and is found chiefly in two inscriptions: Song Defang’s epitaph by his disciple Li Ding, “Xuandu zhidao Piyun zhenren Song Tianshi citang beiming bing yin,” and Shang Ting, “Xuandu zhidao Chongwen Minghua zhenren daoxing zhi bei.” 27 Schipper (Schipper and Verellen, Taoist Canon, 30) says that there was supposedly a complete manuscript copy of the Northern Song Zhenghe Daozang 政和道藏 in Zhangzhou 漳州 in southern Fujian. 28 Suggested in van der Loon, Taoist Books, 57. This is also implied in Wu Cheng’s “Fuzhou Xuandu guan cangshi ji.” 176 lucille chia raising the money for the engraving and the printing (see below), Song Defang and his staff probably obtained contributions from both the Quanzhen clergy and lay followers. In one case, Song did receive some official support—Hu Tianlu胡天祿, governor of Hedong Nanlu 河東南路, provided him with 1,500 ounces of silver, which he used to purchase rare copies of scriptures. Moreover, according to an imperial rescript, Du Feng 杜豐 (ca. 1190–1256), the Guanmin guan 管民官 (Chief civilian administrator)29 of Shenzhou 沁州, about 130 kilometers northeast of Pingyang, was charged with supervising work related to the production of the Canon. Part of the Chinese text as translated by Francis W. Cleaves reads: . . . Whereas [you,] Tu Feng 杜豐, kuan-min-kuan of Ch’in-chou 沁州, may serve as the t’i-ling ta-shih 提領大使 to manage (勾當) such matters as the cutting [of the blocks] (雕造) of the Tao-tsang-ching 道藏經 as well as the building (修盖) [of an edifice], if you do not have the time, let your wife (娘子) be in charge of the management [thereof]. Moreover, regardless of whatsoever t’ou-hsia 頭下 official personnel官 ( 員人) and others it may be, they shall not disturb [the work]. If [anyone] violate [this], let him be punished for his transgression.30 The edict is slightly perplexing. First, it is also addressed to the Mongol darughachi (daluhuachi 達魯花赤) and the chief civilian administrator of Pingyang Prefecture, but the task of supervising the engraving and erecting building(s), perhaps to house the blocks, is given to Du Feng. Perhaps he did not actually closely supervise the work of engraving blocks for the Canon, and the suggestion that his wife assume the responsibility if he could not would make this task even less official. Another possibility is that the block-carvers were not all working in Pingyang but in the general area of south-central Shanxi, where the blocks for the Zhaocheng Buddhist Canon had been carved the previous

29 The function ofguanmin zongguan 管民總管 seems to have been to deal with tax collection for the imperial Heir Apparent’s household, so it is difficult to explain Du’s being charged with supervision work involving the Daozang; see Yuan shi, 89.2259– 60. In any case, Du served in Shenzhou until 1247, when he retired. 30 Cleaves, “Sino-Mongolian Inscription,” 65. Cleaves reproduces a rubbing of the inscription that was originally published along with the Chinese text (no. 6, p. 7) by Cai Meibiao, Yuandai baihua bei jilu. The name of the prefecture 沁州 is pronounced Shenzhou, rather than Qinzhou. Du Feng, a native of Fenzhou 汾州 (southern Shanxi) and formerly a military commander under the Jin, was by 1240 holding the civilian office of chief civilian administrator in Shenzhou. For Du’s biography, see Yuan shi, 151.3574–76. I have been unable to determine if Du Feng was related to the prefect of Shenzhou, Du Dekang 杜德康, who sponsored the publication of two of Yin Zhiping’s works around 1240 (see below). the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 177 century.31 In any case, this decree implies that the Mongol authorities at least favored the project in 1240, about midway through the work, even if no imperial financial assistance was provided. Since both Song Defang and Qin Zhi’an were Shandong natives, they might have initially planned to set up carving and printing offices in Shandong locations where works of various Quanzhen masters had already been printed, such as Xixia Bagua gong 栖霞八卦宮 (Xixia Eight Trigrams palace) (in Qiu Chuji’s hometown), as well Quanzhen temples in Laizhou 萊州 and Ninghai 寧海. But ultimately, they used the twenty-seven offices (ju局 ) mostly in Shanxi, with some 3,000 workers, to collate and proofread the collected texts, while the block- carving was done in or around Pingyang. There, they employed about 500 block-carvers, who succeeded in producing the second Xuandu baozang, which consisted of about 7,000 juan 32 and was the largest Daoist Canon up to that time.33 What was left out of the Canon reveals the attitude of the Quanzhen Daoists toward their own position in the overall Daoist religious establishment and the role of written works in their teachings. At the end of DZ 1430 Daozang quejing mulu 道藏闕經目錄 (List of missing works from the Daoist Canon, 2.21a)34 are the only four recognizably Quan- zhen works that were probably incorporated into the 1244 Canon.

31 The Zhaocheng Tripitaka was produced in the Tianning temple天寧寺 in Tai- ping district of Xiezhou 解州太平縣 in southern Shanxi, between 1139 and 1173. See Jiang Weixin, Jin Zang diaoyin; Ye Gongchuo, “Lidai zangjing,” and Li Jining, Fojing banben, 104–13. Traditional accounts relate that Cui Fazhen 崔法珍, a Buddhist nun from Luzhou 潞州 in southern Shanxi, was the moving spirit behind the project and had organized a society to raise money for carving and printing the Tripitaka, Kaidiao Da zangjing banhui 開雕大藏經版會. The contributors’ places of origin were also noted: they came mostly from southern Shanxi, with some from further away, including Pucheng 蒲城 in southern Shaanxi. The description of donors and their contributions in the Buddhist Canon include wealthy and influential individuals, such as government officials in the Shanxi area, as well as heads of local lineages. These ways of funding the Zhaocheng Tripitaka are similar to how the Quanzhen Daoists obtained support for the Xuandu Baozang. 32 We do not know the precise number of juan. Li Ding’s epitaph of Song Defang says 7,000, while a record (“Daozang zunjing lidai gangmu” 道藏尊經歷代綱目 at the end of DZ 1430 Daozang quejing mulu 道藏闕經目錄) gives over 7,800 zhi 秩 (2.23b), which van der Loon thinks is an exaggeration, if zhi means juan. 33 Unlike the earlier Jin and Northern Song Canons, however, the blocks were not moved to the imperial capital (Shangdu 上都 in 1244), but taken to the Yongle gong 永樂宮 (Palace of eternal joy) in southern Shanxi after this temple complex was built by the Quanzhen Daoists. 34 On this work, see the discussion by Schipper, who argues that it was based on the table of contents for the 1244 Canon, and that the latter was available to the compilers of the Ming Daozang (Schipper and Verellen, Taoist Canon, 1249–52). 178 lucille chia

One other Quanzhen work made it into this Canon and the subsequent Ming Daozang—DZ 173 Jinlian zhengzong ji 金蓮正宗記 (Record of the correct line of transmission of the Golden Lotus school), a collection of hagiographies of fourteen early Quanzhen patriarchs and masters, by Qin Zhi’an. The reason for adding this work into the 1244 Canon is clear; it gave the Quanzhen school a lineage showing how its masters received the transmission of the Dao and how the movement fit into the total scheme of the various religious Daoist establishments. The work includes accounts both of the legendary patriarchs and of the historical Quanzhen leaders starting with Wang Chongyang and Wang’s disciples. Of the four lost works probably also in the 1244 Canon, three were hagiographies, judging by the zhuan 傳 (biography) in their titles; they, too, were probably written by Qin Zhi’an.35 The fourth work wasXiuzhen wenyuan 修真文苑 (Literary anthology of the cultivation of the authentic), an anthology of poetry of the Quanzhen masters compiled by Li Zhiquan 李志全 (1191–1261). Its incorporation into the Canon was not surprising; after all, it would represent not only the literary production but also the teachings of these men, perhaps in lieu of any scriptural revelations which were absent from the Quanzhen textual corpus.36 Li Zhiquan, like Qin Zhi’an, had also participated in the compilation of the 1244 Canon, which leads to the question why two men involved in this project put their own works into the Canon, given the general editorial reticence to incorporate Quanzhen works. Per- haps the compilers felt that none of the available works quite suited their purpose of establishing the legitimacy of the Quanzhen school, so that they ended up writing or compiling new works.37 In general,

35 These three works are mentioned in Yuan Haowen’s tomb inscription for Qin, “Tongzhen zi mujie ming” 通真子墓碣銘 (in Yishan xiansheng wenji, 31.414). (The list of titles is not in the version of the inscription in DZ 973 Ganshui xianyuan lu 7.24a–26b, which is missing a number of other passages.) 36 For Li Zhiquan, see his epitaph by Li Wei 李蔚 in DZ 973 Ganshui xianyuan lu, 8.1a–2b. 37 We know nothing about Li Zhiquan’s character, but as for Qin, if we rely on Yuan Haowen’s inscription for him, he did not seem like someone greedy for literary fame. Rather he apparently was deeply impressed with his master Song Defang’s determination to reconstitute the Canon whose parts had been so scattered and lost since the turmoil at the fall of the Jin. As a result, Qin Zhi’an devoted the rest of his life to this work, taking charge of the head editorial office in Pingyang and dying just five months after the completion of the project. Yuan Haowen, “Tongzhen zi mujie ming,” in Yishan xiansheng wenji, 31.414. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 179 however, the Quanzhen Daoists viewed themselves as heirs and conservators of the religious Daoist tradition, rather than as innovators. Perhaps equally significant is that, as Vincent Goossaert pointed out, the early Quanzhen masters did not see their literary works as enjoy- ing canonical status on a par with the older revealed scriptures. Rather, Quanzhen texts served to expound and elaborate on earlier teachings.38 From this point of view, it was not imperative to introduce a large amount of Quanzhen texts into the Canon. Unfortunately, the blocks for the Xuandu baozang were destroyed when the Quanzhen Daoists became embroiled in quarrels with Bud- dhists, as highlighted in the court-held debates in 1255 and 1258 between representatives of the two religions. The Buddhists’ official accusations, however, also made a notable issue of the insult to Bud- dhism in Daoist texts and temple art, such as sculptures and murals.39 These involved the Buddhist objections to the centuries-old Daoist claims that Laozi had converted the barbarians in the west (huahu 化胡) and that the historical Buddha was merely one reincarnation of Laozi, or had been converted by him. Almost inevitably, the epic journey of Qiu Chuji to visit Chinggis Khan became an obvious parallel to the Laozi story for the Quanzhen Daoists, who represented the new and old stories in both texts and images.40 In fact, one of the earlier accusations against the Quanzhen leaders, in 1230, concerned

38 Goossaert, “Création,” 438, 470. 39 The primary literature on these Buddhist-Daoist controversies includes two biased Buddhist accounts, Xiang Mai’s Zhiyuan bianwei lu and portions of Nian Chang’s Fozu lidai tong zai, which is partly based on Xiang Mai’s text. There is no corresponding overall Daoist account and other ‘Daoist’ sources from that period are scattered, mostly in inscriptions. Some material can be gleaned from writings of contemporaries. A sizeable secondary literature on these Buddhist-Daoist controversies exists, including include Ch’en, “Buddhist-Taoist Mixtures,” Thiel, “Der Streit der Buddhisten und Taoisten,” Kubo Noritada, “Prologomena” and “Rōshi hachijū-ichi ka zusetsu ni tsuite,” Jan, “Chinese Buddhism,” and Reiter, “‘Einundachtzig Bildtexte.’” Summaries can be found in Yao Tao-chung, “Ch’üan-chen: A New Taoist Sect,” 151–84; Jing, “Yongle Palace,” 52–83; and Goossaert, “Création,” 90–98. See also the account in Qing Xitai, Zhongguo daojiao shi, vol. 3, 214–42. The best bibliographic discussion of the destruction of the 1244 Xuandu baozang remains van der Loon, Taoist Books, 50–57. 40 The best-known Quanzhen account is Li Zhichang’s DZ 1429Changchun zhenren xiyou ji 長春真人西遊記 (preface 1229), written around the same time as the far more inimical Xiyou lu 西遊錄 (printed 1229). The latter work is usually attributed to Yelü Chucai 耶律楚材 (1190–1244), a high official under Chinggis Khan and his successor Ögödei. More certain is that Yelü wrote DZ 176 Xuanfeng qinghui lu 玄風慶會錄 (preface 1232), which was sufficiently favorable to the Quanzhen Daoists that it was included in the Daozang. See Rachewiltz, “Hsi-yu lu,” and idem, “Yeh-lü Ch’u-ts’ai.” 180 lucille chia an unsuitable picture in the Chushun tang 處順堂 of Changchun gong 長春宮 (Changchun Palace) in Yanjing 燕京 (later Dadu 大都, now Beijing), where Qiu Chuji was buried. It is unclear what the picture represented, but most likely it was considered disrespectful to the Mon- gol rulers.41 Later accusations during the debates explicitly referred to texts in the Daozang, as well as Laozi bashiyi hua tu 老子八十一化圖 (Illustrations of the eighty-one transformations of Laozi), compiled by the Quanzhen Daoist Linghu Zhang 令胡璋 (n.d.) and further disseminated by Shi Zhijing 史志經 (ca. 1202–?).42 As various scholars have noted, scenes of Laozi converting the barbarians had been por- trayed in Daoist temple murals since at least the Sui Dynasty,43 but the Quanzhen compilation may have been the first printed edition.44 Con- sidering Shi Zhijing’s other works (see below), it may have been considered a tool for proselytizing, but apparently the Quanzhen Daoists underestimated the potentially inflammatory nature of this material. There was also the Quanzhen emphasis on the Three Teachings, so that the conversion of the Buddha by Laozi, or the identification of the Buddha as a reincarnation of Laozi might have been seen (or claimed) to exemplify the sameness of many aspects of Daoism and Buddhism. The Buddhists, of course, would argue that the Daoists inevitably deni- grated Buddhism because it was represented as inferior to Daoism.45 Finally, their highly favorable standing with the Mongol court might have led at least some Daoists to flaunt the superiority of their beliefs, practices, and institutions over those of the Buddhists. In any case, the Daoists lost both debates held at the Mongol court. In 1258, an imperial decree ordered the destruction of about forty works in the Canon, including their corresponding woodblocks.46

41 Jing (“Yongle Palace,” 48) cites Wang E’s 王鶚 inscription from DZ 973 Ganshui xianyuan lu, 3.14a–b. Wang’s phrasing is rather vague. 42 Xiang Mai, Bianwei lu, 1.752c. See below for more on Shi Zhijing. 43 Ch’en, “Buddhist-Taoist Mixtures,” 1–2. 44 Ironically, post-Yuan editions of Bashiyi huatu have survived. For copies in Japan see Kubo Noritada, “Rōshi hachijū-ichi ka zusetsu ni tsuite,” 4–7; for a 1598 edition in Berlin see Mueller, “Über das taoistische Pantheon”; for a 1532 edition in Liaoning see Lu Gong, “Daojiao yishu de zhenpin”; for a copy in Australia see Reiter, Leben und Wirken. Boltz (Survey, 67–68) mentions that temple murals of this subject were plentiful in the thirteenth century and that in the eighteenth century there was one in the Yuantong guan 元通觀 in Shanxi. 45 For a discussion of Buddhist complaints about Daoist iconography concerning sanjiao see Jing, “Yongle Palace,” 57–62. 46 Thirty-nine titles are listed in Xiang Mai, Bianwei lu, 764b, and another account says forty-five. See van der Loon, Taoist Books, 56 and Qing Xitai, ed., Zhongguo daojiao the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 181

Since government officials apparently were not anxious to enforce this decree and since it would have been difficult to track down all the copies in the country, nine of the proscribed works have actually survived and are found in the Ming Daozang. Ironically, because the Daoists hid these works rather than destroy them, Khubilai’s decree in 1281 was far more drastic, ordering the destruction of the entire Canon except for Daode jing.47 Furthermore, since the Mongols had just conquered southern China, the devastation might have been that much more extensive, especially because the edict applied also to private collections. The very few fragments of the 1244Xuandu Daozang that survived (Fig. 5.1), along with copies of works in manuscript or from other non-Canon printed editions, were used in the Ming re-compilation of the Daoist Canon.

Fig. 5.1. One of the few surviving sheets from the 7,800 juan Daoist canon, Xuandu baozang 玄都寶藏 (carved in Pingyang, 1237–44). Part of Taiqing feng lu jing 太清風露經, which is no longer in the Daozang but is no. 9 in the Zangwai Daoshu 藏外道書. (Reproduced with permission from the National Library of China, Beijing.)

shi, vol. 3, 229–30. None of four Quanzhen works presumably included in the 1244 Canon are among the titles in Xiang Mai’s list, but perhaps they and other non-canonical Quanzhen works were destroyed as a result of the more extensive 1281 decree. 47 This action may have gone much further than the Chinese Buddhists had intended, and without the pressure of the politically influential Tibetan monks, such as ’Phags- pa (ca. 1235–80) and Dam-pa (1230–1303) and their supporters, like the powerful minister Sengge, the destruction of the entire Daozang would not have occurred. 182 lucille chia

Clearly, not all Daoist works were destroyed without a trace. By about 1285, indications were that Khubilai had softened his stance, and, persuaded partly by Daoist leaders of other schools, such as Zhang Liusun 張留孫 (1248–1322) of the Xuanjiao 玄教 School, he considered allowing Daoist texts to circulate again.48 After the death in 1291 of Sengge, his powerful and virulently anti-Daoist minister,49 Khubilai issued an edict that lifted the proscription of Daoist works that contained no anti-Buddhist passages.50 Later Yuan emperors also showed favor to various Daoist groups, including the Quanzhen School. By 1325, Daoist scriptures were being copied and distributed to temples throughout the country, and a Daoist priest sometime later printed parts of the Daozang, which obviously had survived the burning of the 1280s.51 As with many biblioclasms, the story is dramatic, but we should attempt to quantify and characterize the actual loss to reach a realistic assessment. First, there is the list of 800 lost works in DZ 1430 Dao- zang quejing mulu. Second, from his detailed tabulations, Piet van der Loon ventured that about 56 percent of the printed edition compiled under Song Huizong no longer exists, and that the Ming edition, even with the incorporation of works produced after the Northern Song, is still about 12 percent shorter than the earlier Zhenghe edition.52 But also important is the question of how and when various works not extant today disappeared. Texts may have been destroyed after the 1280s—possibly during the turmoil of the Yuan-Ming transition. Moreover, as Kristofer Schipper has pointed out,53 the compilers of the Ming Daozang probably had available to them a complete manuscript copy of the Northern Song Zhenghe Daozang! Yet some works in the pre-Ming editions of the Canon that had survived to be collected by

48 Zhao Mengfu, “Shangqing zhenren,” in Chen Yuan et al., Daojia jinshi lüe, no. 472, 912. For a discussion and translation see ten Broeck and Yiu, “A Taoist Inscription.” 49 Chen Yuan, Nan Song chu Hebei, 67. 50 Yao Sui, “Changchun gong bei” in Mu’an ji, 11.96. Cited in Yao, “Ch’üan-chen: A New Taoist Sect,” 169. 51 Government distribution of Daoist works: Yuan shi, 29.643; printing of parts of the Daozang: Chen Lü, “Daozang jing ba.” Both events are mentioned by van der Loon, Taoist Books, 56–57. 52 Surviving fragments of the 1244 Daoist Canon are held in the National Library of China in Beijing and in the National Palace Museum in Taibei. On the surviving fragments see van der Loon, Taoist Books, 53; for the comparison between the Northern Song and the Ming editions of the Daozang see ibid., 60–63. 53 Schipper and Verellen, Taoist Canon, 32–37. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 183 the compilers in the early Ming were rejected for the new Canon. This fascinating topic of de-canonization is beyond the scope of this paper, but in fully assessing the loss of Daoist works ordered by the Mon- gol government, these other avenues of book oblivion must also be considered.

IV. Imprints of Individual Quanzhen Works from the Jin and Yuan Periods

As noted above, the Quanzhen School produced no revealed scriptures, and the 141 known works (60 extant and 81 lost) included literary collections, dialogic texts (yulu 語錄), other didactic texts, commentaries on the Daoist classics, and histories (hagiographies, epigraphies, local histories).54 These works, together with their publication information, are listed in Table 5.1 below. A number of Quanzhen texts were intended to establish the movement’s legitimacy in the general Daoist tradition—providing religious lineages for its masters, showing the authenticity of their establishments, and contributing commentaries to demonstrate the validity of their interpretations of the Daoist classical texts. A second purpose for Quanzhen writings was for proselytizing and teaching. Thus, dialogic treatises, a genre popular among Confucian Daoxue scholars of the Northern and Southern Song, as well as among a number of Buddhist schools, were produced by many of the early Quanzhen masters. In addition, the increasing institutionalization of Quanzhen Daoism and the rapid growth of temples, monasteries, and the lay religious communities (hui 會) that supported the clergy required instructional texts for both institutional and individual practice. The bulk of teaching materials, however, is represented in the literary anthologies (usually referred to as ji 集), which make up over half of the Quanzhen works produced in the Jin and Yuan. Of these, twenty- five were incorporated into the MingZhengtong Daozang, while fifty- four others were lost and are known only through references from other Daoist works or from bibliographies. These collections include poems, sermons, parables, conversations, as well as inscriptions, very

54 Goossaert, “Création,” 412–20 (Table 18, of extant works), 421–32 (Table 19, of non-extant works), and 433 (Table 20, topical distribution of surviving and lost works). 184 lucille chia few of which have made their way into general literary anthologies of the time or later. For example, the famous poetry collection of the Jin, Zhongzhou ji 中州集 (Anthology of the central plain) compiled by Yuan Haowen in the mid-thirteenth century, contains not a single Quanzhen Daoist poem. The literary anthology of Yuan works, Su Tianjue’s 蘇天爵 (1294–1352) Guochao wenlei 國朝文類 (Literary anthology of our dynasty, arranged by genre), does include a number of ‘Daoist’ writings, but they are mostly written by renowned authors, such as the scholar-officials Yu Ji虞集 (1272–1348) and Yuan Jue 袁桷 (1266–1327), whose indisputable literary credentials (and their close friendship with the compiler) mattered far more than their Dao- ist inclinations for inclusion in the collection. How many Quanzhen works were printed from the late twelfth through the mid-fourteenth century? The question is very hard to answer, given that an unknown number of Daoist works were destroyed during the Buddhist-Daoist controversies in the second half of the thirteenth century. If we also add the loss due to other human and natural ravages through time, it is not surprising that more Quan- zhen Daoist works have been lost than have survived. What information we have left comes largely from the prefaces of works preserved in the Ming Canon, as well as a tiny handful of extant imprints from this period. From references in hagiographies and other extant works, as well as inscriptions, it seems that Wang Chongyang and five of his direct disciples all produced many more written and oral compositions than have survived.55 Furthermore, even the extant works often have preserved only a fraction of the original editions. For example, Taigu ji 太古集 (Anthology of grand antiquity) of Hao Datong as presented in the Dao- ist Canon contains far less than the 1236 recompilation, as testified by the author’s own preface of 1178, as well as three later prefaces written in 1236.56 We do not know how long the lost works were, nor if they might have duplicated materials in extant books. Circumstantial evi-

55 Goossaert (ibid., Table 19, 424–27) lists three lost works for Wang Chongyang himself, seven for Ma Danyang, nine for Liu Chuxuan, five for Hao Datong, one for Wang Yuyang, and one for Qiu Chuji. No lost work is listed for Tan Chuduan. For the one woman among the Seven Authentics, Sun Bu’er, we have no extant collection of writings, although two later works in the Qing in Daozang jiyao 道藏輯要 are attributed to her. 56 See Boltz, Survey, 165–66 and Schipper and Verellen, Taoist Canon, 1161, as well as further discussion below. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 185 dence does suggest, however, that most, if not all, the works of Wang Chongyang and his direct disciples were compiled and printed. We can consider the case of the literary collection, Xianle ji 仙樂集 (Anthology of the joy of the immortals) by Liu Chuxuan. Liu was probably in charge of compiling Shuiyun ji 水雲集 (Anthology of water and cloud) by Tan Chuduan, his older fellow disciple, just around the time when Tan died.57 Both men had returned to eastern Shandong, their native area, where their enthusiastic devotees were eager to compile their teachers’ works and have them printed. Liu’s own collection therefore was probably published by his followers, around the time of his death in 1203. We know for certain from the 1229 preface of another of Liu’s works that a local official, Fan Yi范懌 , wrote an earlier preface (1191) at the request of a Liu disciple, something that Fan had also done for the printed editions of several other Quanzhen works.58 Finally, the southern Daoist literatus, Yu Yan 俞琰 (1253–1314), mentioned Xianle ji as one of several Quanzhen literary collections printed in north China.59 ThereforeXianle ji was probably published around the beginning of the thirteenth century, even though the surviving version in the Ming Daozang has no preface or postface. Another example is the poetry compilation DZ 1055 Chunyang zhenren huncheng ji 純陽真人渾成集 (Collected poems of the perfected Chunyang), supposedly by Lü Dongbin, the legendary Daoist immortal revered as one of the divine patriarchs of the Quanzhen movement. In his preface of 1251 to this collection, the editor He Zhiyuan 何志淵 (fl. 1240–52) mentions that he was encouraged to publish it, without saying whether this was accomplished. In addition to this work, He Zhiyuan had been collecting materials to incorporate into the 1244

57 Although a leading figure in the Quanzhen movement, it is uncertain whether Liu succeeded Tan as the Quanzhen patriarch. He was not invited to the Jin court until 1197, some twelve years after Tan died. See the biographical notice on Liu in Schipper and Verellen, Taoist Canon, 1266. 58 The work is DZ 122 Huangdi yinfu jing zhu 黃帝陰符經註, in which the 1229 preface by a Meng Chuo 孟綽 mentions that Fan Yi had written an earlier preface at the request of a Bi Shouzhen 畢守真 from Ji’nan 濟南. For more on Fan Yi, see below. 59 Yu Yan, Xishang futan, 22–23 (translated in Goossaert, “Création,” 441). Yu mentions Wang Chongyang’s DZ 1153 Quanzhen ji 全真集, Ma Danyang’s Weiyu ji 微語集 (lost) and DZ 1149 Jinyu ji 金玉集, Tan Chuduan’s DZ 1160 Shuiyun ji 水雲集, Liu Chuxuan’s DZ 1141 Xianle ji, Qiu Chuji’s DZ 1159 Panxi ji 磻溪集 and Mingdao ji 鳴道集 (lost), Wang Yuyang’s DZ 1152 Yunguang ji 雲光集, and Hao Datong’s DZ 1161 Taigu ji and notes that they were collectively known as Qizhen yaoxun 七真要訓. 186 lucille chia

Xuandu baozang, as directed by his master Song Defang.60 Thus he may well have taken advantage of the presence of so many blockcarvers around Pingyang working on the Canon to have Huncheng ji printed as well. We now focus our discussion on three Quanzhen literary collections, for which we have early extant printed editions other than the versions in the Daozang.61 The first isPanxi ji 磻溪集 (Panxi anthology) by Qiu Chuji. According to contemporary accounts, Qiu’s literary output included thousands of verses, so that Panxi ji represents a fraction of his writings and only those prior to 1220 at the latest. The four prefaces (1186, 1187, 1206, and 1208) do not say when and how many times Panxi ji might have been printed in the Jin and Yuan. Given the gap of two decades between the first two and last two prefaces, the work may have been printed at least twice, but other than the version in the Ming Daozang, only one edition, usually dated to the Jin, is extant.62 These two editions differ in several ways. First, the editors of the Ming Daozang reorganized the contents into twice as many juan (three for the Jin and six for the Daozang editions). Scholars have noted similar augmentation for a number of works in the Ming Canon, possibly to compensate by juan count for the loss of so much earlier material. Second, and more significant, is that the contents of the Jin edition differ somewhat from theDaozang version. For example, in a poem on the occasion of a prayer ceremony (jiao 醮), the explanatory

60 See Du Siwen 杜思問, “Xiujian Shuigu.” Du Siwen may have been related to Du Feng, the guanmin guan of Shenzhou charged with looking after the engraving of the 1244 Xuandu Baozang; Du Feng had three sons, all with the character ‘si’ 思 in their names (Yuan shi, 151.3575). 61 All three are reproduced in vol. 91 of Beijing tushuguan guji zhenben congkan. 62 In the National Library of China (Beijing) Rare Book Collection, no. 5241. Two folios (1.5–1.6) are missing and another two (3.9–3.10) have been restored by Fu Zengxiang 傅增湘. Fu writes in a long note at the front of this copy that the latest datable text comes from 1209, but a more recent author suggests that a few works could have been written as late as 1220 (Zhu Yueli, “Panxi ji chuangzuo”). This printed edition is considered by the library to date from the Jin, with which Fu and other scholars (e.g., Wang Yuliang, “Qiu Chuji”) concur. But Reiter (“Praise of Buddha”) points out that there is no rigorous proof that the edition was printed in the Jin. He also argues (pp. 185–86) that the poor quality of the printing in the Jin edition shows that it was not ‘an officially sponsored’ edition, but since this is the only Quanzhen imprint from (perhaps) the Jin, we can say little about the general quality of such official imprints. (The original copy is actually in better shape than suggested by the poor photofacsimile reprint.) Of the four prefaces, only the earliest appears in the Jin edition; all four are in the edition in the Canon (DZ 1159). the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 187 note in the Jin edition (3.8a–b) is missing from the one in the Canon (5.7a).63 Far more intriguing is the absence of a poem in praise of Bud- dha (‘Zan fo’ 讚佛, 3.7b–8a) from the Daozang edition.64 As Florian Reiter comments, the poem is not at all polemical and portrays the historical Buddha’s life as a model for Quanzhen Daoists practicing self-cultivation. Rather than incite Buddhists, Qiu’s poem exemplified the Quanzhen Daoists’ emphasis on the similarity of ideas among the Three Teachings. Ironically, it may have been precisely this intention that led the compilers of the Ming Daozang to omit the piece when editing the the canonical version of Panxi ji. Another issue concerns the possible incorporation of Panxi ji into the 1244 Daoist Canon. Given Qiu Chuji’s great fame and the respect accorded him not only by Quanzhen followers but also the Mongol rulers, his collected works would have been a prime candidate for inclusion in the Canon, whose chief editor was Qiu’s disciple, Song Defang. There is no evidence, however, that Panxi ji, or any other individual literary collection by a Quanzhen master, made it into the Canon until the Ming compilation. As Goossaert has noted, Quanzhen literary collections, although printed, some more than once during the authors’ lifetimes or shortly thereafter, did not seem to have been regarded by the school as having canonical status.65 Such an attitude, if true, would then explain why we see relatively few efforts to recompile even the works of the best-known and revered Quanzhen masters. There were reprintings and editions from new blocks, as we know from the prefaces of many of these works, but the textual discrepancies suggest perhaps a certain casual attitude toward the importance of recollating each subsequent version. The next work that we consider is DZ 1160Shuiyun ji by Tan Chuduan,66 another of Wang Zhe’s direct disciples. Shuiyun ji survives in the Ming Daozang and in another Ming edition, both with

63 Noted in Goossaert, “Création,” 351 and n. 33. 64 For a translation and discussion of this poem see Reiter, “Praise of Buddha,” 187–90. 65 Goossaert, “Création,” 438–39. 66 For hagiographies of Tan Chuduan, see various Daozang works, including DZ 173 Jinlian zhengzong ji, 4.1a–7a, DZ 296 Lishi zhenxian tidao tongjian, 2.7b, and DZ 973 Ganshui xianyuan lu, 1.27b–31b. For a modern study on Tan, see Reiter, “Ch’üan-chen Patriarch.” Short summaries of Tan’s life and activities are found in Boltz, Survey, 160–62, and Marsone, “Accounts,” 103–4. 188 lucille chia the same contents organized into three juan.67 In contrast to Panxi ji, the preface and two postfaces in Shuiyun ji do provide some useful information about the various printings of the work during the Jin and Yuan, when the woodblocks were first destroyed by water, then by the ravages of war, and finally by fire. By the time Fan Yi (see above) wrote his preface in 1187, Shuiyun ji had already been printed by a Wang Liuhui 王琉輝, the head of the Quanzhen Cloister 全真菴 in Junzhou 濬州 (Henan). This suggests that the collection was published around the time of Tan’s death. But because in 1186 the printing blocks had been lost in a flood, Liu Changsheng, another first-generation follower of Wang Chongyang, searched for the texts in order to have the work reprinted. It may be that Liu could not recover all of Tan’s works, since the sixty-odd folios are far fewer than the hundreds produced by Tan, according to his hagiographies. In any case, Liu also had two of his disciples go visit Fan Yi and ask him to write a preface, to which Fan agreed, since he and Tan Chuduan came from the same town in the Ninghai area in Shandong and had been childhood friends. According to the first postface (undated) by Fan Yi’s son, these new blocks were cut in Donglai Quanzhen Hall 東萊全真堂 in Laizhou (Shandong). Unfortunately, soon after that, due to military turmoil, a complete edition was no longer available, so that new efforts were made to collect extant materials from Tan’s disciples, and when a ‘complete’ set was acquired, to engrave new blocks, in Shanyang 山陽 (Shaanxi). Finally, according to the last preface, dated 1289, apparently copies of Shuiyun ji, like those of other Daoist works, had been burned following the imperial decree of 1281. Fortunately, one copy survived, so that once more, new blocks could be carved using the book. Later, the work was incorporated into the Ming Daozang. The vicissitudes of Shuiyun ji editions suggest further that perhaps each time the work was printed, not too many copies were made, since the existence of the blocks gave a false sense of security that impressions could be made on demand. The author of the preface, Fan Yi, deserves further discussion. In addition to being a friend of Tan Chuduan, Fan was in 1187 the School

67 National Library of China Rare Book Collection, no. 5037. It is a Ming imprint, but the date is unknown. The number of characters per column (though not the number of columns per page) are the same in this and the Daozang version, so the separate edition might have been taken from the Canon after it was compiled in the mid-1440s. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 189

Superintendent (xuezheng 學正) of Ninghai Prefecture 寧海州 (or Dongmou Prefecture 東牟州) in Shandong, as he signed in his prefaces. Apparently he was well-acquainted not only with Tan Chuduan but also with two other of Wang Chongyang’s disciples, Ma Danyang and Liu Chuxuan. All these men came from the Ninghai region and became an intense source of local pride as their religious charisma and influence spread throughout north China. In fact, Fan Yi’s support of Quanzhen Daoism is even better understood when we look at this preface along with five others, including that for Wang Chongyang’s DZ 1155 Chongyang fenli shihua ji 重陽分梨十化集 (Collection of Chongyang on the ten transformations by dividing the pear) and a postface for another of Wang’s collections, DZ 1154 Chongyang jiaohua ji 重陽教化集 (Collection of Chongyang on instruction and conversion), both dated 1183. Apparently these two collections of Wang’s writings and teachings and another, no longer extant,68 had been printed earlier in Guanzhong 關中 (Shaanxi) by Quanzhen followers there and consisted of more than 300 pieces (pian 篇). But as several of the prefaces claim, it was quite difficult to obtain copies of these works in Shandong, so the Quanzhen followers in this area resolved to collect the materials, add to them, and then to have new blocks engraved. Much of this work was supervised by Zhu Baoyi 朱抱一, a disciple of Ma Danyang. Zhu also sent other Quanzhen acolytes to invite local scholars and officials to write prefaces, and these men might have been further persuaded because Ma Danyang himself by then had returned to his old home from the ‘west’ (Shaanxi) and his presence probably spurred the new publishing efforts. In fact, although all these authors praised Wang Chongyang, several of them also mentioned their personal ties or acquaintance with Ma Danyang, who came from a very wealthy family in Ninghai. In one case, the preface for Fenli shihua was written by Ma Dabian 馬大辨, a kinsman of Ma Danyang. Like Fan Yi in his preface to Tan Chuduan’s Shuiyun ji, Ma Dabian also recalled events and activities he had shared with Ma Danyang, including discussing literature over wine, a custom of the literati that Ma, as a Quanzhen master, had long renounced. In another preface, Liu Xiaoyou 劉孝友, a tribute student, recalled that Ma Danyang came from a family of Confucian scholars and proved to

68 The third lost collection isHao lixiang 好離鄉 [ji 集] (Content to leave home [collection]), mentioned in the third preface of Jiaohua ji, 6a. 190 lucille chia be very precocious in his studies.69 Despite these preface writers’ obvious recognition of Ma Danyang as the second Quanzhen patriarch, they continued to refer to him in much the same way as they would to a renowned scholar-official from their own circle. In fact, although the prefaces praise Quanzhen Daoism, it is hard to determine the depth of their authors’ belief in Quanzhen teachings. Perhaps their willingness to write these prefaces derived from motives other than devotion to Quanzhen teachings.70 The third work for which there is an extant early imprint, DZ 1140 Yunshan ji 雲山集 (Clouds and mountains collection), consists of the collected writings of Ji Zhizhen 姬志真 (1193–1268).71 During the turmoil of the Mongol invasion, he fled his home in Shanxi and went into Hebei, and there in Jizhou 薊州 he heard the Quanzhen master Wang Zhijin 王志謹 (1178–1263) preaching and became his disciple. Like many other Quanzhen clerics of the period, Ji himself became quite active in preaching, conducting many liturgies, and establishing temples and monasteries, as well as lay communities (hui) to support the clergy. His personal followers took the trouble to record his sayings and sermons, and to collect poems that he had written to clerics, lay worshippers, officials, and acquaintances, and deemed it worthwhile to have the compilation published. Other than the version in the Ming Daozang, Yunshan ji survives in an incomplete 1319 edition, which almost certainly was not the first one printed. Pei Xian 裴憲, the author of the first preface (1250), tells us that he received the work, originally entitled Zhichang xiansheng wenji 知常先生文集 (Prose collection of Zhichang), from his friend Lun Boyu 論伯瑜, probably a Quanzhen devotee who wanted Ji’s literary collection printed. Thus it seems likely that the first edition was published around 1250 and that Lun already had the blocks for the main work prepared by the time Pei wrote his preface. Fifteen years later, the renowned scholar-official, Wang 王鶚E (1190–1273), wrote

69 Fan comment, preface (xu), 3b; Liu comment, preface (xu), 7b–8a. 70 In the case of Fan Yi, it does seem that he was a devoted follower of Quanzhen Daoism, as indicated by a short poem dedicated to him by Ma Danyang in DZ 1149 Dongxuan jinyu ji 洞玄金玉集, 1.24b. 71 For Ji’s hagiography see “Zhichang Ji zhenren shiji” 知常姬真人實蹟 in DZ 973 Ganshui xianyuan lu, 8.22b–24a. This same text appears at the very end of the 1319 edition of Yunshan ji under a slightly different title, “Zhichang zhenren xingshi” 知常真人行實. A summary is given in Boltz, Survey, 172–73. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 191 another preface for the work, at the request of a Mr. Li, who was a friend of Pei Xian. Quite possibly this second preface served to highlight a reprinting (either from the original or newly cut woodblocks) of Ji’s literary collection. Thus the work was printed at least once and perhaps twice during the author’s lifetime. And although Yunshan ji was compiled nearly two decades after the Xuandu baozang, its blocks and paper copies may have suffered the same fate as the Canon around 1281, so that by the early fourteenth century, copies were apparently scarce, as implied by the Daoist Zhu Xiangxian’s 朱象先 postface of 1319. Consequently, when Li Huaisu 李懷素, a Quanzhen temple superintendent (tidian 提點), obtained a copy, he had it published rather than keep it to himself. Finally, the last edition may have been carved and printed not in north China but in one of the major book centers further south, such as Hangzhou.72 It is worth considering Wang E’s motives for agreeing to write his preface. At this time, Wang was at the peak of his official influence (such as it was), having been appointed by the Yuan Emperor Shizu 世祖 (Khubilai) in 1260 to the Hanlin Academy and put in charge of compiling historical records in Chinese.73 Wang probably agreed not only because he knew Ji Zhizhen himself and admired his understanding of Yijing, but also because Wang knew Ji’s teacher, Wang Zhijin, for whom Wang E had written a biographical inscription just a year earlier, in 1264.74 Nevertheless, Wang’s brief preface actually says little about Ji and mainly puts him in the context of the very long tradition

72 The sole copy of this five-juan edition, with only the last three juan and the postface extant, is in the rare book collection of the National Library of China (Beijing), no. 8731. The two prefaces discussed above are available only in theDaozang edition (DZ 1140), which is organized into eight juan, while Zhu Xiangxian’s postface appears only in the 1319 edition. For the possibility that this edition was printed in central or south China, see the discussion below on Xuanfeng qinghui tu 玄風慶會圖. 73 On Wang E’s historiographical efforts to compile the Liao and Jin histories and the records of the early Mongol rulers, see Chan, “Wang O,” especially 52–58 and idem, “Chinese Official Historiography.” 74 This preface and five inscriptions which Wang E wrote for Quanzhen Daoists are discussed in Reiter, “Chinese Patriot’s Concern.” A sixth inscription (1262) describing the work of building the Yongle gong on the site of the smaller belvedere (guan 觀) honoring Lü Dongbin at his supposed birthplace in southern Shanxi is discussed by Katz, Images, 101–3. The calligraphy for this inscription is by Shang Ting商挺 , one of Wang E’s friends and a high-ranking official in the early Mongol court. Although Katz describes Wang E as ‘a prominent patron’ of the Quanzhen movement, I am not sure that his inscription writing is sufficient to demonstrate that he had deep Quanzhen sympathies. 192 lucille chia of Daoist canonical texts and their commentaries, clearly admitting, nearly a century after its inception, the place of the Quanzhen movement in Daoist religious teachings. And as Wang E observes, the Quan- zhen masters themselves did not need texts, but their writings served to teach the people and to transmit them to future generations. Wang’s profoundly Confucian beliefs emerge more clearly in some of his other writings for the Quanzhen Daoists. For instance, in the inscription commemorating the Quanzhen patriarch Li Zhichang 李志常 (1193–1260), Wang notes that Li became a Daoist through a Confucian approach.75 Even some of the activities in which Li was involved, such as prayer ceremonies and his audiences with and lectures about good government to the Mongol emperor, were seen by Wang E as the Daoist counterpart to what he himself did at court. And Wang’s intense historiographic concerns led him to highlight Xiyou ji 西遊記 (Account of the journey to the west), which Li wrote after accompanying Qiu Changchun to see Chinggis Khan. Similarly, in Wang E’s 1265 record of Li’s disciple, Shi Zhijing,76 Wang emphasizes the importance of Shi’s Huashan zhi 華山志 (Gazetteer of Hua shan), for which he had originally been asked to write a preface but chose instead to write about Shi’s life and writings in general. Probably out of political and religious discretion, Wang signally fails to mention Shi’s compilation of Laozi bashiyi hua tu, which had helped spark the Buddhist-Daoist controversies and had been proscribed in 1258.77 Nev- ertheless, the fact that Wang E was willing to write an essay describing Shi’s literary achievements, among other things, suggests that the Quanzhen Daoists continued to be able to publish their works.78 How widely disseminated they were and how many of them survived the book and woodblock burnings decreed in 1281 is another story.

75 “Xuanmen zhangjiao da zongshi Zhenchang zhenren daoxing beiming” 玄門掌教大宗師真常真人道行碑銘 in DZ 973 Ganshui xianyuan lu, 3.10b–19a. 76 “Dongxuan zi Shi gong daoxing lu” 洞玄子史公道行錄, in DZ 973 Ganshui xianyuan lu, 8.11a–13a. This piece was written while Shi Zhijing was still alive. Shi’s dates are uncertain; he was probably born in the first decade of the thirteenth century and died probably after 1265. For more on Shi, see Katz “Writing History,” especially 169–72. 77 Wang also does not mention Shi Zhijing’s last known work, Xuanfeng qinghui tu (see below), but he may not have known much about it, since Shi had not completed it, and did not have it printed until 1274, after Wang E had died. 78 For a brief discussion on Wang E’s inscription see Katz, “Writing History,” 169–70. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 193

The likelihood that some of Ji Zhizhen’s writings survived, including those in Yunshan ji, would have been increased, at least for a while, by their being carved on steles,79 especially since such inscriptions were not included in the imperial decree of 1281 to destroy Daoist books and their printing blocks, an order that in any case was not executed thoroughly throughout the empire. As a result, Ji Zhizhen’s disciples would have had the opportunity to recopy from steles texts whose paper copies had disappeared and to recompile his collected works. Finally, there is the intriguing comparison between the surviving portions of the 1319 edition and that in the Daozang. Although we cannot make an unequivocal determination, it seems that the Yuan edition may be more complete; it contains at least three inscriptions and Zhu Xiangxian’s postface, all missing from the version in the Canon.80 Since the contents of these pieces, unlike the poem in praise of the Buddha in Panxi ji, should not have aroused any objection from the compilers of the Ming Daozang, it may simply be that the Yuan edition was not available to them in the fifteenth century.81 Thus here we see a glimpse of the possible interplay of the survival of texts on stone and paper and the role chance plays in determining what is incorporated into the most widely distributed versions. The fourth extant Quanzhen imprint from the pre-Ming period is Xuanfeng qinghui tu 玄風慶會圖 (Illustrations of a felicitous convocation of the sublime spirit of the Dao),82 a work not in the Ming Daoist Canon. What survives is the second edition (1305), and its publication reveals how the Quanzhen School successfully solicited support from other groups—this time, from Daoist groups in south China. Since the work has already been the subject of a study by Paul Katz,83 my

79 Twenty-three of the twenty-five stele inscriptions are reprinted in the Yuan edition of Yunshan ji, another one in DZ 973 Ganshui xianyuan lu, and the last one is from an extant stele (no. 159 in Chen Yuan et al., Daojia jinshi lüe). Three inscriptions in the Yuan edition are missing from the edition in the Ming Daozang. 80 Found in the 1319 edition following juan 5. Again, the fact that the Yuan edition is organized into fivejuan as opposed to the eight juan of the version in the Canon does not imply great differences in the actual contents, as discussed above for Qiu Chuji’s Panxi ji. 81 This, too, however, is problematic. According to a handwritten note by Zhang Kui 章鍷 at the end of the Yuan imprint of the Panxi ji in the National Library, this edition was known to book collectors in the very early Ming. 82 I borrow the translation from Boltz, Survey, 159, as does Katz (“Writing History,” 161) who briefly explains the title (ibid., n. 5). 83 Katz, “Writing History.” Like Katz, I shall refer to the pagination of the photofacsimile reprint from the extant 1305 copy published by the Tenri Central Library. 194 lucille chia

discussion will focus on the printing of the work. This illustrated hagiography of Qiu Chuji was compiled by one of his disciples, Shi Zhijing, using earlier sources, including other hagiographies now in the Dao- zang. In Shi’s record, “Fu Xuanfeng qinghui zhe ji” 夫玄風慶會者記 (“Record on Xuanfeng qinghui tu”), he argues that printing such a work was far more effective in transmitting the Daoist life and acts (daohang 道行) of his master than having them engraved on bronze or jade, since the first could be melted and the second shattered.84 Shi was probably also implying that stele inscriptions shared a similar impermanence, even though he does not mention them specifically. Not surprisingly, Shi talks about how printing the work allowed it to be published everywhere. As Katz has noted, however, it is ironic for Shi to proclaim such faith in an imprint, given the proscription not only of Laozi bashiyi huatu that he compiled, as well as the burning of the Daozang and other Daoist works and their woodblocks. Per- haps the Yuan biblioclasms were actually less thorough than has been thought, and reproduction through print allowed for the chance survival of some copies. In any case, Shi’s advocacy of printing also helps us to understand how Quanzhen Daoism had developed in the hundred-odd years since its inception. Despite the prolific production of oral and written works by the earliest Quanzhen masters, it was not so much they themselves but their clerical and lay following who made the greatest efforts to record the movement’s teachings on paper and stone, as well as mud and plaster walls in temples. As Wang E noted in his preface in Ji Zhizhen’s Yunshan ji, the Quanzhen masters had no need for written materials to achieve their own enlightenment but used texts to teach others to achieve the same goal. The production of over a hundred texts, many probably printed, as well as several hundred inscriptions, and an unknown number of temple murals within the first century of the movement shows how its devotees helped to transform Quanzhen Daoism into an established religious group in north China. And it was certainly appropriate for Shi Zhijing to have made such great efforts

This copy includes a number of prefaces from the first and second editions, the table of contents for the entire work, the entire firstjuan , the compiler Shi Zhijing’s preface or record, and a long list of those involved in the reprinting (carvers, draftsmen, and donors). 84 For a translation of this passage (326–27 of reprint) see Katz, “Writing History,” 171. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 195 to publish the hagiography of one of the most politically astute Quan- zhen patriarchs who put the movement on the map. Probably the first edition ofXuanfeng qinghui tu in 1274 and certainly the 1305 edition were superior blockprinted works, with much care lavished on the calligraphy and the illustrations (Fig. 5.2). Look- ing at the sole surviving firstjuan makes the reader regret not being able to see the rest of the work, especially the next three juan, each with sixteen illustrations. It seems that Shi Zhijing intended the illustrations to be as important as the text. Indeed, Shi very likely thought that the book served as a substitute for the murals in the Changchun Palace in Yanjing, which he was charged with expanding but ultimately lacked the opportunity to do so.85 Several of the preface writers in Xuanfeng qinghui tu were also deeply impressed with the illustrations. Li Daoqian 李道謙 (1219–1296), who was himself an important chronicler of early Quanzhen Daoism, spoke not of reading but looking (guan 觀) at the sixty-four episodes recounting Qiu Chuji’s life. In addition, the term guan refers to visualization of a physical or abstract entity as an aid in religious contemplation, a common practice in Daoism and Buddhism alike.86 In his preface for the 1305 edition, Du Daojian 杜道堅 (1237–1318), a noted Xuanjiao 玄教 Daoist, wrote that the images actually made whole the incomplete meaning of the words and that ultimately people could forget the words once they ‘grasped’ the images.87 Shi Zhijing’s hopes aside, were there similarities between the blockprinted illustrations and comparable hagiographic temple murals? Lacking the paintings corresponding to the printed pictures in this work, we can resort to comparing the illustrations with some murals at the Yongle gong 永樂宮 (Palace of eternal joy) in southern Shanxi, one of the chief Quanzhen temples in north China.88 Fig. 5.3 juxtaposes the

85 See Shi’s record, 324 and Katz, “Writing history,” 170. 86 It is possible that the exhortation to look (guan 觀) was also directed at those who could not read the text—Han Chinese, Mongol, or any other ethnic group. Khubilai’s heir Zhenjin used the same word in directing his sons to look at Xiaojing 孝經—possibly an illustrated edition (Yuan shi, 167.3934; cited in Franke, “Wang Yün,” 165). 87 Du Daojian preface in Xuanfeng qinghui tu, 135. 88 For a full study of the Yongle gong see Katz, Images, and for the iconography of the Daoist pantheon as shown in the Yongle gong artwork see Jing, “Yongle Palace.” There are many modern volumes with reproductions of the murals from the Yongle gong. 196 lucille chia Prefecture in eastern Shang- 登州 (Dengzhou 棲霞 . Reprint. 1305. Twelfth illustration and first page of text, in Qixia 濱都里玄風慶會圖

Xuanfeng qinghui tu ). Most of these individuals were Daoist clergy or lay devotees, including the wives and sons , comp. 助刊

史志經 zhukan Fig. 5.2. Shi Zhijing the first-named donor. (Reproduced with permission from Tenri Central Library, Tenri, Nara, Japan.) on the construction of Taixu guan in Bindu subdistrict dong). At the beginning of each illustration and text, donor(s) who contributed to that section are named as contributing to the engraving ( the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 197 . Reprint. 1305. 玄風慶會圖

Xuanfeng qinghui tu . . (Reproduced with permission from Waiwen chubanshe, 史志經永樂宮 ). Shi Zhijing 長春 ) at the Yongle gong (Changchun 重陽殿丘處機 Fig. 5.3. Comparison between birth pictures, blockprint and temple mural. (a) left: Birth of Qiu Chuji (Reproduced with permission from Tenri Central Library, Tenri, Nara, Japan.) (b) right: Birth of Wang Chongyang. Mural on eastern wall of Chongyang hall ( Beijing.) 198 lucille chia first illustration fromXuanfeng qinghui tu, showing the birth of Qiu Chuji and part of the mural on the east wall of the Chongyang Hall in the Yongle Palace, depicting the birth of Wang Chongyang. We see several motifs similarly treated in the printed and painted pictures, including the rays of light coming from the house where the infant is born. The way that the house is depicted, and the divine beings on clouds are also quite alike. It may be that the artist(s) of the book illustrations were familiar with murals in Daoist temples.89 More- over, these pictorial motifs were common in Buddhist and Confucian hagiographical representations and in various graphic media—painting, blockprints, decorations on ceramics, and indeed, in the popular imagination as well, so that it would have been surprising not to see these widely-encountered visual elements.90 But another question remains: how widely seen (and read) was Shi Zhijing’s hagiography? Surely, the hundreds or thousands of worshippers visiting a temple during a religious festival and viewing the murals would have far out- numbered the readers who had access to the printed book. Thus the more significant comparison is between images painted on walls and printed in books, rather than between word and image in an imprint with limited circulation. When the Daoist priest Lu Daotong 路道通91 initiated the project to reprint the work in the first years of the fourteenth century, he prob-

89 Actually, it is uncertain when the murals in the Yongle gong were finished, though it may possibly have been as late as 1358, almost a century after the three main halls were built in 1262. They may not have been painted until the mid- fourteenth century, although the main halls were completed by the 1260s. For the dating of the Yongle gong murals, see Nancy Steinhardt, “Zhu Haogu,” and Ka Bo Tsang, “Fur- ther Observations.” In any case, the original illustrator of Xuanfeng qinghui tu, Liu Borong, a native of Pushui 蒲水 (in Puzhou 蒲州), was hired by Gao Daokuan 高道寬 (1195–1277), another eminent Quanzhen Daoist, whom Shi Zhijing met at Chong- yang wanshou gong 重陽萬壽宮 at Zhongnan shan 終南山 in Shaanxi. The artist might have seen murals in the temple at this site. Moreover, many artists and artisans working on Daoist and Buddhist temples, including painters and sculptors, came from the general region of southern Shanxi and neighboring Shaanxi. I thank Susan Huang for pointing this out. 90 Scenes of the birth of Confucius, the historical Buddha, Laozi, and various other saints and sages share much the same repertoire of iconographic motifs. For Con- fucius, see Murray, Mirror of Morality, Pls. 21 and 23, and Figs. 69 and 72. At the Yongle gong, Lü Dongbin’s birth is also depicted in a mural in the Chunyang Hall 純陽殿. For a reproduction, see Liao Pin, ed., Yongle gong bihua, 78. 91 Lu Daotong, a native of Jiangsu, was also responsible for raising the money and obtaining new prefaces for a printed edition of DZ 163 Xuanyuan shizi tu 玄元十子圖 (Portraits of the ten masters of the mysterious origin), originally an album produced by the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 199 ably had a copy or copies of the original 1274 edition but no longer the woodblocks, which had possibly been destroyed in the massive book and block burning around 1281. There is no mention of such destruction in the new prefaces, but in the last section of the surviving incomplete copy (p. 330), after listing a Liu Borong as the person who drew the illustrations (hua 畫), the next column lists a Xu Zongru 許宗儒 as having traced and redrawn the illustrations (chongmo hua 重模畫). Since Xu’s name is on ten of the sixteen illustrations,92 Liu Borong was probably the original illustrator for the 1274 edition while Xu worked on the 1305 reprint (Fig. 5.4). Moreover, although Lu Dao- tong came from the Changchun Palace in the capital, Dadu, in the north, the blocks were engraved in Hangzhou, as the next three lines on the same page suggest: the two men who carved the illustrations and the one who carved the text were all from Hangzhou (Gu Hang 古杭). In fact, the right side of the same folio (p. 321) states that it was Xuanmiao guan 玄妙觀 in Hangzhou Circuit that ordered the engraving (Fig. 5.4). Another hagiography, now lost, of Wang Chongyang, apparently was also reprinted in Hangzhou.93 Why was the 1305 edition engraved in Hangzhou? Several reasons readily come to mind. First, in raising money for the reprinting, Lu Daotong had traveled south and successfully received the patronage of the leaders of all the various Daoist schools—the thirty-eighth Heav- enly Master, the forty-fourth Shangqing patriarch of Maoshan, the Taiyi patriarch, the Xuanjiao leaders, as well as prominent Quanzhen masters, or as Paul Katz puts it, the complete Daoist establishment.

the Yuan painter Zhao Mengfu at the behest of Du Daojian. See Schipper and Verel- len, Taoist Canon, 894. 92 This attribution is usually found in a rectangular box at the illustration’s lower left corner (e.g., Fig. 5.2). Two other illustrations have the boxes left blank. Note also, as in Fig. 5.2, that donors’ names have been recorded in the first column of the text page and in the caption column to the right of the picture (the latter says: ‘xinshi Chen Jie tong qi Wang shi zhu kan’ 信士陳傑同妻王氏助刊 (“the faithful Chen Jie and wife, Madam Wang supported the printing”). 93 Since Wang Chongyang’s hagiography was mentioned in Li Daoqian’s 1274 preface (5b, p. 222) in Xuanfeng qinghui tu and also Fan Yi’s 范懌 preface of 1188 in DZ 1153 Chongyang quanzhen ji (1a), it must have been first printed in the late thirteenth century and then reprinted in the fourteenth century. The brief undated preface by Ren Shilin mentions that it had fifty-five illustrationsSongxiang ( ji, 4.30b–31a). If this work was similar in design to Xuanfeng qinghui tu, then the illustrations may also have resembled to some extent the corresponding Daoist temple murals, such as that in Figs. 5.2–3. 200 lucille chia

Fig. 5.4. Shi Zhijing 史志經, comp. Xuanfeng qinghui tu 玄風慶會圖. Reprint. 1305. Right: names listed include Lu Daotong 路道通, who initiated the reprinting project and the Xuanmiao guan 玄妙觀 in Hangzhou which hired the engravers for the printing blocks. Left: names include Liu Borong 劉伯榮, probably the illustrator of the 1274 edition, and Xu Zongru 許宗儒, who retraced and redrew the pictures for the 1305 reprint, as well as the names of the carvers who worked on the illustrations and the text. (Reproduced with permission from Tenri Central Library, Tenri, Nara, Japan.)

Several of these leading southern Daoists also wrote prefaces for the reprinting.94 And although the list of donors shows that they came from many areas, north and south, in the country, a notable number came from the Jiangnan area, especially members of Daoist monasteries and lay congregations in Hangzhou. Lu may well have seized this excellent opportunity to invite the southern Chinese Daoists to participate in what seemed to be a noteworthy effort to spread teachings shared among the schools, even as it focused on a Quanzhen

94 Katz, “Writing History,” 168. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 201 patriarch. And given Hangzhou’s long-standing reputation as a printing center, there was even better reason for having Xuanmiao guan assume responsibility for having the blocks carved. The project thus served to signal the full recognition of Quanzhen Daoism in central and southern China almost thirty years after the the area had come under Mongol control.

V. Concluding Remarks

In examining the printing activities of the Quanzhen Daoists in their initial period of rapid growth during the Jin and early Mongol periods, we also see more generally that north China in the late twelfth through the thirteenth centuries was certainly not barren in terms of publications. And we have not even discussed printing by Buddhists, by commercial publishers such as those in Pingyang, or by government offices. Rather, what made the situation bleak in north China was that so much that was published was destroyed, in man-made and natural disasters, and in the case of the Daoists, imperially-decreed wholesale conflagrations of individual works as well as the entire Canon. The Quanzhen Daoists made extensive use of print to spread their teachings and had a clear notion of what constituted a literary corpus as understood by Confucian, Buddhist, and earlier Daoist traditions, even if they did not choose to follow exactly the ways in which these other groups fashioned their canonical texts and commentaries and disseminated their works. The Quanzhen movement intended to show that they rightfully had assumed the role of conservators of a long religious Daoist tradition with revealed scriptures, but they would not add to the collection of scriptures. Their contributions to the Daoist religious tradition would come in other ways, such as reinforcing the syncretic sanjiao tendencies in their teaching of ideas and individual practices and renovating institutional organizations for the clergy and lay believers. This approach did not mean that Quanzhen Daoism had no use for texts or that its teachers did not recognize the value of disseminating their ideas through print. But texts were for teaching those who had not yet achieved enlightenment and needed help in their self-cultivation. Furthermore, the Quanzhen texts, such as many in the literary collections, were records of performances—sermons, prayer ceremonies, and conversational or poetic exchanges between a master and 202 lucille chia his audience. As such, they were worth transcribing as eloquent words from master teachers, needed not for themselves but for their listeners. Once written down they could also be printed, to disseminate Quan- zhen ideas and to recount the movement’s history. And all the better if texts and images were reproduced, not just on paper, but also on stone and on temple walls. Nevertheless, the texts did not need to be reproduced verbatim (like scriptures), and images portraying the same person or event could vary considerably, especially from medium to medium. And the same story could be told to illustrate the virtue of different masters. Print was not the paramount medium, but only one among several used to convey the same messages. With so few extant imprints of Quanzhen works from the Jin and Yuan, it is impossible to know generally how much care was invested in the compiling, editing, and printing of these texts. In addition, all four surviving works—three literary collections and one illustrated hagiography—have very little in the way of annotations and commentaries, in contrast to such paratexts by the Quanzhen authors for the scriptures in the Daozang.95 We cannot therefore determine to what extent the usual textual apparatus we find in secular scholarly works was used in Quanzhen Daoist literature. Perhaps there was very little, although many Quanzhen authors possessed the classical training to have produced such texts. If so, such an absence would further support the idea that the Quanzhen attitude toward written texts differed significantly from that of Confucian literati of the period and that print did not bring out the collator, emendator, and commentator in all those who used this technology to produce book-length texts.96 Studying Quanzhen publishing in north China also allows us to see that blockprinting was used extensively not only by government and commercial publishers in large urban centers. With the exception of Xuandu baozang, at least partly engraved and printed in the Pingyang area, most other Quanzhen works were apparently produced in locations not noted as publishing centers. Quite possibly, with disciples eager to compile and publish their masters’ teachings, Daoist temples and monasteries became centers where copiers, draftsmen, and engravers

95 Given the occasionally significant editorial modification of texts by the compilers of the Ming Daozang, it may be risky to comment on early Quanzhen texts based on the versions in the present Canon. 96 For the classic treatment relating to the Song literati, see Cherniack, “Book Culture.” the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 203 congregated, just as did carpenters, masons, mural painters, and other craftsmen (many itinerant) involved in the (re-) construction of the many Quanzhen temples. Indeed, the sundering of Chinese territory into northern and southern areas governed by hostile regimes from the twelfth through the thirteenth centuries may have stimulated the growth of printing in the north, even if this development did not involve the emergence of large book centers. After the Mongols won control of the south and the Chinese world was reunited under one government, however, the stimulus seems to have diminished. Works written or compiled in the north quickly circulated to the south. Offi- cial and commercial, as well as religious printing, even by groups that started in the north, such as the Quanzhen Daoists, thus appear to have gone south again after 1279, as exemplified by the second edition of Xuanfeng qinghui tu. 204 lucille chia x 1140 783–84 1319 prefaces 1251 preface x? 1055 727 late 13th c. x? 1149 789–90 1175 preface 1150 791

. ca. 1231 1064 732–33 j . 1250, 1265, . 13th c.? 1151 791 j j . ? 248 117 . 1182–83 1142 786 5 . ca. 1203?. ca. x? 1141 785 j j . later 13th c. 1147 788 j . 1178? 1236?. 1178? x 1161 798 8 j j 2

3 2 . 5 3 j 4 11½ fols. ca. 1210 x 1144 787 洞淵集 10 37 fols.

純陽真人渾雲山集

悟真集

啟真集漸悟集仙樂集

西雲集太古集

自然集 .

j 2 Xianle ji Yunshan ji Wuzhen ji 成集 Chunyang zhenren huncheng ji Jianwu ji Taigu ji Dongxuan jinyu ji 洞玄金玉集 Xiyun ji Danyang shenguang can 丹陽神光燦 Ziran ji Dongyuan ji Qizhen ji

, hao 姬翼 ) and ) ) ) (1219–93, (1147–1203,

) (13th c., ) (1140–1212, (1186–1244, (fl. 1240–52), 長生子廣寧子 (or Ji Yi 洞明子通玄子郭志誠太古道人劉處玄馬丹陽馬丹陽馬丹陽馬丹陽李先生 ) (1123–1184) ) (1123–1184) ) (1123–1184) 通玄子郝大通劉志淵何志淵 (fl. 1231) 姬志真 Table 5.1. Extant Quanzhen Works, Late Eleventh-Early Fourteenth Centuries 馬鈺馬鈺馬鈺長筌子 Changsheng zi Guangning zi Dongming zi Tongxuan zi ) 馮 hao 1193–1268) Tongxuan zi comp. (Ma Yu (Ma Yu hao Taigu daoren (Ma Yu hao hao Ma Danyang ( Type Author/Compiler Work Date Print DZ Fasc. 8 1.1 Liu Chuxuan 67 1.1 Ji Zhizhen 1.1 Li xiansheng 5 1.1 He Zhiyuan 12 1.1 Ma Danyang 3 1.1 Hao Datong 11 1.1 Ma Danyang 3 1.1 Guo Zhicheng 10 1.1 Ma Danyang 2 1.1 (Feng) Changquan zi 9 1.1 Liu Zhiyuan 1 1.1 Anon. (sometimes ascribed to the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 205 1264 1001 x 1159 797 1206, 1208 prefaces 11881251 preface x 1153 x 1145 793–95 787 ca. 1299 727 450–52 . 1213–17 1152 792

. 1299 x 1146 787 j

j . 1229 x 1160 798 j

4 3 . 1186, 1187, . 1186, 9 fols. 1073 739 j 41 fols. late 12th c. 1143 786 3 . j 6

12 fols. 雲光集葆光集 13

道禪集草堂集水雲集

磻溪集

子鳴真集虚 Lifeng laoren ji 離峰老人集 Baoguang ji Wenshi zhenjing zhu 文始真經注 Panxi ji Shuiyun ji Yunguang ji Caotang ji Chongyang quanzhen ji 重陽全真集 Daochan ji Xuanxu zi mingzhen ji 玄

hao hao , ) ) (possibly Chunhe ) (fl. late ) , (fl. 1299, (1123–1185, 昌齡 (1201–73, ) (Wang , fl. early (1169–1251, (1168–1232, hao 長春子 ) 長真子 (1148–1227, , 平 ) (1113–1170, 玄沖師 ) (1142–1217) 清和子王丹桂 ) 重陽子牛道淳譚處端王志坦離峰子王處一公平劉志淵尹志于道顯王嚞丘處機大師 Changling 白雲子淳和真人王玉陽 zi 遥 Lifeng zi Qinghe zi Changchun zi Shenfeng xiaoyao dashi Changzhen zi Gongping hao hao hao Yuyang 12th c., zi zhenren hao Boyun zi Chongyang zi Liu Zhiyuan 13th c.) hao 神峰逍 (cont.) Type Author/Compiler Work Date Print DZ Fasc. 22 1.1 Yu Daoxian 1516 1.1 Tan Chuduan 17 1.1 Wang Chuyi 1.1 Wang Dangui 19 1.1 Wang Zhitan 21 1.1 Yin Zhiping 14 1.1 Qiu Chuji 18 1.1 Wang Zhe 20 1.1 Xuanchong shi Table 5.1 13 4 Niu Daochun 206 lucille chia 1076 740 1183? 1057 728 12th c.? 13th 1202 preface 1056 x?1247 preface 728 1058 728 1059 728 1288 preface ? 1060 729 ca. 1170 1158 796 12th c. ? 1234 989 1247 preface x 263.53 130 1347 x 1100 744–45

. 重陽 j 6

. j 16 fols. 3 fols.

盤山棲雲王

j 14 fols. 2 清靜長生真人 35 fols. 44 fols. 41 fols. 9 為無

Danyang zhenren yulu 丹陽真人語錄 Jin zhenren yulu 晉真人語錄 Wuwei qingjing Chang- sheng zhenren zhizhen yulu 至真語錄 Panshan Qiyun Wang zhenren yulu 真人語錄 Suiji yinghua lu 隨機應化錄 Qing’an Yingchan zi yulu 清庵瑩蟾子語錄 Chongyang zhenren shou Danyang ershisi jue 真人授丹陽二十四訣 4 fols. 盤山語錄 Danyang zhenren zhiyan 丹陽真人直言 Panshan yulu Minghe yuyin 鳴鶴餘音 ,

) Heian 廣蟾子 hao zi , comp. , ( (fl. mid. (1147–1203, (?-1399) 長生子 (12th c.), comp. 彭致中王頤中柴元皋論志煥劉處玄何道全晉真人靈隱子 Guangchan zi hao , Changsheng zi Lingyin zi 13th c.), comp. hao 嘿庵 fl. late 13th c.) et al. (fl. 14th c.) (cont.) Type Author/Compiler Work Date Print DZ Fasc. 2930 2 Jin Zhenren 231 Liu Chuxuan 232 Lun Zhihuan 2 Wang Yizhong 28 2 He Daoquan 27 2 Chai Yuangao 26 2 Anon. (students of Ma Danyang) 25 2 Anon. (student of Ma Danyang) 24 2 Anon. Table 5.1 23 1.2 Peng Zhizhong the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 207 645 342 after 1310 1235 989 Yuan, 14th c. 1229 988 1237–40 x? 1310 1017 1183 preface x 1155 796 late 13th c. 1256 998 1183?1165? x 1154 795–96 1233 989

. 247 116–17

. j 5 . j 2 . j 4 fols. 2 3 會真集

16 fols. 捷法太上老君內日用

钵清和真人北遊語錄 2 fols.

重陽立教十五論

. j Taishang laojun nei riyong miaojing 妙經 Huizhen ji Quanzhen qinggui 全真清規 Quanzhen zuobo jiefa 全真坐 4 Qinghe zhenren beiyou yulu Chongyang fenli shihua ji 重陽分梨十化集 Chongyang jiaohua ji 重陽教化集 Zhenxian zhizhi yulu 真仙直指語錄 Chongyang lijiao shiwu lun 6 fols.

)

hao hao hao 海天 hao 超然子 ) (fl. early ) ) ) (1178–1263) see entries 24 and 31 (fl. Yuan, ), comp. (1169–1251, (14th c., 平 (1113–1170, (1113–1170, (1113–1170, 清和子王吉昌重陽子重陽子重陽子王志謹玄全子通玄子尹志 Chaoran zi 王嚞王嚞王嚞陸道和 ) hao Qinghe zi Haitian qiuyue daoren 13th c., Tongxuan zi Chongyang zi hao Chongyang zi hao 秋月道人 Chongyang zi (cont.) Type Author/Compiler Work Date Print DZ Fasc. 42 3.2 Anon. 41 3.1 Wang Jichang 40 3.1 Lu Daohe 39 3.1 Anon. 33 2 Wang Zhe Table 5.1 34 2 Wang Zhe 38 2 Yin Zhiping 35 23637 Wang Zhe 2 2 Wang Zhijin Xuanquan zi 208 lucille chia 107725 740 27 242 114 13th c.14th c.? 267 281 132 134 ca. 1331–35 1067 736–38 ca. 1331 1070 738 14th c.? 646 342 early–mid 14th c.

. . j j 元始 4 fols.

2 16 太上老君

修鍊須知上陽子金丹

1 fol. 紙舟先生全真

9 fols. 7 fols. 上乘修真三要抱一子三峰老人丹訣

Baoyi sanfeng laoren danjue 18 fols. Shangsheng xiuzhen sanyao Yuanshi tianzun shuo dedao liaoshen jing 天尊說德道了身經 Shangyang zi jindan dayaoxianpai 大要仙派 Shangyang zi jindan dayao 上陽子金丹大要 Taishang laojun wai riyong miaojing 外日用妙經 Xiulian xuzhi 20 fols. Zhizhou xiansheng quanzhen zhizhi 直指 ). ) ,

大癡大癡 , Shangyang Shangyang (fl. 1329–36, (fl. 1329–36, , comp.; , comp.; 黃公望黃公望 hao hao 虚虚 Dachi ) , , Yuanming Dachi 高道寬 hao hao hao 陳致陳致金月巖金月巖觀吾觀吾 ) ) 圓明老人上陽子上陽子 Guanwu Guanwu Huang Gongwang (1269–1354 , transm. (1195–1277, laoren zi zi zi zi Huang Gongwang (1269–1354, transm. (cont.) Type Author/Compiler Work Date Print DZ Fasc. 49 3.2 Jin Yueyan 48 3.2 Gao Daokuan 45 3.246 Anon. 3.247 Chen Zhixu 3.2 Chen Zhixu 44 3.2 Anon. Table 5.1 50 3.2 Jin Yueyan 43 3.2 Anon. the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 209 576 321 251 119 late 13th c.1159–67 1460 137 60 1156 796 1269–1310 x? 244 115 early–mid 14th c. late 13th–early 14th c. pre-12901306 2501298, 1299 x 119 249 276 118 134

) , ., j (late

損安寶蟾子重陽真人

18 fols.

蔡志頤三天易髓 .

j 8 fols. 16 fols. Dadan zhizhi 中和集 2 Sun’an zi Baochan zi Qingtian ge zhushi 青天歌註釋 Chongyang zhenren jin- guan yusuo jue 金關玉瑣訣 Baoyi hansan bijue 抱一函三秘訣 12 fols., rev. Wang Jie 王玠 Xiyi zhimi lun 析疑指迷論 (attributed) 大丹直指 Quanzhen ji xuan biyao 全真集玄要 Santian yisui Zhonghe ji ed. Cai Zhiyi 13th c., hao

) ) )

菴 hao zi ), 神峰清菴清菴清 )

大癡 ) (fl. 1299,

Hunran zi , comp.; Qing’an Qing’an Qing’an 長春子黃公望 (1143–1227, Dachi (1113–1170, hao hao hao hao , (fl. 1331–80, , 重陽子牛道淳 hao 李道純李道純李道純金月巖王嚞丘處機王玠 ) 道淵 ) 大師 Changchun zi Shenfeng xiaoyao dashi 遥 Chongyang zi 混然子 Daoyuan Huang Gongwang hao (1269–1354, (fl. 1288–1306, (fl. 1288–1306, (fl. 1288–1306, hao 逍 transm. (cont.) Type Author/Compiler Work Date Print DZ Fasc. 59 3.2 Wang Zhe 58 3.2 Wang Jie Table 5.1 51 3.2 Jin Yueyan 5354 3.2 Li Daochun 3.255 Li Daochun 3.2 Li Daochun 56 3.257 Niu Daochun 3.2 Qiu Chuji 210 lucille chia ca. 120012th c. 401 189 974 614 1191 preface 122 57 ca. 123114th c. 102 50 — — 1288–89 x? 973 611–13 late 13th c.ca. 1231 1258 999 106 54 13th c. 313 162

. j . j . (not in 18 fols. j 3 元始天尊說

4 10 太上老君

經註

太上赤文洞古 )

太上老君說常清靜黃庭內景玉經注

46 fols. Taishang laojun shuo chang qingjing jing song- zhu 經頌註 Shengtian jing songjie 生天經頌解 Huangting neijing yujing zhu Taishang laojun Daode jing shuzhu 道德經述註 Daozang Huangdi yinfu jing zhu 黃帝陰符太古經註 Taishang chiwen donggu jing zhu 經註 Yuanshi tianzun shuo taigu jing zhu Ganshui xianyuan lu 甘水仙源錄 Zhuzhen neidan jiyao 諸真內丹集要 ) ) ) ) Haitian 超然子 hao (fl. early (1147–1203, (1147–1203, (?–1399) ( (d. 1196, 馮長筌子馮長筌子長生子長生子 (1219–1296), 海天秋月道人王吉昌劉處玄劉處玄何道全玄全子劉通微 ) 李道謙 Chaoran zi hao 默然 Changsheng zi Changsheng zi Moran 13th c., hao hao (fl. 1231) (fl. 1231) comp. qiuyue daoren (cont.) Type Author/Compiler Work Date Print DZ Fasc. 66 467 Liu Tongwei 4 Wang Jichang 65 4 Liu Chuxuan 63 464 He Daoquan 4 Liu Chuxuan 61 462 Feng Changquan zi 4 Feng Changquan zi 68 5.1 Li Daoqian Table 5.1 60 3.2 Xuanquan zi the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 211 1271 preface 175 76 ca. 1331ca. 1331 1069 738 1068 738 pre-1269? 594 329 late 13th. c.? x — after 1308 957 605 ca. 1232 x 176 76 1228 preface 1429 1056 1284 preface 955 605

. j .

j (lost) 終南 2

15 fols. 3 七真年譜

9 fols. 上陽子金丹大

9 fols. 上陽子金丹大要圖

古樓觀紫雲衍慶 . j

3 長春真人西遊記

Shangyang zi jindan dayao 12 fols. Qizhen nianpu 要列仙誌 Shangyang zi jindan dayao liexian zhi Tixuan zhenren xianyi lu 體玄真人顯異錄 Chongyang minhua miaoxing zhenren 重陽憫化妙行真人集 Xuanfeng qinghui lu 玄風慶會錄 Gu Louguan ziyun yanq- ing ji 山祖庭仙真內傳 Changchun zhenren xiyou ji Zhongnan shan zuting xianzhen neizhuan ) ) ) 茅山上陽子上陽子 Guanwu Guanwu

zi zi (1193–1256, ( ( (1219–1296) (1219–1296) 虚虚 ) ) 朱象先耶律楚材李志常陳致陳致李道謙李道謙真常 Shangyang zi Shangyang zi 移剌楚才 hao hao , , 觀吾觀吾 (fl. 1279–1308, of Maoshan (1190–1244) (name in Canon given as Yila Chucai Zhenchang (cont.) Type Author/Compiler Work Date Print DZ Fasc. 77 5.2 Li Daoqian 75 5.276 Chen Zhixu 5.2 Li Daoqian 74 5.2 Chen Zhixu 73 5.2 Anon. 72 5.2 ? 71 5.1 Zhu Xiangxian 70 5.1 Yelü Chucai Table 5.1 69 5.1 Li Zhichang 212 lucille chia 972 610 x 174 76 late Yuan (14th c.) 1294 preface x? 296 139–48 1326, 1327 prefaces pre-125813th c.?late 13th c. x — x? — 297end of 13th c. 149 956 605 1241 preface1274, 1305 173 x — 75–76

. j

歷世真仙

. . j j 5 5 5 34 fols. (lost) 歷世真仙體道通

. j 53 Jinlian zhengzong xianyuan xiangzhuan Gongguan beizhi 宮觀碑誌金蓮正宗仙源像傳 45 fols. Qizhenxian zhuan 七真仙傳 Lishi zhenxian tidao tongjian xubian 體道通鑑續編 Lishi zhenxian tidao tongjian 鑑 Jinlian zhengzong ji 金蓮正宗記 Xuanfeng qinghui tu 玄風慶會圖 Laojun bashiyi hua tu 老君八十一化圖 Zhongnan shan shuojing tai lidai zhenxian beiji 終南山說經臺歷代真仙碑記

天素 /

(fl. 1279– 叟劉志玄虚

(ca. 1202–?) (ca. 1202–?) (1188–1244) 一 ) (d. 1243) 朱象先 ) and Xie Xichan 茅山趙道一趙道一史志經史志經秦志安王粹 Yixu sou zi Lushan qingxi daoren hao 1308, 廬山清溪道人謝西蟾 ( (fl. 1294–1307) (fl. 1294–1307) of Maoshan (cont.) Type Author/Compiler Work Date Print DZ Fasc. 86 5.3 Zhu Xiangxian 85 5.3 8283 5.2 Wang Cui 5.284 Zhao Daoyi 5.2 Zhao Daoyi 78 5.2 Liu Zhixuan/Tiansu Table 5.1 7980 5.2 Qin Zhi’an 81 5.2 Shi Zhijing 5.2 Shi Zhijing the uses of print in early quanzhen daoist texts 213 , and pinyin he other ion Daozang , 1923–26). 涵芬樓 based on thematic sections, titles in . Finding-lists for works in the . Daozang The Taoist Canon . For indices of the (Photofacsimile reprint. Shanghai: Hanfen lou

道藏 Title Index to Daoist Collections Daozang Daozang Concordance du Tao Tsang or in folios) as the ) juan 語錄

yulu x? = probably printed between late eleventh-early fourteenth centuries ? = possibly printed between late eleventh-early fourteenth centuries (blank) = no information on printing between late eleventh-early fourteenth centuries 1.1 collections of individual authors 1.2 collections of more than one author 3.1 practice rules for organizations 3.2 individual 5.1 histories 5.2 hagiographies 5.3 epigraphies classifications. Within each classification, works are listed alphabetically by author’s name. 1. Literary collections 2. Dialogic treatises ( 3. Didactic texts 4. Canonical texts and commentaries 5. Histories, hagiographies, epigraphies and finding lists for various editions, see vol. 3 of Schipper Verellen, eds., other Daoist collections are also available in Louis Komjathy, — “Work” Title and length (in Notes on the table — “Type” The classification used is neither unique nor definitive. For example, the literary collections contain many works from t — “Print” x = printed between late eleventh-early fourteenth centuries — “Print” — “DZ” refers to the numbering in Schipper, — “Date” Date of printing, sometimes date preface in imprint; if no known imprint, then is approximate composit — “Fasc.” refers to fascicle number of the work in

PART THREE

CHOICE: MEDIA AND INTEROPERABILITY IN THE PRODUCTION OF TECHNICAL KNOWLEDGE

GOVERNANCE THROUGH MEDICAL TEXTS AND THE ROLE OF PRINT1

TJ Hinrichs

I. Introduction

The Northern Song (960–1126) court and regional officials produced and distributed medical texts to augment medical relief and to enhance the state’s role in nurturing the people. They also deployed medical texts for imperial moral education, to reform what they deemed the ‘demonic’ and ‘shamanic’ healing customs and mores of southerners. These text projects also inscribed and disseminated visions that integrated cosmos, body, society, and empire. Print played a key role, not only in expressing and actualizing ambitions of extending the reach of the state, but in transforming the nature of governance. While in some cases they do specify printing, the sources do not always make clear what they mean by ‘distribution.’ When they do, very often this does not include the step of making imprints, but simply engraving texts on stone or on wooden blocks, and posting these in public places. Further production (printing), consumption (reading), and application (healing) were sometimes carried out by state organs, but were often left to private initiative. Thus, print did not displace the more venerable practice of engraving texts on stelae, something which had already twice been applied to formularies by the Tang government.2 Print was, however, a critical component in the expanding

1 The author would like to thank Liu Hsiang-kwang, Peter Bol, Lucille Chia, Fan Ka-wai, and an anonymous reviewer for comments on earlier versions of this paper. 2 Besides theoretical works, the two major genres of medical texts were formularies (fangshu 方書), also translated “prescription texts” or “remedy texts,” and materia medica texts (bencao 本草). Formularies listed recipes for various disorders, sometimes including ritual instructions; materia medica texts listed drug ingredients and described their properties. As in poor relief in general and medical relief in particular, in the posting of prescription texts Tang and Song state measures tended to follow from and emulate prior Buddhist initiatives. One Dunhuang prescription manuscript, probably compiled during the Six Dynasties period, includes in its preface a statement of intent to inscribe the text on stone to widen its dissemination. A “Medicine Bud- dha” grotto at Longmen also contains a stele, dating to around 650–653 ce, engraved 218 tj hinrichs medical repertoire of Northern Song statecraft. Often it was a text that had been commissioned, printed, and distributed from the center that local officials subsequently re-engraved and posted in public places for broader viewing and presumably the option of imprinting. If there is a dramatic shift here, then, it does not begin with the technology of print, but with the expansion and consolidation of the use of medical knowledge as a tool of governance, and a marked intensification of campaigns to reproduce and disseminate this knowledge to common people. The sharpest break was in an unprecedented state deployment of medical texts to combat what were deemed noxious southern customs. Print was but one stage in this state-encouraged and -initiated process of propagation.

II. Medical Governance through Print

Expansion What would develop into more radically innovative policies began with qualitatively moderate if quantitatively striking expansions on precedent. The 350 years prior to the Song Dynasty saw five imperially- commissioned medical texts. Two of these were ordered inscribed and posted for popular access: in 723, Tang Xuanzong 玄宗 established a prefectural post of yixue boshi 醫學博士 (Erudite of Medicine), and two months later ordered Guangji fang 廣濟方 (Prescriptions for broadening relief ) distributed to the prefectural level. In 746, he further ordered prefecture and district officials to select the most essential prescriptions from the text, copy them on wood blocks, and display these in villages and important roads. In 796, Dezong 德宗 had Jiyao guangli fang 集要廣利方 (Collected essential prescriptions for broadening benefit), with sixty-three categories and 586 prescriptions, inscribed and distributed throughout the empire’s thoroughfares.3 In its first two centuries, the Song central government collated and produced sixteen authoritative editions of medical classics, and compiled and printed eighteen new medical texts. Of 256 books printed by the Northern Song Guozi jian 國子監 (Directorate of Education),

with prescriptions. See Wang Shumin, “Appendix 2,” 399–400. On more general policies of poor relief and medical relief, see Scogin, “Poor Relief.” 3 See Tang huiyao (2), 82.1805; Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 660, 686–87. governance through medical texts 219

108 were Confucian classics and their commentaries, sixty-one were histories, four were literary works, and eighty-three were philosophical, technical, or religious texts. By far the largest subset of the last category was medical books, numbering thirty-eight. Local government publications encompassed more varied subjects, with medical publications numbering twenty-four out of a known total of 324.4 In addition, as we will see, several local Song officials commissioned new medical texts specifically for distribution in their jurisdictions. In addition to the more traditional dynastic projects of Confucian classics and revised legal codes, the Song founding emperor, Taizu 太祖 (r. 960–75), commissioned and printed a materia medica and later a revised version.5 His successor, Taizong 太宗 (r. 976–97), is best known for consolidating the new dynasty’s rule by strengthening the civil bureaucracy and bringing powerful military commands under central control. This consolidation also included his patronage of large scholarly compilations and printing projects. These went beyond the usual authoritative Confucian canonical texts, histories, and commentaries, to include the Buddhist Tripitaka, encyclopedic geographies, and collections of anecdotes on the scale of five hundred to a thousand juan. Building on a reported personal interest in the collection of medical prescriptions, he also commissioned Taiping shenghui fang 太平聖惠方 (Taiping era prescriptions of sagely grace), a collection of 16,834 prescriptions in one hundred juan, with discussions of disease categories from Chao Yuanfang’s 巢元方 Zhubing yuanhou zonglun 諸病源候總論 (Comprehensive treatise on the origins and symptoms of diseases, 610) Two copies of this text were ordered distributed to each prefecture. Perhaps with Xuanzong’s precedent specifically in mind, each prefectural office was to establish a post ofyiboshi 醫博士 (Eru- dite of Medicine) to take charge of the text, and make it available for copying among the clerks and common people.6 Song emperors, notably Renzong 仁宗 (r. 1023–63), commissioned the collation and printing of authoritative editions of classical medical texts in order to demonstrate broader commitments to textual scholarship and literate culture and to the welfare of the populace. In fact, our received versions of most pre-Song medical texts date from these early

4 Poon, “Books and Printing in Sung China,” 113–27. 5 Ibid., 118; Appendix 2. 6 Sung Bibliography, 246; Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 713–20. 220 tj hinrichs eleventh-century recensions.7 More immediately, these texts were used in the imperial medical schools and examinations. For this purpose, in 1027 the Directorate of Education printed two medical canons and the 610 nosological work, Zhubing yuanhoulun, all collated and edited by the Hanlin yiguan yuan 翰林醫官院 (Hanlin Physician Service). In addition, the Hanlin Physician Wang Weiyi 王惟一 produced a medical text to accompany two life-size bronze statues drilled with the acupuncture points. These were cast in order to assist the training and testing of medical students on the identification of those points. They also served to unify divergent maps and provide a standard for the acupuncture loci.8 In 1057 Emperor Renzong established a Jiaozheng yishu ju 校正醫書局 (Bureau for Editing Medical Treatises) under the Menxia sheng bianxiu yuan 門下省編修院 (Chancellery Bureau of Compila- tion). The task of this bureau was the collation and editing of important medical classics, perhaps for the first time justifying their description as a canon. At the new bureau editing work took place with collaboration between medical and civil officials, under civil official supervision. It completed its projects in 1069, although printing them took until 1096.9 A century and a half later, we find the Taiyi ju 太醫局 (Impe- rial Medical Service) producing and printing medical texts specifically for the Service’s medical schools and examinations, including a text on children’s medicine and Taiyi ju zhuke chengwen 太醫局諸科程文 (Model essays for the examinations at the Imperial Medical Service; after 1191) in nine juan.10 Besides establishing canonical standards and providing educational texts, government medical texts such as Taiyiju fang 太醫局方 (Pre- scriptions of the Imperial Medical Service), and Taiping huimin hejiju fang 太平惠民和劑局方 (Prescriptions of the Pharmacy Service for Great Peace and for the Benefit of the People) guided official medical relief, especially once this was regularized under the Imperial Medi- cal Service and the Pharmacy Service, founded in 1076 and expanded greatly under Huizong 徽宗 (r. 1100–25) between 1103 and 1120.11

7 On Huangdi neijing (Inner canon of the Yellow Emperor), see Sivin, “Huang ti nei ching,” 196–215. 8 Goldschmidt, “Changing Standards.” 9 Liang Jun, Zhongguo gudai yizheng shilüe, 82–83. 10 Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 1053–59, 1351–54. 11 Goldschmidt, “Huizong’s Impact on Medicine and on Public Health,” 304–12. governance through medical texts 221

As in so many other arenas, Huizong took his predecessors’ ambitions in the medical field to new heights with two major books, both dated 1118: Shengji zonglu 聖濟總錄 (Comprehensive record of sagely beneficence), an encyclopedic pharmacopeia,12 and Shengji jing 聖濟經 (Canon of sagely beneficence), an exposition of theoretical principles.13 Where Taizong’s Taiping shenghui fang (992) collected 16,834 prescriptions in 100 juan, Huizong’s Shengji zonglu doubled the number of juan, added treatises and charts, and included over 20,000 prescriptions.14 Besides the claim to comprehensiveness inscribed in the title of the work, Huizong’s preface boasts that “there is nothing that it does not entirely provide for.”15 Where Renzong’s Bureau for Editing Medical Treatises (1057–69) established a canon of Han and medieval medical texts, Huizong produced his own canonical text, Shengji jing. In his preface to this work he refers to Huangdi neijing 黃帝內經 (Inner canon of the Yel- low Emperor) and claims that “over the generations none obtained its transmissions.”16 Lamenting that fact, he wrote this work: It will cause superior gentlemen (shangshi 上士) who hear it to be harmonious in intent and to actualize the Dao, and middle gentlemen (zhongshi 中士) who investigate it to personally thrive and gather substance. They can use it to nurture life; they can use it to fulfill their allot- ted fates; they can use it to raise the common people of the whole age into the domain of humaneness and longevity.17 Together, these projects constituted a vast expansion of the state’s role in medical text production, education, and relief. While this overview suggests the predominant roles for the texts to have been medical education and relief, their earliest applications had more to do with moral-political concerns.

Extending the reach of the state In the Northern Song local officials and emperors tried a variety of approaches to “transforming mores and customs through education”

12 Reprinted 1161–89 under the Jin, reprinted in 1300 under the Yuan. Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 794–816. 13 10 juan. Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 788–790; Sung Bibliography, 253–54. 14 Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 794–811. 15 Ibid., 798. 16 Zhao Ji (Emperor Huizong), Shengji jing, 8. 17 Zhao Ji, Shengji jing, 9. 222 tj hinrichs

(jiaohua fengsu 教化風俗) in southern China.18 These policies were unprecedentedly intense, invasive, and innovative. They were sustained, at least on paper, among more officials, across more territory, and over more time than the few scattered cases recorded over the previous millennium. Besides marriage and funeral customs, reformers targeted the abandonment or isolation of the sick, and the preference for consulting shamans or spirit-mediums (wu 巫) rather than physicians. Official approaches included distributing medicines, having clerks force people to take medicines to prove their efficacy, rounding up and flogging shamans, smashing their shrines and ritual objects, branding and sending into penal exile more prominent shamans, and enjoining shamans to “change occupation” (gaiye 改業) and practice medicine.19 Efforts did not stop there, however, and the Northern Song also saw official attempts to transform customs through the compilation and distribution of medical texts. It is not always clear how it was imagined that these medical texts would operate to transform customs. For example, one early imperial decree of 974 ordered the distribution of unspecified prescription and materia medica texts in Qiong 瓊 Prefecture, on Hainan 海南 Island. The popular customs there, the emperor had heard, did not include medicine, and “when people get sick, they just seek out the incanta- tions of shamans.”20 Who would receive these texts and in what form? Were they for the reference of officials, to guide them in the distribution of medicines as an alternative to shamans, or for the local population? Given what we can expect to have been low levels of literacy in places like Hainan, once people viewed or received these texts, what were they expected to do with them? Similar questions arise in another early case from 971, in a remote part of what is now Guangxi.21 The prefect complains of local customs, stating that “those stricken ill dare not seek [medical] treat-

18 While some northern shamans also became objects of state suppression, their danger was constructed quite differently. They were tied to particular aberrant cults rather than to common healing practices, and were seen as aberrant, charismatic individuals rather than as endemic to local customs. Official responses tended not to go beyond exhortation and sometimes arrest of the troublemakers and destruction of their shrines. Southern populations were depicted as resistant to official suasion, northern populations as cooperative. See Hinrichs, “Medical Transforming of Gov- ernance,” 47–52. 19 Ibid., chs. 2–4. 20 Xu Changbian (3), 16.349. 21 Yong Prefecture, Guangnan West Circuit (modern Guangxi Province). governance through medical texts 223 ment, but increasingly slaughter chickens and pigs, and pray for blessings from debauched and dark demons.” He reports that, besides personally distributing medicines and accomplishing “a thousand cures, . . . he inscribed prescription books and set up a stone niche for them in the wall of the government hall, transforming [the people of his] jurisdiction.”22 While this was certainly a place of honor, one that granted the text the imprimatur of his office, it was also a location that few would have access to. Again, given low literacy, who, if anyone, did he expect to enter those precincts in order to consult or take rubbings from these engravings? If his interest was primarily symbolic—affirming the state’s backing of medicinal healing, rather than practical—providing useful pharmaceutical recipes, why bother with the latter? TheSongshi account states, “the people were affected (gan 感) [by the posting of the text] and transformed,”23 almost as though they were “affected” in the old cosmological sense, not through direct causal action, but by resonance at a distance. Of course, a more cynical interpretation would be that the posting, as a dramatic statement, was primarily an act of career-enhancement, aimed at drawing attention from the court rather than the populace. In the 990s the prominent official Chen Yaosou陳堯叟 (961–1017, js 989) acted similarly, but made his text directly available to people who might not dare enter the official compound. He expressed concern for the people of Guangnan,24 also the focus of our previous cases, and their practice of “supplicating gods and not taking medicine.” In response, he had his Ji yanfang 集驗方 (Collected tested prescriptions) engraved on stone stelae in Gui 桂 Prefecture25 stations (yi 驛).” In 1018, by imperial command, the Directorate of Education printed and distributed the text to officials serving in Guangnan (modern Guang- dong and Guangxi Provinces) and to prefectural offices throughout the realm.26

22 Xu Changbian (3), 12.271. 23 SS (2), 249.8796–97. 24 Literally “Lingnan” 嶺南, corresponding roughly to modern Guangdong and Guangxi. 25 Guangnan West Circuit. 26 The 1018 printing and distribution of the text may have been prompted in part by Chen Yaosou’s recent death. See SS (2), 284.9584, Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 722–23, and Xu Changbian (3), 92.7b. Chen seems to have served as Fiscal Com- missioner in Guangnan West Circuit 996–98, as evidenced in Lê Tắc, Annan zhilüe, 11.285 (his assignment); and in Xu Changbian (3), 45.2b (his return from that post). For Chen Yaosou, native of Lang Prefecture 閬州, Sichuan, see SRZJ, 3.2620–21. 224 tj hinrichs

From 992, prefectural officials should have also had the resource of Taizong’s encyclopedic formulary Taiping shenghui fang, as well as yiboshi to assist in both applying it and making it available to the common people. In 1006 an official secured a further annual allotment of fifty strings of cash27 from the imperial treasury for distributing the text along with medicines throughout Guangnan.28 A later account identifies this as a further attempt to combat local customs of “favoring shamans and respecting demons” over “giving medicines and food to the sick.”29 While Guangnan seems to have a particular focus of concern, other southern jurisdictions saw complaints about healing customs and the posting of medical texts. At the end of 1046 Cai Xiang 蔡襄 (1012– 67),30 then prefect in Fuzhou 福州 (Fujian), sought again to disseminate Taiping shenghui fang to combat the local people’s preference for shamans and to promote the spread of medical knowledge.31 Cai seems to have found the very comprehensiveness of the text—its inclusion of ingredients that were difficult to acquire (foreign, strange, or rare), instructions that were obscure, and sections on esoteric immortality practices—to have undermined its utility. His first task was to enlist a local physician to excise these extraneous passages, and “adopt what would be convenient for the common people to use.” Cai had the remaining 6,916 prescriptions, about 40 percent of the original number, “transcribed and recorded on printing blocks, which [he then] arrayed to the left and right of the yamen.”32 Cai Xiang, who was highly favored by the emperor, seems to have prompted higher level concern for other noxious customs inimical to

27 Although the Duxing zazhi account gives a figure of 500 strings, theSS and Xu Changbian accounts of this allocation give a figure of 50,000 cash (or fifty strings), and that is taken here as the correct figure. See Zeng Minxing, Duxing zazhi, 3.22–23; SS (2), 7.131; Xu Changbian (3), 63.13a. One string of cash would buy 203 bushels (dan) of rice, enough to feed a single person for most of a year (McKnight, Law and Order in Sung China, 126). 28 Zeng Minxing, Duxing zazhi, 3.22–23; SS (2), 7.131; Xu Changbian (3), 63.13a. 29 Zeng Minxing, Duxing zazhi, 3.22–23. 30 Zi Junmo 君謨, native of Xianyou District 仙游縣, Xinghua Military Prefecture 興化軍, Fujian Circuit, js 1030. See SRZJ, 5.3803-6. 31 Cai Xiang, Cai Xiang ji, 519. Also see Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 720–21; Chunxi Sanshan zhi, 39.4. 32 Cai Xiang ji, 519. Also see Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 720–21; Chunxi Sanshan zhi, 39.4a–b. According to the last source, Cai Xiang “personally inscribed it on a stele . . . Today this stele is located at the [He] Xipeng home to the right of the prefecture office residence and halls.” governance through medical texts 225 health and mores. In 1048 Renzong reviewed legal cases from Fujian, most likely originating with Cai, involving gu 蠱, a type of witchcraft through which demonic creatures infest and consume the viscera of the victim. Renzong commissioned the collection of prescriptions for expelling gu, particularly relying on the repertoire of a Fuzhou, Fujian doctor (yigong 醫工). He had these compiled into the book Qingli shanjiu fang 慶曆善救方 (Qingli period prescriptions good for rescuing people), which he then distributed.33 Such texts were often distributed unevenly and might only reach to the prefecture level. Qingli shanjiu fang seems to have made it to the district level in Fuzhou a full decade after its commission, when each district carved it on wooden blocks and posted these at the district gates. Twelfth-century sources also describe and quote anti-gu prescriptions from a Fuzhou stele of this period.34 The text seems to have moved more quickly in Zhejiang, where in 1049 it reached the offices of Yin District Magistrate Wang Anshi 王安石 (1021–1086), who had attained office through the recommendations of Cai Xiang and Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 (1007–1072) in 1044.35 He wrote a postface for the text, had it engraved on stone, and like the magistrates in Fuzhou a decade later, had this set up outside the district yamen gate so that it would be known and accessible to people without their having to make application through the authorities. Later cases seem to have come on the heels of the creation of the Bureau for Editing Medical Treatises in 1057.36 Two other cases show evidence of drawing specifically on a 1065 Bureau publication, the hitherto uncommon Han-period text devoted to the treatment of ‘cold

33 Chunxi Sanshan zhi, 39. Also see Xu Changbian (3), 163.1b; Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 728; (Hongzhi) Ba Min tongzhi (1), 85.11; and Cai Xiang ji, 797. A year later funds were allocated to all prefectures to support the purchase of the drugs prescribed in the text. Xu Changbian (3), 167.3b. 34 These also describe prominent Fu Prefecturegu cases of 1132 and 1175. Chunxi Sanshan zhi, 29.8a; Hong Mai, “Huang Gu gudu” 黃谷蠱毒 (Gu poisoner Huang Gu), Yijian zhi, vol. 4, 1763. 35 Bol, “This Culture of Ours,” 189. 36 One case, datable to between 1054 and 1062, reports the Controller-General of Rong Prefecture 戎州 (Zizhou Circuit 梓州路, modern Sichuan) “selecting ancient prescription texts, inscribing them on stone,” and thereby teaching the local people about medicine, for use in place of “prayers, exorcism rituals, and shamans.” SS (2), 300.9966–67. Dates based on the official Zhou Zhan’s周湛 appearance in Xu Chang- bian (3), juan 177–96, showing him to have been active between 1054 and 1062. His tenure in Rong Prefecture may have pre-dated or post-dated a period of greater prominence in the record. 226 tj hinrichs injury’ epidemics, Shanghan lun 傷寒論 (Treatise on cold injury disorders) by Zhang Zhongjing 張仲景 (142–220).37 Between 1065 and 1075,38 one official compiled Shanghan jiusu fang 傷寒救俗方 (Pre- scriptions for cold injury to rescue customs),39 its purpose—to reform customs—clearly stated in its title, and had this engraved in stone for a county in Huainan, where people were “deluded by shamans and did not trust in medicines.”40 Around 1070, the Qianzhou 虔州41 Prefect Liu Yi 劉彝 (1015–91) responded to the problems of local customs by commissioning another unambiguously titled text: Because they trust in shamans and worship demons, [Liu Yi] gathered together physicians and made the Zhengsu fang 正俗方 (Prescriptions to correct customs), solely discussing cold injury disorders.42 He registered all of the shamans under his jurisdiction, netting over 3,700 people [one shaman for every 26.5 households].43 He restrained them, and gave each of them a copy of his Prescriptions so they would make medicine their occupation.44 Liu Yi produced a text on the specific epidemic disorder that was seen as producing the behavior in question. Eschewing the diffuse strategy of trying to educate the general populace, he focused specifically on

37 ‘Cold injury’ or ‘cold damage’ (shanghan 傷寒) was a type of seasonal epidemic, usually brought on by the invasion of climatic cold. Zhang Zhongjing differentiated the expression of cold injury disorders according to three yin and three yang modalities (taiyin 太陰, shaoyin 少陰, jueyin 厥陰, taiyang 太陽, yangming 陽明, and shaoyang 少陽) corresponding to various channels (jingluo 經絡). On the theoretical interest sparked by the Song state’s publication of this text, see Goldschmidt, Evolu- tion of Chinese Medicine, 69–102. 38 Dates based on the period between his receipt of the jinshi degree in 1065, and advancement from county magistrate to higher office in 1075. SeeSRZJ , 5.4273; Xu Changbian (3), 264.17a. 39 Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 454. 40 Ibid. 41 Qianzhou bordered Guangnan East Circuit to the south and Fujian Circuit to the east. Although I did not discover the date at which his tenure in Qianzhou began, he was transferred from there to Gui Prefecture at the beginning of 1074. Xu Changbian (3), 251.1a, Wu Tingxie, Bei Song jingfu nianbiao, 391. 42 This work, no longer extant, is recorded in the bibliographical section of the SS (2), 207.5319 as Ganzhou zhengsu fang (Gan Prefecture prescriptions to correct customs), with two juan. Gan is another name for Qian Prefecture. The book is also recorded in the catalogs of the private collections of You Mao (1127–1194), Suichu- tang shumu as Ganshang zhengsu fang, and of Chen Zhensun (ca. 1186–1262) as Zhengsu fang with 1 juan. See Chen Zhensun, Zhizhai shulu jieti (1), 388–89; You Mao, Suichutang shumu (2), 37; Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 756. 43 The total number of households recorded for Qianzhou in 1078 was 98,130. See Liang Fangzhong, Zhongguo lidai hukou, 145. 44 Zeng Minxing, Duxing zazhi, 3.23–24; SS (2), 334.10728. governance through medical texts 227 the group who the local people turned to as healers and authorities on disease. He distributed it directly—given the numbers involved, most likely by printing. Southern customs and southern shamans had been issues since the founding years of the dynasty, before the process of conquest and consolidation had been completed. Song officials and emperors had responded by issuing proclamations, rounding up shamans, and ordering them to practice acumoxa and prescribe drugs.45 These policies had some precedent in previous suppressions of shamans and ‘exces- sive cults,’ but were novel in their frequency and geographic extent, in taking the high-profile form of imperial edicts, and in their focus on healing.46 What is most innovative in Northern Song governance is the application by officials and the court of the production and dissemination of medical texts to the problem transforming customs.

III. The Distribution of Medical Texts as Governance

Ultimately, I see this innovation as a reconfiguring of imperial power. Xia Song 夏竦 (985–1051), an official whose attacks on local healing customs and shamans prompted a 1023 imperial edict banning these across the south, distilled the problem: “The people follow the words [of shamans] more closely than the statutes and regulations, and they fear their might (wei 威) more than that of the officials.”47 Given that southern shamans, as far as we can tell from the sources, appear to have been doing neither anything strikingly new nor more of it, surely it was officials who put themselves in this position of competition for popular respect. That they saw this rivalry in large part in terms of healing modalities has much to do with the increasing role that medicine was playing in governance—but the growth of medical governance also seems to owe something to concern over southern

45 I have described these policies in Hinrichs, “Medical Transforming of Gover- nance,” chs. 2 and 4. 46 The concern with southern handling of illness did have three recorded precedents. In the Sui and Tang at least three officials exhorted people against the popular practices of avoiding contact with the sick, and in one also case against using shaman healers. Ibid., 27–29. 47 SHY (1), li, 20.10b–13a. Also see Xia Song, Wenzhuang ji, 15.12b–13b; Xu Chang- bian (3), 101.2340–41; SS (2), 9.179. 228 tj hinrichs

customs.48 That the engraving, printing, and distribution of medical texts were key weapons in the state’s customs/shaman-fighting arsenal must likewise be considered in the context of the state’s increasing familiarity with and use of the technology. This simple story, though, begs too many questions. All of these movements—medical governance, state medical publication, and the deployment of medicine to combat southern customs—grew out of and contributed much to the profound transformations in Northern Song political culture. They constituted new diagnoses and treatments for southern customs, and produced a new body politic. First, in the Northern Song we see that state-centered solutions to social problems had a certain cachet. This is most evident in Ouyang Xiu’s and Fan Zhongyan’s 范仲淹 (989–1052) group, associated with the Qingli Reforms of the 1040s, and with Wang Anshi’s New Policies reforms beginning two decades later. One way for a young official to bring himself to the attention of Ouyang Xiu, or later Wang Anshi, was to show initiative in institution-building and educational reforms, extending to the transformation of commoner customs through education.49 Given a ruling sub-culture dominated by approval of such reforms, demonstrations of zeal could encourage innovation and serve ambition. Reading these cases together, it seems that these officials are vying to demonstrate just how activist they can be, not only, for example, by further disseminating a particular text, but by commissioning their own texts for dissemination, or not just by posting wood blocks, but by distributing texts directly to shamans. We might note here that many of the cases involving deployment of texts to transform southern customs predate the great reform movements by several decades, suggesting that this ethos developed earlier and was, for some time, rather than being controversial, taken for granted. Second, we can see the deployment of texts as taking advantage of the technology of printing to expand on received practices. Previ- ous dynasties had engraved their authorized versions of the Confu- cian canons in stone and had commissioned the production of texts such as histories of the previous dynasties. In the field of medicine, the

48 The Song competition between officials and shamans to establish their superior power and authority was also carried out on non-healing ritual grounds. See, for example, Boltz, “Not by the Seal of Office Alone.” 49 See, for example, Ouyang Xiu on Cai Xiang, and their association with the young Wang Anshi, in Hinrichs, “Medical Transforming of Governance,” ch. 4. governance through medical texts 229

Sui had accepted a comprehensive nosological work presented to the throne (Zhubing yuanhou lun), and the Tang and Later Shu (934–65) had commissioned the compilation of works in the materia medica genre. Five Dynasties governments had commissioned the printing of Confucian and Daoist classics, although these projects did not always achieve fruition before Heaven took its then-slippery Mandate elsewhere. There might seem to be an internal logic to technology such that succeeding generations incorporate it more thoroughly and learn to avail themselves of it for a wider range of purposes. State use of printing in China, however, did not follow such a linear progression. Many Song emperors and officials, after all, did not distribute texts by printing them, but by engraving and erecting stelae, a technology that had been in use for over a millennium. Furthermore, after the eleventh and until the twentieth century, we do not find analogous applications of printing technology to medical knowledge in order to reform customs. Technology, like career ambition, may have been a resource for policy innovation, but it was not a driving force behind it. The central issue here is the nature of the power of the text, of officials, and of the empire itself. The act of conferring a medical text might be considered in the broader context of received models. While medicine achieved a status connected to but textually and occupation- ally distinct from the religious, ritual, or political spheres, the act of healing retained an aura of the sacred.50 This was also true for the transmission of medical legitimacy and knowledge. In medical as in religious lineages, texts had been vehicles of learning, certifications of descent, and receptacles of charisma. The custody of a text or later a printing block itself was a sacred trust, and some of the special abilities associated with a text might be considered to pass from master to disciple with the inheritance of the text itself.51 Texts acted in some contexts as ritual objects, embodying both intent and efficacy.52 Thus, government printing may also have been seen by some to do what Buddhist and other religious printing was doing then and continues to do for many today: to multiply merit.53 On the other hand, government

50 This could also be said of western medical traditions. 51 Li Jianmin, “Zhongguo gudai ‘jinfang’ kaolun”; Sivin, “Text and Experience.” 52 On the inherent power and sacredness of characters and writing in early China, see Lewis, Writing and Authority, 287 ff. On the sacredness of writing and late imperial Chinese societies for the reverence of characters (xizi hui 惜字會), see Leung, Shishan yu jiaohua, 132–37. 53 Bell, “Printing and Religion in China.” 230 tj hinrichs printing may have diluted such mystiques. The proliferation of complaints about the inaccuracy of ‘authoritative’ government imprints may bear this out.54 Unfortunately, we lack records of target-audience (southern shamans and commoners) reactions to the government formularies, including the extent to which they received them in a manner similar to the transfer of texts from adept to pupil. If certain types of authority—hierarchical, charismatic, sacred—can inhere in structures of knowledge transmission, this is also true of the ways in which different types of texts structure knowledge. Pre-Song regimes had produced or authorized canonical texts that, as those dynasties did for measurements, established unified standards, the warp threads (jing 經) that give shape to the fabric of the polity.55 The Northern Song expanded the scope of dynastic canon formation from Confucian texts (especially in the 980s and 990s)56 to the Buddhist Tripitaka (printed 971–983), the Daoist Canon (printing blocks carved 1118–1120), and for medicine Huangdi neijing (1027, 1057) and other Han-period and medieval texts.57 We should include here Emperor Huizong’s personal foray into medical theory and canon formation, Shengji jing, at one with his ambitions to “integrate morality and unify customs” (tong daode yi fengsu 同道德一風俗).58 The Song also produced texts that, in a strategy of inscribing empire, collect and encompass All Under Heaven, from the center to the wild, ‘uncooked,’ and uncanny peripheries of human knowledge and experience. The encyclopedic collectionsTaiping yulan 太平御覽 (Compilation for imperial perusal in the Taiping era; comp. 977–84) and Taiping guangji 太平廣記 (Extended records for the Taiping era; comp. 977–78) echoed the utopian ideal of Song Taizong’s (r. 976–97) reign name, “Establishing a Realm of Great Peace” (Taiping xingguo 太平興國, 976–83).59 The same utopian naming and inclusiveness

54 Cherniack, “Book Culture and Textual Transmission.” 55 Lewis, Writing and Authority, 297–302. 56 Bol, “This Culture of Ours,” 152. 57 Ibid., 152–53; Boltz, Survey of Taoist Literature, 5. On the revision of the Han medical canons, see Sivin, “Huang ti nei ching”; Goldschmidt, Evolution of Chinese Medicine, 37–39. Other classical (Han-period) medical texts include Nanjing 難經 (Canon of difficult issues), 1027, ca. 1056–1063, and Zhang Zhongjing’s Shanghan lun (Treatise on cold injury disorders), 1066. 58 Bol, “Emperors Can Claim Antiquity Too.” 59 TheTaiping guangji collects material more marginal to the literary tradition, while Taiping yulan is supposed to encompass conventional knowledge, and Taizong made a point of reading three juan of it each night. See Kirkland, “A World in Balance.” governance through medical texts 231 characterize Taizong’s great eclectic formulary, Taiping shenghui fang. Huizong likewise inscribed sagely encompassing aspirations in his Shengji zonglu. However, officials distributing medical texts in order to transform noxious southern customs did not generally transmit medical canons and encyclopedic formularies without some editing. The closest we get to something vaguely bowing toward canonicity here are those prescription texts said to be for ‘cold injury’ disorders, Shanghan jiusu fang and Zhengsu fang. By focusing these texts on cold injury disorders, their commissioning officials linked them to a canonical approach to treating epidemic diseases based originally on Zhang Zhongjing’s Shanghan lun, a text which at the time was receiving great interest and theoretical elaboration.60 Here, officials are distributing not texts on cold injury diagnostic theory, the subject of so much elite theoretical interest in the Song, but texts of prescriptions. From 1006 Taiping shenghui fang was distributed to order the customs of Lingnan, but Cai Xiang felt compelled to excise ‘deviant’

Lydia Chiang in “Lost Utopias” takes issue with Kirkland’s view of Taiping guangji as a challenge to Taiping yulan: “Rather than genuine integration of the peripheral with the center, I argue that the twin Great Peace compendia were designed to demarcate the boundary between the center and the peripheral and to keep each in its place.” In the case of Taiping shenghui fang, Taizong tied its production to its distribution and application, suggesting that it was seen as encompassing all that might be useful. While decades later Cai Xiang found it to have contained precisely such uncanny materials, it is hard to say whether Taizong and the compilers of Taiping shenghui fang saw it as such. We do not know whether or how they made decisions to exclude material. 60 This was especially in light of the Five Circulatory Phases and Six Climatic Qi (wuyun liuqi 五運六氣) theory. Catherine Despeux attributes increased interest in Zhang Zhongjing’s Shanghan lun (Treatise on cold injury disorders) to the consonance between its approach and the wuyun liuqi theory, particularly the former’s analysis of cold injury disorders according to stages based on the Three Yin and Three Yang modalities. Despeux sees this overshadowing an alternative canonical tradition that organizes pathology around the functional visceral systems in the Song period. See Despeux, “System of the Five Circulatory Phases,” 146–48. The system achieved official prominence in 1099 when the Director of Studies in the Imperial Medical Ser- vice Liu Wenshu 劉溫舒 presented his Suwen rushi yunqi lun’ao 素問入式運氣論奧 (Discussion of the esoterica of the circulatory phases and the seasonal qi as formalized in the Plain questions). See Despeux, “System of the Five Circulatory Phases,” 122, and Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 60–64. Liu’s work is also the subject of Huizong’s Shengji jing (Canon of sagely beneficence) and is laid out with diagrams in the very first twojuan of his imperially-commissioned Shengji zonglu (Comprehensive record of sagely beneficence) of 1118. See Hinrichs, “Medical Transforming of Governance,” 141–43. Asaf Goldschmidt in Evolution of Chinese Medicine, 69–102, attributes interest in cold injury (or ‘cold damage’) disorders to epidemics in southern China. 232 tj hinrichs

sections before he had the resulting abridgment engraved and posted on the yamen gates. This was not always, then, a wholesale and transparent transmission of grand visions of imperial centrality or com- pass. While some state medical text projects may have inscribed these, many of those targeting southern customs embodied a more focused, concrete, and penetrating extension into people’s lives. One of Cai Xiang’s criteria was prescriptions that were “convenient for the common people to use.” This was not a vision of the state as standing centrally, modeling correct norms of interpersonal behavior, and thereby securing stability so that people could get on with their lives—but of a state inserting itself in specific ways into those lives. Such invasive approaches to governance are most marked for the institutional reforms of Wang Anshi and his followers under Huizong, and we likewise find medical texts produced for use in those administrations. Taiping huimin hejiju fang was composed for use in the recently expanded Pharmacy Service.61 The editors’ preface cites, in addition to the usual mythical sage ruler, precedent in Zhouli 周禮 (here referred to as Zhouguan 周官 [The rites or( offices) of Zhou]) a text purporting to describe the administration of the Western Zhou Dynasty (1122–770 bce), although it is not attested before the Former Han (206 bce–8 ce).62 In the past, the Divine Farmer tasted the hundred herbs in order to relieve the ailments of the myriad people, and Zhouguan established the administration of disease and medicine in order to handle the myriad people’s illnesses. These were written into books as models for the myriad generations. With the sudden rise to power of our Song, divine and sagely emperors have succeeded one another, all using perfect benevo- lence and profound virtue to nourish the living.63 The golden age precedent of antiquity here is not that of the Daoist Great Peace idyll, of government-free non-action, but highly-regulated golden age imagined in Zhouli, in which the state’s nurturing benevo- lence entailed not fiscal restraint but institutional thoroughness. Prais- ing prescription texts as the preeminent technique for epidemic relief, the Song editors list a number of the medical texts produced by the Song government, thereby justifying their subsequent claim that “none

61 See Hinrichs, “Medical Transforming of Governance,” ch. 5. 62 Boltz, “Chou Li.” 63 Taiping huimin hejiju fang, 5. governance through medical texts 233 have surpassed this, even the attentiveness of the Divine Farmer or the consummate rule of the height of the Zhou.”64 We might consider this use of texts in relation to the role of wen 文 (pattern, writing, texts, culture), immanent in the cosmology of political and cultural authority as theorized since the Han.65 While wen may have also been disconnected at times from these lofty functions, a field for more mundane practices—say, household bookkeeping—Peter Bol has shown it to have been a central concern of both moral and political discourse and of literati identity in the Song period.66 As another generalization, then, we might consider the distribution of physical texts as efforts to more concretely extend the transformative power inherent in writing outward from the center, a turbo-charging of the otherwise dissipating radiance of Imperial Virtue/Potency (de 德). When he had Emperor Renzong’s Qingli shanjiu fang engraved and displayed, Wang Anshi praised the text as an example of Mencian governance “that does not bear the suffering of others,” describing the act as a necessary implementation of the ruler’s policies, “extending [the Emperor’s] beneficence and putting it into effect among the people.”67 Similarly, Cai Xiang situated his editing, engraving, and posting of Taiping shenghui fang in relation to the ruler’s extension and completion of the Virtue of Heaven and Earth. Thus, he argued, “creating benefit zuoli( 作利) for All Under Heaven is the business of the Sage.”68 In contrast to Confucius, who proclaimed himself to “transmit but not create” (shu er buzuo 述而不作), and to Mencius, who chided King Hui of Liang for even speaking of benefit (li),69 Cai Xiang declares “creating benefit” to be the sacred cosmic role of the Sage Ruler.70 This was in more immediate contrast to Tang Confucian attacks on government charity programs as un-Confucian.71 A couple of decades later

64 Taiping huimin hejiju fang, 5. 65 See Lewis, Writing and Authority, 287 ff. 66 Bol, “This Culture of Ours.” 67 Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 728. 68 Cai Xiang ji, 519. Also see Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 720; Chunxi Sanshan zhi 39.4. 69 Analects 7.1; Mencius, 1.1. 70 In an essay written for Renzong on “Selecting Officials” he similarly argues against the idea of non-activist (wuwei 無為) governance, remarking that “of the hundreds of officials, there are none who do not actwu ( buwei 無不為).” Cai Xiang ji, 22.376. 71 See Scogin, “Poor Relief,” 30–31. While Cai Xiang does not attack charity programs, he does share this Tang official’s view that the primary business of governance is to take care of the basic livelihood of the people, not overtaxing them, and not to 234 tj hinrichs

Wang Anshi’s New Policies would be criticized for seeking ‘benefit’ or ‘profit,’ as antithetical to righteousness yi( 義).72 Cai Xiang, however, finds justification in classical precedent: It has been passed down that the Divine Farmer tasted the hundred herbs and the Yellow Emperor recorded Neijing in order to remove the illnesses of the people. Their techniques are capable of making the dead revive and giving the short-lived longevity. To speak of their results— even though the Great Yu dredged the flooding rivers and drove out the dragons and snakes, and Tang and Wu73 used weaponry to gain victory in upheavals, they [only] particularly relieved the distress of one age— who could compare to [the Divine Farmer] and the Yellow Emperor in] their contributions that can be inexhaustibly relied upon! Thus I say that creating benefit for All Under Heaven is the business of the Sage.74 Cai Xiang also finds dynastic precedent, and explains why more concrete action is required on his part: When Song fit itself to the Heavenly Mandate, it brought the peoples of the Nine Regions [of China) out from a fiery cauldron, and blew on and rinsed them [to cool them]. Once Emperor Taizong had pacified the world, and taken the breadth of conquered territory to its maximum extent, he furthermore gave them time to recover their spirits and greatly revived them. He then established grades of official rewards of gold and silk, and had them purchase and gather together the famous prescriptions of antiquity and today, as well as the methods of drugs, acupuncture, and patient examination. The physicians of the realm arranged these in order, categorized, and divided them into 100 juan, and named it Taiping shenghui fang. [Taizong] ordered it to be distributed75 to the prefectures for transmission to the officials and the people. So far, so good, but, Cai observed, local officials failed to follow through: However, when the prefectures took charge of it, the larger portion strictly locked it away, reverently sunning and airing it and that is all. None of the officials or the people gained benefit from it. Cai Xiang interpreted his commission more broadly, suggesting that activism—inferring imperial intent (not only using a text for healing

only “give them succor when they are starving and clothe them when they are cold.” See Cai Xiang ji, 22.377. 72 See James T.C. Liu, Reform in Sung China, 50. 73 Founders of the Shang and Zhou Dynasties, respectively. 74 Cai Xiang ji, 519. Also see Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 720; Chunxi Sanshan zhi 39.4. 75 Reading ban 頒 for song 頌. governance through medical texts 235 but for improving mores) and creating additional measures to actualize them—is a basic obligation of all local officials: I [edited and posted this text] in order to guide the Sagely Ruler’s inex- haustible grace of morality to penetrate to those below, and also to enlighten people on the error of relying on shamans, and to cause them to return to constant standards (jingchang 經常). This is furthermore the essential duty of the prefect.76 Ouyang Xiu, in a well-known eulogistic appraisal, placed Cai Xiang’s editing and posting of the prescription text in the context of a broader range of Cai’s initiatives in Fujian, which he described as “transformation through education” (jiaohua 教化). Ouyang divided these policies between those directed at literati (shi 士) and those targeting commoners (min 民). He put Cai’s prescription text in the latter category, along with prohibitions of gu-poisoning, shamanic healing, extrava- gant Buddhist funerals, economic crimes, and behaviors destructive to familial relationships.77 By far the most common appearance of “transformation through education” in Song texts appears in relation to the education of literati, and like Fan Zhongyan and Wang Anshi, Ouyang Xiu and Cai Xiang were very concerned with advocating particular styles of writing and approaches to education and examination. Cai Xiang, like many other Song writers, also proposed ritual reforms, and seems to have aimed these most directly at the literati, seeking to change society as a whole through this critical link.78 At least in the case of these policies to bring medical knowledge to southerners, reaching past the literati or gentry class directly to the common people themselves is a peculiarity of the Northern Song. Unprecedented here is not only local officials extending imperial virtue to the people through the distribution of texts, but the type of benefit envisioned. This goes far beyond classical ideals of adequate livelihood, and the Han cosmological framework that placed the foundation of that livelihood, good weather and disaster prevention, within the purview of imperial ritual and virtue. While these had never been explicitly excluded as functions of governance, the Northern Song sees

76 Cai Xiang ji, 519. Also see Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kô, 720–21; Chunxi Sanshan zhi, 39.4a–b. See also n. 31. 77 Ouyang Xiu, “Duanming dian xueshi Cai gong muzhiming”; Cai Xiang ji, 936. 78 Hinrichs, “Medical Transforming of Governance,” ch. 4. 236 tj hinrichs the most thorough and categorical appending of the medical care and education of the populace to official roles. We see this state appropriation of medicine not only evidenced in southern officials’ deployment of drugs and texts for disaster relief and to reform customs, but also justified in the context of central medical text projects. Addressing the emperor, medical officials of the Bureau for Editing Medical Treatises brought up the traditional constructions of disparity between the competencies of governing Confucian elites and physicians, only to promptly conflate them. Your ministers have heard that those who are able to penetrate Heaven, Earth, and Man are called Confucian scholars (ru 儒). Those who are able to penetrate Heaven and Earth but not Man are called technicians (ji 技). As for physicians, even though they are called technicians of prescriptions, are not their affairs actually those of Confucian scholars? In his preface to the bibliographical treatise [of Han shu], Ban Gu 班固 (32–92) said that Confucian scholars are those who assist the ruler in according with Yin and Yang and in elucidating transformation through education. This is furthermore the principle li( 理) by which Heaven, Earth, and Man are penetrated. He also said that technicians of prescriptions expound on disease in order to reach to the origins of the realm; they diagnose in order to know governance. As for those who cannot penetrate the esoterica of the Three Powers [Heaven, Earth, and Man], how could they achieve the governance of the realm?79 [Emphasis added.] The identity of function attributed here to Confucian scholars and physicians, an identity implicit in canonical medical theory, obscures the point that canonical physicians heal/govern (zhi 治) Heaven, Earth, and Man in the microcosm of individual bodies, while Confucian scholars zhi/heal/govern the intermediate microcosm of the realm. The parallel, suggesting that the business of medicine, like that of Confu- cian learning, is governance, suggests a lack of faith in the capacity of the usual methods of Confucian education to penetrate and transform fully, to prevent or heal the bodily disorders of the people. Confucian approaches had emphasized restraint in governance, neither overtaxing nor overly interfering with the people. It emphasized education and transformation through correct modeling, or simply as Yao and Shun had done, by “facing south and listening80 to all under Heaven”

79 Gao Paoheng et al. (Bureau for Editing Medical Treatises), Preface to Huangfu Mi, Jiayi jing (A–B canon), in Okanishi Tameto, Sō izen iki kō, 218. 80 Glossed elsewhere in Xunzi by Yang Liang as meaning ‘to rule,’ suggesting something more active than ‘listening.’ governance through medical texts 237 such that “none among the people was not moved to follow and transform to accord with them.”81 Like the Neijing injunction to dig the well before you got thirsty, it emphasized not suppressing or correcting disorder, but laying foundations that prevented its appearance. While theory may have posited a happy, innocent, disease/disorder- free age of Great Peace in antiquity, in practice officials had always had to deal with the hard realities of invasions or imperial expansion, lawlessness, crop failures, epidemics, and balancing the costs of their management against extractions. Epidemic relief was something that earlier regimes had taken on, and since the ninth century had become an increasingly common arena for state action.82 Medicine as education and transformation, however, was quite new. It suggests an ambition to actively penetrate and govern not only interpersonal but intrapersonal space. Huangdi neijing and Huainanzi had tied inner space to the polity, but had placed responsibility for its care with the individual, not the state.83 Song state medical text projects, in contrast, constitute and support radically different sorts of praxis and therefore divergent modes of bodily penetration. Song state medicine did not treat individual persons; it did not gaze at individual interiors as Han macrobiotics and canonical medicine had done. Song state medicine took as the object of treatment not individual bodies, but epidemic diseases; it dispensed not means for subtle re-configurations ofqi 氣 but standardized formulae. It aimed not to assist individuals in aligning themselves with the powers of the cosmos, but to educate and transform the common people en masse. It did not operate through wise adepts who advised individuals on subtle inner sensation and enhancement of luxurious health, or inspired physicians who treated ephemeral changes of individual physiologies. Rather, it operated through the bureaucratic machinery of clerks who dispensed and sometimes coerced people into using medicines, through examined and appointed Official Physicians or

81 Xunzi, SKQS, 695, 12.13a. 82 Scogin, “Poor Relief,” 31. 83 Shigehisa Kuriyama and Vivienne Lo have argued that ‘nurturing life’ practices and Yellow Emperor-style medicine demonstrate the emergence, among elites in the late Warring States and early Han, of an intense focus on the self and on bodily experience. While we can see in this literature an inscribing of bodily vitality with state power, its associated praxis remains not a state but a personal concern. See Kuriyama, “Imagination of Winds”; Kuriyama, Expressiveness of the Body; Lo, “Influence of Nur- turing Life Culture.” 238 tj hinrichs

Medical Students who took charge of formulating standardized treatments for epidemic diseases—not individualized modulations of flows of qi. Likewise, Song official textual production and distribution did not involve the careful memorization and copying of schematic ren- derings of esoteric knowledge, but aimed explicitly at transparency, broad application, and ease of use. This was not a progressive triumph of rationalized, efficient, modern bureaucratic systems over the more primitive or traditional. It did not accomplish medical centralization or homogenization, and probably did more to add to the repertoires of southern shamanic healers than to displace them. If it contributed to a medical cultural hegemony, it did so only indirectly, often through movements against it. After the Northern Song, governments retreated from such invasive approaches. Medicine moved from an occasional textual pursuit of literati aficiona- dos to an alternative vocation of ‘scholar/Confucian physicians’ (ruyi 儒醫). The latter practiced decidedly individualized styles of medicine and excoriated the standardized prescriptions published by the Song Pharmacy Service. Standardized patent medicines, along with printed texts, did see ever more extensive distribution, not through official yamen but through markets. The Northern Song state’s efforts to circulate medical texts did contribute to their survival and circulation, but the fruition of these efforts, what could be called the popularization of medical knowledge, awaited the efforts of Ming and Qing commercial publishers.84

84 Leung, “Medical Instruction and Popularization in Ming-Qing China.” THE CULTURAL LOGICS OF MAP READING: TEXT, TIME, AND SPACE IN PRINTED MAPS OF THE SONG EMPIRE

Hilde De Weerdt

I. Introduction

The earliest surviving examples of maps covering the extent of a Chi- nese empire date from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The extant maps appear either on large stone steles placed in public spaces or in printed books of various genres. These media allowed for the official, private, and commercial reproduction of maps. The publicity that maps of the empire received from the twelfth century on marks a transition in the history of Chinese cartography and is part of a larger development in imperial political culture. This essay examines the role of print in the formation of conventions of map reading. It is intended as a first attempt at reconstructing the invisible cultural logic of map reading that left visible traces in writing at that particular moment in the cultural history of map production when print technology made possible, for the first time, the possession, manipulation, and close reading of maps of the empire not only among a small circle of court elites but also by a larger readership. The maps of the Chinese territories that were produced in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries derived from earlier models of mapping.1 However, the demand for instructional materials of various kinds that resulted from the exponential increase in the potential book-buying readership of students preparing for the civil service examinations led to the reformatting of graphic and textual information and to the articulation of reading instructions that were consonant with pedagogical and editorial techniques used in other contemporary instructional texts such as prose anthologies and prose style manuals.

1 I discuss earlier models and twelfth- and thirteenth-century understandings of them in “Maps and Memory.” For a wide-ranging discussion of the broader category of tu 圖 (variously translated as “map,” “chart,” “painting,” or “image”), see Bray et al., eds., Graphics and Text. 240 hilde de weerdt

The first printed historical atlas,Lidai dili zhizhang tu 歷代地理指掌圖 (Handy geographical maps throughout the ages),2 is the focus of my inquiry. By examining how the editor(s) of this atlas instructed their readers to move about the map, direct the gaze, and interpret individual maps and sets of geographical data sequentially, this essay suggests that the commercial success and high profile of this atlas derived in part from its articulation of a set of rules that promised to render vast geographical and historical archives accessible to the reader. This set of rules, a cultural logic of map reading, was separable from the maps to which it had originally been attached. Its further dissemination in other genres of commercially produced and distributed printed texts, discussed in the final section, highlights the intersections between the first atlases and other types of archival and instructional genres and the role of both types of texts in the changing political culture of twelfth- and thirteenth-century Song China. The comparison with other documentary collections further elucidates the ‘historical’ in the first printed historical atlas and helps us question and revise modernist scholarship on the history of the genre.

II. Maps of the Empire in Print

Maps Can Imbue Us with a Sense of Order3 During the twelfth century printed maps of the empire appeared in books in various subject categories. Maps featuring old and contemporary place names were included in works of classical exegesis and pedagogical tools providing instruction in the interpretation and memorization of the classics. Examples include Liujing tu 六經圖 (Figures of the Six Classics) and Tang Zhongyou’s 唐仲友 (1136–88) Diwang jingshi tupu 帝王經世圖譜 (Catalog of figures illustrating the governance of rulers). The former includes maps, charts, tables, and illustrations translating and synthesizing the classics in graphic formats. The first woodblock edition dates from 1165, but the earliest extant copy

2 My translation of the title strays somewhat from the literal meaning of zhizhang. This term means ‘demonstrable in the palm of the hand’ and thus easy to understand and clear. ‘Handy’ captures the original metaphor, means ‘convenient’ and ‘within reach’; its semantic field is stretched somewhat in my use of it here to include the meaning of ‘within easy intellectual reach.’ 3 Harmon, You Are Here, 18. the cultural logics of map reading 241 is a pocket edition printed later during the Southern Song period.4 The latter, sometimes considered an encyclopedia, similarly includes maps, tables, and charts elucidating classical texts and synthesizing data relating to the administrative system of the pre-Qin era. Tang Zhongyou compiled it during the second half of the twelfth century, but the first printed edition, still extant, appeared in 1201. Maps of the empire also appeared in Buddhist texts. Fozu tongji 佛祖統紀 (A comprehensive account of Buddhist patriarchs), a general history of Buddhism modeled on the genre of the dynastic history and covering the period between ca. 981 bce and 1265 ce, features three maps, one of them an administrative map of the Song Empire ca. 1121 delineating circuits and showing prefectures. The first printed edition appeared towards the end of the Song Dynasty. Historical works such as Lü Zuqian’s 呂祖謙 (1137–81) Wudai shi xiangjie 五代史詳節 (Detailed excerpts from ‘The History of the Five Dynasties’), part of his series on the dynastic histories titled Shiqi shi xiangjie 十七史詳節 (Detailed excerpts from ‘The seventeen dynastic histories’), also included maps.5 A Song edition of this work features a map of the states occupying the Chinese territories in the tenth century; a layer showing the circuits (the largest administrative subdivisions) of the Northern Song Empire is displayed on top of the map, correlating the former independent states to subdivisions in the Song Empire. Arguably the earliest extant printed maps of the empire with a certain date of publication, and simultaneously the earliest extant printed maps for which the year of publication is known, are those found in the 1181 edition of Cheng Dachang’s 程大昌 (1123–95) ‘Yugong’ shanchuan dili tu 禹貢山川地理圖 (Maps of the topography and geography in ‘The Tribute of Yu’). This atlas and the publication of various editions of Lidai dili zhizhang tu testify to the connection Christian Jacob has made between printing technology and the emergence of the genre of the atlas in Europe.6 Jacob provides both economic and sociological reasons for the simultaneous development of print technology and the publication of atlases. Economically, the commercial production of maps and their multiplication in print increased demand for maps and led first to the gathering of disparatesheet maps into individual collections

4 For a study of stele and woodblock editions of this text, see Ren Jincheng, “Muke Liujing Tu chukao.” 5 Ibid., 12, #163. 6 Jacob and Dahl, Sovereign Map, 66–76. 242 hilde de weerdt in the mid-sixteenth century and within years to more economical printed atlases designed to impose some measure of standardization and organization onto the maps collected in them. Just as Elizabeth Eisenstein established a correlation between the printing press and increased intellectual activity more generally,7 Jacob also surmises that the woodblock and copperplate reproduction of maps intensified scholarly discourse on geography in Europe. The availability of large numbers of identical printed copies across great distances (when compared to manuscript copies) and the prospect that corrections and additions could be incorporated in follow-up editions of similar volume and geographical spread stimulated participation in scholarly activity and publishing. Even though print often served as a medium to preserve and revive old maps and mapping techniques, it provoked a growing readership to contribute to the discussion and cor- rection of outdated models and the addition of new ones. Within this context atlases emerged as encyclopedias of geographical knowledge consumed or consulted to satisfy intellectual curiosity. In contrast to the contemplative gaze elicited by the map on the wall, the “advent of [the atlas] attests to the new demands of a learned and wealthy public for the type of nonutilitarian volume needed to complete a geographical education and to familiarize its users during relaxed or studious consultation with geographical forms and names.”8 Similarly, in twelfth-century Song China atlases emerged as instructional tools with reference value. Their emergence coincided with the compilation and printing of various kinds of instructional and reference works ranging from administrative and historical encyclopedias to prose anthologies and stylistic manuals.9 Such works targeted students preparing for the civil service examinations, whose numbers grew exponentially in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. John Chaf- fee’s frequently quoted estimates suggest that the number of candidates who presented themselves for the lowest-level prefectural examinations increased from about 20,000 in the early eleventh century to over 400,000 by the mid-thirteenth century.10

7 Eisenstein also applies this more general argument to the effect of print on cartography (Printing Revolution, 200). For a more extended treatment of her argument, see her Printing Press as an Agent of Change. 8 Jacob and Dahl, Sovereign Map, 67. 9 De Weerdt, Competition over Content and “Encyclopedia as Textbook.” 10 Chaffee,Thorny Gates of Learning, 35. the cultural logics of map reading 243

A contemporary witness, Fei Gun 費衮 (ca. 1192), concluded that Lidai dili zhizhang tu was just such a work targeted at the tens of thousands of candidates and the even larger group of boys and men studying for the examinations. He wrote that the maps in the atlas would be of use to those preparing for the policy response session of the examinations in which candidates were asked to respond to questions relating to present administrative and cultural concerns on the basis of evidence gathered from the past and the present.11 The famous Yuan pedagogue Cheng Duanli 程端禮 (1271–1345) confirmed the pedagogical value attributed to both Lidai dili zhizhang tu and ‘Yugong’ shanchuan dili tu when he listed both titles as required reading in his much-acclaimed program of study Dushu fennian richeng 讀書分年日程 (Graduated study schedule, 1310s).12 The examinations led to the expansion of the reading public, which in turn fostered and was fostered by the development of commercial printing. Even though map skills were not tested in the examinations, there is no doubt that the printing of atlases and the addition of maps in other types of works were commercial investments rendered viable by the prospect of a large potential readership. That this was the case can be illustrated by the early publication history of Lidai dili zhizhang tu. At least five or six editions appeared in the course of the Song Dynasty; different printers published the work, updating information in the maps, altering the attribution of authorship and adding new prefaces. The original work may date back to the turn of the twelfth century, just before the death of Shui Anli 稅安禮, who was credited as the author in some editions and in contemporary accounts. In the only extant Song edition, which may date back to the 1130s,13 the noted scholar, writer, and politician, Su Shi 蘇軾 (1036–1101), is listed as the compiler. Already in the twelfth century, readers, including the Neo-Confucian leader Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200), disputed this attribution,14 and nowadays it is seen as little else than a market- ing ploy. Such strategies were not uncommon among twelfth-century commercial printers. Keenly aware of the impact of paratext on the

11 Fei Gun, Liangxi man zhi, 6.9a. I discuss manuals used in preparation for the policy essay session in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries in Competition over Content. 12 Cheng Duanli, Dushu fennian richeng, 2.5b. 13 For a discussion of the dating of the only extant Song edition, see Cao Wanru’s preface in Song ben Lidai dili zhizhang tu, 3. 14 Zhu Xi, Zhuzi yulei, 138.3278. 244 hilde de weerdt bookbuyer, they added the names of popular authors such as Su Shi or the twelfth-century scholar and teacher Lü Zuqian to works authored by others. In the case of the extant edition of Lidai dili zhizhang tu, the enterprising printer set out to augment the effect of a best-selling name by adding an authorial preface signed Su Shi. Even though some were not deceived, many others, including the noted encyclopedist Wang Yinglin 王應麟 (1223–96), accepted the attribution.15 The technique continued in use later in the twelfth century and in 1185 Zhao Liangfu 趙亮夫 wrote a preface for another commercial edition confirming Su Shi’s authorship. In it he also anticipated the more astute reader who might notice the representation of geographical features not in existence during Su Shi’s lifetime. Using a strategy preface-writers have resorted to throughout history, he retold the story of the discovery of an old and damaged copy, and explained that this edition had been edited and updated to reflect the current state of the empire. Apart from the two print editions attributing authorship to Su Shi, other editions circulated which either credited Shui Anli or dropped the mention of authorship altogether. According to the private collector Chen Zhensun 陳振孫 (ca. 1190–after 1249), “Of all the editions printed by commercial printshops, none mention the author.”16 He was paraphrasing the preface for another commercial edition which defended at length its attribution of the work to Shui Anli.17 The publication history ofLidai dili zhizhang tu is a first indicator of its popularity. Its impact is further attested in the holdings of Song private and government collections. Lidai dili zhizhang tu is listed in two of the three remaining Song private catalogs; it was also part of the court collections.18 In addition, the Jiankang 建康 prefectural school, whose holdings are listed in the 1261 gazetteer, also lists a copy of “Zhizhang tu,” which was elsewhere used as an abbreviated title for

15 Wang Yinglin, Yu hai, 14.39b. 16 Chen Zhensun, Zhizhai shulu, 8.240. 17 In addition to the editions discussed above, extant records suggest the existence of two other Song editions. One of the two Ming editions may go back to a no longer extant Song edition. See Cao Wanru, Zhongguo gudai ditu ji, 32. One Qing collector, Xu Wenjing 徐文靖 (1667–1756), dated his copy to the Daguan 大觀 (1107–10) era. It remains unclear, however, whether this refers to an original printed edition; Yugong huijian, preface, 2a. 18 In addition to Chen Zhensun, who was mentioned above, You Mao also listed a copy in his catalog; Suichutang shumu, 40a. It is also listed in the bibliographic treatise in the Song dynastic history; SS, 204.5161. the cultural logics of map reading 245

Lidai dili zhizhang tu.19 This privately compiled atlas appears to have become a household name among literate elites as excerpts from it appeared in encyclopedias,20 and as it became a subject of conversation. The following section analyzes the formulation of a set of rules for reading maps and the role of print in the formation and dissemination of these rules. It also suggests that the commercial success and high profile ofLidai dili zhizhang tu derive in part from its articulation of this set of rules.

III. Instructions for Readers

Lidai dili zhizhang tu is typically described as an atlas consisting of forty-four maps of the empire covering the entirety of Chinese history as it was imagined at the time of writing.21 Its organization exhib- its many of the formal features that we have come to associate with the atlas. A twofold editorial scheme underlies the sequence of the maps. First, general maps are placed in front of time-specific maps. The first two maps are general, intended to provide an overview of the most important administrative divisions throughout time and an ori- entation toward the main topographical features (mountains, rivers, and lakes). The subsequent maps focus on specific periods in Chinese history. This general-to-specific organizational principle is repeated toward the end of the atlas, where four general maps are placed in front of a series of maps covering the Song period. These four maps cover the correlations of the empire with the celestial constellations, the capitals from antiquity to the Song Dynasty, and the last one shows the northern and southern boundary lines formed by mountains and rivers which, according to the monk Yixing 一行 (683–727), were the natural foundations of the borders demarcating the Chinese Empire from peripheral peoples and states. In each case the placement of the general maps informs the reading of the maps that follow. They provide

19 (Jingding) Jiangkang zhi, 33.9b. For a similar reference, see, for example, Xie Weixin, Gujin hebi shilei beiyao, bieji, 2.11b, 14a. 20 Xie Weixin included the full text of the preface attributed to Su Shi and the survey history of administrative subdivision which he also attributed to Su Shi; Gujin hebi shilei beiyao, bieji, 2.11b–17a. Wang Yinglin summarized the work and excerpted the preface in Yuhai, 14.39b–40a. Zhang Ruyu included excerpts from the text of the maps in Qunshu kaosuo, qianji, juan 59, passim. 21 The following discussion will be based on the one remaining Song edition. There are minor differences between this edition and the two Ming editions. 246 hilde de weerdt the framework within which the time-specific maps are to be read. This strategy is pedagogical not only in the formal sense that it moves from the abstract to the concrete or from the introductory survey to a more in-depth treatment, but also in a more ideological way that refers the time-specific back to universal conceptions of imperial territory. Second, the time-specific maps are organized into a chronological sequence systematically covering all major transitions in the political history of the Chinese territories. The atlas takes the reader on a historical tour of Chinese geography starting with the mythical division of the land into the nine regions (jiuzhou 九州) under the culture hero Di Ku 帝嚳, going through the pre-imperial period and all dynasties up to the Song Dynasty. The atlas thus becomes a comprehensive and well-organized geographical and historical archive. It does not claim a practical purpose other than that within it the user can readily locate geographical information. Ease of navigation is only possible within an organized archive, and the editor made such a claim explicitly. The concluding survey of administrative change through history reads: “The administrative organization of the empire is discussed at great length in historical records. It would be impossible to wade through the detail were we to include it all. Were we to abbreviate [too much], then this text would be incomplete . . . We hope this will facilitate consultation.”22 This comment referred specifically to the textual summation of administrative change at the end of the atlas. However, as this was a prose summary of the atlas as a whole, the passage can also be read as a larger claim that the atlas provides access and control over the full archive of recorded time and space. Navigation within this printed geographical archive was enabled through the assignment of individual titles to each map and the indexing of each title in a table of contents in which the maps were numbered individually. The maps are also numbered in the main body of the atlas and follow the sequence outlined in the table of contents, even though the numbers do not correspond exactly— probably because some maps from an earlier edition may have been left out.23

22 Song ben Lidai dili zhizhang tu, 98. 23 Even though this edition includes forty-four maps and there is no indication that more maps were included in any other edition, some maps may be missing in the front. The number on the maps jumps to six after the first two maps. the cultural logics of map reading 247

The indexed table of contents and the assignment of titles to each map which conferred a unique identity to it, were, together with the attribution of authorship to an individual such as Su Shi whose name conveyed authority in the book market, indicators of the significance of paratext in the production of the atlas. Paratext is a collective noun for features like author names, titles, tables of contents, headings, prefaces, and publisher information—features that turn texts into books and other types of publications. It refers to elements commonly found in published texts that shape their format and, in various ways, their interpretation. The assignment of an individual title to each map, for example, carried the potential to guide its reading and turned individual maps, rather than only the atlas as a whole, into an object of reader response.24 The title of the first map in the atlas, “Gujin huayi quyu zongyao tu” 古今華夷區域揔要圖 (“The general survey map of Chinese and non-Chinese territories from the past through the present”), is a first injunction for the reader to focus on the contours and main transhistorical features of the Chinese territories (Fig. 7.1) Other paratextual elements conveyed more explicit injunctions to readers. Headings (subheadings) were more potent paratextual elements than authorship attribution, prefaces, and titles in shaping the reading of individual map texts as well as map reading in general. I will illustrate the significance of headings in printed map texts by contrasting the text-image relationship in such maps to monumental maps. Lidai dili zhizhang tu is more than a printed archive of graphic representations of space. In fact the graphic parts of the maps typically only occupy about two-thirds of the woodblock frame, and about one half of the atlas as a whole. Columns of text intrude into the frame of the maps, reducing their space (see Figs. 7.3 and 7.4 below). The significance of text in Chinese maps in general has been highlighted in Cordell Yee’s work. Yee demonstrates persuasively that text and image co-exist in most Chinese maps. Chinese maps are in his view textual for two reasons: 1) maps are drawn on the basis of textual sources; 2) text complements spatial information on the map.25 While Yee’s observations hold true in general, the following comparison between

24 We have much richer documentation for reader responses to map viewings or readings starting in the twelfth century not only because of their wider circulation in print but also due to the individual identification of maps. Identification by title turns them into objects to be commented upon. De Weerdt, “Maps and Memory,” 148. 25 Yee, “Taking the World’s Measure,” 109. 248 hilde de weerdt . (Reproduced with permission from Toyo Lidai dili zhizhang tu Fig. 7.1. “Gujin huayi quyu zongyao tu” (“The general survey map of Chinese and Non-Chinese territories from the past through present”), first map in Bunko, Tokyo.) the cultural logics of map reading 249 the first printed maps and maps drawn in other media suggests that medium and technique shape the nature of the relationship between text and image. Print changed that relationship. No hand-drawn silk maps of the empire have come down to us, but several steles dating between the 1130s and the 1240s capture what single large maps looked like. The observations made below about the stone steles also apply to the paper rubbings that would have been drawn from them. Fig. 7.2, showing the 1136 Huayi tu 華夷圖 (Map of Chinese and non-Chinese territories), represents one model of the text-image relationship on monumental stone maps. On this map, which measures 79 cm high and 78 cm wide, blocks of text occupy marginal space; they frame the map and thus guide the eye away from the blocks of text and toward the graphic representation of the empire. The prominence of the graphics is even more evident on the reverse of this stele. Yuji tu 禹跡圖 (Map of Yu’s footsteps) carved on the back omits blocks of text altogether, as does a variant of this map carved in 1142.26 The second model of the image-text relationship is shown in a stele map, titled Dili tu 墬理圖 (Map of the administrative organization of the earth). Measuring 197 cm by 101 cm, it features a large block of text at the bottom of the stele.27 The placement of text in the bottom zone of this tall map turns it into a support for the graphic representation of the map which occupies the larger part of the stele and the part that would be most accessible to the eye of the standing viewer. By contrast, in early printed maps text and image are juxtaposed. Columns of text run continuously alongside the full length of the map. The map is still at the center of the woodblock, but the text becomes visually prominent because it occupies independent space that has been moved from the corners to the heart of the printed page. Bind- ing technique also had an impact on the perception of text and image. The atlas was most likely bound by folding the sheets lifted from the woodblock and then gluing them.28 This means that the map at the

26 These maps are reproduced in Cao Wanru,Zhongguo gudai ditu ji, #54–55, 57–58. 27 Ibid., #70, 72. 28 Binding techniques are discussed and illustrated in Tsien, Paper and Printing, 228–32. For a more extended discussion of Song binding techniques, especially the wrapped-back binding which was in wide use during the Southern Song Dynasty, see Chinnery, “Bookbinding”; Shanghai Xinsijun lishi yanjiuhui yinshua yinchao fenhui, ed., Zhuangding yuanliu he buyi, 19–20, 30–31, 68–69. 250 hilde de weerdt

Fig. 7.2. Huayi tu (Map of Chinese and Non-Chinese territories), 1136 stele. (Reproduced with permission from Cao Wanru, Institute for the History of Natural Science, Chinese Academy of Sciences, Beijing.) center of the woodblock was halved; the two halves were on opposite sides of the bound pages. In contrast to the viewer of the monumental stele maps, whose eyes could take in a full-scale representation of the empire instantaneously, the reader of printed maps confronted an incomplete map and an unfinished text that had to be reconstituted by turning the page.29

29 In her introduction to the facsimile edition Cao Wanru does not comment on the history of the binding of the original copy. In the facsimile edition the maps appear in full view, but it is unclear whether this was also the original format. For an interpreta- the cultural logics of map reading 251

The prominence of text is indicative of the pedagogical tone of early printed atlases. A comparison of the text on the 1136 Map of the Chi- nese and Non-Chinese Territories stele and the text attached to the first map inLidai dili zhizhang tu demonstrates how text that may go back to a ninth-century map30 was reconfigured in the form of a set of instructions for map readers in the latter case.31 Unlike the other maps in the volume, “Gujin huayi quyu zongyao tu” takes up the full printed page. It bears the traces of transcription from a monumental map as it reproduces some of the text blocks along the western margin that are also present on the 1136 stele map. The remaining text blocks were also transcribed; they were reproduced on two pages of “supplementary explanations”32 following the map. The transfer of text blocks from large-scale individual maps to the smaller-size printed page brought about a separation between text and image, but at the same time led to the integration of the text blocks that had been attached to specific locations on the map and dispersed across the map surface. The editor compiled the textual information into a coherent guide to the map. In the atlas the blocks of transcribed text are ordered into a hierarchical sequence and each block is marked off by a large-font heading. The headings list the main aspects and features on the map the reader should note:

1) Mark administrative subdivisions past and present 2) The size of past and present geography 3) Mark the Great Wall 4) Mark the northern barbarians 5) Mark the Khitan 6) Mark the western territories 7) The rise and fall of the western Tibetans 8) Mark Liaodong

tion of the impact of binding technique on reading experience, see Burkus-Chasson, “Visual Hermeneutics.” In e-mail exchanges with the author, Professor Shiba Yoshi- nobu confirmed that the pages were folded and bound down the spine in the original (personal communication, Nov. 24, 2007). 30 For a discussion of this map and its author, Jia Dan 賈耽, see De Weerdt, “Maps and Memory,” 152–55. 31 For a juxtaposition of the text in the printed instructions and in the 1136 stele map, see De Weerdt, “Reading Instructions.” 32 The two pages of text are referred to as “supplementary explanations” in the table of contents; Song ben Lidai dili zhizhang tu, 5. 252 hilde de weerdt

9) Mark the eastern barbarians 10) The southwestern barbarians 11) Mark the Xia Kingdom 12) The five prefectures of Gan and Liang 13) Mark Rinan 14) Mark the five ranges 15) Mark India 16) The Xidong Man 17) The names of the states in Hainan 18) The names of the states in the western territories 19) Mark the four rivers

The headings add a new aspect to the textualism of Chinese map production. Their insertion in large font and the imperative voice turns the map on the preceding page into an object to be analyzed. (Most of the features are marked in my digital reconstruction of the reading instructions, the result of an overlay of geographic information system (GIS) data and manual mark-up onto a reproduction of the first map in the atlas.)33 Readers are to locate the features to be ‘marked’ on the map. The Chinese termbian 辨 that I translate here as ‘mark,’ literally means ‘to distinguish.’ Among Song scholars bian carried an over- tone of connoisseurship.34 Those evaluating objects from the past were engaged in sorting them out from a mass of objects and in defining their essential features (bian gu 辨古). Similarly, by marking features on the map in order, viewers applied a hierarchical reading to the map and learned to appreciate what features the cartographer and the geographical tradition from which he constructed the map had deemed essential to the empire. The instructions as summarized in the list above start out with a general description of the dimensions of the empire. Administrative subdivision defines the empire. The history of Chinese space starts with the demarcation of nine zones in antiquity. The nine zones represent ordered space, unity through division, and thus become the point of reference for all future units of administrative subdivision. Even though the notes reveal that the types and numbers of administrative

33 De Weerdt, “Reading Instructions.” 34 The term appears in titles on connoisseurship such asYan shi bian gu tu 晏氏辨古圖 (Mr. Yan’s illustrations for validating antiquities) mentioned in You Mao, Suichutang shumu, 68a. the cultural logics of map reading 253 units multiply through history, all such units go back to the original divisions of Chinese space. The instructions specify that the units to be marked on the map include twenty-three Song circuits (lu 路) and all Song prefectures. They also underscore the continued relevance of the nine zones, and the norm they impose on the administration of space, by listing Song prefectures under them. The second heading, appended to the first, draws attention to the size of the empire. Its size is to be gauged in two ways: the width and length of Chinese space and the location of non-Chinese. The notes acknowledge that most of the many non-Chinese peoples and states listed on Jia Dan’s 賈耽 (729–805) ninth-century map have been dropped. Readers are informed that only those who present a challenge to Chinese sovereignty are to be noted. From the general picture of administrative subdivision and size, the instructions move on to the Great Wall. Its importance for the reader is underscored by its visually prominent symbolic presence on the general map. It is also the only feature that appears on every geographical map in the atlas. Contrary to Arthur Waldron’s suggestion that a continuous wall is a twentieth-century myth founded on the Euro- pean orientalist imagination,35 this suggests that the Great Wall was in Song times imagined as a marker of empire, an imperialist claim to the territories that fell south of it. The notes acknowledged the wall as a human construct, and cited evidence that along with Waldron’s suggests that no continuous physical wall was in evidence in the twelfth century. However, from its presence and prominence throughout the atlas we can infer that the Great Wall, along with natural features to be discussed below, had become part of the empire’s timeless base layer. From a series of physical walls in the first centuries bce, it was conceptually transformed into a continuous artificial barrier and, in a further step, into a naturalized feature demarcating the empire. After viewing the extent of the Great Wall the reader is invited to survey the general surroundings of the Chinese Empire. As the prominence of the Great Wall implies, the peoples living to the north of the Chinese territories merit attention first. As the most formidable challenge during the Northern Song period, the Khitan are singled out as

35 Waldron, Great Wall of China. Nicolas Tackett demonstrates that walls did exist in Song times and played a role in defining borders: “The Great Wall and Conceptu- alizations of the Border.” 254 hilde de weerdt the foremost threat in the north. They can be spotted just north of the Great Wall on the map, even though the Liao Empire they began to build under Taizu 太祖 (r. 907–26) occupied territory south of the imaginary wall. The instructions then take the reader to the west. The notes list western states, several of which are specially designated on the map. “Xi Qiang shengshuai” 西羌盛衰 (“The Rise and fall of the Tibetans”) traces the history of the most persistent challenge to the west of the Chinese territories and refers the readers to their location along the empire’s western edge.36 According to the instructions, the reader should then move across the Chinese heartland to the east. In Liaodong 遼東, the territories east of the Liao River drawn as a wedge across the Great Wall as it makes its way toward the Korean Penin- sula, readers are to focus on two historically important political forces: the Korean kingdom of Goryeo 高麗 and the Jurchen state. Originally drawn prior to the Jurchen invasions of the 1120s, the map still lists the Jurchens as one among various peoples living in the northeast, and the notes describe them as a people that had for the moment accepted Chinese suzerainty. South of Liaodong the readers were made aware of the existence of ‘eastern barbarians’; among them Japan is singled out as the only state that has sent visitors in present times. The peoples living in the southwestern parts of the empire are also to be noted, but like their eastern counterparts are represented as a lesser threat than their counterparts in the north and west. Even though the account of successive attempts to incorporate them in Chinese empires from the Qin through the Song appears to acknowledge failure, the notes underscore that as of the 960s they had all proclaimed adherence to the Song state. After having the reader scout the general surroundings of the empire, the instructions list a series of more specific geographic areas along the western, southwestern, and southern periphery of the empire, including the Xia 夏 Kingdom (1032–1227), the Gansu 甘肅 corridor, northern Vietnam, India, and the settlements of unregistered populations under autonomous rule in a broad area stretching across the modern provinces of Hunan 湖南, Jiangxi 江西, Guangdong 廣東, and Guangxi 廣西. This part concludes with two lists of place names: those of the states in the west and the islands in the South Sea. The lists

36 On Northern Song policies towards Tibetan domains, see Smith, “Irredentism as Political Capital.” the cultural logics of map reading 255 appear to have been copied from an older map for further reference only; many of these names do not appear on the map. Finally, the instructions turn to sets of natural features of the main- land that carried particular significance in the definition of the empire. The instructions appended to the main administrative map only mention the four rivers: the Yellow River, the Yangzi River, the Huai 淮 River, and the Ji 濟 River. Like the nine zones, these rivers were part of numerical sets of spatial features that had come to define the entirety of the Chinese territories by early imperial times at the latest. The headings accompanying the second general map in Lidai dili zhizhang tu complete the general instructions by adding other sets of rivers, the origins of the Yellow River, and the Five Peaks (Mount Song 嵩 in the center, Mount Tai 太 in the east, Mount Heng 衡 in the south, Mount Hua 華 in the west, and Mount Chang 常 [Heng 恆] in the north).37 These features appear on both the general maps in front and most other maps throughout the atlas. The features highlighted in the instructions combine to shape a permanent base layer of the empire. This base layer orients the viewer, shows the contours and defining features of the Chinese territories, and preserves a timeless and normative form of the empire. The map of the empire consists at its basic level of an administrative grid, the Great Wall, networks of rivers and mountains, and peoples and states on the periphery whose vague identities define the solidity of the empire. For Song cartographers the map of the empire defined Song territory. That viewers shared this notion of the equivalence of map and territory is evident from linguistic evidence: ‘map’ (ditu 地圖) was also used in the sense of ‘territory’ as in the phrase ‘to return the old map/territory’ (huan jiu ditu 還舊地圖).38

IV. Mapping Time: Archeo-Maps

With its forty-four maps, most of which bear a reference to a specific time period in Chinese history in their titles, Lidai dili zhizhang tu is

37 Song ben Lidai dili zhizhang tu, 11. The stele also includes this passage. Cao Wanru, Zhongguo gudai ditu ji, 44, #17; cf. Chavannes, “Les deux plus anciens spéci- mens,” 229–30. Mount Chang refers to Mount Heng; the text was amended accord- ingly in Zhang Ruyu, Qunshu kaosuo, qianji, 59.15a. 38 Cheng Gongxu, Cangzhou chen fou bian, 9.18a. 256 hilde de weerdt typically considered to be the firsthistorical atlas. To the historicist mind the timeless base layer of natural and cultural features explored in the previous section appears to contradict the very idea of the historical atlas. This contradiction is only apparent, however, and results from a core feature of twelfth-century administrative and historical thinking. The main political question addressed in the atlas and occupying its readers was how to order the empire. Mapmaking and map reading belonged to a repertoire of activities for ordering the world, which defined the moral and political thinking of the Song era. The discourse on ordering the world addressed the questions of both how the empire should be ordered and how it had been ordered historically. Ordering the world involves ordering space; and just as the normative ideas for ordering the world were set out in timeless classics, so the normative order of space was captured in the base layer of the map of the empire. Ordering space was also a historical and administrative project. To the editors and readers of Lidai dili zhizhang tu, the norm was present throughout history, but it was realized seldom, mostly imperfectly, or not at all. The two Song maps in the atlas support such a conclusion. The first map, “Taizu huangdi zhaozao zhi tu” 太祖皇帝肇造之圖 (“Map of Emperor Taizu founding the dynasty”) shows the territory Taizu (r. 960–76) acquired from the preceding Later Zhou 後周 Dynasty (951–60). His state is surrounded by the competing states of Liao, Wu 吳 (908–78), Eastern Han 東漢 (951–79), Southern Tang 南唐 (937–75), Southern Han 南漢 (917–71), Shu 蜀 (934–65), and the territories held by Zhou Baoquan 周保權 (952–85). The second map— “Shengchao Yuanfeng jiuyu tu” 聖朝元豐九域圖 (“Map of the nine zones during the Yuanfeng reign in our dynasty”)—shows the result of the Song founders’ campaigns. In contrast to the small number of opposing large states on the other map, this map shows a unified empire consisting of twenty-three administrative jurisdictions. These circuits constitute an atomized world; each is drawn like an island in the sea of the empire. They appear on the same plane; none of the jurisdictions are bolded. The competition, in boldface, has moved to the northern and western periphery where the Khitan Liao and the Tangut Xia states define the limits of the unified world. This map shows that by the Yuanfeng reign (1078–85) the Song government had come close to restoring the normative grid of imperial administration (“the nine zones”), even though the extension of the Liao Empire below the line of the Great Wall continued to be a historical problem. the cultural logics of map reading 257

In the normative order of administrative subdivision captured in the first general map in the atlas (Fig. 7.1) the Sixteen Prefectures then under Khitan rule were shown as Chinese territory, and the Khitan who had been breaching the imaginary line of the Great Wall since the tenth century were moved to a location north of the Wall. If then there appears to be room for history in this atlas, the question emerges how time was mapped. In their modern incarnation historical maps “were conscious historical statements dependent on a sense of the past as a separate sphere, one that was of relevance and could be interrogated, but which remained separate.”39 Jeremy Black, a prominent historian of historical atlases, uses such a modern interpretation of the historical in defining historical maps and the historical atlas, and therefore concludes that “China was not central to the development of historical atlases.”40 Admittedly, Lidai dili zhizhang tu maps a different relationship between past and present—but one that was no less historical, and more post-modern than modern. The representation of time, as well as space, in Song historical maps enveloped past, present, and future.41 Time was mapped through a process of overlaying. This is most evident in the first map, “Gujin huayi quyu zongyao tu.” The base layer includes the names of all Song circuits and prefectures. Superim- posed on it are the names of select prefectures and circuits from other time periods. Pre-Song place names are marked off by little circles on top, and carry time references such as “Antiquity” (pre-Qin), “Han,” “Jin,” and “Tang.” The circles are most likely a translation to the print medium of an older manuscript technique. We know that the early imperial maps of Pei Xiu 裴秀 (224–71) and Jia Dan displayed present and past names and that Jia Dan applied color to distinguish between them. Color printing is not attested during the Song period; the color code was therefore replaced by the use of dots superimposed on past

39 Black, Maps and History, 8; also 6. 40 Ibid., 4. 41 The spatial turn in the humanities combined with the interest in social constructions of time have in recent years produced scholarship that analyzes the diversity of the social experience of time and space and that underscores the simultaneity of past, present, and future in the modern experience of time and space. See, for example, May and Thrift, eds., TimeSpace. In their introduction to this volume May and Thrift develop a promising model for writing the history of the social experience of time and space based on the investigation of human practice in four inter-related domains: natural cycles, social discipline, technologies, and texts (pp. 3–6). 258 hilde de weerdt geographical names. The selection of the time layers suggests that in general maps the cartographers of the empire were mostly interested in mapping places representing dynasties that had controlled unified empires for extended periods of time. Whereas the mapping of different time layers may appear self-evident in a map that claims to cover the broad outlines of administrative geographies throughout the course of Chinese history, the systematic application of the overlay in the atlas is less so. For example, all seven pre-Qin maps display the base layer of Song prefectures. In these and subsequent maps place names related to the time period in the map title are marked by black dots. As shown in “Chunqiu lieguo zhi tu” 春秋列國之圖 (“Map of the Spring and Autumn States”) in Fig. 7.3 the overlay of present and past place names stretches both past space and present time. On the one hand, present prefectures appear to occupy space that, especially in the south, cannot be correlated to past jurisdictions. By placing southern administrative terms on a map of antiquity, the space of the south is stretched way beyond what the historical records could attest. And, indeed, most of the south was not incorporated into larger administrative structures for centuries. On the other hand, present prefectures are shown within the boundaries of the Spring and Autumn states, also in the south. The present of Song prefectures is thus stretched way back in the past. The overlay of present and past place names and jurisdictions was systematic and methodical in Song historical cartography. It was systematic because many of the printed historical maps, including those in Liujing tu, Diwang jingshi tupu, ‘Yugong’ shanchuan dili tu, Yugong shuo duan 禹貢說斷 (Evaluating explanations of ‘ The Tribute of Yu’), Chunqiu fenji 春秋分紀 (Analyses of the Spring and Autumn period), and Wudai shi xiangjie, superimposed a layer of past places on a layer of Song place names. It was methodical because the layers were visibly differentiated and past features were selected on the basis of their relevance to the map topic and their significance in present historical memory. Past and present are thus mapped as both separate and co- existing. There is no conflation here of antiquity and present reality, but a recognition that the present is part of a layered past and that the past is experienced through the present. This mode of historical thinking about space resembles the archeological, a term used by Michael Shanks to describe the modern experience of the past. In the archeological experience the site of the discovered past is a site of loss and ruin that the non-specialist recontextualizes in the cultural logics of map reading 259 Fig. 7.3. “Chunqiu lieguo zhi tu” (“Map of the Spring and Autumn States”). (Reproduced with permission from Toyo Bunko, Tokyo.) 260 hilde de weerdt the present. The archeological experience differentiates layers of the past but does not replicate the chronological composition of layers that structures archeology as a discipline: “The temporality of . . . the archeological project is neither linear nor a slice through time; it is convoluted.”42 The temporality of the archeological is the synchronicity of past and present, or, to put it more succinctly, it is the present-past. In Shanks’ description of the modern archeological experience, this present-past is the result of a one-directional merging of pasts (and present interests) into the present. The present is primary because the past has to be recalled through the medium of the present.43 In the archeo-maps of the Song Dynasty the overlay of spatial configurations effects a bi-directional merging of past and present. Places of the past and ruins of the imagination like the Great Wall are drawn into a presentist reading of the empire. At the same time, the maps allow the reader to see present place names in the context of an imagined imperial order of the past—a present place can then merge into the past and thereby acquire a semblance of continuity into the present. This may be a romantic fallacy, but it is one with powerful ideological consequences. Encountering contemporary prefectures on a map representing empires of the past allows readers to view familiar local places as more than carriers of local memory and as present ruins of imperial pasts to be restored in the future. The representation of time as a past/present in which past and present continually merge into each other was in the case of Michael Shanks the outcome of a critique of a discipline and an attempt to reorient it towards the interpretation of the multiplicity of experiences of material artifacts. In the case of the Song mapmakers it was part of a broader cultural strategy to make sense of spatial disorder. It was a strategy that informed administrative thinking and practice in various articulations. Policy proposals, either in the form of memorials submitted by officials or of the policy response essays written by examination candidates, also consisted of an assemblage of different temporal layers. The authors typically moved between discussing present problems and recalling moments in the far and more recent past. Imagin- ing and reconstituting spatial and political order required a constant reconfiguring of the past and the present.

42 Pearson and Shanks, Theatre/Archeology, 55. 43 Ibid., 42. the cultural logics of map reading 261

This ordering imperative in administrative thinking stimulated the production of sites in which the past could be retrieved. During the twelfth century the print archive became a privileged site for the discovery of the past. Editors and commercial printers were engaged in an ongoing competition to produce and reproduce archival compilations that at once covered the imperial past and the Song present comprehensively and rendered it easily accessible to the visiting reader.44 The historical atlas was similarly conceived of as a comprehensive archive. It aimed to cover the whole past by producing at least one map for each dynastic period in Chinese history, but it also claimed to make specific moments and places of the geographical past readily accessible to the contemporary reader. It allowed for a chronological reading as well as for the consultation and combination of select past and present layers. Editors enhanced the reference value of the atlas by adding brief overviews of the political history and spatial organization of each dynasty mapped in textual and tabular formats. As shown in “Yuan Wei Beiguo tu” 元魏北國圖 (“The map of the Wei Dynasty and the Northern States”) in Fig. 7.4 the atlas took on the form of a well- organized and multi-media geo-temporal archive. The right column summarizes the history of the Wei (386–534) dynastic house, measures its duration in generations, explains its administrative organization, and concludes with the military clashes that brought its rule to an end. The left column is a comparative chronological table that juxtaposes the reigns of Wei emperors to those of rulers of other dynasties governing other parts of the Chinese territories at the time. Time is thus mapped simultaneously through the overlay of past and present layers on the map and through the display of the table of attributes of past layers. Time and space are co-extensive: the political history in narrative and table help interpret the organization of space; conversely, the map shows the spatial form of political history. However, this map also shows that in Lidai dili zhizhang tu the spatial form of political history always maps onto the base layer of the Chinese Empire and so consistently refers back to the question of order and disorder. The demarcation of time in textual mark-up in printed maps and atlases (through the application of punctuation and stress marks as noted above) provides an illustration of how print affected models

44 De Weerdt, “Byways in the Imperial Chinese Information Order.” 262 hilde de weerdt Fig. 7.4. “Yuan Wei beiguo tu” (“Map of the Dynasty and Northern States”). (Reproduced with permission from Toyo Bunko, Tokyo.) the cultural logics of map reading 263 of paratext more generally. The differentiation of temporal layers is attested in descriptions of manuscript maps, just as the other types of paratext discussed above are not new with the introduction and spread of woodblock printing. Even though paratextual elements such as author attributions, prefaces, tables of contents, headings, and subheadings were not new inventions in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, the systematic combination of all sorts of paratextual elements and their homogenization resulted from the competition in all sec- tors of the book market (commercial, private, and official). Printers shared editorial techniques such as thematic and structural mark-up through the use of printed stress and punctuation marks; such techniques spilled over from one genre to the next and appeared in the main staples of the market such as encyclopedias and anthologies (see below) as well as in works like historical atlases similarly destined for the growing readership of literate elites preparing themselves for the civil service examinations. The growing use of print technology thus coincided with the development of a paratextual language, a set of signs and patterns which were shared by cultural producers to both shape reading habits and respond to emerging reading conventions.

V. Text and the Dissemination of a Cultural Logic for Reading the Empire

Lidai dili zhizhang tu went through multiple reprints in the twelfth and the thirteenth centuries and was still being reproduced during the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644). It was quoted in various contemporary works, and some of these contemporary uses of the atlas allow us a glimpse into its reception history. Its reproduction in one of the better-known encyclopedias of the thirteenth century, Zhang Ruyu’s 章如愚 (js 1196) Qunshu kaosuo 群書考索 (Investigations into multitudes of books) suggests, along with the atlas’ publication history, that Lidai dili zhizhang tu superseded earlier work on the geography of the empire. Zhang Ruyu spent most of his life teaching at home.45 His encyclopedia was the result of a lifetime of research and teaching. The earliest

45 Later biographical records note that Zhang Ruyu spent years as an educator at the highest institution of learning in the empire and as a lecturer at court, but, as Peter Bol has shown, these accounts cannot be corroborated and were probably added to 264 hilde de weerdt edition was printed in the first half of the thirteenth century by Mr. Cao’s Zhongyin Academy (Cao shi Zhongyin shuyuan 曹氏中隠書院), most likely the name of a printshop located in Jinhua 金華 Prefecture. By 1248 this edition was picked up by another printer who claimed that the first edition was produced inexpensively but that the layout was too crammed; this edition aimed to render the material more accessible.46 Zhang Ruyu’s encyclopedia may have been popular with examination candidates; by the early fourteenth century an abbreviated edition reportedly circulated “for the convenience of those preparing for the examinations.”47 Zhang’s work, like other work of its kind, covered a wide variety of topics ranging from the classics and the histories to finance, law, bureaucratic organization, ritual, the military, border affairs, astronomy, and geography.48 The geography section took up sevenjuan (chapters). He divided it up into administrative subdivisions (zhoujun 州郡), customs (fengsu 風俗), strategic places (yaohai 要害), population (hukou 戶口), reg- isters (banji 版籍), maps of the empire (yudi tu 輿地圖), land distribution (tianzhi 田制), and water conservation (shuili 水利). With two entire chapters devoted to it, administrative organization was the largest of the sections. It offered an extensive account of the spatial order of the empire and a history of its spatial organization, based on a virtual replication of Lidai dili zhizhang tu, albeit without most of the maps.49 Like Shui Anli, Zhang Ruyu first introduced the reader to the universal base layer of the empire. He reorganized the sequence of the general instructions somewhat by placing all the content from the general survey maps in front. He started with the correlation of juris- new editions of the encyclopedia to heighten the profile of its compiler. Bol, “Zhang Ruyu,” 645–50. 46 Ibid., 646–47. 47 Wu Shidao, Jingxiang lu, 13.5a; cited in De Weerdt, “Aspects of Song Intellectual Life,” 5–6. 48 Peter Bol traces the compilation and publication history of the encyclopedia and demonstrates that the encyclopedia grew in size in later editions. The section on geography (dili men 地理門) discussed here appears in the first series and was most likely part of the earliest layers of the encyclopedia; it appears in the 1248 Song edition. For a comparative table of the 1248 and later editions, see Bol, “Zhang Ruyu,” 659–60. 49 Zhang Ruyu refers to Lidai dili zhizhang tu only once, when, true to his goal of collating various sources on the same topics in Qunshu kaosuo, he compares its text to that of variant sources; Qunshu kaosuo, qianji, 59.18a. In a later supplement to the encyclopedia, information not derived from the atlas is added under the topic of geography; Qunshu kaosuo, xuji, juan 49–52. the cultural logics of map reading 265 dictions to the constellations, and reproduced a copy of the diagram of the twenty-eight constellations included in Lidai dili zhizhang tu. Then followed the text of the other general maps. Zhang reproduced the instructions appended to “Gujin huayi quyu zongyao tu” and subsequent maps, listing the rivers, mountains, and administrative place names readers were to ‘mark’ on the map of the empire. The sequence of the instructions followed that in the atlas, with the exception that all instructions relating to the periphery of the empire were dropped. This omission may be due to the knowledge that the peoples and states on the periphery were discussed in more detail elsewhere in the encyclopedia under the subject “Non-Chinese” (Yidi men 夷狄門).50 Zhang’s adoption of the reading instructions in Lidai dili zhizhang tu suggests that he considered them a better introduction to the geography of the empire than earlier alternatives such as the geographical treatises in the dynastic histories or the comprehensive gazetteers of the empire. He also copied the atlas’ chronological tour through the history of imperial territory. The headings for Zhang’s written overviews of the spatial extent and history of all major dynasties corresponded exactly to the map titles in Lidai dili zhizhang tu. With minor changes and additions, the text matched the explanatory text, and sometimes the tables, attached to the atlas maps. Excepting the diagram of the constellations, maps of the empire do not appear to have been reproduced in Qunshu kaosuo. Maps were more difficult to reproduce than most other kinds of figures; their reproduction required a higher investment of time and effort, and resulted in a higher cost. Beyond considerations of cost, the absence of the graphic representations of the empire may also suggest that readers could come across maps of the empire in other settings and that the more crucial task of the encyclopedist and printer was to teach them how to decode this genre of map. Once memorized, the instructions could also serve as a mnemonic aid for the student to reconstruct a map visually even in the absence of the physical artifact. The reproduction of the map reading instructions and explanatory texts preserved and promoted a cultural logic for imagining and interpreting the map of the empire. The notes under “Mark administrative subdivisions past and present” mapped Song administrative subdivisions onto the nine zones of antiquity and thus reproduced the

50 Zhang Ruyu, Qunshu kaosuo, bieji, juan 22. 266 hilde de weerdt overlay of present and past in Song maps of the empire. The preservation of the atlas’s sequence from general to time-specific maps similarly reinforced a logic in which the changing incarnations of administrative division were read against the backdrop of a constant form of imperial territory. The administrative geography section in Qunshu kaosuo only covered Lidai dili zhizhang tu. Judging from the atlas’s wholesale adoption in this private encyclopedia, the notion that in the historical geography of the empire readers could detect both a timeless spatial order and historical trajectories in which that order was lost and restored gained currency between the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The inclusion of these instructions in an encyclopedia aimed at examination candidates illustrates that the development of a reading logic was not limited to the commercially printed atlas. The headings in the printed atlas were part of a more general development in the twelfth century. Printed editions of prose style manuals, often attached to larger anthologies, for example, applied an analogous language of analysis to model prose texts. They taught students how to “scan” prose and “mark” key passages. In printed anthologies this general advice was illustrated through paratextual elements such as headings and interlinear mark-up. The commonalities in editorial technique across different genres of printed instructional materials suggest that a metalanguage for the analysis of various kinds of textual and graphic objects developed at this time. These analytical and critical approaches were probably developed in teaching practice, but the translation of classroom analysis into printed manuals spread both the objects and the methods of analysis. The selection of texts and images in anthologies and atlases and the critical methods applied to them were part of processes of canonization. As I have shown elsewhere, prose anthologies and style manuals were key in the canonization of Ancient Prose (guwen 古文) in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries;51 one could say equally that the production and reproduction of Lidai dili zhizhang tu helped canonize a particular image of the empire and a cultural logic for reading that image at least for the duration of the Song Dynasty. The cultural logic embedded in the reading instructions is characterized not only by the features to be noted and the layers to be imagined,

51 De Weerdt, “Canon Formation and Examination Culture”; Competition over Content, chs. 4 and 6. the cultural logics of map reading 267 but also by what is left unsaid in the text and unmarked on the maps.52 Even though during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries large numbers of maps of the empire were available in the public domain in print, stele inscriptions, and rubbings, none, to my knowledge, represented the Song Empire’s actual extent, and none represented the co-existence of two empires, the Jin in the north and the Song in the south.53 Maps of the Liao and Jin Empires circulated separately,54 and the geographical knowledge of those empires extended far beyond what was represented on the maps of the empire in circulation. The continued circulation of maps showing the Northern Song administrative subdivision was not due simply to the conservatism or cost-consciousness of commercial printers; rather, it was due to the assumption that the map of the Song Empire ought to represent what the empire should look like and inspire readers to desire the spatial order that the Song founders had been able to restore, albeit with the exception of the Sixteen Prefectures.

VI. Conclusion

The material aspects of the map, both the medium that carries it and the graphic techniques by which it is conveyed, condition its circulation and reading. Before the twelfth century maps of the empire were drawn on silk or wooden strips, or constructed out of concrete materials such as soil, metal, and wood. Concrete maps such as the map of the empire in the First Emperor’s tomb or the wooden model of the empire reportedly made in the fifth century55 tended to be fixed in

52 For a reading of silences in Japanese maps, see Yonemoto, “Silence Without Secrecy?” 53 One possible exception is the atlas Liuhe zhangyun tu 六合掌運圖 listed in Chen Zhensun, Zhizhai shulu jieti, 8.266. According to Chen Zhensun this atlas included forty maps, starting with a map of the footsteps of Yu and ending with a map depicting the area of “the northern territories” (beidi 北地). This suggests that it may have included maps of the empire as well as a map depicting the northern territories under separate rule. This atlas is no longer extant and is not mentioned elsewhere. 54 Two maps of Liao territory are included in Ye Longli 葉隆禮 (js 1247), Qidan guozhi 契丹國志. They are reproduced in Cao Wanru,Zhongguo gudai ditu ji, plates 112 and 113 and discussed in the same work, 26–27. That maps of Jin territory were also in circulation is clear from a private collector’s description of a book titled Jinguo Cheng’an xuzhi 金國承安須知. He notes that besides information on the bureaucracy of Jin it also included one or more geographical maps. Chao Gongwu, Junzhai dushuzhi jiaozheng, fuzhi, 1132–33. 55 Chavannes, “Les deux plus anciens spécimens,” 243–44. 268 hilde de weerdt one particular location. This limited their exposure and thus the likelihood of duplication and survival. Large maps produced between the fourth and ninth centuries appear to have been portable, but the use of expensive materials such as silk and their manual execution con- stricted their circulation. Maps of the empire were primarily produced for imperial readership and were seldom commented upon outside the context of the court before the twelfth century. Their restricted readership and circulation help explain why neither originals nor reproductions have survived. The fact that dozens of maps of the empire from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries remain whereas none drawn before this time have survived is no coincidence. The use of print technology in the dissemination of maps of the empire changed the ways in which they were read. Small-scale maps appeared in atlases and were also inserted in various types of books. The insertion of the map in commercially published books best illustrates its commodification: from unique carriers of imperial authority, maps of the empire turned into standardized images of the empire reproduced in atlases, works of classical exegesis, political history, and Buddhist historiography and were converted back into printed text in encyclopedias such as Qunshu kaosuo. Print not only made maps of the empire more widely available, it also presented them in formats that made them easy to manipulate, allowed them to be taken to a desk or held in hand, and thus rendered them available for consultation. The transition to print atlases in sixteenth-century Europe made possible, in Christian Jacob’s words, “a different kind of mastery of the world,” one that was characterized by an encyclopedic and analytical logic.56 In a similar vein, the translation of large-scale maps of the empire onto the woodblock enabled different kinds of viewings, more specifically readings, that were characterized not primarily by an analytical and cumulative logic, which in the European case led to the regular publication of updated editions of atlases, but by practicality. As is evident from its title, Lidai dili zhizhang tu included maps of the empire that were ‘demonstrable in the palm of the hand’—the same term was at the time also applied to other printed maps. Publish- ers thus claimed to produce maps that provided convenient, clear, and reliable information about the empire; maps were not marketed as a

56 Jacob and Dahl, Sovereign Map, 67. the cultural logics of map reading 269 resource for further geographical analysis. Practicality informed production and reading in two ways. Maps were added to printed books as aids in the study of history and in classical exegesis. The atlas stored information from heterogeneous sources into formats such as the map and the table that allowed for the visualization and integration of fundamental markers of space and time. Since knowledge of historical geography and the ability to merge past and present spatial history were required of examination candidates, and thus became structural features of the discourse of literate elites, the atlas, as the publication history of Lidai dili zhizhang tu suggests, sold well. Maps that were ‘demonstrable in the palm of the hand’ also instilled in the minds of their readers an image of the empire. The pedagogical drive in the world of commercial printing in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries ensured that first-time map readers would learn how to recreate and preserve that image. Reading instructions accompanied the graphic part of the map in Lidai dili zhizhang tu and were further disseminated in commercially printed encyclopedias such as Qunshu kaosuo. Beyond the simplifications of earlier models first developed in monumental manuscript maps, it is doubtful that printers changed the image of empire significantly; the map of the empire remained a symbol of political unification, administrative organization, and the centrality of the ‘middle kingdom’. However, the fact that the image of normative empire was now in the hands of large numbers of the scholar-official elite made a difference. Maps carry political meaning and were understood to do so ever since they were first written about in Chinese historical records. The trope of the founding emperor reading a map of the empire first articulated in the early centuries of the first millennium symbolized the political meaning of the map, but also powerfully underscored that maps then conferred exclusive authority on the individual who interpreted them. For the same reason the use of administrative maps was subject to conventions restricting their circulation.57 Printed maps

57 Even though there appears to be a tacit understanding among historians of Chi- nese cartography that the circulation of maps was restricted by law, there appears to be very little evidence for legal prohibitions on maps through the Song period. There were prohibitions on esoteric charts in the Tang and Song codes, but maps were not specifically targeted. The circulation of maps appears to have become of concern when foreign envoys were involved. Shen Gua 沈括 (1031–95) tells the story of a court official collecting and subsequently burning the local maps that Korean envoys picked up from local government offices while traveling through those areas. Shen Gua dates 270 hilde de weerdt facilitated the appropriation of the map’s symbolic power by the growing readership of scholars and aspiring officials in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. They could thus become symbols of literati opposition to negotiated peace and embody the literati ultimatum on the recovery of the central plains occupied by the Jin state at the time of their production and reproduction.58

the story to the Xining 熙寧 era (1068–77). Possibly as a result of this event, Emperor Shenzong 神宗 (r. 1068–85) endorsed a prohibition on the practice of providing local maps to travelers. Shen Gua, Mengxi bitan jiaozheng, 13.467–68; SHY, zhiguan, 22.9. Shen Gua’s anecdote is frequently cited as an example of a policy of secrecy restricting map use. See, for example, Li Qi “Woguo Songdai ditu dang’an,” 64. 58 I discuss the symbolism of maps of the empire in twelfth- and thirteenth-century poetry in “Maps and Memory.” This paragraph is based on this article, 146. PART FOUR

CONTROL: THE ART OF RECYCLING HISTORY IN PRINT

CHEN JUN’S OUTLINE AND DETAILS: PRINTING AND POLITICS IN THIRTEENTH-CENTURY PEDAGOGICAL HISTORIES

Charles Hartman

I. Introduction

This paper explores the compilation and early printing history of three thirteenth-century works on Song Dynasty history written in the ‘outline and details’ (gangmu 綱目) format. An investigation of surviving exemplars, along with entries in traditional rare book catalogs, reveals that late Song printers formed these three books, which had originally been composed as independent works, into a ‘trilogy’ that presented, in a unified printed format, a history of the Song from 960 through 1224. This project represents the first attempt to print a continuous history of the still reigning Song Dynasty and reveals much about the intersection of history, printing, and politics in the thirteenth century. The first work in the series, Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao 皇朝編年綱目備要(Chronologically arranged complete essentials in outline and details of the august court), completed by Chen Jun 陳均 (1174–1244) around 1229, covers Song Dynasty history from its founding in 960 through the fall of Kaifeng in 1127. The second work, Zhongxing liangchao biannian gangmu 中興兩朝編年綱目 (Chrono- logically arranged outline and details of the two restoration courts), completed by Chen Jun sometime after 1229, covers the reigns of Emperors Gaozong 高宗 and Xiaozong 孝宗 from the ‘Restoration’ in 1127 through 1189. The third work,Xubian liangchao gangmu beiyao 續編兩朝綱目備要 (Complete essentials in outline and detail of the two courts, continued), an anonymous work certainly not by Chen Jun, covers the reigns of Emperors Guangzong 光宗 and Ningzong 寧宗 from 1190 through 1224. Although modern scholars treat these as three separate works, the great bibliophile Zhang Jinwu 張金吾 (1787–1829) first recognized that the surviving imprints of these works shared a common printing history. This paper hopes to draw forth the full ramifications of this 274 charles hartman insight.1 The goals of the compilers and the printers of this series were both political and pedagogical, and printing was central to both sets of goals. Politically, the trilogy articulates a distinctive view of Song history that began to emerge in association with the Learning of the Way movement (Daoxue 道學) in Fujian Province in the second half of the twelfth century, then gained in definition as a voice of political opposition to the policies of Shi Miyuan 史彌遠 (1164–1233), the sole chief councilor from 1209 through 1233. This viewpoint valued the policies and personalities of the Northern Song Yuanyou 元祐 period (1086–93). Following Shi’s death, politicians of this persuasion came briefly to power during the subsequent Duanping端平 (1234–36) era, an interlude known as the ‘minor Yuanyou period’ in acknowledge- ment of its political inspiration and pedigree. Pedagogically, the use of the ‘outline and detail’ format, which Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) had devised in the 1170s, aimed to make this distinctive view of Song history accessible to the growing ranks of Daoxue students and to those officials who supported a Daoxue political agenda. For this audience, the ‘outline and details’ trilogy of Chen Jun offered a condensed, politically focused, and accessible version of Song history that both foregrounded the role that Daoxue had played in that history and advocated an increased role for Daoxue in Song political life. But the wide dissemination through the printing of the trilogy and similar thirteenth-century works led to the eclipse of earlier twelfth- century compilations that offered a more comprehensive yet less focused and thus less politically relevant vision of the Song past. Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian 續資治通鑑長編 (Long draft continuation of the “Comprehensive mirror for aid in governance”), compiled by Li Tao 李燾 (1115–84) between the 1140s and 1183, and Jianyan yilai xinian yaolu 建炎以來繫年要錄 (Chronological record of important events since 1127), completed by Li Xinchuan 李心傳 (1167–1244) about 1208, were massive chronological histories. Both were masterpieces of the Sichuan school of Song historiography; and their shared goal was to evaluate and correct the court-compiled documentary record of Song history. Both were major sources for Chen Jun. But the popularity of the shorter trilogy—and its focused political message—eclipsed the earlier, larger works and may serve as an example of the transition

1 Zhang Jinwu, Airijing lou cangshu zhi, 9.13a–17b. chen jun’s outline and details 275 from a ‘documentary’ to a ‘pedagogical’ approach in Southern Song historical writing.

II. A Shift in Historiographical Attitudes

Before discussing the trilogy in detail, I would like to address in general terms this ‘shift’ in historiographical attitude that prepared the way for the appearance of Chen Jun and his works. One should first remember that neither Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian nor Jianyan yilai xinian yaolu survive in its original form. Although most Song historians believe that complete, printed editions of these works existed soon after their completion, little hard evidence supports this belief. The early printing history of these massive works remains obscure; it is unclear if either was ever printed in its entirety. The modern editions of both works derive from reconstitutions that eighteenth-century court scholars working on the Siku quanshu 四庫全書 project generated when they extracted passages from Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian and Jianyan yilai xinian yaolu that had been copied previously into the Yongle dadian 永樂大典 of 1407. The problem may thus be posed in this way: from the modern perspective, why did the two greatest monuments of Song history writing wither and almost (save for the all-encompassing Yongle dadian) per- ish, when, at precisely the same time, the trilogy, clearly works of lesser stature, were compiled, printed, and thus survived intact to modern times? The answer has three parts, and all are interrelated. First is the rise of Daoxue. Second is an ensuing shift from a ‘documentary’ to a ‘pedagogical’ view of the function of history. And third is the Mongol invasion of Sichuan in the 1230s. The period between Li Tao’s completion ofXu Zizhi tongjian changbian in 1183 and Chen Jun’s completion of his first book on Northern Song history in 1229 witnessed the transformation of Daoxue from a loose association of local scholars with vacillating political support to a broad-based, national movement with representatives at the highest levels of government. One result of this transformation was the spread of private ‘academies’ (shuyuan 書院) that taught a Daoxue curriculum; also, an increasing number of officials with Daoxue affiliations became responsible for public educational institutions in the jurisdictions where they served.2 The content and methodologyof preparation for the jinshi

2 See Walton, Academies and Society. 276 charles hartman

進士 examinations changed and affected—among many other things— both the teaching of history and the production of printed books to assist in examination preparation.3 Knowledge of history, and especially Song history, was vital to success on the policy questions of the jinshi examination. Although encyclopedias such as Huangchao shishi leiyuan 皇朝事實類苑 (1145) might offer some assistance, before the advent of Daoxue, hand-copied versions of the officially compiled ‘veritable records’ (shilu 實錄) and ‘state histories’ (guoshi 國史) provided the only comprehensive accounts of Song history.4 These works, essentially annalistic chronol- ogies destined for eventual compression into the ‘basic annals’ (benji 本紀) of the state history, were derived from, and intended primarily as, digests of dynastic historical archives. However, their extensive coverage and inordinate length made such annalistic histories problematic as pedagogical tools. Sima Guang 司馬光 (1019–86), who had prepared Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 (Comprehensive mirror for aid in governance) at Emperor Shenzong’s 神宗 (r. 1068–85) command and for his express use in policy discussions, himself acknowledged the unwieldiness of Zizhi tongjian and prepared an index and perhaps a condensed version of the text.5 Both Li Tao and Li Xinchuan acknowledged Zizhi tongjian as their model and adopted its ‘annals’ (biannian 編年) format. In this format, individual ‘events’ are arranged in strict, daily chronological order with no attempt to make connections between related events. Both Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian and Jianyan yilai xinian yaolu were written as correctives to the perceived contradictions and inadequacies in existing state archives—the ‘veritable records’ in the case of Li Tao and the ‘daily calendar’ (rili 日歷) in the case of Li Xinchuan—and both works were formally submitted to the court History Office. Like Sima Guang, the two Sichuan historians formulated a main text that drew upon those primary sources that, in their opinion, best reflected ‘what had actually happened.’ But, when their sources presented conflict-

3 See De Weerdt, Competition over Content, 130–50, 270–97. 4 Access to the state history and related materials in the Imperial Library was restricted to certain court officials. As we shall see below, such officials, and their offspring, often benefited from this access. Prohibitions on printing and copying of the state history were only sporadically enforced. See De Weerdt, “Byways in the Imperial Chinese Information Order,” 145–88. 5 See Hartman, “Bibliographic Notes,” 189–200. chen jun’s outline and details 277 ing or alternative versions of events, they also retained other primary documents in the form of interlinear commentary. None of these historians denied the moral value of history, but they held that history’s moral lessons would emerge as self-evident from their balanced and transparent evaluation of the sources.6 Zhu Xi, although he restrained his criticism of Sima Guang, found the ‘annals’ format unsuited to his educational program. He believed the discursive evaluation of conflicting sources impeded the quick perception of history’s moral messages. He was profoundly uncomfort- able with Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian and agitated until the end of his life for changes, excisions, and additions to Li Tao’s text.7 As early as 1167, he devised a new format for the writing of history, which he termed ‘outline and details’ (gangmu), and inaugurated a project to rework Zizhi tongjian into the new format. Zhu Xi continued to work on the project until his death in 1200. Zizhi tongjian gangmu 資治通鑑綱目 (Outline and details of “Comprehensive mirror for aid in governance”) was eventually completed and published in 1219.8 In designing this format, Zhu Xi hoped to combine the laconic virtues of the classic Chunqiu 春秋 (Spring and autumn) together with the expansive detail found in early works of narrative history such as Zuo zhuan 左傳 (Commentary of Zuo). Traditional understanding of Chunqiu held that Confucius had embedded the diction of this classic with encoded linguistic tags that telegraphed his moral judgments on specific events. It was precisely this moral precision that Zhu Xi found lacking in Sima Guang’s annalistic work. He devised, therefore, in imitation of Chunqiu diction, a list of specific verbal codes and, using this code language, he composed the ‘outline’ (gang) for his work. The text of the gang, printed in large, ‘boldface’ characters in the edition of 1219, are thus morally encoded ‘headlines,’ which, chronologically arranged, provide the structure or ‘outline’ of history. Underneath each gang, the ‘details’ (mu), printed as double-lined, interlinear commentary, elaborate on the event telegraphed in the gang (Fig. 8.1). Unlike the gang passages, which are chronologically fixed, themu passages, double-spaced under each gang, freely select and combine texts from

6 Hartman, “Making of a Villain,” 145–46, n. 185. 7 See Hartman, “Reluctant Historian,” 100–48. 8 For details see Hartman, “Bibliographic Notes,” 192–97. For the first imprint of Zizhi tongjian gangmu see Guoli zhongyang tushuguan, Guoli zhongyang tushuguan Songben tulu, 117–18; for other Song editions see Poon, “Books and Printing,” 418. 278 charles hartman

Fig. 8.1. Zhu Xi, Zizhi tongjian gangmu, 1219 Wenling edition, folio 1.1a, reproduced from Chen Jian 陳堅 and Ma Wenda 馬文大, Song Yuan banke tu shi 宋元版刻圖釋 (4 vols. Beijing: Xueyuan chubanshe, 2000), I.131. chen jun’s outline and details 279 different time periods to fashion a narrative, cause-and-effect sequence that illustrates the moral message embedded in the headline. From Zhu Xi’s perspective, this format solved the two major problems of Zizhi tongjian: 1) to avoid the perceived moral opacity of the former work, the gang foregrounded for students the specific moral messages of history; 2) to avoid the annalistic rigidity of the former work, the mu made connections between chronologically disparate events, combining individual entries from Zizhi tongjian into sweeping narratives that elucidated the moral consequences of individual action. Fundamental differences concerning the source and function of both main text and commentary in a work of history thus repose beneath the ‘annalistic’ (biannian) versus the ‘outline and details’ (gangmu) formats. I have chosen to label this difference ‘documentary’ versus ‘pedagogical.’ These terms are my own and are intended to serve only as theoretically abstract poles to frame this discussion. For Sima Guang and his followers in Sichuan, their main text was a careful reworking of primary sources, and their main text reflected their evaluation of those sources. The commentary presented the documents and judgments behind those evaluations. Because Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian and Jianyan yilai xinian yaolu reposed on archived, documentary sources and were intended as historiographically definitive interpretations of those sources, they may be considered ‘documentary.’ For Zhu Xi and his Daoxue followers, the main text of an ‘outline and details’ work was a collection of self-composed, formulaically created tags, usually with no direct textual connection to a primary source. The commentary was a collage of primary text (often without identification of source) mixed with secondary comment from previous Daoxue scholars, and was intended to support the moral judgments in the main text. Because their ultimate purpose was moral education and examination preparation, such works may be considered ‘pedagogical.’9 Given the thirteenth-century proliferation of Daoxue academies, the growing social acceptance of the movement, and the ever-increasing numbers of jinshi candidates, it should come as no surprise that the

9 My discussion here avoids the question of the extent to which the present text of Zizhi tongjian gangmu actually contains a set of consistently embedded moral tags in the gang. The question is complex and involves differing scholarly opinions on the extent of Zhu Xi’s personal participation in the project and on the nature of the contributions by his disciples both before and after his death. For a detailed discussion see Lee Tsong-han, “Different Mirrors of the Past,” 74–130. 280 charles hartman pedagogical approach to history triumphed over the documentary. The gangmu histories of Chen Jun all declare themselves to be abridgments and/or reworkings of Li Tao and Li Xinchuan. The popularity of the abridgments (and the ideology that generated them) rendered the originals superfluous. Other factors contributed to this eclipse. The Mongol invasion of Sichuan began in 1231 and within five years had decimated much of the province, destroying the Sichuan printing establishment as well as the libraries and archives that had made possible the compilations of Li Tao and Li Xinchuan. Li Xinchuan and his associates joined the flood of refugees fleeing eastward. The 1230s marked the end of Sichuan as a center of Song printing and likewise as a center of the ‘documentary’ tradition of Song historiography.10 The politics of the court History Office in the capital made it an ill-suited location for sustained historical work, and although both Li Tao and Li Xinchuan had appointments there, their major works were written during periods away from the capital, mostly in Sichuan. The destruction of the Sichuan printing establishment created opportunities for printers from other areas. Although the Fujian printers were well-established by the middle of the Southern Song, there is a strong correlation between the rise of Daoxue, especially Zhu Xi’s Fujian school of Daoxue and its affiliated academies, and the rapid expansion of the Fujian, especially Jianyang 建陽, printers in late Song and Yuan. Not only was Zhu Xi himself in the printing business, but two of the three major lineages of Jianyang printers (the Liu and the Xiong) counted active Daoxue scholars and authors among their members.11 One might argue that the family connections between Fujian Daoxue teachers and Fujian printers enabled Zhu Xi and his followers better to understand and utilize the power of printing to spread their claims to doctrinal orthodoxy over rivals in Yongjia and other regions, where the local printing establishments were not as extensive as in Fujian. In other words, the vitality of the Fujian printers was a local resource, in essence a technological advantage, which Zhu Xi and his followers inherently understood and adroitly exploited.

10 See Hartman, “Li Hsin-ch’uan and the Historical Image,” 324, and McDermott, Social History, 55–57. 11 For Zhu Xi as a printer see Fang Yanshou, “Zhu Xi keshu shiji kao,” 75–79; also Chan, Chu Hsi: New Studies, 77–81. Chia, in Printing for Profit, writes extensively of the connection between the Fujian printers and Daoxue. Members of two of the three major Jianyang publishing families—Liu Yue 劉爚, Liu Zihui 劉子翬, Xiong Jie 熊節, Xiong Gangda 熊剛大—were strong Daoxue advocates. See Chia, ibid., 79–99. chen jun’s outline and details 281

The relationship in Fujian between scholars and printers was clearly symbiotic and generated a synergy that contributed to the eventual domination of the Zhu Xi school.

III. The Life and Works of Chen Jun

Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, completed by Chen Jun around 1229, is both the earliest work in the trilogy and the best place to begin a study of the three works. There are four reasons for this. First, at least two exemplars of the ‘first edition’ of 1229 survive. These exemplars passed through the hands of well-known rare book collectors in the Qing Dynasty (1644–1911) and generated a large body of comment from China’s greatest bibliographers. Second, unlike the second and third works in the series, the opening work contains four prefaces, one by Chen Jun himself, and three by major early thirteenth-century intellectual and political figures. Taken together, these prefaces provide extensive details of the work’s genesis, reception, and printing.12 Third, the book’s front matter contains a set of “General Rules” (“Fanli” 凡例) and a revealing “List of all books consulted” (“Yinyong zhushu” 引用諸書). These documents provide insight into the author’s compositional principles and his sources. Fourth, because he was a member of a prominent Fujian lineage, Chen Jun’s life is well-documented; this documentation affords the opportunity to reconstruct the intellectual, social, and political milieu in which he compiled Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao.13 Chen Jun was a native of Putian 莆田 County in the Fujian coastal prefecture of Xinghua 興化.14 His grand uncle, Chen Junqing 陳俊卿 (1113–86), was a major twelfth-century political figure who had served

12 These prefaces, in the order in which they appear in the early exemplars, are by Zhen Dexiu 真德秀 (1178–1235), Zheng Xingzhi 鄭性之 (1172–1255), and Lin Jie 林岊 respectively. 13 For a modern punctuated edition of the work see Xu Peizao et al., Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao. Xu Peizao’s preface to this edition, however, is dated 1984, and the 2006 edition probably reflects editorial work done in the 1980s. See also the study by Xu Peizao, “Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao kaolüe,” 450–69. Xu’s essay is reprinted in the 2006 edition, 832–62. 14 The major biographical source for Chen Jun is the funeral inscription muzhi-( ming 墓誌銘) for him composed by Zhao Ruteng 趙汝騰 (d. 1261) in 1248; see Zhao Ruteng, Yongzhai ji, 6.14a–17a, also QSW, 337.7771.360–362. See also the careful biographical study, Yu Yunguo, “Nan Song biannian shijia Chen Jun shiji kao,” 87–92. 282 charles hartman as chief councilor from 1168 through 1170 and was a close friend of the historian Li Tao. He was also a strong supporter of Zhu Xi, having three times recommended Zhu for political office. When Chen Junq- ing retired to Putian in 1182, his nephew, then aged eight, attended him. When the elder Chen died in 1186, Zhu Xi traveled to Putian to mourn him in person, and the young Chen Jun thus met the great Daoxue teacher. Two years later, and a month after submission of his highly critical memorial to the throne of 1188, Zhu Xi completed a lengthy draft biography xingzhuang( 行狀) of Chen Junqing. Zhu Xi’s political biography of Chen posited the former chief councilor’s career as a frustrated struggle to implement the long-standing policy recommendations that Zhu had earlier articulated in his memorial.15 An impressionable Chen Jun no doubt took note of this intersection of history and contemporary political advocacy. Zhen Dexiu’s 真德秀 (1178–1235) preface to Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao states that Chen Jun first saw the dynastic histories and Li Tao’s Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian while attending his grand uncle, thus between 1182 and 1186, and that he had already at that time formed an intention to compile a digest of these works.16 Both Xu Peizao and Yu Yunguo doubt that such a young boy could harbor such grand ambitions. Nevertheless, since Chen Junqing resided in Putian after 1182, the statement does provide interesting confirmation that his personal library must have contained copies of the state histories and Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian, which Li Tao completed and submitted to the court only in 1183/3. After his death, Chen Junqing’s library passed to his fourth son, Chen Mi 陳密 (1171–1230), who, along with several of his older brothers, had formally entered into master-disciple relationships with Zhu Xi.17 Chen Jun, whose own grandfather and father had held only minor, local office in Fujian, seems to have resided with his uncles in Putian while pursuing his studies. A close relationship formed between Chen

15 Guo Qi and Yin Po, eds., Zhu Xi ji, 96.4903–47; see also SS, 383.11783–90. Zhu Xi’s epic biography of Zhang Jun 張浚 (1097–1164) is the only other xingzhuang he wrote that compares in length with his biography of Chen Junqing; see Zhu Xi ji 95.4798–4902. For the significance of Zhu’s 1188 memorial see Schirokauer, “Political Thought,” 171–93. 16 Zhen Dexiu, Xishan xiansheng Zhen Wenzhong gong wen ji, 27.1a–3b; QSW, 312.7169.140–142; Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, front matter, 2–4. 17 Shu Jingnan, Zhu Xi nianpu changbian, 789–81. For Chen Mi see also SS, 408.12310–12. chen jun’s outline and details 283

Jun and his uncle Chen Mi, who was only three years older than his nephew. Chen Mi was the most politically active of Chen Junqing’s sons. By 1214 he had attained a court position, and, at a revolving audience in 1216, strongly attacked the Chief Councilor Shi Miyuan. Chen Jun, by now aged forty-two, ‘assisted’ Chen Mi with the drafting of this memorial. After Chen Mi’s dismissal from the capital, Chen Jun entered the Imperial University and remained in Lin’an 臨安 for the next ten years. Chen Jun began during these years in the capital to assemble historical materials beyond those in his grand-uncle’s library. The Zhen Dexiu preface, for example, states that Chen Jun obtained access to over a dozen private historical works through his association with “famous people of the time.” There is also evidence that uncle and nephew, who had lived together for over thirty years, may have worked together on what eventually became Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao. Chen Mi’s biography in Song shi lists among works that “remained stored in his house” a Xu Tongjian gangmu 續通鑑綱目 (Outline and details for the “Continued comprehensive mirror”).18 There exists, therefore, a good possibility that Chen Jun’s initial work on Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao may have been done in conjunction with his uncle, Chen Mi. In 1226, after ten years as a University ‘student’ in Lin’an, Chen Jun, now aged fifty-two, resigned his position and returned home to Putian, according to Zhen Dexiu, stopping along the way to consult with other scholars about his historical work. By 1229, he had completed the work and solicited the three prefaces. Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao was presumably printed in Fujian shortly afterward. In 1234, two of the preface writers, Zhen Dexiu and Zheng Xingzhi 鄭性之 (1172–1255), became members of the new reform-minded Duanping-era administration that formed in the wake of Shi Miyuan’s death in 1233. Zheng Xingzhi recommended that the prefectural authorities in Xinghua be ordered to transcribe a copy of Chen Jun’s work for submission to the court. An edict was issued the following year, and in 1235/3 Chen Jun was rewarded with an entry-level personal rank grade.19 Chen Jun,

18 SS, 408.12312. The presentSS text actually reads 讀通鑑綱目, by which one must understand “Reading Notes on [Zhu Xi’s Zizhi] tongjian gangmu.” Later sources correct this passage to read, I believe rightly, 續通鑑綱目; see, for example, Huang Zongxi et al., Song-Yuan xue’an (2), 69.2278. 19 SS, 42.807. 284 charles hartman however, refused to deliver his manuscript to the prefect and instead took the book himself to the prefectural office, where he personally oversaw its transcription and submission. He declined the personal rank appointment and insisted on retaining his official status as ‘student.’ In 1244, Yang Dong 楊棟, the newly appointed prefect of Xing- hua, offered him a position at the prefectural academy, but Chen declined. He died the same year, aged seventy. In summary, the compiler of Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao belonged to a prominent Fujian lineage, but his failure in the examination system forced him to survive in the shadows of his politically more successful, and better connected, relatives and their associates. These connections afforded him access to historical works and leisure to work on his compilation. His lineage had strong intellectual and social links to Zhu Xi and his disciples that dated to the relationship between Chen Junqing and Zhu Xi in the 1160s. Finally, Chen Jun’s politics, his examination failure, his part in Chen Mi’s memorial of 1216, and his resignation from the Imperial University in 1226, must be seen in light of the opposition of the Chen lineage and their associates to the person and policies of the ‘Sole Councilor’ Shi Miyuan. In short, Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao was a product of the years of Shi Miyuan’s administration—in other words during a long period in which the author stood in political opposition to the sitting government. The immediate call from Zheng Xingzhi for submission of the work to court in 1235 signals that Zheng and Zhen Dexiu realized the potential utility of Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, for which they had both written prefaces, to the anticipated political reforms of the Duanping period.20 At this point, it may be useful to review the four prefaces to the book. Chen Jun’s own preface, which is undated, consists largely of an imaginary dialogue in which he replies to three misgivings that unnamed friends have expressed to him about his work. They first argue that, by digesting the official histories, Chen, a private scholar, has usurped the authority of the official historians. Chen responds, probably with Li Tao in mind, that the authoritative state histories have circulated alongside great works of private history for many years.

20 The great mid-thirteenth century bibliographer Chen Zhensun’s entry on the book, written no later than 1250, directly implies this connection; see Chen Zhensun, Zhizhai shulu jieti (1), 4.121. chen jun’s outline and details 285

Echoing Zhu Xi’s 1172 preface to Zizhi tongjian gangmu, he states that his work attempts only to facilitate comprehension of the official histories. He does not intend his book to replace or compete with other works. Second, his critics charged that his abridgment would dilute the fullness of the official record. Chen replies that although his work is certainly briefer than earlier works, he has simply omitted verbiage, leaving unchanged the number of ‘events.’ At any rate, he replies, his book will not detract from any existing work, which readers are still free to consult. Finally, to the last charge, that his abridgment will inevitably err in resolving the many contradictions inherent in official history, he writes: Mistakes there will always be, and I do not seek to avoid responsibility for them. My account seeks to trace the origins of events and to sum- marize their conclusions, to append other views and to bring together like texts. It draws from a range of sources and extracts their essence. My main principle is to adhere to fact, and, although my account may not be definitive, the reader can believe what he wishes and leave aside what he doubts. Should anyone wish to verify what seems to him doubtful or search out more detail, then the works of the official historians are still all there.21 The highly defensive tone of Chen’s preface illustrates the still tense relationship between official and private history writing in the mid- thirteenth century. Since the theoretically secret state histories nevertheless actually circulate quite widely, readers are free to deliberate their content, although responsibility for that content remains theoretically the sole domain of court historians. Chen stresses that he is not abrogating the authority of the court historians, nor does his work in any way alter the state histories. It is simply an aid. Zhen Dexiu’s preface is dated 1229/3/23, a period during which he was living in semi-retirement in his native Pucheng 浦城 County in Northern Fujian. His preface is divided into three parts. It opens with a long passage of direct discourse in which Chen Jun explains to Zhen Dexiu the origin and purpose of his book. Chen repeats that his work is a compression of, not a replacement for, the original texts. He states that the gang are based on Li Tao, but the mu also utilize texts from other sources. He acknowledges Zhu Xi’s Tongjian gangmu as a model, but announces a significant departure from Zhu’s methodology. Since

21 Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, front matter, 1. 286 charles hartman

Tongjian gangmu concerned earlier history, Zhu Xi was able to “lodge praise and blame.” But, since Chen’s work treats contemporary history, he has “only recorded the facts of the events; I have not dared fully to adopt Zhu Xi’s model.” This initial passage of direct discourse concludes with a request from Chen that Zhen compose an overall synopsis of the work. In the second part of his preface, Zhen Dexiu complies and presents a long survey that frames the history of the Northern Song as a moral struggle between the good, Confucian standards and practices of the founding emperors and the bad, Buddhist machinations of Wang Anshi 王安石 (1021–86). In the concluding section, Zhen opines that the work will not only be useful to students but should be presented to the court for use in the imperial Classics Mat sessions and as a guide for imperial decision making. He then continues: Chen Jun served Chen Junqing and received his family learning. More- over, he associated with virtuous shidaifu 士大夫 and thus broadened what he read and heard. Therefore in this book there are solid criteria for his judgments on selection and rejection: if a matter does not concern war and peace (i.e. important state matters), then he omits it. His goal is to have a book that will be useful to the world, not simply a record of minor matters.22 Among other concluding remarks, Zhen mentions that Chen Jun is working on a continuation that will cover the Restoration (Zhongxing 中興) period since 1127. Zhen Dexiu’s is the most carefully constructed and subtle among the three prefaces. He denies that the author has followed a strict Chun- qiu model and “lodged praise and blame” into the texts of his gang, as he believes Zhu Xi had done. Yet, as Zhen’s survey of Northern Song history makes clear, the work, in his opinion, contains a carefully crafted and coherent stance on Northern Song history that, Zhen feels, should serve as an agenda for contemporary political reform—a reform that would move the administration away from the policies of Wang Anshi towards those of the “founders.” Zhen holds that Chen’s book articulates this message not in Chunqiu verbal codes but in the “judgments on selection and rejection” that are manifested in the topics that the work treats. Zhen maintains that such judgments require moral authority and that Chen Jun has acquired this moral authority

22 Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, front matter, 3. chen jun’s outline and details 287 from his family ties to the former Chief Councilor Chen Junqing and from his association with “virtuous shidaifu.” In sum, Zhen’s preface makes the implied claim that the profusion of the original primary sources—the state histories and Li Tao—renders them morally diffuse and neutral, whereas the focused and targeted selections of Chen Jun provide a narrative of Northern Song history that is both morally and politically compelling. Zheng Xingzhi composed his preface, dated 1229/8, during a period of mourning for his deceased wife and reclusion in his native Changle 長樂 County, Fuzhou 福州. Zheng begins by stating that Chen Jun has “never emerged from his study” in the twenty years that Zheng has known him. The preface then moves into direct discourse, which begins with Chen’s declaration to Zheng of his goals for the book in terms that parallel his own preface and that of Zhen Dexiu. Chen remarks to Zheng in this dialogue, however, that he intends to keep the book for his own use as a study guide and not show it to others. This conversation obviously took place some years before 1229, since Zheng then continues: Years later the book was finished. Several of my friends and I first saw it, and, as it got passed around to wider circles, everyone wanted the book but we could not make so many copies by hand. Therefore, we joined together to have blocks carved, intending to share it with our friends. But this was not Chen Jun’s intention.23 Zheng then argues in strong terms that the principles of the dynastic founders, which the book articulates so well, constitute, in essence, a Song classic parallel to Shujing (The Book of history). Printed for a wider audience and placed in the hands of “ruler and minister,” the book can enable a political restoration. It thus deserves a much wider dissemination than “a private memorization tool for students.” The last preface, written in 1229/11 by Lin Jie林岊 , a native of Gutian 古田 in Fuzhou who was then serving as prefect of Zhang- zhou 漳州 in southern Fujian, is more reserved in tone and simply rephrases the essential points of the previous two prefaces, which Lin states that he has read.24

23 Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, front matter, 5; also QSW, 306.6977.31–32. 24 Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, front matter, 6; also QSW, 304.6941.130–31. Interestingly, Lin Jie, an official with wide experience in both court and provincial academic institutions, states in his preface that, although he had heard of abridgments to Li Tao’s Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian, he has never seen one. 288 charles hartman

IV. Surviving Imprints

Three known Song and/or Yuan imprints of Chen Jun’sHuangchao biannian gangmu beiyao survive—one each in the Seikadō Library, the Shanghai Library, and the National Library of China in Beijing.25 Each of these imprints differs from the others in important details and thus each represents a separate print or ‘edition’ of the work. This large number and variety of surviving prints attest to the contemporary popularity of Chen Jun’s work. The Seikadō Library imprint contains thirty juan and begins with the prefaces by Chen Jun, Zhen Dexiu, Zheng Xingzhi, and Lin Jie in that order, each printed in the writers’ own calligraphy and presumably from his own holograph.26 How- ever, only the front matter and the first twentyjuan constitute a Song imprint; juan 21–30 is a manuscript copy executed in imitation of a Song print.27 The size of each printed half-leaf measures 18.6 by 11.7 cm. There is a single-rule border around each folio. There are sixteen columns per half-leaf; sixteen large characters (gang) per column (each large character occupies a double column width); and—a very significant detail—there are twenty-four small characters (mu) per column (Fig. 8.2). Thejuan 21–30 manuscript, however, contains only twenty- three characters per column in the mu sections; and a double-rule border surrounds each folio (Fig. 8.3).28

25 In addition to these imprints, the Chinese union catalog of rare books lists seventeen Qing manuscripts of the work and one Ming manuscript (in the Wuhan University Library). See Zhongguo guji shanben shumu, shibu, 146–48. Among the important Qing manuscripts is a ‘tracing copy’ (Qing ying Song chaoben 清影宋抄本) with a 1791 colophon by the great Qing historian and bibliographer Qian Daxin. A microfilm of this manuscript is available in the “Rare Books National Library Peiping” collection from the Library of Congress. 26 The Seikadō exemplar was published in a photostatic reproduction as Songben Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao 宋本皇朝編年綱目備 (Tokyo: Seikadō bunko, 1936). This reproduction was subsequently reprinted in two volumes (Taibei: Cheng- wen, 1966) and is widely available. For convenience, I refer throughout this article to the western page numbers printed at the bottom of each half-leaf of this 1966 reprint. 27 Thejuan 21–30 manuscript filler in the Seikadō exemplar dates from the beginning of the nineteenth century. Writing in 1803, Huang Pilie 黃丕烈 (1763–1825), who owned the book at the time, described it as an incomplete Song edition with only twenty juan. He declared his intention to have the missing ten juan copied from another Song edition owned by Yuan Tingtao 袁廷檮 (1762–1809), the same exemplar now in the Shanghai Library; see Huang Pilie, Bai Song yichan shulu, 15a. 28 Seals on the book document an unbroken record of ownership beginning with Yan Wei 嚴蔚 in the eighteenth century, through the collections of the famous bibliophiles Huang Pilie and the family of Lu Xinyuan 陸心源 (1834–94), then into chen jun’s outline and details 289

Left: Fig. 8.2. Chen Jun, Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, Seikadō imprint, folio 1.1a, reproduced from Songben Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao 宋本皇朝編年綱目備要 (Taibei: Chengwen, 1966), 83. (Reproduced with permission from Seikadō bunko Library, Tokyo.) Right: Fig. 8.3. Seikadō imprint, folio 21.1a, reproduced from Songben Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, 931. (Reproduced with permission from Seikadō bunko Library, Tokyo.)

In addition to the number of characters per column in the mu sections, a major difference between the print and the manuscript portions of the Seikadō exemplar is a wide variation—one might almost say chaos—in the titles given to Chen Jun’s work on Northern Song history at various locations in the exemplar. In the printed sections, the title strips at the beginning and end of each juan (juan 1–20), at the beginning of the list of books utilized (p. 61), and at the beginning and end of the table of contents (mulu 目錄, pp. 65, 81) all read Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao 皇朝編年綱目備要 (cf. Fig. 8.2).

the Seikadō in 1907. See Seikadō bunko, Seikadō bunko Sō-Gen ban zuroku, vol. 1, 24–25. 290 charles hartman

The title at the beginning of thefanli , however, reads Huangchao biannian beiyao 皇朝編年備要 (p. 39). In the manuscript portions there is a distinctive two-character gap in the title strips for juan 21–25, such that the title reads 皇朝編年□□備要 (Fig. 8.3).29 Addition- ally, all title strips in manuscript juan 26–30 read Jiuchao biannian beiyao 九朝編年備要. Finally, the table of contents ends with juan 25 (which contains the three concluding years of Emperor Zhezong’s 哲宗 reign—1098–1100) after which there is the line yihou wu juan xiancheng chushou 已後五卷見成出售 (p. 81). I take this to mean “the next fivejuan have already been prepared for sale” (Fig. 8.4).

Fig. 8.4. Seikadō imprint, mulu folio 9a, reproduced from Songben Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, 81. (Reproduced with permission from Seikadō bunko Library, Tokyo.)

29 Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, 931, 984, 985, 1028, 1029, 1075, 1076, 1124. There are two exceptions to this pattern: the ending title strip forjuan 23 reads only 皇朝編年 followed by four empty spaces, and the beginning strip for juan 25 reads Huangchao biannian beiyao 皇朝編年備要, with no empty spaces (ibid., 1074, 1125). chen jun’s outline and details 291

A facsimile edition of the imprint in the Shanghai Library has been published only recently.30 With the exception of several title strips, the prefaces and other front matter are virtually identical to the Seikadō imprint. The size of the half-leaf, however, is 19.7 by 12.7 cm, slightly larger than the Seikadō imprint, and there is a double-rule border. Throughout the entire book there are sixteen columns per half-leaf; sixteen large characters (gang) per column, and twenty-three small characters (mu) per column (Fig. 8.5).31 The tables of contents are likewise identical through juan 25. In the Shanghai imprint, however, an additional two folios entitled “table of contents to a supplemental print for The Chronologically Arranged Outline and Details in five juan” (“bukan biannian beiyao wu juan mulu” 補刊編年備要五卷目錄) that detail the contents of juan 26–30 (the Emperors Huizong 徽宗 and Qinzong 欽宗 years from 1100 through 1127) have been added to the table of contents. The typeface on these two inserted folios is slightly thicker and clearly different than that in the precedingmulu for juan 1–25 (Fig. 8.6). The pattern of titling in the Shanghai imprint mirrors the manuscript portions of the Seikadō imprint (ie. juan 21–30). The title strips at the beginning and end of juan 1–25, plus at the head of the “List of works consulted” read Huangchao biannian XX beiyao 皇朝編年 □□備要, with a two-character space. Exceptions, as in the Seikadō copy, are the end of juan 23, where there is a four-space gap following 皇朝編年, and the beginning of juan 25, which reads Huangchao biannian beiyao. The title strips for the ‘additional’juan 26–30 all read Jiuchao biannian beiyao 九朝編年備要. The title strips for thefanli , the beginning of the mulu, and the end of the additional mulu all read Huangchao biannian beiyao.32

30 Chen Jun, Huangchao biannian beiyao. 31 The earliest owner seals are those of Yuan Tingtao, from whence the Shang- hai imprint passed, like the Seikadō imprint, into the collection of Huang Pilie. The Shanghai imprint contains two hand-written notes by Qian Daxin. The first contains biographical details on Lin Jie and is written at the end of Lin’s preface. The second, a longer general note, dated 1795 when the book was still in the possession of Yuan Tingtao, follows the last juan. 32 The imprint in the National Library of China is fragmentary and has not been published. The printed catalog lists the work asJiuchao biannian gangmu beiyao 九朝編年綱目備要 in thirty juan, of which only juan 1–9 and 28–30 remain. It describes the work as a “Song Shaoding period imprint restored in the Yuan” (Song Shao- ding ke Yuan xiu ben 宋紹定刻元修本). There are eight large columns per half-leaf, 292 charles hartman

Left: Fig. 8.5. Shanghai imprint, folio 1.1a, reproduced fromHuangchao biannian beiyao, in the series Zhonghua zai zao shan ben 中華再造善本 (Beijing: Beijing tushuguan chubanshe, 2004).

Right: Fig. 8.6. Shanghai imprint, Bukan biannian beiyao wu juan mulu, folio 1a.

Summarizing these details, the Seikadō and Shanghai exemplars are different Song imprints that originate from Fujian, probably shortly after the completion of the work in 1229. The ten-juan filler in the Seikadō exemplar has been copied in the early nineteenth century from the Shanghai imprint and thus has no value for collation or bibliographic purposes. The Beijing imprint is a Yuan reworking of original Song blocks, probably the same blocks as the Shanghai imprint.

sixteen large characters, and twenty-three small characters per column. See Beijing tushuguan, Beijing tushuguan guji shanben shumu, shibu, 283. chen jun’s outline and details 293

V. Chen Jun and His Bibliographers

The discrepancies between the Seikadō and Shanghai imprints, and the unusual two-character gaps in the title strips in both volumes, generated a lively debate among Qing bibliographers that continues to the present day. Before addressing these issues, however, one should first review the relevant entries in the two great mid-thirteenth century bibliographies by Chen Zhensun 陳振孫 (d. 1261?) and Zhao Xibian 趙希弁. Both bibliographers were contemporaries of Chen Jun; and Chen Zhensun almost certainly knew Chen Jun personally. Thus, their entries constitute the basic starting point for any understanding of the origins of the surviving imprints and their relationship to each other. Chen Zhensun describes in a single entry what many scholars have taken to be four distinct works: 1) Huangchao biannian juyao 皇朝編年舉要 in thirty juan; 2) Huangchao biannian beiyao 備要 in thirty juan; 3) Zhongxing biannian juyao 中興編年舉要 in fourteen juan; and 4) Zhongxing biannian beiyao 中興編年備要 in fourteen juan. Chen attributes all four works to Chen Jun. He notes the author’s descent from Chen Junqing and mentions the 1234 edict ordering the submission of “these works” to court. He then adds that “in the main, the(se) work(s) imitate(s) Zhu Xi’s Tongjian gangmu. Thejuyao are the gang; the beiyao are the mu. But there are no standards for selection, and one misses the balance between detail and concision. It is not yet a good book.”33 Before proceeding, I would like to note two nuances in the phrasing of this entry upon which other scholars have not remarked: 1) “these work(s)” (qi shu 其書) that the court ordered retrieved can seem to refer to any or all of the four listed works; 2) the final phrase seems to imply that Chen believed that the works had room for improvement—that the works upon which he commented were in some way as yet unfinished. I will return to these two points below. Zhao Xibian’s entry presents a very different picture. He cataloged only two works: 1) a Huangchao biannian beiyao in twenty-nine juan; and 2) a Zhongxing biannian beiyao in ten juan. The works were based on the state histories and veritable records and ranged from 960 through 1189. They were loosely modeled onZizhi tongjian gangmu to which ‘evaluations’ had been added. He noted the presence of the

33 Chen Zhensun, Zhizhai shulu jieti (1), 4.121. 294 charles hartman three prefaces.34 In contrast to Chen Zhensun’s entry, Zhao Xibian does not mention the two juyao titles; he also confirms that the two works in his entry contained coverage of Song history through 1189. Excluding for a moment the issue of the post-1127 material and focusing solely on the Northern Song content, there is overwhelming contemporary evidence that Chen Jun composed two manuscripts—a juyao and a beiyao. In addition to the testimony of Chen Zhensun, both Zheng Xingzhi’s preface and Zhao Ruteng’s biography state clearly that there were two books.35 The Siku editors, therefore, infer that since the surviving book is entitled beiyao, the accompanying juyao must be lost. Against this theory, Lu Xinyuan 陸心源 (1834–1894) and Xu Peizao observe—quite rightly—that the surviving work, although titled beiyao, contains both gang and mu portions. These scholars focus on Zhao Xibian’s entry and conclude that the surviving text must contain both the original juyao and beiyao.36 This difference of opinion among later scholars derives from the conflicting evidence of the two contemporary Song bibliographies. However, Qian Daxin 錢大昕 (1728–1804) hinted at a possible reso- lution of the problem when he suspected that Chen Zhensun was perhaps describing an earlier version of the book.37 Qian’s suspicions are almost certainly correct. Chen Zhensun was appointed tongpan 通判 (controller-general) of Xinghua in 1226 and served probably through 1228. During these years he had copied over 50,000 juan in four of the largest private libraries in Putian.38 In his official capacity, he also worked with Chen Mi to effect repairs to the dikes in the area.39 Chen Zhensun was thus in Putian at the opportune moment to obtain a copy of Chen Jun’s works on Song history. When the great bibliographer began his tour of duty in Putian in 1226, Chen Jun had just returned from Lin’an with his largely completed manuscripts. By 1229, when the historian solicited the prefaces and when the initial printing of the work, probably initiated by Zheng Xingzhi, had begun, Chen Zhen-

34 Chao Gongwu and Zhao Xibian, Junzhai dushu zhi, 1111. 35 In recent times, the Siku quanshu editors, Qian Daxin, and Qu Yong 瞿鏞 (1794– 1875) have emphasized the once separate existence of juyao and beiyao manuscripts. 36 Lu Xinyuan, Yigutang tiba, 3.7a–8b. 37 See Qian Daxin’s 1791 colophon on the “Peiping Library” manuscript edition of Huangchao biannian beiyao; also Qianyantang wenji, 27.437. 38 Fujian tongzhi, 23.3b–4a; Zhou Mi, Qidong yeyu, 12.239; McDermott, Social His- tory, 51, 215 n. 33. 39 Lu Xinyuan, Songshi yi, 29.17b–18b. chen jun’s outline and details 295 sun had already departed for his next post in the capital. Although Chen Zhensun clearly drafted his entry after the 1235 submission to the court, he described the manuscripts that he saw or had transcribed in Putian between 1226 and 1228. Such a scenario resolves all the seeming discrepancies between Chen Zhensun and Zhao Xibian’s entries and allows us to draw even more information from their texts. Chen Jun’s draft, ‘pre-publication’ manuscript contained four parts—one juyao (‘extracted essentials’) and one beiyao (‘complete essentials’) each for the Northern Song and for the ‘Restoration’ period. Probably, if the juan numbers in Chen Zhensun’s entry are correct, the Southern Song portion was unfinished, since the surviving Zhongxing biannian beiyao contains eighteen juan, as opposed to fourteen juan in Chen’s entry. One will also note that Chen Zhensun’s entry states that the juan numbers for the juyao and beiyao are identical in each case, a situation that seems difficult to imagine if the juyao portions were simply separate lists of the gang. However, Zhen Dexiu’s preface insists that Chen Jun’s efforts were modeled on, and were a culmination of, the principles of abridgement found in the mulu and juyao of Sima Guang’s Zizhi tongjian. These two works were tabular condensations intended to serve as an index and as an abridgment to the full text of Zizhi tongjian. Sima Guang himself completed the mulu, and Xie Kejia 謝克家 (d. 1134) compiled the juyao in the early 1130s. A Northern Song imprint of the original 1084 edition of Zizhi tongjian mulu 資治通鑑目錄 (Index to the “Comprehensive mirror for aid in governance”) survives and shows a calendrical, tabular grid formed by a horizontal time vector at the top of the register and laconic summaries of ‘events’ in boxes below. Southern Song historians understood the abbreviated style of these entries as akin to those of Chunqiu and as the origin of Southern Song gang (Fig. 8.7).40 The practice of compiling ‘extracted essentials’ as compact guides to longer works increased in popularity in the Southern Song. For example, Li Tao himself compiled a sixty-eight-juan tabular index to Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian entitled Xu Tongjian changbian juyao 續通鑑長編舉要, which he submitted, along with his completed manuscript, to the court in 1183. This work circulated separately at least until the

40 For details see Hartman, “Bibliographic Notes,” 189–200. SBCK contains the Northern Song imprint of Zizhi tongjian mulu. 296 charles hartman

Sibu congkan , 1084 edition, folios 19.1a–b, reproduced from Zizhi tongjian mulu . 四部叢刊 Fig. 8.7. Sima Guang, chen jun’s outline and details 297 late Ming.41 There is also strong evidence that a tabularjuyao version of Zhu Xi’s Tongjian gangmu was printed separately and circulated at the same time Chen Jun was working on his book.42 Chen Jun’s juyao were thus tabular arrangements of the gang, probably accompanied by shortened summaries of the mu. Thus, all of the textual material in the juyao was also contained in the beiyao. But the juyao—the tables— were never printed. Chen Zhensun thus saw an incomplete, manuscript version of Chen Jun’s work and concluded that “it was not yet a good book.” If indeed he saw only a manuscript copy executed before 1228, this would also explain why his notice does not mention the three prefaces, as Zhao Xibian’s notice does. In all probability, then, the entry of Chen Zhensun was based on four Chen Jun manuscripts; the entry of Zhao Xibian was based on two printed books.43 Both Song bibliographers are in accord

41 For Li Tao’s juyao see Chen Zhensun, Zhizhai shulu jieti (1), 4.119. For its continued existence into the late Ming, see Chen Di, Shishantang cangshu mulu, 1.18. 42 In addition to Zhu Xi’s Zizhi tongjian gangmu in fifty-nine juan, Zhao Xibian also records a Zizhi tongjian gangmu tiyao 提要, also in fifty-nine juan; see Junzhai dushu zhi, 1110. TheSong shi bibliography (SS, 203.5092) records both works, and both survived at least into the early Ming; see Ye Sheng (1435–94), Lüzhutang shulu, 2.34. Xu Peizao uses this evidence to suggest that a later party may have extracted the gang from Chen Jun’s work and published them separately, thus accounting for the presence of the juyao and beiyao titles in Chen Zhensun’s entry (“Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao kaolüe,” 458). As I have argued above, however, Chen Zhensun’s presence in Putian in 1226–28 strongly suggests his entry is based on Chen Jun’s manuscripts, not on a later printed work. The opening phrasing of Zhen Dexiu’s preface also suggests two interrelated manuscript works. His preface, in the original Seikadō and Shanghai imprints, begins “Chen Jun of Putian took the books that he had compiled, The Chronologically Arranged Extracted Essentials of the August Courts as well as The Complete Essentials, all together a certain number of juan (ruogan juan 若干巻)…” Lu Xinyuan and Xu Peizao have argued that this phrasing confirms that Chen Jun wrote a single book. Yet the character yu 與 between juyao and beiyao suggests to me two interrelated manuscripts that in their totality added up to a ‘certain’ number of juan. Since this preface was written in 1229/3 before the work was printed, the expression ruogan 若干 served as a place filler until the actual printing would fix the final number of juan. However, since the prefaces were carved from holograph manuscripts, their texts could not be changed without marring the author’s original calligraphy. The subsequent text of Zhen Dexiu’s preface in his collected works (Xishan xiansheng Zhen Wenzhong gong wenji, 27.1a–3b) writes “he sishiba juan” 合四十八巻, a number that must have been inserted into his holograph text as a replacement for the prior ruogan sometime between 1229 and the printing of Zhen’s collected works after his death in 1235. I will suggest below a possible explanation for this later insertion of the number forty-eight juan in the version of Zhen’s preface contained in his collected works. 43 Another difference in their entries also supports this suggestion. Chen Zhensun refers to the author as Taixue sheng 太學生, a title which Chen Jun retained through the 1220s by virtue of his association with the Imperial University. Zhao Xibian, 298 charles hartman that the titles were Huangchao biannian beiyao and Zhongxing biannian beiyao. The question then becomes: why is the Seikadō imprint entitled Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao and what is the meaning of the mysterious gaps in the title strips of the Shanghai imprint? The first scholar to address this problem was Qian Daxin in 1791. He made two assumptions: 1) that the court requisition of 1235 required that the title of the book be changed, and 2) that the two-character space in the Shanghai imprint is somehow related to this change. Qian suggested that the two ‘missing’ characters should be juyao 舉要, which would bring the title into accord with the title specifically named in the Lin Jie preface (Huangchao biannian juyao beiyao). Huang Pilie 黃丕烈, however, who owned both the Seikadō and the Shang- hai imprints, argued that the two missing characters in the Shanghai imprint should be gangmu 綱目, which would bring its title into accord with the Seikadō imprint (Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao) and with the brief Song shi record of the book’s 1235 requisition.44 Lu Xinyuan developed the most elaborate theory about the gap. He owned the Seikadō imprint and a tracing copy of the Shanghai imprint. He held that the original title of the first (1229?) imprint was Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao. The gaps were created when, in preparation for submitting the book to the court in 1235, the two characters gangmu were carved out and small replacement blocks with the characters juyao were inserted, thus making the title Huangchao biannian juyao beiyao. This procedure brought the title of the book into accord with the titles in the prefaces. Over time, the replacement blocks fell out from the larger woodblocks, thus leaving the present spaces in the Shanghai imprint. Lu further held that Chen Jun was “an old village scholar” (xiangqu laoru 鄉曲老儒) who did not understand the impropriety of naming his work as a continuation of Zhu Xi’s Tongjian gangmu. As a result Zhen Dexiu and Zheng Xingzhi, both court officials in 1235, persuaded Chen to agree to the name change.45 Xu Peizao agrees with Lu Xinyuan’s theory of the missing replacement blocks, but believes Lu has the switch the wrong way. Xu argues that the original title was Huangchao biannian juyao beiyao, and the spaces

however, simply calls him “Chen Jun of Hushan” (Hushan Chen Jun 壺山陳均), the identical formulation found in the imprints (cf. Seikadō ed., 65, 81). 44 Qian Daxin, 1791 colophon; Huang Pilie, Bai Song yichan shulu, 14a–b. 45 Lu Xinyuan, Yigutang tiba, 3.7a–8b. chen jun’s outline and details 299 result from fallen away gangmu blocks that were inserted for the 1235 presentation to court.46 However, neither of these hypotheses fully succeeds in explaining the presence of the gaps because neither addresses the issue of the relationship of the two surviving imprints to each other. If Lu’s theory is correct, then the Seikadō imprint would presumably be prior to the Shanghai imprint; if Xu is correct, then the reverse should be true. However, if the juyao were, as I suspect, tables, then Lu’s theory cannot be correct, since it would make no sense to emend the title to indicate the presence of tables that were in fact never printed. Aside from the gaps, the evidence from the imprints themselves suggests that the Seikadō exemplar is the earlier imprint. The Seikadō table of contents lacks juan 26–30, whereas the Shanghai imprint includes juan 26–30 as an ‘additional print’ (bukan 補刊). Addition- ally, although the size and formatting of both imprints are similar, they are, nevertheless, two clearly distinct ‘editions.’ If the Shanghai imprint was indeed carved specifically for court presentation, then it seems difficult to understand why the proper title strips (whatever that title might be) were not carved at the same time as the entire blocks themselves were carved.

VI. History and the Politics of the Duanping Era

Solid evidence, however, suggests that Chen Jun presented a manuscript, not a printed book, to court in 1235. Zhou Ruteng’s funeral inscription for Chen contains a detailed narrative of the requisition edict, Chen’s personal delivery of the manuscript to the yamen office in Xinghua, and its “transcription for presentation.”47 Yet the very existence of the Seikadō and the Shanghai imprints as well as the empty spaces in the title strips doubtless reflect in some way a difference of opinion about what the proper title of the book should be. In this connection, a closer look at the 1235 court order and relations between Zheng Xingzhi and Chen Jun may yield new evidence. Most scholars have relied solely on the terse line in the Song shi annals to document the court presentation of Chen Jun’s work. How- ever, three separate references to the submission survive, and each text

46 Xu Peizao, “Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao kaolüe,” 458–59. 47 QSW, 337.7781.361. 300 charles hartman relates to a specific stage in the process. When Zheng Xingzhi made the initial recommendation that the court should requisition the book, he was in service as notary of the Bureau of Military Affairs (Qianshu shumiyuan shi 簽書樞密院事), a court post he assumed in 1234/6.48 The exact date of his request is unknown, but on 1235/2/27 (= March 17, 1235), the Department of State Affairs forwarded his request to the throne.49 Five days later (March 22, 1235), the court issued the formal edict requisitioning the book and conferring rank title on Chen Jun.50 By the end of the year (1235/12) the manuscript arrived at court.51 Given the iterative nature of Song bureaucratic documents, it is highly probable that this characterization of the work in all three texts as Changbian gangmu 長編綱目 (Outline and details of the long draft) originated with Zheng Xingzhi’s initial request. It is difficult to know whether one should understand Changbian gangmu in these texts as a discrete title of the work or as a general description of its contents. But most Chinese scholars, beginning with Qian Daxin, have understood the phrase as a discrete title, or at least as part of a discrete title. Support for this assumption may be found in an entry in the 1616 bibliography of Chen Di 陳第 (1541–1617), which records a Songchao tongjian changbian gangmu 宋朝通鑑長編綱目, and which Xu Peizao accepts, I think correctly, as a reference to Chen Jun’s work.52 Zhao Ruteng’s funeral inscription stresses the close relationship between Zheng Xingzhi and Chen Jun, in which Zheng, a successful first-placejinshi graduate of 1208, supported his more reclusive colleague’s research and writing activities “for thirty years.” However, Zheng Xingzhi’s preface differs from the others in several respects. First, unlike the prefaces of Zhen Dexiu and Lin Jie, Zheng does not mention a concrete title for the work. Second, the preface centers on Zheng and Chen’s different aspirations for the book and on Chen’s resulting disinclination to have the work printed. Chen had earlier indicated that he intended his compilation as a private study guide and that he did not want his efforts to be “shown to the outside.” But, in his 1229 preface, Zheng states that collaborative efforts to print

48 Li Zhiliang, Songdai jingchao guan tongkao, I.248, based on SS, 214.5613. See also the detailed account of Zheng Xingzhi’s career in his spirit inscription (shendaobei 神道碑) written by Liu Kezhuang 劉克莊 (1187–1269) in QSW, 331.7619.145–55. 49 Song shi quanwen, 32.2203. 50 SS, 42.807. 51 Songji sanchao zhengyao, 1.12. 52 Chen Di, Shishantang zangshu mulu, 1.18. chen jun’s outline and details 301 the work have already begun, and his preface seems eager to record Chen’s acceptance of these efforts. If, as I have suggested above, the Seikadō imprint—lacking the final fivejuan and unambiguously titled Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao on each of the forty surviving title strips (one each at the beginning and end of the genuine Song imprint of juan 1–20)—is anterior to the Shanghai imprint, then the Seikadō imprint is probably the result of Zheng Xingzhi’s hasty effort to print Chen Jun’s work. Zheng Xingzhi’s insistence in 1235 on the phrase gangmu in the title of the work thus supports this hypothesis. In this connection it seems important to note that the biography of Zheng Xingzhi in the earliest comprehensive gazetteer of Fujian Prov- ince, Ba Min tongzhi 八閩通志 of 1491, states that he co-authored Song biannian beiyao with Chen Jun.53 To my knowledge, this claim is not present in any Song source. It does, however, suggest that Zheng Xingzhi was extensively involved in the project and that a local tradition of his co-authorship survived into the Ming. Zheng Xingzhi seems indeed to have led the effort to transform Chen’s four private manuscripts into a court-sponsored gangmu continuation of Zhu Xi’s Zizhi tongjian gangmu between 1229 and 1235. To effect this transformation, he abandoned thejuyao tables and inserted the term gangmu into the title of the beiyao manuscript. Zheng Xingzhi clearly had the background and stature to enforce such changes, and perhaps these changes to Chen’s original compilation led to the tradition of his co-authorship. In the decade between 1213– 1224 Zheng Xingzhi had served as tutor to the Heir Apparent and in a series of appointments to the Imperial Library, where he participated in compilation projects such as Xiaozong baoxun 孝宗寶訓 (Precious instructions of Emperor Xiaozong).54 It is highly likely that Zhen Dexiu, a fellow Fujian politician and Daoxue advocate, supported Zheng’s efforts to rework Chen’s manuscript. Furthermore, Zhen’s own advocacy of Zhu Xi’s work provided a format for the resulting woodblocks. Zhen Dexiu, as prefect of Quanzhou 泉州 in Fujian, had supervised the first printing of Zhu Xi’sZizhi tongjian gangmu in 1219. As mentioned above, this imprint survives and manifests a format that probably served as a model for the Seikadō and Shanghai imprints of Chen Jun’s work a decade later (cf. Fig. 8.1).

53 Huang Zhongzhao, Ba Min tongzhi (2), 62.447–48. 54 QSW, 331.7619.145–50. 302 charles hartman

The 1219 printing of Zhu Xi’sZizhi tongjian gangmu thus falls midway between the period in which Chen Jun began and finished work on his own compilation. His attitude—and that of all three preface writers—toward Zhu Xi’s Zizhi tongjian gangmu has two sides. On the one hand, all agree that Chen has been inspired by, and is par- tially imitating, Zhu Xi’s gangmu model. On the other hand, Chen’s own defensive preface, his own statement that he dares not compare his own work to Zizhi tongjian gangmu, and the absence of the term gangmu in any of the 1229 prefaces or the contemporary bibliographies of Chen Zhensun or Zhao Xibian—all demonstrate Chen’s own reluctance to have his work characterized as a gangmu continuation of Zhu Xi’s Zizhi tongjian gangmu. This reluctance may derive, as Lu Xinyuan suggested, from a genuine humility and/or insecurity on Chen’s part. It may also have resulted from a fear of the political consequences of a wider dissemination of his manuscript. Simply put, Chen Jun feared that if his manuscript were designated a gangmu and advertised as a continuation of Zhu Xi’s Zizhi tongjian gangmu, because Zhu Xi had supposedly lodged political criticism in his gang, readers would seek similar critical stances in Chen’s gang. Since his manuscript concerned Song history, any perceived criticism would be criticism of the present dynasty and border on lèse-majesté, especially coming from a private scholar without official position. Thus he insisted to Zhen Dexiu: “I have only recorded the facts of the events; I have not dared fully to adopt Zhu Xi’s model.” As I have intimated above, the increasingly authoritarian administration of the sole Chief Councilor Shi Miyuan, whose tenure began in 1209 and continued until his death in 1233, provides political background against which the composition, printing, and 1235 court requisition of the book must be viewed. All those involved with the book politically opposed the chief councilor. Zheng Xingzhi and Zhen Dexiu saw in Chen’s manuscript of the late 1220s a potentially useful handbook of precedents upon which to challenge Shi Miyuan and upon which to build an alternative administration in the ‘Yuanyou’ model. Zheng Xingzhi’s previous experience in court academic agencies afforded him in-depth understanding of the relationship between imperial tutoring and policy formulation. In 1229, as Chen’s unfinished manuscript was going to press, against his will, Shi Miyuan was still firmly in power. As a major figure in the ‘reform’ of 1234, Zheng’s requisition of Changbian gangmu linked the book more directly to Zhu Xi, thus enhancing its prestige and increasing its political utility. chen jun’s outline and details 303

Chen Jun, however, was right to be cautious. By 1237 the Duanping administration had failed, Zhen Dexiu was dead, and Zheng Xing- zhi was back in Fujian for good. By early 1238, Shi Songzhi 史嵩之 (d. 1256), the son of Shi Miyuan, had moved to reassert family control over government, a control that lasted for the remainder of Chen Jun’s life. Chen Jun’s caution and reluctance to advocate for his own book is linked both to the construction and content of his post-1127 material, a subject to which I shall return below, and also to the distinctive bowdlerization of the surviving Song imprint.

VII. Censorship and Caution

In addition to its title strip gaps, the Shanghai imprint of Huangchao biannian beiyao manifests another highly unusual feature. Beginning sporadically in juan 29, the imprint contains intentional lacunae that range from two to several hundred characters in length. In juan 30, twelve lengthy passages appear to have been purposely excised from, or never carved into, the woodblocks. Based on parallel passages in other sources, it is sometimes possible to restore the excised passages. A detailed study that would attempt to reconstruct all the passages is beyond the scope of this paper but would probably reveal a clear intentional pattern to the excisions. Nevertheless, these unusual lacunae in the Shanghai imprint constitute rare contemporary evidence of Song censorship. For example, nine characters have been omitted from a mu narrative that describes Emperor Huizong’s reaction to an insulting letter from the Jin commander whose armies surrounded the capital in 1125/12. The day after he received the letter Huizong abdicated his position as emperor. The excised passage is in square brackets: The grand councilor then presented the Jin letter of condemnation in the Hall of Proclaiming Harmony. His Majesty [as a result broke out in tears and said nothing except “Stop! Stop!”, and] then issued the edict faulting himself and seeking criticism.55 A similar and more revealing example occurs in a long passage from 1119/9 that describes a banquet at which Emperor Huizong feasted

55 See Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, 29.762; Seikadō ed., 1386. For the restored passage see Yang Zhongliang, Xu Zizhi tongjian jishi benmo, 146.4a. 304 charles hartman the Chief Councilor Cai Jing 蔡京 (1046–1126) and his family (Fig. 8.8). The high point of the event was a request by Cai Jing to meet the emperor’s favorite consort, an extraordinary privilege which Huizong granted. The passage is based on an account of the event supposedly written by Cai Jing himself that survives in a late twelfth-century miscellany by Wang Mingqing 王明清 (1127–1214+). Then a eunuch conveyed the order to proceed to the Jade Flower Cham- ber. His Majesty, holding my poem, said: “Since you have written this poem and since you’re in the family, you deserve to see her.” And I replied, “Only because I am now your distant in-law could I dare to make this verse request.” His Majesty laughed loudly. [The consort was wearing only light make-up with no pearls or jade, resplendent like an immortal.] His Majesty lifted a beaker of wine and commanded [the consort, saying: “You may] greet the Grand Tutor.”. . . And His Majesty replied, [“No one goes home before they’re drunk!”] And the toasts went round once again, the wine flowing countless times.56 The lacunae injuan 30 increase in frequency and length toward the end of the juan and occur most often in the account of the final siege of Kaifeng and the last days of the Northern Song. These begin at 1127/1/10 with a deletion from the mu that accompanies the gang, “His Majesty went to Green City,” referring to the forced relocation of Emperor Qinzong and his entourage from the palace to the Jurchen camp south of Kaifeng (Fig. 8.9).57 Based on their dates, the surrounding context, and probable parallel passages in other surviving texts, these deleted passages reflect sensitivity to two broad groups of issues. The first group centers on indignities inflicted on the royal person and the imperial family. Omitted passages detailed the removal of the empress and empress dowager from the palace to Green City, the seizure of the emperor’s concubines, the looting of the inner apartments, and the dispersal of the imperial seals. Two excised characters remove the fact that, after her residence was burned, the Yuanyou Empress “walked on foot” to take refuge in the Xiangguo Temple. Other excisions removed a deranged soothsayer who harangued Emperor Huizong at the Lan- tern Festival of 1124 and an official who, pressed by the Jurchen to extract money from the population during the siege of Kaifeng, cursed the royal family. Several large and small deletions attempt to camou-

56 See Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, 29.729; Seikadō ed., 1330. For the original passage see Wang Mingqing, Huizhu lu, 277–78. 57 Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao (2006 ed.), 30.39a; Seikadō ed., 1471. chen jun’s outline and details 305

Left: Fig. 8.8. Shanghai imprint, folio 28.26b, Huangchao biannian beiyao. Right: Fig. 8.9. Shanghai imprint, folio 30.39a, Huangchao biannian beiyao. flage the very fact of the Jurchen capture and evacuation of the two emperors to the North.58 The second category of excised passages reveals enormous sensitivity to the issue of dynastic legitimacy and the transmission of sovereign authority from Emperor Qinzong to Emperor Gaozong. Deleted passages showed Qinzong wavering under pressure to recognize the Jurchen sovereign. Several long passages excise details concerning bureaucratic acquiescence in formal transfer of the Song mandate to Zhang Bangchang 張邦昌 (1081–1127), the Jurchen puppet ‘emperor’ who administered Kaifeng during the month-long hiatus between the dethronement of Qinzong in 1127/3 and the ‘restoration’ of the Song under Gaozong in 1127/5. Some excisions seem to work at cross-purposes.

58 Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, Seikadō ed., 1366, 1473, 1475, 1478, 1481, 1485–86. 306 charles hartman

The penultimate excision removes the entire first half of the Yuanyou Empress’s edict of 1127/4/15, an important document in the legitimation of Gaozong’s authority, because its text referred to Zhang Bangchang as a “venerable minister” and mentioned the Jurchen capture of Huizong and Qinzong.59 From a modern perspective, these excisions seem pointless. The censored passages derived from Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian, Jianyan yilai xinian yaolu, and Sanchao beimeng huibian 三朝北盟彙編 (Com- pendium on northern treaties), works accessible to thirteenth-century scholars and in fact included in Chen Jun’s own “List of works consulted.” The character of the excised passages, however, suggests that the 1235 court requisition of the book, and especially the timing of that requisition, may have prompted the censorship. As seen above, Chen Jun completed his Northern Song manuscript in the late 1220s. The formal court requisition order of 1235/2 came just six months after the failure of the Song attempt to reoccupy Kaifeng in the wake of the final demise of the Jin Dynasty in 1234/2. The failed expedition brought back accounts of the desolation of the Northern Song capital, which had suffered a year-long Mongol siege during 1232–33. Song failure to retake and hold Henan against the Mongols in 1234/6–8 weakened the Duanping administration’s political position, curbed its irredentist enthusiasm, and led to its quick dissolution. Those censored portions of Chen Jun’s book that betray increased sensitivity to questions of imperial dignity and sovereignty reflect this changed political atmosphere.60

VIII. Chen Jun on Southern Song History

In considering issues associated with the second work in the gangmu trilogy, Chen Jun’s Zhongxing biannian beiyao, the first task is to point out that the facsimile reprinting in 2006 of the Song imprint in the National Library of China in Beijing confirms that the book has indeed survived. The format of this Beijing imprint mirrors the Shang-

59 Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, Seikadō ed., 1478–79, 1480, 1488. 60 For the Song expedition to retake Kaifeng and Luoyang see Zhou Mi, Qidong yeyu, 5.84–88. chen jun’s outline and details 307 hai imprint of Chen Jun’s work on Northern Song history (Fig. 8.10).61 Because the Siku quanshu project missed the work and incorporated only Chen Jun’s material on the Northern Song into the Siku quanshu, generations of Song historians have assumed that Chen Jun’s work on the Southern Song had been lost.62 In fact, Zhongxing biannian beiyao not only survives but presents a unique opportunity to document developing thirteenth-century attitudes toward twelfth-century history. In its own way, the work is as important to Song historians as Chen Jun’s more widely circulated work on the Northern Song. Its text also presents information that helps to decipher Chen’s complex relationship with Zheng Xingzhi and the composition and printing history of his entire corpus. Evidence from the prefaces and contemporary bibliographic entries for Huangchao biannian beiyao, introduced in detail above, confirms Chen Jun’s authorship of Zhongxing liangchao biannian gangmu. The ‘restoration’ history is also mentioned in the early Ming bibliographies of the Imperial Library and of Ye Sheng 葉盛 (1420–74), which—a fascinating and important detail—each record two copies: one entitled Song zhongxing biannian beiyao 宋中興編年備要 and another entitled Song zhongxing biannian gangmu 宋中興編年綱目.63 Furthermore, the “List of books consulted” that is printed as front matter to Huangchao biannian beiyao includes four major works on Southern Song history.

61 Slightly over half (juan 1–7 and 12–14) of the Beijing Song imprint has survived; the remaining portions of the Beijing exemplar are later manuscript filler. See Chen Jun, Zhongxing liangchao biannian gangmu and Beijing tushuguan guji shanben shumu, shibu, 287. There is also a largely complete manuscript copy, executed by Zhang Rongjing 張蓉鏡 (1802–1849+) in 1837. Zhang’s colophon states that he obtained the first third (probablyjuan 1–6) of a Ming tracing copy of a Song imprint and completed this Ming manuscript by borrowing another complete tracing copy from the library of Zhang Jinwu. Zhang’s manuscript was among that part of the collection of the former Peiping Library that was moved to the United States during World War II. The manuscript is now in the Palace Museum Library in Taibei and easily available on microfilm; see Wang Zhongmin,Zhongguo shanben shu tiyao, 106. For the microfilm see the Library of Congress collection “Rare Books National Library Peiping,” text no. 66 on reel 36. The Zhang Rongjing manuscript, plus the 2006 facsimile of the Song imprint in the National Library of China, should provide a firm basis for establishing a modern edition of the work. 62 Yu Yunguo, “Nan Song biannian shijia Chen Jun shiji kao,” 92, presumes the book is lost; Xu Peizao, “Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao kaolüe,” 459–61, confirms Chen Jun’s authorship but does not mention the work’s survival. 63 Yang Shiqi, Wenyuan ge shumu, 5.14a; Ye Sheng, Lüzhutang shulu, 34–35. 308 charles hartman

Fig. 8.10. Zhongxing liangchao biannian gangmu 中興兩朝編年綱目, folio 1.1a (National Library of China), reproduced in the series Zhonghua zai zao shan ben 中華再造善本 (Beijing: Beijing tushuguan chubanshe, 2006). chen jun’s outline and details 309

Their inclusion indicates that Chen Jun, at the time he compiled the list, at least intended his work to cover post-Restoration history.64 The writings of Wang Yishan王義山 (1214–87) also contain a direct confirmation that Chen Jun in fact composed Zhongxing liangchao biannian gangmu. Wang, about the time of his jinshi in 1262, strongly criticized Chen Jun’s compilations to Liu Kezhuang 劉克莊 (1187– 1269) and declared his intention to rewrite Chen’s work by rephras- ing the gang to reflect sharper moral principles. Wang affirms that he changed over 300 of Chen’s gang in this way. He included several examples, one of which concerns events that occurred in 1161. Clearly, for both Wang and Liu, Chen Jun authored a volume on Southern Song. Wang’s preface to his own work, written under the Yuan Dynasty, refers to Chen’s work as Songchao changbian beiyao 宋朝長編備要.65 Further evidence of Chen’s authorship may be found in the text itself. On the one hand, the work carefully details the career and political activity of Chen Junqing, often citing material that is not in the present Jianyan yilai xinian yaolu or in other existing sources for Xiaozong’s reign.66 Chen’s firm support for Zhang Jun and his pro-war policy as well as his opposition to Emperor Xiaozong’s ‘favorites’ is covered in detail.67 On the other hand, the work is largely silent about the career of Shi Hao 史浩 (1106–94), father of Shi Miyuan. There is no mention of Shi Hao’s elevation to the State Council in 1162/9. Prior to his elevation to chief councilor in 1163/2, the work’s only mention

64 The works areJianyan yilai xinian [yao] lu 建炎以來繫年[要]錄 (Chronological record of important events since 1127) by Li Xinchuan; Zhongxing xiao li 中興小曆 (Minor calendar of the Restoration) by Xiong Ke 熊克 (1111–1190); Sanchao beimeng huibian 三朝北盟彙編 (Compendium on the northern treaties at three courts) by Xu Mengxin 徐夢莘 (1126–1207); and an anonymous Zhongxing jishi benmo 中興紀事本末 “submitted to court by the Institute of Academicians.” See Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao, front matter, 15–16. 65 Wang Yishan, Jiacun leigao, 4.12a–13a, 12.4b–7a; also Li Xiusheng, Quan Yuan wen, 3.76.25–27, 80.109–10. Liu Kezhuang was, like Chen Jun, a native of Putian in Fujian. Wang cites the phrasing of a gang under 1161/11 in which Chen wrote that “the caitiff army killed its ruler, Liang.” Wang objects, citing Mencius, that one does not ‘kill’ (sha 殺) a rightful sovereign, and rephrases the gang to read ‘punish’ (zhu 誅) rather than ‘kill.’ According to Wang Yishan, Liu then remarked to him that Liu thought Chen Jun’s work was narrow-minded or pedantic. 66 Neither the manuscript filler portions of the Beijing copy nor Zhang Rongjing’s 1837 manuscript of Zhongxing liangchao biannian gangmu contain folio numbers. I therefore cite the text by reference to year and lunar month. For material about Chen Junqing that is not in Jianyan yilai xinian yaolu, see 1157/7, 1160/11, and 1161/4. 67 Ibid., 1161/5, 1163/2, 1165/3, 1166/12, 1167/7, 1178/9. 310 charles hartman of Shi Hao is a brief notice of his recommendation in 1162/11 that the authority of the chief councilor’s office and the Military Affairs Com- mission be combined. Again, Shi Hao’s return to the councilorship in 1178/5 is mentioned in a brief gang with no mu elaboration. His dismissal in 1178/10, however, is immediately prefaced by a long mu narrative which details Chen Junqing’s and Zhu Xi’s contributions to the removal of Emperor Xiaozong’s ‘favorites.’ The cumulative effect of all these passages is to contrast Chen Junqing as an advocate of political reform, Daoxue, and irredentism with Shi Hao as an advocate of political authoritarianism, cronyism, and capitulation to the Jurchen. In short, Chen Jun’s Restoration history frames the history of the twelfth century through the prism of the opposition, especially in Fujian, to the continuing political dominance of the Shi family.

IX. The 1190–1224 Continuation

Unlike its immediate predecessor, the third work in the gangmu trilogy—Xubian liangchao gangmu beiyao—is well known to modern scholars, since it constitutes a unique source for the period 1190–1224. A recent, modern edition contains a comprehensive introduction, and Liang Taiji 梁太濟 has written an authoritative article on the work’s sources.68 Liang demonstrates that most of the text consists of verbatim quotation from the works of Li Xinchuan, especially from his Jian- yan yilai chaoye zaji 建炎以來朝野雜記 (Notes on events since 1127), from the anonymous Qingyuan dangjin 慶元黨禁 (Proscriptions of the Qingyuan era [preface 1245]), and from an early chronological biography (nianpu 年譜) of Zhu Xi. The work contains extensive detail on events in Sichuan, which Liang attributes to Li Xinchuan’s lost work on Sichuan history. Finally, almost 10 percent of the text consists of long quotations from memorials by Zhen Dexiu. Liang concludes the author may have been a rather low-ranking figure without access to the Imperial Library and a student of Zhen Dexiu. Chen Jun, who died in 1244, seems unlikely to have been the author. The work presents

68 Liang Taiji, “Liangchao gangmu beiyao shiyuan jiantan,” 153–71. For the modern edition see Ru Qihe, ed., Xubian liangchao gangmu beiyao. The first five juan of an edition identical in format to that of the Shanghai imprint of Huangchao biannian beiyao and to the Song imprint of Zhongxing liangchao biannian gangmu survives in the National Library of China, as does a complete tracing copy; see Beijing tushuguan guji shanben shumu, shibu, 287. chen jun’s outline and details 311 only a weak attempt—considerably more half-hearted even than in the works of Chen Jun—to overlay the gangmu format on its material. Juan 1, for example, opens with a wide-ranging survey of events centered on the biography of Emperor Guangzong prior to his acces- sion. This material is lifted verbatim from Li Xinchuan and is not in the gangmu format.69 Most scholars have been quick to discount the statement in the 1737 Fujian tongzhi 福建通志 (Fujian provincial gazetteer) that Chen Jun’s coverage extended to 1224.70 Yet it is easy to understand how this error could occur. None of the present imprints or manuscripts of the second and third works in the trilogy contain front matter or authorial designations of any kind. I suspect that the first two works were printed together sometime before 1250, when Zhao Xibian’s bibliography recorded them together. Clearly the front matter, as the “List of works cited” indicates, was intended to apply to both works. At some later point, probably around 1260, the last and final third work was added and printed in the same format. If the characterization in the Beijing Library catalog that all three imprints are “Song imprints repaired in the Yuan” is correct, then later readers could easily assume that Chen Jun had authored all three works.

X. Conclusions

The surviving imprints and manuscripts of thegangmu trilogy on Song history demonstrate a vivid, tangible example of the progression from ‘documentary’ to ‘pedagogical’ history, a transition closely linked to thirteenth-century political history at the national, local, and personal level. The evidence indicates at least three stages in the printing history of the trilogy. First, Zheng Xingzhi, around 1229, organized a collaborative effort, that did not include Chen Jun, to finance and distribute the beiyao portion of his work on Northern Song. Over Chen’s objections, Zheng inserted the phrase gangmu into the title and had blocks carved for the first twenty-fivejuan . Differences with Chen Jun over the ultimate aspirations for the work, combined with sensitivity over

69 Cf. Ru Qihe, ed., Xubian liangchao gangmu beiyao, 1.1–9, and Li Xinchuan, Jian- yan yilai chaoye zaji, 515–25. 70 Fujian tongzhi, 51.30; see also Huang Zongxi et al., Song-Yuan xue’an (2), 49.1597. 312 charles hartman the content of the last fivejuan , delayed a complete printing of the entire work. The existing Seikadō imprint represents this first stage. Second, at some later point in time, probably around 1234–35, juan 26–30 were printed and the entire work was recut. The Shanghai imprint, in its hypothetical, original version with the gangmu characters in the title strips and an intact juan 30 probably reflects a second attempt to bring out the complete work. One might imagine that Zheng Xingzhi, with the intention of making good his goal of submitting the work to the court, arranged for this recutting of the complete work prior to his departure for the capital in 1234. But the present gaps in the titles strips of the Shanghai imprint and the excisions in juan 30 certainly reflect tension over both title and content. After Zheng’s departure for Lin’an, Chen Jun, reasserting authority over his work, had the printers remove the two gangmu characters in order to restore the title to his original Huangchao biannian beiyao.71 The titleJiuchao biannian beiyao in juan 26–30, where “nine courts” refers unambiguously to the Northern Song, also seems to reflect an intention to continue the series with a printing of the Restoration (Zhongxing) material on the Southern Song, which Zhao Xibian’s entry confirms was accomplished by 1250. This fact may also be represented in the change in the text of Zhen Dexiu’s preface from ‘a certain number’ (ruogan 若干) in the holograph to ‘a total of forty- eight’ in his collected works. This number may represent a careless attempt to indicate that the total number of juan in Chen Jun’s (now printed) beiyao was forty-eight (thirty for Northern Song, eighteen for Southern Song). The addition of the last work, printed shortly after 1260 probably by the same printing house in the same format as the first two works, marked the final stage in the development of the trilogy. The blocks continued to be used and were repaired in the Yuan. Remembering that Zheng Xingzhi outlived Chen Jun by eleven years (Chen died in 1244; Zheng in 1255) and that Liang Taiji concludes the compiler of the final work was a disciple of Zhen Dexiu, it is not surprising that

71 Other title strips, without gaps, in the Shanghai imprint also suggest a commitment to a title without the phrase gangmu. The ‘new’ title of juan 26–30 reads Jiuchao biannian beiyao. Also, the title strip at the conclusion of the bukan table of contents also reads, without gaps, Huangchao biannian beiyao. The surviving portions of Yongle dadian cite Chen Jun’s work three times, each time as Song biannian beiyao; see Yongle dadian, 2949.23a, 19781.1a, 20478.25b–26a. chen jun’s outline and details 313 gangmu appears in the titles of all three works in this final Song-Yuan edition. In this connection, the two alternative titles for the second work of the trilogy in the early Ming Imperial Library—Song zhongxing biannian beiyao and Song zhongxing biannian gangmu 宋中興編年綱目—strongly suggest the existence of two naming traditions—one beiyao and one gangmu for the first two works of the trilogy. One may recall that all the 1235 court submission documents contained the phrase changbian gangmu and that a version of the work entitled Songchao tongjian changbian gangmu survived well into the Ming. These facts derive from Zheng Xingzhi’s original insistence on the political importance of Chen Jun’s history as a continuation of Zhu Xi’s Tongjian gangmu. There thus arose two separate naming traditions—beiyao descended from Chen Jun’s original conception of his work and gangmu descended from Zheng Xingzhi’s aspirations for the work. Later, these two separate naming traditions commingled to produce the present plethora of permutations that have confounded and delighted bibliographers to the present day. The content of the trilogy—its distinctive, ‘opposition’ stance on Song political history—was the product of a Fujian political tradition, linked to Zhu Xi’s Daoxue, that extended from Chen Junqing’s term as chief councilor in the 1160s through the final contribution of the anonymous disciple of Zhen Dexiu a hundred years later. Nominally the work of Chen Jun, but in fact the product of at least several hands, the history of the trilogy’s compilation mirrors the fortunes of Fujian Daoxue during this century. Chen Jun (and perhaps also Chen Mi) conceived and composed the nucleus of the work as a private challenge to the policies of Shi Miyuan. Zheng Xingzhi and Zhen Dexiu recast the work as a continuation of Zhu Xi’s Zizhi tongjian gangmu and propagated this revision as a public handbook of ‘reform’ during the Duanping administration. Arriving at court in 1235/12, the book was certainly conceived as a continuation of Zhu Xi’s Zizhi tongjian gangmu which was ordered promulgated to the Imperial University and read at the emperor’s Classics Mat sessions in 1237/2.72 As I have mentioned above, the excisions in the last chapter probably relate to the failure of the 1234/6–8 campaign to reoccupy the North. The political and financial cost of this failure doomed the Duanping

72 SS, 42.813. 314 charles hartman administration and its ‘Yuanyou’ reform agenda. The ground shifted under the critics of Shi Miyuan when those critics, now in power, were unable either to affect a political return to Northern Song policies or to actually retake the North. After 1234, as the scale of the looming con- frontation with the Mongols took shape, the book that Zheng Xingzhi had printed in the early 1230s must have seemed less a mirror for the restoration of the glorious Northern Song past than a ghastly preview of the portending repeat of the Northern Song fall. This sensitivity, and the prospect that his works were destined for the emperor’s Classics Mat sessions, account for Chen Jun’s insistence that he personally supervise the transcription of his book for the 1235 submission to court. The excisions in the Shanghai imprint result from attempts to bring the already printed book into conformity with his manuscript submission. Given the changed political circumstances, his caution was certainly warranted. Candor about the personal failings of Emperor Huizong and the horrors of the Northern Song fall served little value as moral incitement for an emperor and an administration no longer keen to recover the North. After the return of Shi Songzhi to power early in 1238, the anti-Shi stance in Chen Jun’s histories doomed them to official oblivion at court. Their implied parallels between the Cai family under Cai Jing and the Shi family under Shi Miyuan cast the entire history of Huizong’s reign in a problematic light. What had seemed trenchant criticism before 1233 verged on dangerous slander after 1238. Shi Songzhi’s declaration of Zhu Xi’s Daoxue as state orthodoxy in 1241 was a brilliant, if ultimately cynical, maneuver to co-opt the historical and moral underpinnings of his political opposition. The official sanction of Daoxue accelerated the transition from documentary to pedagogical history in several ways. First, the entire gangmu tradition that began with Zhu Xi was directed against documentary historiography. Second, although the anti-Shi bias of Chen Jun’s gangmu histories and their close association with the failed Duanping reform movement rendered these works unsuitable at court, they flourished in the provincial academies of Fujian, especially after the death of Shi Songzhi in 1256 and the ‘completion’ of the trilogy around 1260. As the Yuan reprinting of the trilogy attests, the popularity of this ‘pedagogical’ version of Song history continued to grow. When the official Yuan historians, themselves strong Daoxue schoolmen, compiled Song shi in 1345, they remembered the histories of Chen Jun as convenient Daoxue guides through the massive Song archives acquired during the chen jun’s outline and details 315 fall of Lin’an in 1275. In the ultimate irony, the private ambition of an eight-year old boy to compile a handy study guide through the massive documentation of Song history found its ultimate expression in the final transformation of those same archives into the official history that still today serves as the first reference for historians of the Song Dynasty.

CHALLENGING OFFICIAL HISTORY IN THE SONG AND YUAN DYNASTIES: THE RECORD OF THE THREE KINGDOMS1

Anne E. McLaren

I. Introduction

The historical works designated as the official histories of the Chinese state (zhengshi 正史) were printed for the first time in the early eleventh century. In subsequent decades, historical writings circulated in unprecedented numbers in intellectual circles throughout the Chinese empire, stimulating not just the dissemination of knowledge about past events, but also intellectual debate about the relationship between historiography and political legitimacy. Print technology enhanced the ability of the state to impose a unified curriculum of classics and histories on aspiring examination candidates and hence to shape the values of elite society as a whole. Yet print technology also facilitated the greater production and circulation of diverse texts beyond the state- defined curriculum and promoted the critical analysis of received texts. It was even possible, as I shall discuss here, to challenge the status of a zhengshi, rewrite it in line with new ideological positions, and seek to promote it through the medium of print. In this study I shall focus on a new phenomenon during this period, the intense interest in rewriting one of the traditional ‘standard histories,’ Sanguozhi 三國志 (Chronicle of the Three Kingdoms). The Three Kingdoms era (220–265) was a period when no single ruler managed to wrest decisive control over the entire Chinese empire. By the eleventh century, the Three Kingdoms had become a familiar trope for the discussion of the operation of dynastic succession at a time of disunity in line with traditional notions of correct political authority (that is, the zhengtong 正統 or True Succession). The officially-sanctioned history

1 This article has benefited greatly from discussions with participants at the “First Impressions” conference. Apart from the organisers, Lucille Chia and Hilde De Weerdt, I would particularly like to thank Charles Hartman for locating and interpreting relevant documents on Xiao Chang and for his pertinent comments as discussant. 318 anne e. mclaren of the period, Sanguozhi, composed by Chen Shou 陳壽 (233–97), had been criticized for centuries for its treatment of the zhengtong issue,2 but the sheer scope and longevity of the trend to revise the chronicle from the twelfth century onwards was unprecedented. A similar phenomenon was not seen again until the ‘nationalist’ historians of the mid-Ming took exception to the official histories of the Liao, Jin, and Song and sought to rewrite the standard history of the Song Dynasty (Song shi 宋史) in order to delegitimate ‘alien’ dynasties.3 Today these attempts to write politically motivated history are considered to be of interest only to those investigating debate about the zhengtong in imperial China. To scholars of Chinese history, the revisionist Sanguo histories are an unfortunate aberration in the much vaunted ‘objectivity’ of Chinese historiography. Nonetheless, the fashion for rewriting the chronicle is noteworthy as part of the burgeoning publication of both official and private histories that took place in the Song Dynasty and for its association with the new intellectual currents of the era. The increasing use of print led to the proliferation of historical texts, shaped their reception, interpretation, and social status, and facilitated greater experimentation with innovatory formats and narrative techniques. Pre-existing conventions in the manuscript tradition, together with customary reading practice, played a role in shaping the particular form of imprints in this early phase of print in China. For this reason my starting point will necessarily be the centuries-long period of manuscript transmission that preceded the first printing ofSanguozhi in 1003 by the Guozi jian 國子監 (Directorate of Education). Printing made available for the first time an identical text to court, scholars, and students alike. It removed the relative fluidity of manuscript trans-

2 The process of mythologization of the Shu Han state began after the end of the Three Kingdoms era, as successive regimes sought to legitimize themselves by forging supposed links with the house of Liu Bei 劉備; see Shen, “Inventing the Romantic

Kingdom.” As early as the fourth century ce, Xi Zuochi 習鑿齒 (d.384) argued for the legitimacy of the Shu Han rulers; see Chittick, “Dynastic Legitimacy.” In succeeding centuries, historians and rulers adopted either Wei or Shu as the correct inheritor of the True Succession, in line with contemporary political debates about the relative importance of territorial unification as opposed to perceived political virtue; see Chan, “Chinese Official Historiography,” 70–71 and Legitimation in Imperial China, 33–36, 126; Davis, “Historiography as Politics,” esp. 39, 41. 3 For the case of ‘nationalist historians’ Wang Zhu 王洙 (js 1521) and Ke Weiqi 柯維騏 (1497–1574) see Chan, “Chinese Official Historiography,” 97–100; Jao Tsung-I, Zhongguo shixue, 53–54. challenging official history 319 mission, made more visible and ‘permanent’ any perceived inadequacies of the received text, and led to debate among leading intellectuals about how to ‘improve’ the text. However, for political reasons, it was only after the fall of north China to the Jurchen in 1127 that private historiographers tried their hand at revising Sanguozhi in order to ‘correct’ Chen Shou’s judgment with regard to the operations of the zhengtong in the Three Kingdoms era. Revisionist historians, or, more particularly, their patrons and promoters, sought print publication for their works in order to ensure their longevity in a world where print was becoming more significant as a medium of transmission. The examination system stimulated strong demand for historical texts as pedagogical tools to assist students. Curiously, the texts discussed here were not designed for the students clamoring to obtain simplified versions of the standard histories. The promoters of revisionist Sanguo histories appear to have had a court and scholarly readership in mind rather than a student one. The decisions they made about the target readership affected the range of print publication of the revisionist histories, and thus their circulation, influence, and later survival. The attempts by revisionist historians of the Song-Yuan period to remove Chen Shou’s work from its pedestal as a standard history proved abortive. Nonetheless, they succeeded in creating indelible fictionalized images of the personalities of the Three Kingdoms era, contributed significantly to debate about political legitimacy at a time of significant fracture in the Chinese dynastic system, and left a little- known legacy of experimentation in the writing of history that was to have lasting consequences in the development of new genres of historical writing. The revisionist historians made innovations in editorial selection to create a ‘rectified’ text that told a coherent narrative based around leading individuals who are given unambiguous moral characterizations. In this way they transformed the preceding annals- biography format into a didactic narrativized format with identifiable ‘heroes’ and ‘villains.’ The end product more closely paralleled what Hayden White calls ‘history proper’ than the traditional chronological account. In ‘history proper,’ narrativized events are “revealed as possessing a structure, an order of meaning, that they do not possess as mere sequence.”4 He further argues that the composition of a historical narrative, as distinct from the preceding annalistic or chronicle

4 White, Content of the Form, 5. 320 anne e. mclaren forms, necessarily reflects a certain “politico-social order”5 and springs from what he calls “narrativity,” which is defined as “the impulse to moralize reality, that is, to identify it with the social system that is the source of any morality that we can imagine.”6 The Song and Yuan authors of revisionist Sanguo histories had a deep appreciation of the intimate link between the construction of narrative and the exposition of their perceived social reality, the operations of the true path of dynastic succession. As I have discussed in an earlier article, their experiments with “narrativity” in the writing of politically engaged history, and subsequent creation of heroes and villains who realised their destinies within the trajectory of the True Succession, paved the way for the more obviously fictional genre known as yanyi 演義 that emerged at the very end of this period, in the late Yuan and early Ming.7 In this paper I will explore how scholarly and political circles in the Song and Yuan used print to promote their interpretation of the True Succession at a time of war and foreign conquest. I shall discuss in turn the transition of Sanguozhi from manuscript to print in the Northern Song, the impact of print publication on intellectual debate, and its contribution to the formation of a new type of motivated historiography during the Southern Song and Yuan.

II. Sanguozhi: From Manuscript to Print

Sanguozhi was composed around 280 ce by Chen Shou in the form of three ‘books’ (shu 書) with a total of sixty-five chapters.8 The Liu Song court (420–479) found the work deficient in its “omission” of relevant material and possibly in its historical judgment. Scholar-official Pei Songzhi 裴松之 (372–451) was commissioned to fill in perceived gaps by adding material from diverse sources in current circulation. Pei greatly expanded the original by the addition of excerpts drawn from around two hundred anecdotal records. This additional material did not so much elucidate the original text as insert more elaborate

5 Ibid., 11. 6 Ibid., 14. 7 McLaren, “History Repackaged.” 8 The three books together were known asSanguozhi , see Chang Qu (fl. 265–316), Huayang guozhi, juan 11, Hou xian zhi 後賢志, 849. Cutter and Crowell discuss the distinctiveness of the tripartite format of Sanguozhi (henceforth SGZ) and the use of the term shu to denote the three divisions in Empresses and Consorts, 65. challenging official history 321 narrative material, including alternative versions of historical events and conflicting judgments of historical personages.9 During the centuries of manuscript transmission, the composite text was sometimes treated as three separate texts recording the history of each kingdom.10 In other words, each could circulate independently although as a group they were known variously as Sanguozhi (Records of the Three Kingdoms), Guozhi (Records of the kingdoms) or simply Sanzhi (Three records).11 Catalogs sometimes listed the record of each kingdom separately under the title of the kingdom. For example, Jiu Tang shu 舊唐書 (The old Tang history) in the bibliography section Jing ji zhi 經籍志, recorded the Wei guozhi 魏國志 as an official history (zhengshi), with the records on Wu 吳 and Shu 蜀 listed in chronological accounts (biannian 編年). In Xin Tang shu 新唐書 (The new Tang history), the history of each state is listed as an independent standard history.12 In the twentieth century several fragmentary manuscripts of a text called Wu zhi 吳志 dating back to the fourth century were discovered in various places in Xinjiang.13 The transition from manuscript to print was a crucial time in the formation of the canonical text, and, as Tian Xiaofei has argued in the case of the poetry of Tao Yuanming, required considerable “self- conscious editing.”14 This was the case too withSanguozhi . Directorate editors had to make various decisions about formatting and presentation. While they closely followed the manuscript tradition, they made decisions that subtly reflected political persuasions. The most critical decision was how to treat the relationship between the text proper by Chen Shou and the ‘commentary’ by Pei Songzhi. When the Directorate completed the collation, revision, and printing of Sanguozhi in 1003 (Xianping 咸平 6), remnants of the earlier separate treatment remained in the use of the titles of kingdoms within each volume. Further, the records of each state were apparently

9 de Crespigny, Records of the Three Kingdoms, 14–19. 10 SGZ, 2; de Crespigny, Records of the Three Kingdoms, 22; Cutter and Crowell, Empresses and Consorts, 65–66; Li Chunjiao, Sanguozhi yanjiu, 16, 95–96; Ng and Wang, Mirroring the Past, 85. 11 Li Chunjiao, Sanguozhi yanjiu, 91. 12 de Crespigny, Records of the Three Kingdoms, 22. Sui shu is the exception. It lists Sanguozhi in sixty-four juan, see Cutter and Crowell, Empresses and Consorts, 66. 13 Wu Jinhua, Sanguozhi jiaogu, 350–51. One example is reproduced in facsimile in the modern edition of SGZ, 5–8. 14 Tian, Tao Yuanming and Manuscript Culture, 9. 322 anne e. mclaren printed separately.15 Chen Shou had conceived of the order of the kingdoms as Wei, Wu, and Shu,16 but in printed editions the order was invariably presented as Wei, Shu, and Wu. The latter arrangement gave more prominence to the state of Shu and its pretensions to the Han throne.17 The earliest extant print copy is possibly the volume of Wu shu 吳書 held in the Seikadō bunko. It is widely known as the Xianping edition but contains a document by members of the Biyong 辟雍 (Preparatory Branch of the National University), an office only established in 1102.18 Ozaki Yasushi believes this text is an imprint of the original Xianping edition reprinted a century later.19 Wu shu has the format of fourteen lines with twenty-five characters in each. Of the three character styles (ziti 字體) common to Directorate editions (nine, ten, and fourteen columns), it uses the smallest-size characters. However, the format is unusual in that the text proper (by Chen Shou) and the ‘commentary’ (by Pei Songzhi) are presented in the same- size character with the ‘commentary’ set apart by the indentation of a single character from the top.20 This distinctive format had the effect of elevating Pei Songzhi to an almost co-authorial role as the reader was offered a dialogic presentation with two distinctive voices. The anomalies and contradictions between the two also became more apparent. This format changed in the Southern Song period, when Chen’s text was reproduced in prefectural and commercial editions with the ‘commentary’ relegated to smaller-size characters in interlinear columns.21 The decision to restrict Pei’s ‘commentary’ to the cramped confines of

15 Two Song editions contain documents written by Directorate officials that give titles variously as Wu zhi and Shu zhi, see SGZ, “Chuban shuoming,” 2. 16 This is the order given in Chang Qu,Huayang guozhi, 849. 17 Li Chunjiao, Sanguozhi yanjiu, 98–99. 18 Ozaki Yasushi, Seishi Sōgen-ban, 317–18. 19 Ibid., 318. 20 For a facsimile reproduction see Ozaki Yasushi, Seishi Sōgen-ban, 315. 21 The Shaoxing-period (1131–62) edition had a format of ten main columns hang( 行) with eighteen or nineteen characters to a hang for text proper and double columns with twenty-one to twenty-three characters in smaller size for the ‘commentary.’ For a facsimile example see Ozaki Yasushi, Seishi Sōgen-ban, 323. This format was retained in extant editions of Wei shu published by an unknown Jianyang commercial publisher, and also another fragment of Wei shu published in Zhejiang, probably by government offices. However, the Chengdu Meishan edition ofWei shu contains thirteen columns of twenty-five characters and interlinear commentary. For facsimile reproductions of the Jianyang edition see Zhongguo banke tulu (henceforth ZBT) vol. 3, no. 186; for the Zhejiang edition see ZBT vol. 2, no. 17. For the Meishan edition see ZBT vol. 3, no. 230. challenging official history 323 double columns (known as shuanghang 雙行) was most likely taken to save paper and reduce the bulk of the volumes, as Directorate editions were notably more cumbersome than commercial ones.22 What- ever the intention, the visual effect was to place Pei’s commentary in a more subordinate relationship to the text proper. As we shall discuss, the shifting relationship between text and commentary in the printing of the standard history was carried to more radical conclusions in the revisionist Sanguo editions. The intention of the Directorate was to publish texts in a uniform and definitive form for use in the examination system and among scholarly circles.23 It is thus ironic that the print publication of Sanguozhi apparently contributed to dissension rather than consensus. In its printing program, the Directorate followed well-established conventions for the composition of a standard history. The latter should contain imperial annals for the legitimate royal house, to which would be appended biographies of leading personalities, including rivals or pretenders to the throne. A single calendar, based on the reign name adopted by the legitimate ruler, should be followed. An interregnum period, when there was a hiatus in the transmission of the True Succession, would be designated as such. The problem the Directorate faced with the received text of Sanguozhi was that it comprised separate records of three competing states, thus presenting a more confused text than the conventional model based around a single legitimate ruler of a unified state. The state of Wei was indeed accorded legitimate status in that the ruler, Cao Cao 曹操, was given an imperial annals section (diji 帝紀). However, the tripartite format designed by Chen Shou tended to obscure the clear demonstration of the principle of True Succession, in that the other two kingdoms were allowed an independent status, including their own calendars. Directorate editors decided nonetheless to retain the tripartite format, thus following the conventions of manuscript transmission. It was precisely this format that affronted those who considered Cao Cao to be a usurper and Liu Bei, who claimed ancestry from the Han royal house, to be the rightful successor to the Han Dynasty. Song Dynasty literati were aware of innovations in the editorial treatment of periods of territorial division which allowed for new ways

22 As discussed by Ronald Egan in his contribution to this volume. 23 Ozaki Yasushi, Seishi Sōgen-ban, 42; Cherniack, “Book Culture,” 36. 324 anne e. mclaren to handle the thorny issue of judging the True Succession in periods of disunion and foreign rule. Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 (1007–72), for example, in his rewriting of the standard history of the Five Dynasties period, Wudai shi 五代史, set aside the five divisions shu( 書) of the latter, each with its own annals and biographies, in favor of a more integrated text comprising annals of all states followed by biographies of all states, none of which is accorded the status of ‘imperial annals.’24 This format proved controversial in its own time because it reflected Ouyang’s pragmatic view that each ‘royal’ house should be accorded its due place in the historical record. Ouyang, a believer in the operations of the True Succession, preferred to use summative judgments to demonstrate the illegitimate nature of the Five Dynasties.25 Ouyang Xiu’s rewriting of the standard histories in a more integrated and literary style influenced debate about how to write histories, and helped legitimize the revisions made by less illustrious figures in the Southern Song.26

III. Debating Sanguozhi in the Northern Song (960–1127)

Eighty years after the first printing of Sanguozhi, the clarion call to revise it came from the noted statesman, Wang Anshi 王安石 (1021– 85). Several anecdotal reports relate how the talented man of letters, Su Shi 蘇軾 (1037–1101), on passing through Jinling 金陵 (modern Nanjing) after four years of exile and political persecution, had a meeting of reconciliation with his bitter political opponent of former years, now living in retirement from government office. Wang Anshi reportedly called on the younger man to redo (chong zuo 重作) the book of the Three Kingdoms.27 Su Shi declined to undertake this politically perilous task, and recommended in his stead the historian, Liu Shu

24 Ouyang Xiu, Historical Records, xlvi; Hon, “Military Governance,” 88. 25 Hon, “Military Governance,” 91–92. In later life Ouyang Xiu regretted even this token legitimacy accorded the Five Dynasties and dismissed them all as a period of interregnum; see Ouyang Xiu, Historical Records, xlviii–xlix. 26 For example, the figure of Xiao Chang discussed here. 27 The incident is reported variously in Shao Bo邵博 (d. 1158), Wenjian houlu 聞見後錄 (Record of things seen and heard), 21.167; Xu Du 徐度 (fl. 1147), Quesao bian 卻掃編 (2) (Writings from a hermit’s lodge), juan zhong, 100–101 (1966 ed); Wang Zhi 王銍 (fl. 1131),Mo ji 默記 (Silent record), 65–66. See also Li Chunjiao, Sanguozhi yanjiu, 170–71. challenging official history 325

劉恕 (1032–78),28 or, more plausibly, his son, Liu Xizhong 劉羲仲 (d. ca. 1120).29 Liu Shu had assisted Sima Guang 司馬光 (1019–86) in drafting Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 (Comprehensive mirror for aid in governance), with responsibility for drafting the history for periods of disunity: the Wei, Jin 晉, and North-South Dynasties (Nan-Bei chao 南北朝) era. However, he lost his post when he offended Wang Anshi. It is thus unsurprising that neither Liu Shu nor his son took up the task of rewriting Sanguozhi. During his controversial career, Wang had used his office to promote new interpretations of the works of the masters of high antiquity in line with his political reforms.30 But what exactly was he hoping to achieve by rewriting the official history of a much later era, the Three Kingdoms period? According to Xu Du, Wang Anshi declared that Ouyang Xiu should have rewritten Sanguozhi not Wudai shi. Wang Zhi reports Wang Anshi as saying that Pei Songzhi’s ‘commentary’ should better match the text of Chen Shou because “the best material was in the commentary” and not the text proper.31 These anecdotes indicate that Wang Anshi aimed to reconstruct Sanguozhi in the more literary and integrated style of Ouyang’s revised history of the Five Dynasties in order to achieve a better consonance between Pei’s ‘commentary’ and Chen Shou’s text. Both these concerns were shared by later San- guo revisionists, who chose to blur the line between the text authored by Chen and the colorful anecdotal sources inserted by Pei. However, neither Wang Anshi nor Su Shi would have sought to change Chen Shou’s treatment of the state of Wei as the legitimate state, unlike the radical alternatives proposed by those who came after them.32 Wang Anshi’s evident dissatisfaction with the received text of San- guozhi can be understood within the context of reading practices for

28 According to Shao Bo, Wenjian houlu, 167. However, Liu Shu died before the likely time of this meeting in 1084. 29 According to Wang Zhi, Mo ji, 65–6. 30 Hartwell, “Historical Analogism,” 693–94. 31 Mo ji, 65–66. 32 Ouyang Xiu held that territorial unification was the main attribute of the True Successor, an approach that favored Cao Cao’s house of Wei; see Liu, Ou-yang Hsiu, 111–12; also Davis, “Historiography as Politics,” 38–40, 68–71. Su Shi is known to have taken the side of Ouyang Xiu against his critics; see Su Shi, Jingjin Dongpo wenji shilüe (2), juan 11, “Zhengtong lun” 正統論, zhong (vol. 1, 149). Here he sides with Ouyang in opposing the division made by Zhang Wangzhi 章望之 (fl. eleventh century) between the True Succession (zhengtong) and Succession by a Hegemon (batong 霸統); see discussion in Bol, “This Culture of Ours,” 267. 326 anne e. mclaren texts about the Three Kingdoms that predated the Directorate printings and continued well into the Song. Readers engaged actively with the chronicle record, seeking insight into the meaning of obscure events by drawing on dramatic imagery from the commentary or legends in common currency. Literati readers increasingly shared with their peers their own experience of reading by composing poetry exhibiting their literary and historical sensibility. For example, in his poem “Du Sanguozhi” 讀三國志 (“On reading The Chronicle of the Three Kingdoms”), Li Jiuling 劉九齡 (js 964) acclaims the talents of Zhuge Liang 諸葛亮 [Wuhou] and Zhou Yu, famed strategists for the camps of Shu and Wu respectively, in line with the trope that a good ruler seeks out virtuous ministers. He refers to the star falling at the time of Zhuge Liang’s death, an event reported in Jinyangqiu 晉陽秋, as cited by Pei Songzhi:33 From olden times you need to gain a sage to win a kingdom, Say not that the rise and fall of kingdoms is but a mere a turn of the cycle. When Wuhou’s star fell down from the sky and Zhou Yu died, The conquest of Shu and the fall of Wu were but a matter of course.34 A similar example of fusing fact and legend comes from the cosmological thinker, Shao Yong 邵雍 (1011–77) in “Guan Sanguo 觀三國” (“On contemplating the Three Kingdoms”) where he refers to a scene not recorded in Sanguozhi but transmitted in folklore: The debate on strategy at Crouching Ram Rock, was this without meaning? Watering one’s horses at the Yellow River, was this goal too in vain? People talk of fate as both ordained by Heaven and made by man, Who would know that unexpectedly they would fail to win fine gold?35 Here Shao draws on a legend current in his own time about the heroes of the Shu Han 蜀漢 and Wu camps meeting at Crouching Ram Rock (Henshi 很[狠]石), the name of a rocky outcrop in front of Ganlu Temple, Zhenjiang, which is said to be shaped like a crouching ram.36

33 SGZ, 926. 34 “Du Sanguozhi,” Quan Tang shi, 730. 8363. Cited in Zhu Yixian and Liu Yuchen, Sanguo yanyi, 96. 35 This poem is one of a series of reflections on eras of Chinese history; see Lü Zuqian, Song wen jian, 25.1350–353; cited in Zhu Yixuan and Liu Yuchen, Sanguo yanyi, 107. 36 In Sanguo yanyi the same expression recurs, this time with hen understood in the sense of “to bear a grudge against” (hen 恨) and an elaborate story where Liu Bei and Sun Quan compete to slice through a rock. challenging official history 327

In the (imagined) Three Kingdoms narrative of these readers, the meeting at Crouching Ram Rock and “watering one’s horses at the Yellow River” allude to the defining moment when the leaders of Shu and Wu decide to ally and wage war on Wei, thus setting the scene for the tripartite struggle to come. Sanguo poems are pervaded by a sense of melancholy at the contrast between the talents of the personalities of the era, the intensity of their battles, and the ultimate failure of their aspirations. Wang Anshi himself reflected on the noble but frustrated ambition of Liu Bei: The struggles of a thousand ages are worth but a single feather, How sad that the efforts of a lifetime came to nought! No one told Liu Xuande [Liu Bei], That the noblest ambition is to care for one’s estate.37 The final line runswenshe qiutian yi zui gao 問舍求田意最高, an allu- sion to Liu Bei’s scathing condemnation of Xu Si 許汜 as recorded in the biography of Chen Deng 陳登 in the Wei section of Sanguozhi: You have the reputation of being a man who will serve the state. Now the empire is in chaos, the emperor has lost his proper place, we look to you to worry about the state and forget your family, to have as your ambition to save the world, but you merely concern yourself with purchasing fields and looking after your residenceqiutian ( wenshe); there is nothing to your fine words.38 Given the political vicissitudes of Wang’s own career as the leading exponent of the New Policies, the last line of the poem can only be read ironically. These poems reflect the confidence with which literati blended various sources to form an imagined interpretation of historical events. An exemplary story of the period relates how Su Shi, in his jinshi examination of 1057, invented an anecdote about the sage Yao that he falsely attributed to the ancient Shujing 書經 (Book of documents). When queried on this by the examiner, Ouyang Xiu, Su Shi admitted his invention but added, “I imagined he [Yao] would have acted that way.” Ouyang Xiu admired this plausible invention.39 These Sanguo poems hint at sympathy for the state of Shu Han and its leading figure,

37 Wang Anshi, “Du Shuzhi” 讀蜀志 (“On reading The Record of Shu”) in Wang Linchuan ji, juan 32, lüshi, cited in Zhu Yixuan and Liu Yuchen, Sanguo yanyi, 112. 38 SGZ, 229. 39 See discussion and this translation in Egan, Word, Image and Deed, 51. 328 anne e. mclaren

Liu Bei, although during the Northern Song, the expression of pro- Shu sentiment was a sensitive political issue. The founding emperor of the Song had wrested power in the same way as Cao Cao usurped the power of the waning Han, and the situation of the smaller states of Northern Han and the Southern Tang were perceived to parallel the marginal situation of Shu during the Three Kingdoms era.40 Whether they chose to read moral paradigms into the historical material, to reflect on the unknowability of Heavenly fate, or to mull over the perils of political ambition, readers of Sanguozhi drew on the work of Chen Shou, the anecdotes of Pei Songzhi, accounts from folklore, and the burdens of their own lives, to create a meaningful ‘narrative’ that transcended any single source. These established reading practices paved the way for the experimentation with text and commentary, and a more pronounced bias towards the Shu Han state, that was to take place in the Southern Song. It also means that the revisionist historians were not so much creating a radically new text as meeting the long-standing expectations of their readers.

IV. Rewriting Sanguozhi in the Southern Song (1127–1279)

After the conquest of north China by the Jurchens in 1127, the diminished Song polity, threatened successively by the Liao, Xi Xia, and Jurchen Jin dynasties, was now perceived to be closer to that of the embattled state of Shu.41 With the Song court now established in the southern capital of (modern-day) Hangzhou, the reappraisal of the nature of the True Succession became an urgent concern to southerners, who argued that imperial bloodline (zheng) was more important than control of a unified territory tong( ). Pride in Chinese civilization and denigration of foreign states formed what Tillman has called a type of ‘proto-nationalism’ among Southern Song patriots.42 The Three Kingdoms era (once again) became an important trope for discourse on political legitimacy. In 1167 Zhang Shi 張栻 (1133–80), a leading figure in the Hunan branch of Daoxue, compiled a work of statecraft called Jingshi jinian 經世紀年 (The annals of statecraft) 1167, two juan, (non-extant) which set out the state of Shu Han as the true successor of

40 “Sanguozhi tiyao,” SKQS, cited in Li Chunjiao, Sanguozhi, 172. 41 Ibid. 42 Tillman, “Proto-Nationalism in Twelfth-Century China?” challenging official history 329 the Han.43 Another patriot who was greatly affected by the loss of the north was Chen Liang 陳亮 (1143–94), who developed a strong interest in the application of military strategy to historical cases, including those from the Three Kingdoms era.44 In his Sanguozhi jinian 三國志紀年 (Annals of The Chronicles of the Three Kingdoms, 1 juan) he arranged the order of the chronology as Shu, Wei, and Wu, thus inti- mating that Shu should be regarded as inheritor of the zhengtong. Sanguo revisionist historians went much further than Ouyang Xiu in composing an integrated format for a period of historical division. They objected strongly not just to the establishment of Cao Cao’s house of Wei as the True Successor but also to the tripartite format of Sanguozhi, inherited from the manuscript tradition and continued in the Directorate imprints, which, they believed, undercut the notion that the zhengtong continued to operate during periods of political fragmentation. The solution devised by Song revisionist historians was to produce a text that better reflected the operations of the True Suc- cession by removing the divided format devised by Chen Shou. Revi- sionist historians designated the biography of Liu Bei and his ruling house as imperial annals, placed the biographies of personalities from the Wei and Wu in a subordinate position to the imperial annals, and removed the offending calendars of the other states, replacing them with the calendar adopted by Shu Han. They also devised strategies to render the ‘commentary’ more consonant with the text proper, and rearranged the original text to provide a clearer narrative and less ambiguous characterization. Revision of Sanguozhi was part of contemporary interest in appro- priating histories for diverse purposes, from pursuing a contemporary political agenda to popularizing historical knowledge, or demonstrat- ing the immanence of the Dao in history. For those interested in drawing historical analogies, ‘disreputable’ periods of disunity such as the Three Kingdoms era were instructive for understanding the threat of political conquest and division.45 The shared interest in reappraising legitimacy issues of the Three Kingdoms era crossed factional lines

43 Cai Dongzhou, “Song ru de Wei Shu zhengwei lunzheng,” 108. According to Tillman, Zhang Shi was noted for his “forthright advice” to Song Emperor Xiaozong 孝宗 (r. 1163–89) concerning national self-strengthening to liberate the north from Jurchen occupation; Confucian Discourse, 44. 44 Chen Liang ji, vol. 1, 136–51; see also Tillman, Utilitarian Confucianism, and, Confucian Discourse, 146–47. 45 Hartwell, “Historical Analogism,” 695, 700 n. 62. 330 anne e. mclaren among adherents of Daoxue and even political divides between north and south. For example, Chen Liang and Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) had famous disagreements about aspects of Daoxue, but both were determined to revise Chen Shou’s treatment of the Three Kingdoms era. Zhu Xi, who became the most prominent figure in the Daoxue movement, forged a new type of didactic narrative to render the historical record more accessible. In Zizhi tongjian gangmu 資治通鑑綱目 (Outline and details of The Comprehensive mirror for aid in governance) he corrected what he saw as the erroneous bias of Chen Shou.46 Xiao Chang 蕭常 (fl. late twelfth century), a southerner, rewrote Sanguozhi to express the southern sense of common anguish at the loss of the north. About eighty years later, Hao Jing 郝經 (1223–75), a northerner and noted Daoxue exponent, rewrote Sanguozhi to promote Mongol conquest of the whole country. These revisionist histories contended with the standard history epitomised by the Directorate imprints and contributed to the opening up of public debate about the nature of historical writing and of political legitimacy. In Table 9.1 (see below) I set out known examples from the Song and Yuan periods, both extant and non-extant, in the approximate order of composition.47 The first extant revisionist Sanguo history is Xiao Chang’s Xu Hou Han shu 續後漢書 (Sequel to The History of the Later Han). The choice of title alludes to Fan Ye’s 范曄 (398–445) Hou Han shu 後漢書, a work that favored the legitimacy of Shu over Wei. The text contains a preface dated 1200 by Zhou Bida周必大 (1126–1204), who rose to the rank of grand councillor. In 1196 Zhou Bida took up the post of junior mentor, where he lectured the crown prince of Emperor Ningzong 寧宗 (r. 1195–1224).48 Zhou notes in his preface that Xiao Chang was inspired by the earlier work of Zhang Shi. There is a postscript by Ouyang Shoudao歐陽守道 (b. 1209, js 1241), who rose to the rank of editorial director of the Palace Library, and lecturer in the Chongzheng dian 崇政殿 (Hall for the Veneration of Governance). He was known for lecturing on the rise and fall of

46 Zhu Xi influenced Sanguo revisionist historians such as Hao Jing. On Zhu Xi’s view of history see Schirokauer, “Chu Hsi’s Sense of History.” 47 On the Sanguo rewriting phenomenon see Jao Tsung-I, Zhongguo shixue, 49–54; Cai Dongzhou, “Song ru de Wei Shu zhengwei lunzheng” and Li Chunjiao, Sanguozhi yanjiu, 165–81. I have drawn on all three in compiling this list and added further details. 48 Franke, ed., Sung Biographies, 275–77. challenging official history 331 dynasties.49 Xiao Chang, Zhou Bida, and Ouyang Shoudao all came from Luling 廬陵 (Ji’an 吉安) in Jiangxi. Zhou and Ouyang were involved in two Luling Daoxue academies, Dragon Islet and White Egret Islet,50 and both held court posts involving instruction of the emperor and his heirs. Ouyang Shoudao’s collected works include a letter written by Xiao Chang’s grandson to Li Yishan 李義山 (js 1220), the prefect of Tan- zhou from 1248 to 1249, to urge him to print the work.51 This document, together with Ouyang’s postscript to Xu Hou Han shu, provides valuable detail about the arduous route to publication of this work. In the letter to Li Yishan, Xiao Chang is placed in a distinguished genealogy of “Luling historiography” exemplified by Ouyang Xiu. Further, although Xiao never had the chance to read Zhu Xi’s Gangmu, he arrived at the same idea as the luminary of Daoxue, whose learning was in the ascendant at this time. Xiao’s work has not been superseded by Gangmu because the latter has only three juan on the events of the Three Kingdoms era, therefore “thezhengshi of my forebear [Xiao Chang] is indispensable.” Xiao had planned to submit it to court but unfortunately he died before this plan was realised. The text had been submitted to court by Zheng Gong 鄭公 in the Ministry for War and deposited in the Palace Library, but during the conflagration of 1231 the book was destroyed, leaving only the copy held at home. In his postscript, Ouyang Shoudao explains that Li Yishan had been unable to publish the text but that the incoming prefect Chen Cigong 陳次公 had published the work through Tanzhou prefectural offices. This took place sixty years after its completion. The printed text was then submitted to court. Both documents are undated, but the term of Li Yishan as Tanzhou prefect indicates that Xu Hou Han shu was published in the mid-thirteenth century (after 1249?) and completed sixty years prior to that, around 1188. Xiao Chang’s work inspired a number of other works of a similar type. Zhou Mi 周密 (1235–98) wrote scathingly about the craze for rewriting Sanguozhi in his Guixin zashi 癸辛雜識:

49 SS, 411.12364–67; for the postscript see QSW, 347.8002.31–32. All official posts are translated in line with Hucker, Dictionary of Official Titles. 50 Walton, Academies and Societies, 75–77. 51 QSW, 346.8001.319–20. 332 anne e. mclaren

The debate aboutzheng and run [正閏]52 has been of long standing. Ougong [Ouyang Xiu] composed Zhengtong lun 正統論, then Zhang Wangzhi 章望之 composed Mingtong lun 明統論 [three pian, non-extant] to refute him.53 Wengong [Sima Guang] composed [Zizhi] Tongjian, then Zhu Xi composed Gangmu in order to correct him. Zhang Jingfu [Zhang Shi] further composed Jingshi [jinian] in order to directly link the First Ruler of Shu to the imperial line of Han Emperor Xian. After that, Xiao Chang of Luling wrote Xu Hou Han shu, which began with the reign of Zhaolie [Liu Bei] in the year 221 ce [in the Shu calendar], right through to the second ruler 263 ce [in the Shu calendar] with added biographies for Wu and Wei. In our present day, Zheng Xiongfei has also produced a work, Xu Hou Han shu, but his effort is nothing more than retracing the steps of Xiao Chang. Finally, Weng Zai has also written a work, Shu Han shu 蜀漢書 which is merely a compilation of minor details left out of the works of Xiao and Zheng. No doubt this was done to acquire special note and enhance his reputation by placing himself in the camp of Zhu [Xi] and Zhang [Shi].54 Zhou Mi himself was very sceptical about whether the zhengtong could be discerned in the chaotic succession of dynasties up to his own time,55 however, the revisionist trend continued well into the Yuan era.

V. Revising Sanguo in the Yuan (1271–1368)

The most famous of the Sanguo revisionist historians was the only northerner, Hao Jing. Hao Jing was known as a leading exponent of Daoxue and a poet and man of letters.56 He believed that Confucian models of good governance could be carried out even by non-Chinese, so long as the alien ruler was enlightened by his Chinese ministers.57 In 1260 he submitted a memorial to Khubilai calling on him to adopt Song institutions as the Jurchen had done before him.58 In the same

52 This refers to the use of a ‘regular’ zheng( 正) or ‘intercalary’ (run 閏) calendar to designate rulers in the true line of succession and interspersed regimes not considered in the true line of succession; see Chan, Legitimation in Imperial China, 31. 53 SS, 443.13098 records this debate between Zhang Wangzhi and Ouyang Xiu. 54 Guixin zashi (houji), 1.190–91; cited in Cai Dongzhou, “Song ru,” 110. 55 “All the violent, crafty and opportune men of the empire take it by theft and hold it in peace, and thus owls, bucks, snakes, pigs, jackals and wolves can all leave their imprint on later ages . . . As for the Shu Han and the Wei of the Three Kingdoms era, their claims cannot be distinguished one from the other,” ibid. 56 de Bary, Neo-Confucian Orthodoxy, 25. 57 For Hao Jing’s life and works see Schlegel, Hao Ching (1222–1275) ein chinesischer Berater, in which Hao’s Xu Hou Han shu is mentioned in passing (71). 58 Tao, Jurchen in Twelfth-Century China, 93. challenging official history 333 year he was sent as state envoy to the Southern Song to negotiate terms for the Mongol conquest of the whole country. He was detained under house arrest by Song Prime Minister Jia Sidao 賈似道 (1213–75) until 1275. It was during this period of detention that he composed a text later known as Xu Hou Han shu. Hao Jing had spent his life in north China and his work was done independently from Xiao Chang, who was living in the south. His history was first published several decades after his death. Feng Liangzuo 馮良佐 (fl. 1345) in his preface to Xu Hou Han shu notes that it was expounded to the Mongol emperor, Renzong 仁宗 [Ayurbarwada] in 1318 by Grand Academi- cian Chen from the Academy of Scholarly Worthies. He also observed that Hao’s original intention had been to retain the title Sanguozhi but the work was accorded the title Xu Hou Han shu at the time of its publication in the same year by a government office, the Xingsheng 行省 (Branch Secretariat) of Jiangxi.59 We can gain an insight into the reception of the revisionist histories in the Yuan from these words of Court Historian Su Tianjue 蘇天爵 (1294–1352). In the statement below he presents the Sanguo revisionists as aggrieved and indignant patriots, robbed of state employ by the conquest of the north, who sought to rectify the temper of the times. When the royal house of Song fled south, the ruling senior ministers for- got their enmity and submitted to humiliation, seeking only an ignoble salary and an inglorious peace and so in this period the loyal hearts of the classicists (ruzhe 儒者) were stirred; they felt highly indignant and aggrieved. Unable to be used in high office they entrusted their ideas to their writings. This is the origin of the rectification of the Shu Han dynastic succession . . . Xiao Chang of Luling converted [Shu] to imperial annals and added four tables but nothing else. In our present era, Hao Gongjing [Hao Jing], the Hanlin Academician Expositor-in-waiting, was sent as emissary to the Song and while detained at Yizhen began to compose imperial annals in two juan, a chronological table in one juan, biographies in seventy-nine juan, and eight juan of treatises. He said, the [purpose of] Xu Hou Han shu is to correct the imperial succession and acclaim those who were loyal and worthy. It is of use to educating the age and thus is of great significance. From the time of Zhaolie of Han it is now a thousand years to the present day. [The rectification]

59 See Hao Jing, Xu Hou Han shu (CSJC-CB), 6. TheSKQS edition (dated 1781) notes that the work was still known as Sanguozhi by the Secretariat in the Yanyou 元祐 era (1314–20), but the title was changed to Xu Hou Han shu at the time of first printing. See CSCB-CB ed., 385–83. Feng Liangzou was appointed Administrative Assistant in Fenghua zhou 奉化州 in 1345. 334 anne e. mclaren

began with Xi Zuochi, next were those who fled south with the Song, culminating with Hao Jing, who managed to thoroughly accomplish this. From this we know that the principles of Heaven are embedded in men’s hearts and will not fade even over a thousand ages.60 Another revisionist history of the era, Zhang Shu’s 張樞 Xu Hou Han shu was the basis of an imperial seminar given by Wei Su 危素 (1303– 1372), and it was ordered to be preserved in the Xuanwen ge 宣文閣 (Hall for Diffusion of Literature).61 Finally, Zhao Juxin’s 趙居信 Shu Han benmo 蜀漢本末 (Annals of the Shu Han), was first published by the Jian’an Academy of Jianning lu in Fujian and is extant in several reprintings.62 On this evidence, the revisionist histories had a strong influence in their own era and were printed by government offices, served as the basis for imperial seminars, and were preserved in imperial libraries. However, they apparently had a more limited reach than the commercial popularized and abridged histories purchased by examination candidates and students generally, which were constantly reprinted during the imperial period.63 Of the three extant revised Sanguo histories today, only one, Shu Han benmo, is extant in an original edition. Early editions of Xiao Chang and Hao Jing’s histories are non-extant and these works are known today principally through the medium of that great Qing court compendium in manuscript form, Siku quanshu.64 Some imprints of Xiao Chang’s work are extant from the very late imperial period (possibly based on SKQS).65 Hao’s text was reprinted in the late Ming and throughout the Qing.66 The publication history of the revisionist Sanguo texts suggests that from the Song to Yuan they did not make the transition into the world of commercial publishing

60 Su Tianjue, Zixi wen gao 滋溪文稿, 29.488; partly cited in Li Chunjiao, Sanguozhi yanjiu, 172. 61 Yuan shi, 199.4478. The Xuanwen ge became responsible for running the imperial seminars from 1341; Wang Fenglei, “Yuandai de jingyan,” 27. 62 The earliest known edition, dated 1351, is held in the National Library of China (Beijing) Rare Book Collection, 06594. 63 On the commercialization of historical texts see articles in Lee, The New and the Multiple, particularly Lee’s Introduction, and Lee, “New Directions in Northern Sung Historical Thinking”; also Chia,Printing for Profit, 130–33. 64 According to SKQS editors, Hao Jing’s work was copied into the Ming imperial compendium, Yongle dadian. 65 The National Library of China in Beijing holds a Jiaqing-period嘉慶 (1796– 1820) edition, a partial imprint of 1808–11, and editions of 1841 and 1869. 66 The National Library in Beijing holds printed editions dated variously 1644, 1796, 1808, 1840, and 1841. challenging official history 335 but remained within court and Daoxue academy circles. The reasons might well lie in the target readership for the revised histories, which never supplanted Chen Shou’s Sanguozhi as the standard history and thus were never included in the examination curriculum. This in itself would have made them less attractive to commercially-minded publishers.67 But there is evidence that the authors and promoters of these texts were not so much interested in breaking into the commercial world of print as penetrating the inner sanctum of the court.

VI. Educating the Emperor

As noticed above, many promoters of the Sanguo revisionist works held posts as lecturer to the emperor. An innovation of the era, the system of court lectureship was an important medium for the education of the emperor and discussion of government policy. From 1023, historical texts and classics were commonly expounded to the emperor in a series of seminars known as the ‘Classics Mat lectures’ ( jing yan 經筵).68 After the Mongol conquest the new emperors continued to invite scholars to expound the Chinese classics and histories, and the Classics Mat system was formally revived in 1324.69 According to de Bary, the kind of exposition taught in imperial seminars differed from that taught in the “orthodox tradition” to “the world at large.” The reigning emperor was inculcated with “the learning of the sage-emperors and kings” (diwang zhi xue 帝王之學), a specific form of instruction that formed “an ancillary tradition.” The focus was to be on the personal morality of the emperor and the need to set an example for the whole empire.70 Zhu Ruixi has noted that the nature of

67 Commercial printers followed the examination curriculum closely; see De Weerdt, Competition over Content, 176, 180–81. 68 Hartwell, “Historical Analogism”, 696–98; Guarino, “Learning and imperial authority,” 10–12. 69 de Bary, Neo-Confucian Orthodoxy, 26–29; Wang Fenglei, “Yuandai de jingyan,” 26–27. 70 de Bary, Neo-Confucian Orthodoxy, 30. Thinkers of the Northern Song had long advocated the use of historiography to instruct the emperor. Chen Liang focused on educating “the mind of the ruler,” perceived to be “the foundation of all government,” see Tillman, Confucian Discourse, 151. Sima Guang (1019–86), in his famous chronicle history, Zizhi tongjian, aimed to record “all that a prince ought to know . . . all good and bad examples that can furnish models and warnings” (translated by Pulleyblank in “Chinese Historical Criticism,” 153–54). See also the study by Huang, “Philosophical Argumentation.” For discussion of the origins of the idea of the remonstrating 336 anne e. mclaren the seminar varied according to the age of the emperor and his tastes. The court lecturer would read an extract from the work concerned (commonly a classic or history) and then expound its meaning, with the emperor asking questions.71 Marie Guarino, in her study of the Northern Song Classics Mat lecture, argues that the lectures “encouraged a lively exchange of ideas” and reflected elements of the political philosophy that led to the rise of Daoxue.72 Court lecturers could include debates; early in the Yuanyou 元祐 era (1086–94), for example, two court lecturers debated the achievements of Zhuge Liang before Emperor Zhezong 哲宗. Noting the severe casualties of battle during the Three Kingdoms era, they argued that Zhuge Liang did not adopt the principle of “not killing a single innocent man in order to gain the empire.” Famous Daoxue thinker, Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) hotly defended Zhuge Liang, declaring that the remark about not killing a single innocent man to gain the empire referred only to those who slaughtered the innocent for their own private advantage: “Wuhou (Zhuge Liang) punished a bandit under Heaven in accord with the mandate of the Son of Heaven, wherein is the harm in that?”73 This interesting anecdote points to the potential uses of Sanguozhi in its multiple interpretations. As a political trope, the Three King- doms era formed a rich if ambiguous discourse on theories of the True Succession, thus allowing for debate on the relative merits of political unification as opposed to blood succession. This discourse transcended the promotion of one state over another (that is, the Southern Song as opposed to the Mongols in the north). As we have seen, revisionist historians emerged on both sides of the north-south divide. The dramatic events and striking personalities of the Three Kingdoms era provided moral exemplars with which the court lecturer could educate the emperor in notions of correct governance, military strategy, and,

minister and its reassessment in the Tang and Song, see Guarino, “Learning and imperial authority,” 21–22. 71 Zhu Ruixi, “Songchao jingyan zhidu,” 26–29. 72 Guarino, “Learning and imperial authority,” 19. 73 Cited in Zhu Ruixi, “Songchao,” 23. Guarino in “Learning and Imperial Authority,” 23, treats Cheng Yi at length, noting that he “attempted to formalize the role of the learned minister as mentor to the emperor.” challenging official history 337 above all, how to establish legitimacy by political morality in times of fragmentation.74 The intended readership for the revised Sanguo histories would have included the emperor, his heir, and the scholars who had access to imperial libraries or the publications of prefectural offices.75 None- theless, in spite of acceptance at court, the revisionist histories did not succeed in ousting the standard history from its niche in the examination curriculum and Sanguozhi continued to be printed at court and prefectural levels. It was published twice by the Directorate of Education during the Northern Song, once in 1003 as previously discussed, and again in 1034 during the reign of Emperor Renzong 仁宗.76 The engraved blocks from the Directorate were made available to prefectural offices that later published their own editions for use in schools and academies. Ming-sun Poon lists a total of nine editions of The Chronicle extant today from the Song period. Many if not all of these would have been based on Directorate editions.77 After the defeat of the Southern Song, the Mongol court appropriated the engraved blocks held in Hangzhou and other regional offices and used these as the basis for its later publications.78 During the reign of Temür (Emperor Chengzong 成宗, r. 1295–1307), another Mongol ruler who favored the imperial seminar system, the decision was made to publish the Seventeen Standard Histories, including Sanguozhi, which appeared in 1306.79 On this evidence, both the standard and various Sanguo histories continued to be published through official agencies from the Southern Song to the Yuan. How can one account for government approval to publish and distribute a dual set of publications offering distinctly

74 On this point see Guarino, ibid., who argues that the relationship between the learned lecturer and the emperor “bound the legitimacy of the emperor’s political authority to his effort to become a learned individual.” 75 Promising scholars could gain access to imperial libraries in the Song period; see McDermott, Social History, 128–29. 76 For the latter edition, see Wang Yinglin, Yu hai, 43.19b (SKQS 944–191). 77 One was published by the Quzhou prefectural school between 1131–1162, and other undated editions in Hangzhou, Chengdu, and Fujian (Poon, “Books and Printing,” Appendix A 1788, a-i). See the discussion by Sören Edgren of the Hangzhou edition of Sanguozhi in Southern Song Printing, 28. 78 Wu, “Chinese Printing,” 460. On the loss of book collections at the time of the fall of the Northern Song, see McDermott, Social History, 50, 51, 55, 219 n. 92. 79 Wu, “Chinese Printing,” 466, 477. Beijing Library holds a 1306 copy of the Chizhou prefectural school edition (A00048). 338 anne e. mclaren different accounts of the same era? The association of the revised histories with the Classics Mat lectures suggests a possible answer. It could be that the revised histories came to be regarded as texts with a heu- ristic function; that is, they elucidated the ambiguities inherent in the standard history without threatening its official status. A comment by Huang Junfu 黃君復 in his preface of 1351 to Shu Han benmo offers insight into contemporary perceptions of the value of the revisionist histories. The purpose of publication, he declares is “so that readers of the future will understand that zhengtong prevails. Will this not be some modest aid in the transmission of the Way?”80 In this reading, the revisionist histories were simply a clearer version of the standard history, not a substitute for the latter. However, as will be discussed in the next section, the attempt to better illuminate the True Succes- sion required much more than a slight modification of the original standard history. It required clearly recognizable heroes and villains, a strong storyline, and an unmistakable moral message—in other words, a new genre of narrativized history.

VII. Creative Historiography

The experiments of the revisionist historians led them in the direction of what could be called a ‘creative historiography,’ one considerably at odds with the usual conventions for the Chinese writing of history. A crucial innovation was the frequent blurring of text proper and ‘commentary,’ which meant the inclusion of Pei Songzhi’s unattested material, much of it speculative and legendary, into the narration of the history proper. This was part of the trend in the historiography of the era. Even Sima Guang, in his Zizhi tongjian, went beyond traditional sources to include the consideration of literary works, anecdotes, and similar. However, he exercised careful scrutiny over what to include and what to exclude,81 although his objectivity in the handling of sources has recently been called into question in the case of Zhuge Liang.82 Sanguo revisionist historians went much further than Sima Guang in their inclusion of material considered as belonging to the Minor Way (xiaodao 小道), that is, unorthodox sources. In so doing

80 Huang’s preface is given in Jao Tsung-I, Zhongguo shixue, 318. 81 Pulleyblank, “Chinese Historical Criticism,” 157; Lee, “New Directions,” 70. 82 Tillman, “Textual Liberties and Restraints” and “Selected Historical Sources.” challenging official history 339 they forged a new kind of implied narrator who took on the guise of the official historian but who was willing to explicitly include material of dubious authenticity. In this way, Sanguo revisionist historians pulled Chinese historiography away from the standards of the dispas- sionate transmission of past records towards a highly motivated form of historical narrative. Below I discuss the central changes made by revisionist historians.

VIII. Integrated Formats

Xiao and Hao devised an integral format for their revised histories. Xiao compressed the original sixty-fivejuan into forty-seven juan. His work comprised an imperial annals in two juan (for the Shu Han state alone), a chronological table of two juan (not found in Sanguozhi), biographies for the Shu Han of eighteen juan, followed by the record for Wu in eleven juan, Wei in nine juan, a phonological and explanatory table (yinyi 音義83 and yili 義例).84 In his preface to Xiao’s work, Zhou Bida justifies Xiao’s revised Sanguozhi by citing the well-known words of Su Shi: “When children hear of Liu Bei’s defeat they knit their brows and when they hear of Cao Cao’s defeat they cry out with joy.”85 This is a sign that the distinction between superior men (junzi 君子) and ordinary men (xiaoren 小人) has been passed down in perpetuity. For Zhou Bida, the canonization of Liu Bei in popular culture is testimony to understandings of imperishable Confucian values shared by elite and commoners alike. Zhou goes on to refer to illustrious precedents for the treatment of Liu Bei as the legitimate ruler, including the earlier debates between Ouyang Xiu and Zhang Wangzhi, and Zhang Shi’s book on statecraft. Xiao Chang, in his preface, recalls that Song Taizu 太祖 (r. 960–75) was wont to read works of history at moments of leisure during the Classics Mat lectures. In compiling this work, he

83 The yinyi is a glossary providing phonetic equivalents for some characters, explanations of place names, and notes on individuals with citations from relevant sources. 84 This format compares with thirtyjuan for Wei, fifteen juan for Shu, and twenty juan for Wu in SGZ. The yili is non-extant. 85 These words come from Su Shi’sDongpo zhilin; see Zhu Yixuan and Liu Yuchen, Sanguo yanyi ziliao huibian, 123. 340 anne e. mclaren has selected sayings passed down by many scholars, because there are indeed matters of worth recorded in the Minor Way.86 Hao Jing’s version is considerably larger than the work of Chen Shou and is more integrated in format than the text of Xiao Chang. It contains many more features and the narrative material is interspersed with regular comments by the author. The ninety-juan text comprises a chronological table in one juan (non-extant), imperial annals in two juan, biographies of all three kingdoms in the order of Shu Han, Wei, and Wu in seventy-nine juan, and treatises (lu 錄) in eight juan. Hao groups biographies in the final eighteenjuan into particular categories such as Confucian scholars, writers, literati, patriotic martyrs, rene- gades, usurpers, virtuous women, border peoples, and so on. The treatises comprise writings of the masters, unorthodox writers, yinyang 陰陽 cosmology, astrology, geographical boundaries, works of strategy, customs, the rites, food, and music inter alia. In both works, the authors attempt to infuse a stronger narrative structure into selected biographies so that the whole period can be understood through the microcosm of the chosen individual. Hao further provides more elaborate contextual material, thus providing an epic background against which key personalities could be assessed. Other techniques included the judicious addition or deletion of plot material or character descriptions, the juxtaposition of disparate scenes to create parallels or contrasts, the transposition of material from other biographies, the addition of Pei Songzhi’s ‘commentary’ material to the text proper, and even tampering with the actual words of Sanguozhi. As with medieval English chronicles, the biographies lack a sense of narrative closure, ending as they do with the death of the individual concerned. However, the broader meaning of each biography is inferred from the underlying operation of the True Suc- cession, which is seen to determine the fate and the judgment of the personality concerned.87 I have earlier provided a detailed comparative treatment of the narrative techniques of Xiao Chang and Hao Jing with regard to the biography of Liu Bei in Sanguozhi.88 Below I discuss examples of revisionist

86 Xiao Chang, Xu Hou Han shu, preface, 1. 87 English chronicles draw cohesion from “a shared understanding of the progress of time within salvation history” inter alia, see Tyler and Balzaretti, Narrative and History, 2. 88 McLaren, “History Repackaged.” challenging official history 341 narrative technique in the characterization of Cao Cao and Zhuge Liang. It is important to bear in mind that in their revisionist histories both Xiao Chang and Hao Jing constrained their ‘corrections’ to a rearrangement or editing of the material contained in Sanguozhi and did not engage in a comprehensive rewriting of the latter. While the general spirit of their revisionist histories belongs to the well-known Confucian tradition of ‘transmission not innovation’ (shu er bu zuo 述而不作, Analects 7.1), nonetheless, as we shall see, the reconfigura- tion of existing material and changes in format led to a radical transformation of the text and its content.

Cao Cao Xiao Chang radically revises the received portrayal of Cao Cao given in Sanguozhi. In a lengthy prelude to the biography, the implied author engages in dialogue with unnamed interlocutors who ask why Wei is not given the status of a legitimate state. The response is that Wei forc- ibly took on the claim of legitimate succession by usurping the Han royal house. It thus held the throne in name but not in substance. Cao is charged with long nurturing a plan to usurp the house of Han: “At first he slaughtered the worthy, next he slaughtered the senior ministers, next the imperial clan, then he assassinated the empress and the imperial heir.”89 In the biography proper, Xiao greatly compressed the material in the original, folding parts of Pei’s ‘commentary’ material into the original text of Chen Shou. Material favorable to Cao is removed and negative comments retained and magnified. For example, we are not told that Cao is learned and well versed in military strategy (as reported in Pei’s commentary). Cao’s perfidy is depicted in the infamous incident of the slaughter of the family of Lü Boshe 吕伯奢, given by Pei in the ‘commentary,’ but here incorporated into the text proper. On the run after the usurpation of Dong Zhuo 董卓, Cao passes by the home of an acquaintance, Lü Boshe. Lü is not at home but his son offers hospitality. Cao hears the sound of food preparation and, fearing a plot, takes his sword and kills all eight members of the family, saying, “ ’Tis better to betray others than have them betray me.”90 Xiao goes on to depict Cao’s career as

89 Xiao Chang, Xu Hou Han shu, 34.279. 90 Ibid., 34.280. This anecdote is given by Pei Songzhi, citing three sources SGZ( , “Wei shu,” 5). 342 anne e. mclaren a string of brutal killings. When Cao avenges the death of his father he slaughters the entire region: “he massacred the men and women, several hundreds of thousands of people . . .” and step by step he seizes political appointments (“He set himself up as Yanzhou regional gover- nor…he suborned the emperor to take command of the empire . . .”).91 Wherever he assumes control, a massacre ensues. Cao wipes out the extended family of Dong Cheng, after an abortive plot against him, and once he assumes the post of prime minister he kills Kong Rong and eliminates his clan. He no longer carries out the protocols of a subject in audience with the emperor and arranges for his son to be put on the throne. Xiao provides a final summation on Cao where he describes the fall of the Han as a calamity brought on by eunuchs and to Cao’s usurpation as like “stepping on frost slowly forming into ice,” that is, as an incremental process of the arrogation of state power.

Zhuge Liang Hao Jing’s portrait of Zhuge Liang focuses on his sage-like wisdom and his talent for statecraft. He begins by unfolding the context in which the sage emerged: “At that time the empire was in turmoil and warlords controlled each section of the country. Liang kept himself in hiding . . .”92 He adds detail about Zhuge’s association with Pang Tong 龐統, a well known strategist of the era, drawing from Pei’s commentary or transposing material from Pang Tong’s biography. He is not loath to add a few touches of his own: “His appearance was very imposing.”93 In the opening section, Hao gives prominence to an anecdote originally provided by Pei Songzhi about Zhuge’s acquisition of an ugly wife. Pei had placed this material at the back of the biography in Sanguozhi, but Hao Jing transposed this legend to the opening segment as interlinear commentary.94 The story goes that Huang Cheng- yan tells Zhuge Liang he has heard the latter is looking for a wife. He has a daughter who is ugly but who is his match in talent. Liang agrees and arranges to have her sent over. The local people relayed this jingle: “Don’t learn from Kongming in choosing a partner/All you’ll get is A Cheng’s ugly daughter!” Hao cites here from Zhang Shi’s Zhongwu

91 Xiao Chang, Xu Hou Han shu, 281. 92 Zimao shen wei 資貌甚偉 in Hao Jing, Xu Hou Han shu, 138. 93 Ibid., 137. 94 Pei Songzhi cites “Xianyangji,” SGZ, 929. challenging official history 343 hou zhuan, where one does indeed find the story of Zhuge Liang’s ugly wife at the beginning of the biography. As Eric Henry has noted, this tale is a traditional narrative motif in Chinese legend: “One manifesta- tion of the extraordinary insight possessed by sages is their appreciation of ugly women.”95 Zhuge Liang’s governance of Chengdu is a strong point of interest for the revisionists. They seek to portray their hero as a man skilled in statecraft as well as in military strategy. Xiao inserts lines to provide evidence of Zhuge’s good governance of Chengdu immediately before the scene where he urges Liu Bei to claim the succession to the throne of the Han: “Thereupon he made use of the talent of the assembly and gave each of them a suitable post. His mode of governance was somewhat strict.” When Liu Bei departs for Hanzhong, Xiao expands his portrayal of Zhuge’s skill in statecraft: “In employing people Liang considered only talent and ability, not experience and qualifications. One after another the shi 士 of the west acknowledged his ability to employ people appropriately . . .”96 In Sanguozhi, Pei Songzhi had dwelt at length on the draconian nature of Zhuge’s rule of Chengdu. He recorded that Zhuge’s governance was based on harsh and rapid punishment that the populace found oppressive and added, “from cultivated men to the commoner classes, all suffered oppression and harbored resentment.” Zhuge argues that the people have become used to weak rule and lax policies. It was now necessary to set up a system of stringent rewards and punishments to ensure regulation between high and low and respect for the ruler.97 Xiao Chang chose to leave out this section entirely. Hao Jing was less likely to exclude material unfavorable to the general thrust of his characterization, preferring to undercut an unwelcome impression by interspersing material offering a different perspective, or by articulating a counter-argument. In this case, Hao included the disparaging comments of Pei Songzhi about Zhuge’s draconian rule but to confound this he noted Zhuge’s exemplary use of talent and the dedication of those who serve him.98 Further, he praised the

95 Henry, “Chu-ko Liang,” 610. 96 Xiao Chang, Xu Hou Han shu, 55. 97 SZG, Pei commentary, 917. 98 Hao Jing, Xu Hou Han shu, 141, cites Zhang Shi’s Zhongwu hou zhuan and Hu Yin’s 胡寅 (1098–1156) Feiran ji 斐然集 in his use of this material. Similarly, Tillman, “Textual Liberties,” 77, has noted that Sima Guang, in his treatment of Zhuge’s governance, focused on his “exemplary” use of law to assert state authority. 344 anne e. mclaren

appropriateness of Zhuge’s rigorous discipline and added this concluding comment: “Therefore the strict application of awe and majesty to overturn decline and arouse the faint-hearted is the way to correct the ills of faulty governance.”99

IX. Conclusion

The contestation between the standard history ofSanguozhi and the revisionist histories is illustrative of the tension between what has been called the ‘fixity’ of print, that is, its seeming ability to render a text endlessly multipliable in an identical format, and its propen- sity to inspire the production of counter-texts that revise, challenge, or creatively misread the original text.100 Susan Cherniack has argued that Song printing facilitated “widespread attacks on the authority of received texts”.101 This was the case too withSanguozhi , yet revisionist texts were accepted at the highest levels of Song and Yuan Dynasty China precisely because they appeared to elucidate the inner meaning of the received text and not to attack it. Readers chose to overlook the fact that these texts radically undermined the conventions of traditional Chinese historiography. Revisionist histories thus chal- lenged the authority of the transmitted tradition without appearing to do so. The greater proliferation of texts enabled obscure private historians like Xiao Chang to engage (posthumously) in public debate, although there were clear limits to the emergence of a Habermasian type of ‘public sphere.’ When Ouyang Shoudao urged the printing of Xiao Chang’s text, he was at pains to explain that the work coincidentally conformed with the views of the Daoxue luminary Zhu Xi whose ideas dominated the political stage from the middle of the thirteenth century. Similarly, Charles Hartman has argued elsewhere in this volume that the dominance of Daoxue confirmed the triumph of “the pedagogical approach

99 Hao Jing, Xu Hou Han shu, 142. 100 On the attribute of ‘standardization’ and ‘fixity’ to print see Eisenstein, Printing Revolution, 51–63, 78 ff. She also discusses “an explosion of knowledge” set off by the proliferation of books enabled by print, ibid., 75. Adrian Johns, in a response to Eisenstein, has pointed out that the achievement of “stability” for the (European) printed text was not due to the inherent attributes of print but the result of a long historical process. See his Nature of the Book, 6. 101 Cherniack, “Book Culture,” 21. challenging official history 345 to history” in the case of writings about the Song Dynasty. The political bias of revisionist historians might well have foreclosed the kind of fruitful ambiguities that had been found in the original Chronicle for centuries. However, the revisionist texts met the need of the times. Existing reading practices, made influential in poems about the Three Kingdoms, conditioned readers towards more holistic interpretations of texts, thus pushing revisionist historians towards the greater nar- rativization of history. Is it true, as Cherniack has argued, that printing “fundamentally changed the conditions of textual transmission that had shaped earlier book culture”?102 To what extent was print a factor in the transmission of revisionist histories of the Song and Yuan eras? This study suggests that print came to be seen as a surer way for the transmission of important historical texts, even those destined for the hallowed halls of the court rather than the crowded market place. This was the era of substantial loss of manuscripts as print became, if not prestigious, at least a better way to ensure a certain longevity for texts.103 The history of Xiao Chang’s text demonstrates the importance of print for textual survival. This study also suggests that texts not selected for commercial print had a more limited circulation and impact than those that were. The failure of successive emperors to replace the standard history with one or other of the revisionist histories, thereby ensuring its place in the examination curriculum, limited the broader circulation of these works, although they clearly had a significant impact on intellectual debate for a period of centuries and contributed to a particular Daoxue form of historiography. Print was important to the emergence of a greater range of genres. The proliferation of texts enabled by print encouraged authors to consult a greater range of sources and blend them into new configurations and sub-genres. The heyday of the Sanguo revisionist histories came at the same time as the rise of new theatrical forms and vernacular printed

102 Ibid., 32. 103 On the loss of manuscript texts in the eleventh century with the greater use of print, see ibid., 34. However, the ascendance of print over manuscript was a gradual historical development. McDermott notes that in the Song era print only replaced manuscript in particular genres (including the Confucian classics) and in particular places (northern Fujian, Hangzhou, and Chengdu), see Social History, 48. De Weerdt considers the production of imprints in the Song has been understated; see “Byways in the Imperial Chinese Information Order,” 83 and Appendix, 186–88. 346 anne e. mclaren narratives that gave greater visibility to folk interpretations of the Three Kingdoms era. One example is Sanguozhi pinghua 三國志平話 (The tale of The Three Kingdoms Chronicle, printed 1321–23), which mixed historical fact with the stories popular in the market entertainment stalls. The Classics Mat lecturer at the court of the Southern Song now competed directly with another type of story-teller at court, namely the professional entertainers who “told tales from history books” (jiang shi shu 講史書).104 In 1181, ‘unofficial stories’xiaoshuo ( 小說) were narrated before Emperor Xiaozong 孝宗 (r. 1163–89).105 It is thus not surprising that revisionist histories gave more credence to anecdotal material eschewed by the official historian and focused on a clear storyline with distinct heroes and villains.106 The words of Zhou Bida confirm that these private historians saw a commonality between their own view and recreations of the Three Kingdoms in story-telling and drama of the era. In this way the diffusion of private and commercial publishing, together with the growth of professional enter- tainments in the Song capitals, promoted the emergence of ‘histories’ that verged on the fictitious and ‘fiction’ that claimed to be works of history.107108109110111

104 Wu Zimu, Mengliang lu, “Xiaoshuo jiangjing shi,” 313. 105 Zhou Mi, Wulin jiushi, 474. 106 These techniques were not necessarily new—factional disputes in the Song had left a bitter legacy of poison pen biographies, as in the cases of Song historiography on Qin Gui and Cai Jing investigated by Charles Hartman, “The Making of a Villain” and “A Textual History of Cai Jing’s Biography.” challenging official history 347

Table 9.1. Revised Histories of Sanguozhi in the Song and Yuan Author Title Publisher/reference Extant/ Non-extant Xiao Chang 蕭常 (fl. late Xu Hou Han shu, 續後 Printed by Tanzhou Extant twelfth century)107 漢書, 46 juan regional school Li Qi 李杞 (fl. 1205–7)108 Gaixiu Sanguozhi SS, 203.5098 Non-extant 改修三國志, 67 juan Weng Fu 翁甫 (js 1226)109 Shu Han shu 蜀漢書, Zhou Mi, Guixin zashi, Non-extant unknown no. of juan 190–1 Zheng Xiongfei 鄭雄飛 Xu Hou Han shu 續後 Zhou Mi, Guixin zashi, Non-extant (js 1235)110 漢書, unknown no. of 190–1 juan Hao Jing 郝經 (1223–75) Xu Hou Han shu, 續後 Printed 1318 by Branch Extant 漢書, 90 juan Secretariat, Jiangxi Zhang Shu 張樞 (1292– Xu Hou Han shu 續後 Yuan shi, 199.4478 Non-extant 1348) 漢書, 73 juan Zhao Juxin 趙居信 (fl. Shu Han benmo Printed in 1351 by Extant 1323)111 蜀漢本末, 3 juan Jian’an Academy, Jianning lu

107 Zi Jishao 季韶, Prefectural Nominee, also known as Huizhai xiansheng 晦齋先生, mid to late twelfth century, Luling, Jiangxi. 108 Zi Liangzhong 良仲, hao Muchuan 木川, from Pingjiang 平江, Jiangsu. Li Qi was on the side of Zhu Xi during the False Learning controversy (SRZJBB, 1.340). 109 Zi Jingshan 景山 (js 1226), also known as Weng Zai 翁再, from Chongan 崇安, Fujian. Weng Fu served as Lecturer in the School for the Heir Apparent (Zishantang zhijiang 資善堂直講) and rose to become Vice Minister in the Chamberlain for Pal- ace Revenues (SRZJ, 3.1974). 110 Zi Jingwen 景温, hao Zaotang 慥堂子 (js 1235), from Xianju 仙居, Zhejiang. Zheng Xiongfei held various posts including Vice Director of the Palace Library (Bishu shaojian 秘書少鑒) (SRZJ, 5.3708). He was appointed reader in waiting to the Heir Apparent (Taizi shi du 太子侍讀) in 1253 and subsequently Junior Preceptor of the Imperial Clan (Zongzheng shaoshi 宗正少師); see Jao Tsung-I, Zhongguo shixue, 5. 111 Zi Jiming 季明, (ca. 1323), from Xuzhou 許州, Henan. Zhao Juxin was appointed a Hanlin Academician in 1323.

AFTERWORD: RETHINKING WESTERN PRINTING WITH CHINESE COMPARISONS

Ann Blair

I. Introduction

Historians of the book of all specialisms, but especially those ponder- ing the impact of printing in Europe or elsewhere, stand much to gain from a volume like this one which tackles a big question—the impact of printing in China between the tenth and fourteenth centuries—by focusing in careful detail on specific causal factors, genres of writing, and cultural milieux. To focus on broad generalizations about the impact of printing, in China or in Europe, let alone across the two, is to risk ignoring the multiple and sometimes contradictory trends that printing fostered. In both Europe and China printing increased the speed with which multiple copies of a text, map, or image could be produced, though the technology and economics involved in the use of woodblock versus movable metal type were different in important ways. Despite those and many contextual differences, there are also similarities between many of the themes presented in this volume and in the recent historiography on early modern European printing— from the enthusiasm for printing as a response to loss and a means of education to the fears of subversion or loss of textual quality that printing also prompted.

II. Ecology of Media

The articles in this volume do a splendid job of emphasizing that printing emerged within an existing ecology of media, including (as in Europe) oral communication and the circulation of manuscripts, but also other media such as stone inscriptions and stelae. In the Chi- nese as in the European case printed texts have become privileged sources for historians because in the long run the multiplicity of copies favored textual survival better than manuscripts of the highest quality or inscription on the hardest surfaces—in other words, the single 350 ann blair priceless manuscript or massive stone inscription was more likely to be destroyed than all the copies of a much printed text. But at the time of production the printed text was only one of many means by which those publishing (whether on a government or an individual initiative) could diffuse their material. In many genres, from local gazetteers to scholarly commentaries, manuscript continued to play an important role in the circulation of information to smaller, selected sets of readers (as discussed by McDermott, Chia, Hinrichs, De Weerdt, and Dennis in this volume) and in some areas stone inscriptions also continued to diffuse information in a more circumscribed geographical area. Similarly, recent work on early modern Europe and the American colonies has emphasized the persistent role of manuscript in various genres where small circulation was the goal: including chamber music parts, poetry, and satire designed to circulate narrowly among family and friends, and political newsletters or texts which would be considered politically or religiously subversive if printed.1 Oral diffusion is also beginning to feature more prominently in the studies of early modern media, notably the role of sermons that were such a regular fixture of life for Catholics and Protestants alike but the significance of which is less well understood in Chinese contexts. Theater was another oral form that reached wide audiences.2 More comparable across Euro- pean and Chinese cultures were the personal and epistolary interac- tions among scholars which form the broader context in which they engaged with one another and a broader audience in print. In Europe the periodical emerged as a new genre for that purpose starting in the late-seventeenth century.3

III. The Process of Printing

As others have pointed out, printing in China, primarily by woodblock, presented different “affordances” from metal movable type used

1 Love, Scribal Publication in Seventeenth-Century England and, more generally, “Early Modern Print Culture”; Beal, In Praise of Scribes; Hall, Ways of Writing. 2 On sermons see Kienzle, ed., The Sermon; Smith, The Acoustic World of Early Modern England; Taylor, ed., Preachers and People in the Reformation and Early Mod- ern Period. On the theater see Peters, Theatre of the Book and Crockett, The Play of Paradox. 3 On the Republic of Letters see Goldgar, Impolite Learning; Bots and Waquet, La république des lettres. Correspondence networks warrant more study; see, for example, de Lisle, “Establishing the Facts” and Broman, “Periodical Literature.” afterword 351 for printing text in Europe.4 Carving a woodblock from a manuscript required cheap materials (wood and some tools) and minimal skill, not even literacy, and, once made, a woodblock could be reused until it was worn out (which estimates place at about 15,000 copies). With low initial outlay required, works could be printed in small quantities at first, to be complemented by later printings over a long period, as Joseph Dennis describes was expected of gazetteers. By contrast in Europe, by the mid-sixteenth century, a smoothly operating handpress typically employed three people (a compositor, an inker, and a press- man) to produce 1,000–1,250 copies of one side of one sheet of paper per day; the next day those sheets would be printed on the other side, producing that many copies of one quire—a quire comprised eight double-sided leaves (sixteen pages) of an octavo format book, or four leaves (eight pages) of a quarto format.5 Setting the type for one sheet required a full day’s work on the part of a skilled compositor using costly metal type that had to be available in sufficient quantities. Once the type was set it was imperative to print as many copies as might possibly be hoped to sell, since after the run was complete, the type would be redistributed into the cases where it was stored until used to set another sheet. To reprint anything required the same investment of time and resources as the initial printing (save for planning the layout of the page). Thus Gutenberg’s printing process required a high initial investment in metal type and skilled labor, which could be recovered only if enough copies were sold. Early modern printers were regularly bankrupted by the risky economics of a speculative business which tied up capital with no guarantee of sufficient returns. Many, perhaps most, of the great humanist printers died leaving deep debts. Some were bankrupted by their production of large scholarly works that sold poorly, like Henri Estienne’s Thesaurus Linguae Latinae, which is still valued today for its high level of scholarship and accuracy.6

4 I have borrowed the term from Sellen and Harper, The Myth of the Paperless Office, 17–18, to designate the features which are facilitated and made more difficult by the physical properties of an object or process. 5 For a primary account see Gerritsen, “Printing at Froben’s.” On material bibliography (quires etc.) see Gaskell, A New Introduction to Bibliography. On early printing in general see Febvre and Martin, The Coming of the Book; Hirsch, Printing, Selling and Reading; and, McKitterick, Print, Manuscript, and the Search for Order. 6 On the financial difficulties of the great Basel printer Johannes Oporinus, see Steinmann, “Aus dem Briefwechsel,” 189–90. On Henri Estienne: Considine, Diction- aries, ch. 2, 93. 352 ann blair

For the historian each system brings it own caveats. In China it is impossible to estimate from one surviving copy of a book how many other copies were printed, when and with what level of similarity (since woodblocks could be modified along the way), but one can presume that most copies found users, since there was limited incen- tive to overproduce. In Europe we can conclude from one surviving copy that (depending on the context) at least three hundred or five hundred or one thousand other copies were printed at the same time, with the potential for usually small variations in the form of stop-press corrections and cancels. But we must also remember that speculative overproduction was the only strategy by which a profit could be made. Thus one historian of the book has wisely concluded that in the Euro- pean system “most printed books have never been read.”7 Initially, the dominant reaction to printing in Europe was one of great admiration for it as a “divine invention.”8 Contemporaries were impressed with the labor that printing saved, although quantitative estimates of the savings varied and are probably more rhetorical than reliable: one contemporary marveled that “as much can be printed by one man in a day as could be written in a whole year by many scribes.” With more realistic attention to the infrastructure involved in a print shop (where more than one person was generally employed), an Eng- lishman in 1630 estimated that four men could print in a day what it used to take ten men a whole year to write by quill.9 Contemporaries also noted a great drop in book prices due to printing. Printing made books affordable to greater numbers than before, as various humanist observers noted, whether they felt this was for the better (Andrea de Bussi, Ludovico Carbone) or for the worse (Hieronymo Squarciafico).10 At first printed books closely mimicked manuscripts: they used the same scripts, had no foliation or title page, and left blank spaces for

7 Amory, “The Trout and the Milk,” 51. 8 See Eisenstein, Printing as Divine Art and Divine Art/Infernal Machine. 9 For this and other examples, see McKitterick, Print, Manuscript and the Search for Order, 100–101, 49. Comment of 1630 by Henricus Salmuth (b. 1592) in Pancirolli, Rerum memorabilium, II, 252. 10 In 1468 Cardinal Bussi reported that a text that would have cost one hundred guilders could be had for twenty when printed, as quoted in Hirsch, Printing, Selling and Reading, 1, 69. These and other examples from Gilmont,Le Livre et ses secrets, 49–50, and Richardson, “The Debates on Printing in Italy,” 135–55, 139–41. On Squarciafico’s complaint, see Lowry,The World of Aldus Manutius, 15. See also the complaints of Trithemius about the poor durability and quality of printed books and the paper they were printed on: Trithemius, In Praise of Scribes, 34–35, 64–65. afterword 353 initials to be filled in with rubrication by hand. By 1530 the features we associate with the modern printed book had become standard: a title- page, crucial for tempting buyers, foliation at first (numbering only the verso of each page) then pagination which were the normal form of reference used in indexes, tables of contents and errata lists, and the use of blank space and typographical symbols (dingbats) or variations in font size and type to mark divisions in the text rather than the manual application of color.11

IV. Motivations for Printing

In both Europe and China printing was the initiative of someone other than the end-user. The government played a uniquely powerful role in China, notably in launching in the late-tenth century the large scale collection and printing of the classics, but also throughout the period medical texts, gazetteers, and histories, among other genres. In Europe printing was predominantly commercial from the beginning, although not exclusively. Among the earliest imprints were large quantities of indulgences, commissioned by the Church for sale to the faithful who would buy them in penance for their sins. Perhaps as many as one million of these single-sided imprints were sold, to be filled in with the buyer’s name in manuscript, though only a few hundred are still extant; since they were typically kept as loose paper they were especially vulnerable to destruction and re-use.12 Though the publishing contexts were different, some of the motivations behind the rise of printing in early Song China and Renais- sance Europe were similar. The desire to recover from great losses of books motivated the Song emperors to launch large-scale collecting and printing of the classics to replenish the court library as well as local government and private libraries. In Europe humanists of the

11 On the development of the “modern book,” see Febvre and Martin, The Coming of the Book, ch. 3, and Martin, La naissance du livre moderne, esp. 31, on the blackening of the page. On forms of reference see Saenger, “The Impact of the Early Printed Page”; on the title page, Gilmont and Vanautgaerden, eds., La page de titre and Smith, The Title-Page. 12 For example, of the two hundred thousand indulgences printed between 1498 and 1500 at the behest of the Benedictines of Montserrat in Catalonia, only six survive; see Needham, The Printer and the Pardoner, 31. See also Eisermann, “The Indulgence as a Media Event.” 354 ann blair late-fourteenth and fifteenth centuries were keenly aware of the loss of ancient literature during a period that Petrarch first called the “dark” or “middle ages.” Operating on their own or on behalf of wealthy patrons, Italian humanists started seeking out long-forgotten manuscripts in European and Byzantine libraries well before Gutenberg’s invention ca. 1453. But when printing became available humanists hailed the technology as the means to prevent future losses of the painstakingly recovered texts. Editiones principes or first editions of ancient texts, with facing Latin translations for those texts in Greek, comprised a significant proportion of incunabula (books printed before 1500). In the sixteenth century some commented that if the ancients had had printing, their works would not have been lost.13 In 1545 Conrad Gessner compiled a massive bibliography of all known works in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew totaling some 10,000 texts by 3,000 authors. Many of them had been recently printed, but some were still available only in manuscript while others were known only through citations in other works and Gessner eagerly hoped that calling attention to them in his bibliography would facilitate their recovery. Those who witnessed the rise of printing in China and Europe were conscious of the boon to survival that reproduction in multiple copies represented. Conversely, texts omitted from large printing projects in China could be knowingly consigned to oblivion and loss. And despite the best efforts of humanists and of the classical scholars who carried on their work into the modern period, at most 20 percent of ancient literature is extant today.14 In China too the losses which printing was meant to palliate cover vast numbers of texts, although quantifying these losses is an unresolved question. At the same time as printing was praised for its power of preserving texts by multiplying them faster and in greater quantities, printing had consequences that contemporaries found distressing. In both China and Europe scholars complained about the risks of low-quality imprints. Indeed the first calls for censorship in Europe were made by humanists hoping to regulate the quality of manuscripts used in making printed editions of classical texts; Italians especially complained of

13 Richardson, “The Debates on Printing,” 141. 14 Bardon estimates that writings survive for only 20 percent of the Latin authors we know existed, but those authors wrote other works now lost and there were of course authors of whose existence we have no trace; Bardon, La Littérature latine inconnue, 13. afterword 355 the German printers working in Italy that they were bent on making profits without heed to scholarly quality. These calls for the regulation of scholarly works in classical languages went unheeded by Church and state authorities, but all these agencies instituted censorship once the success of the Protestant movement had demonstrated the power of printed texts, especially vernacular pamphlets calling for religious rebellion not only against Catholic institutions, but also, soon thereafter, against the wishes of the Reformers themselves.15 By the mid- sixteenth century Protestant and Catholic churches and governments had set up mechanisms for regulating printed books, by requiring approval prior to printing (pre-publication censorship) and by attempting to block the circulation of books they considered bad once they had been published (often elsewhere). In China as in Europe attempts at prohibiting undesirable imprints were not very effective, despite regulations in place to punish anyone associated with a forbidden book, whether as author, printer, seller, or owner. In China where the distances were vast and where printing required little set-up and could be performed on the fly, censorship was particularly difficult. In Europe printers were generally immobi- lized by their investment and the heavy equipment they required in highly visible urban centers, but the books themselves could be smuggled across the many religious and political borders that fragmented early modern Europe. If control of printing was effective in some times and places (late-sixteenth century Spain, or Calvin’s Geneva) through pre-publication censorship, control of the circulation of books once they were printed was much more difficult to enforce. The Catholic Church went to the greatest lengths to ban and expurgate books once printed (notably in Protestant areas): the Index of Forbidden Books was printed regularly with lists of banned books and instructions to owners for the removal of offending passages from books which were considered salvageable. Surviving copies attest to the wide range of practices of post-publication censorship: in some cases pages were torn out or words blackened beyond reading, according to instructions, but many censored books were annotated with striking-out and

15 Monfasani, “The First Call for Press Censorship”; Davies, “Making Sense of Pliny”; and Hirsch, “Pre-Reformation Censorship of Printed Books.” 356 ann blair marginal notes signaling the passages to be deleted which nonetheless remained fully legible.16

V. Cultural Attitudes

The articles in this volume have also tried to gauge the impact of printing on cultural attitudes toward books, from collecting them to reading and responding to them. These are difficult assessments because it is hard to dissociate the impact of printing from other cultural phenomena which may be independent of it; in Europe in particular humanism and movements of church reform were underway before printing, though printing clearly shaped the forms and outcomes of these movements. Secondly, individual attitudes often varied and the historian is hard pressed to determine which reaction is idiosyncratic and which is more representative in a particular context. Certainly one impact well documented in this volume as well as in early modern Europe is the rise in the size and number of private libraries. Authors in this volume document an increase in the size and number of private libraries (though a region rich in libraries in one period might decline in a later one) and more diverse holdings as the kinds of texts being printed diversified beyond the authors canonized as of the first rank (McDermott). In Europe the growing size of libraries can be documented from inventories after death as well as owners who cataloged their own books. To choose just a few results from among the growing numbers of studies of book ownership, a typical French royal magistrate in the late-fifteenth century might have owned sixty books; one hundred years later Montaigne remarked that he owned about one thousand books, in what would have been a large private library for the time; in the early eighteenth century another famous French provincial magistrate, Montesquieu, owned over three thousand books.17 Starting

16 On Catholic censorship see Fragnito, ed., Church, Censorship, and Culture, and de Bujanda, ed., Index des livres interdits. Protestant censorship existed too, but did not often leave records in print; it remains to be studied from local archives. 17 Estimates for book ownership among the Parisian magistrates of the late middle ages are from Hasenohr, “L’essor des bibliothèques privées,” 215–63, 239. I owe the comparison of Montaigne and Montesquieu to Burke, A Social History of Knowledge, 191–92. On Montesquieu’s library, see Desgraves and Volpilhac-Auger, Catalogue. The case of Montaigne’s library is more complicated: Villey, Les sources et l’évolution, I, 244–70. He bases his list of 271 titles primarily on Montaigne’s borrowings in the Essais; Montaigne refers to his one thousand volumes in Essais, III, 12, ed. Villey, 1056b. For the afterword 357 in the seventeenth century a new genre offered advice on “erecting a library,” which explained which books to choose, how to arrange them, and the furniture useful to shelve them. Another new genre listed famous libraries of the time, providing models for admiration and imitation.18 But even in the face of an increasing range of books available through printing, early modern European scholars differed in their attitudes toward those books. Some recommended owning and reading few books, but the best ones, invoking religious reasons (like the Jesuit Antonio Possevino) or pedagogical ones (like the Jesuit Francesco Sacchini). Others, on the contrary, exulted in abundance and recommended owning as many books as possible, containing many different opinions. Thus Gabriel Naudé (also a Catholic) included the works of heretics among the books one should have in one’s library, and the Jesuit Jeremias Drexel explained how to take notes on large numbers of books (he mentioned “reading” as many as six hundred in one day!) in order to have material ready for composing or speaking on any topic in any context. This range of positions among Catholics and even within the Jesuit order, which was mirrored by a similar range among Lutherans and Calvinists, cannot be explained by a particular element of context. Humanists could justify both the preference for a narrow canon and the broad eclectic approach to the increased availability of books by turning to equally respected ancient authorities. On the one hand the Roman moralist Seneca warned against the distraction posed by too many books and advocated reading carefully just three or four books, but well-chosen ones (“distringit multitudo librorum”). On the other hand the Roman encyclopedist Pliny the Elder, author of Natural History in thirty-eight books, was quoted in the letters of his nephew as quipping that “there is no book so bad that some good cannot be gotten of it.” This tag was repeated by those who exulted in abundance, from Gessner to Naudé and Drexel, while Seneca was favored by those who felt instead that “less is more.”19 Nonetheless, even for those who resented the fact, printing

most recent discussion, see de Botton and Pottiée-Sperry, “A la recherche.” I am grateful on this point to the expertise of George Hoffmann. 18 The most famous advice manual is Naudé,Advis ; an English translation of 1661 is available in fascimile as Instructions. For a guide to the best libraries of Europe, see de Saint-Charles, Traité; he named as an antedecent Clément, Musei, for its description of the Escorial library. 19 Seneca, Ad Lucilium epistulae morales, II, 3, in trans. Gunmere, I, 6–9; Pliny the Younger, Letters, III, v (to Baebius Macer) in Letters and Panegyricus, trans. Radice, I, 176–77; see Gessner, Bibliotheca universalis, sig *3v; Naudé, Instructions, 33. 358 ann blair certainly fostered an awareness of more different genres and opinions, in Europe as in China. Even more elusive, as authors in this volume point out, is the claim that critical thinking developed as a result of the increased availability of printed books. Italian humanists deployed critical reasoning in their analysis of texts well before the advent of printing. A classic example is Lorenzo Valla’s debunking of the Donation of Constantine based on philological arguments among others; composed in 1440, it was printed only in 1518. The same critical skills used to ferret out forgeries were also deployed by humanists to make new and better forgeries that suited the points they hoped to make about the antiquity of a certain text or the origins of a certain people.20 For example some humanists supported claims that their nation (English or German or French) had descended from escapees from Troy, to match the origin story of the Romans descended from Aeneas as told by Vergil. Just as Sima Guang in the eleventh century applied critical skills selectively to suit his other commitments, as Egan describes in this volume, so too European humanists studied history principally in order to support current positions and projects. In short, critical thinking can be found before printing and “credulousness” well after printing, so that the abundance of books does not readily appear to be a cause of the more systematic application of new modes of reasoning. One consequence of printing in Europe which is both hard to quantify precisely and yet hard to question is the rise of literacy. Measuring literacy is fraught with factors favoring both overestimates (signing one’s name might be learned separately from reading) and underes- timates (we typically measure writing, but writing was taught after reading, so more people could read than could write). Local studies have shown that literacy varied widely by context. Throughout Europe men and urban populations acquired literacy in greater numbers than women and rural populations, but within those broad parameters there were great variations and multiple trends, including stagnation or even decreases in literacy in certain times and places. A highly literate environment like Renaissance Venice had some 33 percent male literacy and 13 percent female literacy in 1480, while the European average was much lower then. Literacy rates increased more or less rapidly between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries. By the 1740s

20 Grafton, Forgers and Critics and What Was History? afterword 359

France reached on average 60 percent male literacy in cities, whereas due to an active educational policy Sweden reached rates of 90 percent literacy by 1700.21 The lowered cost and increased availability of books favored the acquisition of literacy, not only by children but by adults who could teach one another or themselves to read from cheap print. The study of Chinese literacy rates no doubt poses unique challenges, but it would be interesting to investigate the extent to which increases in the production of printed books correlated with changes in literacy rates. Historical assessments of the impact of printing are best carried out with attention to specific cultural contexts, to the range of contemporary disagreements, and of historical arguments and counterarguments. For Europeanists, learning about the impact of printing in China offers a valuable counterpoint to the tendency to universalize the European experience. What we call “printing” was not a single technology— nineteenth-century linotype and stereotype offer many of the advantages of xylography but in an industrial rather than a pre-modern context. Nor did it have the same effects everywhere. In Europe printing was principally commercial in nature and spread rapidly, across some fifty cities in the first fifty years, producing an estimated 27,000 incunabula, each in at least hundreds of copies.22 In China printing facilitated the circulation and accumulation of books, but only once initiatives by the imperial government, then by scholars and printers, broadened the range of print beyond the narrower repertoire of religious texts or calendars to which it was limited for the first centuries after its invention. In Europe printing was invented at a time when significant new cultural movements were more or less far underway including voyages of discovery, Renaissance humanism, and religious reform, so that it is especially hard to weigh the impact of printing independently of these major developments, each of which emerged from a complex causal nexus. Debates about the impact of printing in Europe have focused on two main questions so far: To what extent did printing amplify phenomena already underway or trigger new developments? To what extent did the handpress create standardization in text and image independently of a process of social

21 Venice figures from Richardson,Printing, Writers and Readers, 110. Other figures from Houston, Literacy in Early Modern Europe, 150, 167, 166–71. 22 For a detailed discussion of measuring incunabula, see Dane, The Myth of Print Culture. 360 ann blair construction of printed texts as especially reliable?23 At this point greater attention to the varied trajectories of print technologies in other cultures, from its late adoption in Islam to its early but long adoption in China, can help shed new light on the role of many elements of historical context in shaping the impact of a new technology.24 Books like this one that bring together and make accessible expert research on the Chinese case can help book historians in multiple areas of specialization refine their thinking on how to measure and discuss the impacts of printing in different historical contexts.

23 Eisenstein, The Printing Press as an Agent of Change, or in article form: “Some Conjectures.” For critiques of the first kind see Grafton, “The Importance of Being Printed,” and Needham, Review of Eisenstein. For the second kind of critique see Johns, The Nature of the Book and Eisenstein and Johns, “AHR Forum.” 24 On book historical studies of Islam see Bloom, Paper before Print; Schoeler, The Genesis of Literature in Islam; Atiyeh, ed., The Book in the Islamic World; Pedersen, The Arabic Book. GLOSSARY

Alaowading 阿老瓦丁 Anfu County 安福 Antanbuhua 按攤不花 Anxi xianzhi 安溪縣志 Aoxi zhi 鼇溪志 Ba Min tongzhi 八閩通志 bashi 霸史 batong 霸統 Bai Juyi 白居易 Bailudong shuyuan 白鹿洞書院 baimiao 白描 Baishi an 白石庵 Ban Gu 班固 banhua 版畫 banji 版籍 Baoding junzhi 保定郡志 Baoguang ji 葆光集 beijie 碑碣 benji 本紀 biji 筆記 Bishu sheng 秘書省 Biyong 辟雍 bian 辨 bian gu 辨古 Bian Ren 邊仁 biannian 編年 bianxiang 變相 Bianxiu yuan 編修院 bieji 別集 boxue 博學 Boyanchaer 伯顏察兒 bukan 補刊 “bukan biannian beiyao wu juan mulu” 補刊編年備要五卷目錄 Cai Jing 蔡京 Cai Xiang 蔡襄 362 glossary cangshu zhi jia 藏書之家 Cangwu junzhi 蒼梧郡志 Cao Cao 曹操 Caoshi Zhongyin shuyuan 曹氏中隠書院 ce 册 Cefu yuangui 冊府元龜 cegua 策括 Cen Shen shiji 岑参詩集 Chang 常 Chang Tai 常泰 Chang Tang 常棠 Changchun gong 長春宮 Changguo 昌國 Changle 長樂 Changsha 長沙 Changzhou 常州 Chao Buzhi 晁補之 Chao Yuanfang 巢元方 Chen 陳 Chen Cigong 陳次公 Chen Deng 陳登 Chen Di 陳第 Chen Jingyuan 陳景元 Chen Jun 陳均 Chen Junqing 陳俊卿 Chen Lian 陳璉 Chen Liang 陳亮 Chen Liangzuo 陳良佐 Chen Mi 陳密 Chen Shou 陳壽 Chen Yaosou 陳堯叟 Chen Yaosou ji yanfang 陳堯叟集驗方 Chen Zhensun 陳振孫 Chen Zhong 陳忠 Cheng Dachang 程大昌 Cheng Duanli 程端禮 Cheng Yi 程頤 Chengdu 成都 Chengdu fuzhi 成都府志 Chengtian fuzhi 承天府志 glossary 363 chengwen 程文 Chi Liangxin 赤良心 Chicheng xu zhi 赤城續志 Chicheng zhi 赤城志 chong mo hua 重模畫 chong zuo 重作 Chonghe dian 崇和殿 Chongwen zongmu 崇文總目 chongxiu 重修 Chongyang dian 重陽殿 Chongyang fenli shihua ji 重陽分梨十化集 Chongyang jiaohua ji 重陽教化集 Chongyang minhua miaoxing zhenren 重陽憫化妙行真人 Chongzheng Dian 崇政殿 Chushun tang 處順堂 Chuzhou 滁州 Chuanfa yuan 傳法院 Chunqiu 春秋 Chunqiu fenji 春秋分紀 “Chunqiu lieguo zhi tu” 春秋列國之圖 Chunyang zhenren huncheng ji 純陽真人渾成集 Cui Wei 崔魏 da bei 大備 Da Jin Xuandu baozang 大金玄都寶藏 Da Ming zhishu 大明志書 Da Yuan yitongzhi 大元一統志 Da Zhou kanding zhongjing mulu 大周刊定眾經目錄 Dadu 大都 Daguan 大觀 Damo liuzu mo 達摩六祖模 Darughachi (daluhuachi) 達魯花赤 dazi ben 大字本 dan 石 Daode jing 道德經 daohang 道行 Daolasha 倒剌沙 Daoxue 道學 Daozang 道藏 Daozang quejing mulu 道藏闕經目錄 de 德 364 glossary

Deqing xian 德清縣 Dezong 德宗 Di Ku 帝嚳 difangzhi 地方志 diji 帝紀 dili 地理 Dili tu 墬理圖 ditu 地圖 Diwang jingshi tupu 帝王經世圖譜 diwang zhi xue 帝王之學 diangu 典故 dianshou 典守 Ding Darong 丁大榮 Dong Han 東漢 Dong’ou zhi 東甌志 Donglai Quanzhen tang 東萊全真堂 Donglin 東林 Dongmou zhou 東牟州 Dongyang xu zhi 東陽續志 Dongzhai jishi 東齋記事 Du Daojian 杜道堅 Du Feng 杜豐 Du Fu 杜甫 Du Guangting 杜光庭 Du Shu zhi 讀蜀志 Dushu fennian richeng 讀書分年日程 Duoerchiyunfu 朵爾赤雲甫 Duoerzhiban 朵兒只班 Ershisi yingxian Guanyin 二十四應現觀音 Fan Wenli 范文禮 Fan Ye 范曄 Fan Yi 范懌 Fan Zhen 范鎮 Fan Zhongyan 范仲淹 Fan Zuyu 范祖禹 fanli 凡例 Fang Xiaoru 方孝孺 Fei Gun 費衮 Fei Renbang 費仁邦 fenben 粉本 glossary 365

Fenzhou 汾州 Feng Dao 馮道 Feng Fujing 馮福京 Feng Liangzou 馮良佐 fengsu 風俗 Fozu tongji 佛祖統紀 fu 賦 Fu Xuanfeng qinghui zhe ji 夫玄風慶會者記 Fu Yucheng 傅玉成 Fu Zao 傅藻 Fuzhou 撫州 Fuzhou 福州 gaiye 改業 gan 感 Gan 贛 Gan Ze 甘澤 Ganshui zhi 澉水志 Gansu 甘肅 gangmu 綱目 Gao Wenjin 高文進 Gao’an 高安 gaotai 高台 Gaozong 高宗 gong nei shi 公內事 Gongyang 公羊 gongyuan 貢院 gu 蠱 Gu Hang 古杭 “Gujin huayi quyu zongyao tu” 古今華夷區域揔要圖 Guliang Commentary 榖梁 Gutian 古田 Guzhen Wang Yi bi 古鎮王儀筆 guan 觀 guan Sanguo 觀三國 guanmin guan 管民官 Guanshiyin pusa pumen pin 觀世音菩薩普門品 Guanxiu 貫休 Guanzhong 關中 Guang shengyi 廣聖義 Guangchang xianzhi 廣昌縣志 366 glossary

Guangdong 廣東 Guangji fang 廣濟方 Guangxi 廣西 Guangzong 光宗 Guixin zashi 癸辛雜識 Guochao wenlei 國朝文類 Guoshi yuan 國史院 Guozi jian 國子監 Haiyan 海鹽 Haiyan zhen 海鹽鎮 Han shu 漢書 Han Yu 韓愈 Hanlin yiguan yuan 翰林醫官院 Hanlinyuan 翰林院 Hangzhou Yanjia chongkai dazi Guanyin 杭州晏家重開大字觀音 Hangzhou 杭州 Hao Guangning 郝廣寧 (Hao Datong 郝大通) Hao Jing 郝經 He Dazheng 何大正 He Ning 和凝 He Wenyuan 何文淵 He Zhiyuan 何志淵 Hedong lu 河東路 Hedong nanlu 河東南路 Heishuicheng 黑水城 hen 恨 Hen shi 很[狠]石 Heng 恆 Hong 洪 Hou Han shu 後漢書 Hou Wei shu 後魏書 Hou Zhou 後周 Hu 胡 Hu Shi 胡適 Hu Taichu 胡太初 Hu Tianlu 胡天祿 Hu Zhongyao 胡仲堯 hukou 戶口 Hunan 湖南 Huzhou 湖州 glossary 367 hua 畫 Hua 華 huahu 化胡 Huashan zhi 華山志 Huayan jing 華嚴經 Huayi tu 華夷圖 Huai 淮 huan jiu ditu 還舊地圖 Huang Jin 黃溍 Huang Junfu 黃君復 Huang lou 黃樓 Huang Pilie 黃丕烈 Huang Tingjian 黃庭堅 Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao 皇朝編年綱目備要 Huangchao biannian juyao 皇朝編年舉要 Huangchao shishi leiyuan 皇朝事實類苑 Huangdi neijing 黃帝內經 Huangfu Chizheng wenji 皇甫持正文集 Huangfu Shi 皇甫湜 hui 會 Huizong 徽宗 ji 技 ji 集 Ji Zhizhen 姬志真 Ji’an 吉安 Jixian guan 集賢館 Jixian yuan 集賢院 Jiyao guangli fang 集要廣利方 Jizhou 吉州 Jizhou 魝州 Jia Dan 賈耽 Jia Sidao 賈似道 Jiahe zhi 嘉禾志 jiake 家刻 Jianchang 建昌 Jiankang shilu 建康實錄 Jiankang zhi 建康志 Jianning 建寧 Jianyan yilai chaoye zaji 建炎以來朝野雜記 Jianyan yilai xinian yaolu 建炎以來繫年要錄 368 glossary

Jianyang 建陽 Jiang Gongwang 江公望 Jiang jianyi zouyi 江諫議奏議 jiang shi shu 講史書 Jiangguang 江廣 Jiangnan dong 江南東 Jiangnan xi 江南西 Jiangxi 江西 Jiangxi shipai 江西詩派 Jiangyin zhi 江陰志 Jiangzuojian 將作監 jiao 醮 jiaohua 教化 jiaohua fengsu 教化風俗 Jiaozheng yishu ju 校正醫書局 jiehua 界畫 Jin 金 Jin shu 晉書 jingang chu 金剛杵 Jinguo Cheng’an xuzhi 金國承安須知 Jinhua 金華 Jinlian zhengzong ji 金蓮正宗記 Jinling 金陵 Jinling xin zhi 金陵新志 jinshi 進士 Jinshi lu 金石錄 Jinsu 金粟 Jinsu si 金粟寺 Jinyangqiu 晉陽秋 jing 經 “Jing ji zhi” 經籍志 Jing jin Dongpo wenji shilüe 經進東坡文集事略 Jing shi jinian 經世紀年 jingbian tu 經變圖 jingchang 經常 Jingde xianzhi 旌德縣志 Jingdong xi lu 京東西路 Jinghu nan 荊湖南 Jingji lu 京畿路 Jingji suo 經籍所 glossary 369 jingluo 經洛 Jiu Tang shu 舊唐書 jiu zhi 舊志 Jiuchao biannian beiyao 九朝編年備要 Jiujiang 九江 Jiuyu tuzhi 九域圖志 jiuzhou 九州 Jōjin 成尋 ju 局 juyao 舉要 juan 卷 juan 絹 jueyin 厥陰 Junzhou 濬州 Kaibao zang 開寶藏 Kaifeng 開封 Kaiyuan 開元 “Kaoyi” 考異 Ke Weiqi 柯維騏 Koryŏ 高麗 Kuaiji zhi 會稽志 kui 匱 Laizhou 萊州 Laozi bashiyi hua tu 老子八十一化圖 Le’an xianzhi 樂安縣志 Leqing zhi 樂清志 leifa 雷法 Leifengta 雷峰塔 li 利 li 理 Li Bai 李白 Li Chang 李常 Li Daoqian 李道謙 Li Huaisu 李懷素 Li ji 禮記 Li Jie 李誡 Li Langzhong 李郎中 Li Qingzhao 李清照 Li Su 李肅 Li Tao 李燾 370 glossary

Li Xinchuan 李心傳 Li Yi 李彝 Li Ying 李縈 Li Yishan 李義山 Li Yu 李愚 Li Zhichang 李志常 Li Zhiquan 李志全 Lian Zhongmo 連仲默 Liang Kai 梁愷 Liang Taiji 梁太濟 Lianjiang xianzhi 連江縣志 Lianjing bianxiang 蓮經變相 Liao 遼 Liao Yin 廖廕 Liaodong 遼東 Lidai dili zhizhang tu 歷代地理指掌圖 Lin Jie 林岊 Lin’an 臨安 Linjiang 臨江 Linting 臨汀 Linghu Zhang 令胡璋 Liu Ban 劉攽 Liu Bei 劉備 Liu Binke ji 劉宾客集 Liu Changsheng 劉長生 (Liu Chuxuan 劉處玄) Liu Jiuling 劉九齡 Liu Qi 劉祁 Liu Shu 劉恕 Liu Wenxing 劉文興 Liu Xiaoyou 劉孝友 Liu Xizhong 劉羲仲 Liu Yi 劉彝 Liu Yun 劉筠 Liu Yuxi 劉禹錫 Liu Zongyuan 柳宗元 Liuchao shiji 六朝事跡 Liuhe zhangyun tu 六合掌運圖 Liujing tu 六經圖 Longmen 龍門 Longtu ge 龍圖閣 glossary 371 lu 路 Lu Daotong 路道通 Lu Dian 陸佃 Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 Lu Xinyuan 陸心源 Lu You 陸游 Lu Zai 陸宰 Lü Boshe 吕伯奢 Lü Dongbin 呂洞賓 Lü Zuqian 呂祖謙 Luhe xianzhi 六合縣志 Luling 廬陵 Lushan 廬山 Lushi xuji yanfang 陸氏續集驗方 Lun Boyu 論伯瑜 Luo Bi 羅璧 Ma Dabian 馬大辨 Ma Danyang 馬丹陽 (Ma Yu 馬鈺) Ma Guangzu 馬光祖 Ma Shou 馬鏞 Ma Tao 馬濤 Menxia sheng 門下省 Meng Jiao 孟郊 Menglianglu 夢粱錄 Mituo tatu 彌陀塔圖 Miaofa lianhua jing 妙法蓮華經 mimi shouchi min 民 Mingtong lun 明統論 Mingzong 明宗 mo ben 摹本 Moji 默記 mozhuang 墨莊 Mubala 木八剌 mulu 目錄 Nan Han 南漢 Nan Tang 南唐 nanfang shiren 南方士人 Nanfeng 南豐 Nanfeng junzhi 南豐郡志 372 glossary

Nanjing 南京 Nankang 南康 neidan 內丹 Neihuang zhi 內黃志 nianpu 年譜 Ninghai xian 寧海縣 Ningzong 寧宗 Ozaki Yasushi 尾崎康 Ouyang Shoudao 歐陽守道 Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 Panxi ji 磻溪集 Pei Songzhi 裴松之 Pei Xian 裴憲 Pei Xiu 裴秀 Peng Weixiao 彭惟孝 pi 疋 Pi Yuan 皮元 Piling zhi 毗陵志 pian 篇 pin 品 Pingjiang zhouzhi 平江州志 Pingyang 平陽 pulu 譜錄 Putian 莆田 Qi 杞 qi 氣 Qi sheng 齊乘 Qi zhou zhi 蘄州誌 Qidan guozhi 契丹國志 qiwu 器物 Qizhen 七真 qian 籤 Qian jia 錢家 Qian Shu 錢俶 Qian Weiyan 錢惟演 Qianshu shumiyuan shi 簽書樞密院事 Qin Guan 秦觀 Qin Meng 秦孟 Qin Zhi’an 秦志安 Qinchuan zhi 琴川志 glossary 373

Qingli shanjiu fang 慶曆善救方 Qingxin dian 清心殿 Qingyuan dangjin 慶元黨禁 Qingzhou 青州 Qiu Changchun 丘長春 (Qiu Chuji 丘處機) qu shui 曲水 quan shu 全書 Quanzhen 全真 Quanzhen an 全真菴 Quanzhou 泉州 Quanzhou Zhao 全州趙 Que sao bian 卻掃編 Qunshu kaosuo 群書考索 Rao Yuande 饒元德 Raozhou fu 饒州府 Renzong 仁宗 rili 日歷 Rikkoku-an 栗棘庵 Rongzhou 戎州 ru 儒 ruyi 儒醫 ruzhe 儒者 Ruian 瑞安 Ruiguangta 瑞光塔 San guan 三館 Sanchao beimeng huibian 三朝北盟彙編 Sanguozhi 三國志 Sanguozhi jinian 三國志紀年 sanjiao 三教 Sanyang tuzhi 三陽圖志 Seiryōji 清涼寺 Seishi Sōgen-ban no kenkyū 正史宋元版の研究 Shan lu 剡錄 Shandong 山東 Shansi 贍思 Shanyang 山陽 shanghan 傷寒 Shanghan jiusu fang 傷寒救俗方 Shanghan lun 傷寒論 shangshi 上士 374 glossary

Shao Bo 邵博 Shao Yong 邵雍 Shaoxing 紹興 shaoyang 少陽 shaoyin 少陰 Shen Gua 沈括 Shenxiao 神霄 Shenzhou 沁州 shenzhou 神咒 Shenzong 神宗 Shengchao Yuanfeng jiuyu tu 聖朝元豐九域圖 Shengji jing 聖濟經 Shengji zonglu 聖濟總錄 shengsi 省司 shi 士 Shi An 史安 Shi guan 史館 Shi Hao 史浩 Shi Jie 石介 Shi Miyuan 史彌遠 Shi Songzhi 史嵩之 Shi Zhijing 史志經 Shicheng 石城 shidaifu 士大夫 shihua 詩話 Shiji 史記 shilu 實錄 Shiqi shi xiangjie 十七史詳節 Shishuo xinyu 世說新語 Shizong 世宗 Shizu 世祖 Shu 蜀 shu 書 Shu chao 書巢 shu er bu zuo 述而不作 Shuji lou 屬籍樓 shuyuan 書院 shuang hang 雙行 Shui Anli 稅安禮 shuili 水利 glossary 375

Shuiyun ji 水雲集 Sima Guang 司馬光 Siming tujing 四明圖經 Siming xu zhi 四明續志 Siming zhi 四明志 Song 嵩 Song 宋 (dynasty) Song Defang 宋德方 Song Minqiu 宋敏求 Song shi 宋史 Song Zhirui 宋之瑞 Song zhongxing biannian beiyao 宋中興編年備要 Song zhongxing biannian gangmu 宋中興編年綱目 Songchao changbian beiyao 宋朝長編備要 Songchao si da shu 宋朝四大書 Songchao tongjian changbian gangmu 宋朝通鑑長編綱目 Su Che 蘇轍 Su Shi 蘇軾 Su Tianjue 蘇天爵 Su xieben 蘇寫本 Suzhou 蘇州 Sun Qingjing 孫清靜 (Sun Bu’er 孫不二) Sun Ribian 孫日邊 Tai 太 Taigu ji 太古集 Taiping guangji 太平廣記 Taiping huimin hejiju fang 太平惠民和劑局方 Taiping shenghui fang 太平聖惠方 Taiping xingguo 太平興國 Taiping xingguo si 太平興國寺 Taiping yulan 太平御覽 Taiqing lou 太清樓 taiyang 太陽 Taiyi 太一 Taiyi ju 太醫局 Taiyi ju fang 太醫局方 Taiyi ju zhuke chengwen 太醫局諸科稱文 taiyin 太陰 Taiyuan shiji ji 太原事迹記 Taizi zhongyun 太子中允 376 glossary

Taizong 太宗 Taizu 太祖 “Taizu huangdi zhaozao zhi tu” 太祖皇帝肇造之圖 Tan Changzhen 譚長真 (Tan Chuduan 譚處端) Tang 唐 Tang baijia shixuan 唐百家詩 Tang jian 唐鑑 Tang Zhongyou 唐仲友 tatsuma rokuso-mo 達摩六祖模 Tengzhou 藤州 tidian 提點 Tian Jiujia 田九嘉 Tianningsi 天寧寺 Tiantai junzhi 天台郡志 Tiantai tujing 天台圖經 tianzhi 田制 tong daode yi fengsu 同道德一風俗 Tong’an zhi 同安志 tongpan 通判 tuji 圖記 tujing 圖經 tushu 圖書 tuzhi 圖志 wan zi 万字 Wanjuan lou 萬卷樓 Wang Anshi 王安石 Wang E 王鶚 Wang Housun 王厚孫 Wang Liuhui 王琉輝 Wang Mingqing 王明清 Wang Pan 王磐 Wang Pizhi 王闢之 Wang Wei 王維 Wang Weiyi 王惟一 Wang Yi 王儀 Wang Yi 王沂 Wang Yi 王禕 Wang Yishan 王義山 Wang Yinglin 王應麟 Wang Yuyang 王玉陽 (Wang Chuyi 王處一) glossary 377

Wang Yuangong 王元恭 Wang Zhe 王嚞 (Wang Chongyang 王重陽) Wang Zhen 王禎 Wang Zhi 王銍 Wang Zhijin 王志謹 Wang Zhu 王洙 wei 威 Wei Su 危素 Wei Yingwu 韋應物 Weiguo zhi 魏國志 wen 文 Wen Cao 文曹 Wendi 文帝 wenji 文集 Wenjian houlu 聞見後錄 Wenying 文瑩 Wenyuan yinghua 文苑英華 Wenzhou lu 溫州路 Weng Shan 翁埏 Wu 吳 Wu 婺 wu 巫 Wu 武 wu buwei 無不為 wu fu 無富 Wu-Yue 吳越 Wu Zimu 吳自牧 Wubai luohan moyin 五百羅漢模印 Wucheng xianzhi 烏程縣志 Wudai shi xiangjie 五代史詳節 Wujun tuzhi 吳郡圖志 Wulin jiushi 武林舊事 wuwei 無為 Wuxing 吳興 Wuxing zhi 吳興志 Wuzhou 梧州 Wuzhou lu 婺州路 Wuzong 武宗 “Xi Qiang shengshuai” 西羌盛衰 Xi Xia 西夏 378 glossary

Xi Zuochi 習鑿齒 Xiguan 西關 Xihu 西湖 Xikun ti 西昆體 Xining 熙寧 Xia 夏 Xia Song 夏竦 Xiahou Lin 夏侯琳 xian shidafu 賢士大夫 Xianle ji 仙樂集 Xianxi zhi 仙溪志 Xiang Minzhong 向敏中 Xiangfu zhouxian tujing 祥符州縣圖經 Xiangguo 相國 xiangqu laoru 鄉曲老儒 Xiangshan yelu 湘山野錄 Xiao Chang 蕭常 xiaodao 小道 xiaoshuo 小說 Xiaozong 孝宗 Xiaozong baoxun 孝宗寶訓 xie 邪 Xie Kejia 謝克家 Xie Zhensun 謝振孫 xieben 寫本 xiece 挾册 Xielipuhua 燮理溥化 xieshu 挾書 Xin Tang shu 新唐書 Xin Wudai shi 新五代史 Xincheng xianzhi 新城縣志 Xinxian 莘縣 Xinxing xianzhi 新興縣志 Xinyu County 新喻 Xing Bing 邢昺 Xing sheng 行省 Xingguo zhou 興國州 Xinghua 興化 xingzhuang 行狀 Xiuzhen wenyuan 修真文苑 glossary 379

Xixia Bagua gong 栖霞八卦宮 Xiyou ji 西遊記 Xu Bochen 徐伯琛 Xu Du 徐度 Xu Hou Han shu 續後漢書 Xu Si 許汜 Xu Tongjian changbian juyao 續通鑑長編舉要 Xu Tongjian gangmu 續通鑑綱目 Xu Wenjing 徐文靖 Xu Yuanjie 徐元杰 Xu Yunjian zhi 續雲間志 xu zhi 續志 Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian 續資治通鑑長編 Xu Zongru 許宗儒 Xubian liangchao gangmu beiyao 續編兩朝綱目備要 Xuandu baozang 玄都寶藏 Xuanfeng qinghui tu 玄風慶會圖 Xuanjiao 玄教 Xuanmiao guan 玄妙觀 Xuanwen ge 宣文閣 Xuanzong 玄宗 Xuelijiesi 薛里吉思 xuezheng 學正 Yan jia 晏家 Yan shi bian gu tu 晏氏辨古圖 Yanjing 燕京 Yanshan County 巖山 Yanshou 延壽 Yanzhou 嚴州 Yang Dong 楊棟 Yang Hui 楊譓 Yang Qian 楊潛 Yang Shiqi 楊士奇 Yang Wanli 楊萬里 Yang Yi 楊億 yangming 陽明 yaohai 要害 Ye Longli 葉隆禮 Ye Mengde 葉夢得 yeshi 野史 380 glossary yi 義 yi 驛 yiboshi 醫博士 Yidi men 夷狄門 Yidu lu 益都路 yigong 醫工 yihai 乙亥 yihou wu juan xiancheng chushou 已後五卷見成出售 Yijing 易經 yili 義例 Yilinzhen 亦璘真 yimen 義門 Yiwen zhi 藝文志 Yiwu zhi 義烏志 Yixing 一行 yixue boshi 醫學博士 yin 蔭 Yin Zhiping 尹志平 yinyi 音義 yinyong zhushu 引用諸書 Yingxian Guanyin 應現觀音 Yingzao fashi 營造法式 Yingzhou zhi 穎州志 Yongjia xianzhi 永嘉縣志 Yongle gong 永樂宮 Yongzhou fuzhi 永州府志 Yu Ji 虞集 Yu Pingbo 俞平伯 Yu Qian 于潛 Yu Qin 于欽 Yuchen dian 玉宸殿 yudi tu 輿地圖 Yugong shanchuan dili tu 禹貢山川地理圖 Yugong shuo duan 禹貢說斷 Yuji tu 禹跡圖 yulu 語錄 Yushu yuan 御書院 Yuan 元 Yuan Haowen 元好問 Yuan Jue 袁桷 glossary 381

“Yuan Wei Beiguo tu” 元魏北國圖 Yuan Zhen 元稹 Yuanhe junxian tuzhi 元和郡縣圖志 Yuanyou 元祐 Yuezhou 越州 Yunjian zhi 雲間志 Yunshan ji 雲山集 Yunzhou 筠州 zashi 雜史 “Zan fo” 讚佛 Zezhou 澤州 Zeng Gong 曾巩 Zhansiding 苫思丁 Zhang Bangchang 張邦昌 Zhang Gaoping 張高評 Zhang Ji 張籍 Zhang Jian 張戩 Zhang Jinwu 張金吾 Zhang Lei 張耒 Zhang Liusun 張留孫 Zhang Ruyu 章如愚 Zhang Shi 張栻 Zhang Wangzhi 章望之 Zhang Xiumin 張秀民 Zhang Zhe 章嚞 Zhang Zhongjing 張仲景 Zhangzhou 漳州 Zhangzong 章宗 Zhao Mingcheng 趙明誠 Zhao Xibian 趙希弁 Zhaowen guan 昭文館 Zhejiang 浙江 Zhezong 哲宗 Zhen Dadao 真大道 Zhen Dexiu 真德秀 zhenren 真人 zhenyan 真言 Zhenzong 真宗 Zheng Gong 鄭公 Zheng Jingyue 鄭景曜 382 glossary

Zheng Xingzhi 鄭性之 Zheng Yuansu 鄭元素 Zhenghe Wanshou daozang 政和萬壽道藏 zhengrun 正閏 zhengshi 正史 Zhengsu fang 正俗方 zhengtong 正統 Zhengtong Daozang 正統道藏 Zhengtong lun (zhong) 正統論 (中) zhi 志 zhi 治 Zhi fuwen ge 直傅文閣 Zhichang xiansheng wenji 知常先生文集 Zhili 知禮 zhima 紙馬 Zhiping 治平 Zhizhai shulu jieti 直齋書錄解題 Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao 中國古方志考 Zhongli Quan 鐘離權 zhongshi 中士 zhongtong chao 中統鈔 Zhongxing biannian juyao 中興編年舉要 Zhongxing liangchao biannian gangmu 中興兩朝編年綱目 Zhongzhou ji 中州集 Zhou Baoquan 周保權 Zhou Bida 周必大 Zhou Mi 周密 zhou panguan 州判官 Zhou Yinghe 周應合 Zhouguan 周官 zhoujun 州郡 Zhouli 周禮 Zhu Baoyi 朱抱一 Zhu Bian 朱弁 Zhu Changwen 朱長文 Zhu Lian 朱廉 zhu meng 主盟 Zhu Xi 朱熹 Zhu Xiangxian 朱象先 zhuan 傳 glossary 383 zhuan 撰 zhuanji 傳記 zhuanyun shi 轉運使 Zhubing yuanhou lun 諸病源侯論 zhuzi 諸子 zimao shen wei 資貌甚偉 ziti 字體 Zizheng dian 資政殿 Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 Zizhi tongjian gangmu 資治通鑑綱目 Zizhou 梓州路 zouyi 奏議 zuan 纂 Zuo zhuan 左傳 zuoli 作利

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Note: “f” refers to figures and “t” to tables. academies, private (shuyuan), 11, 35, Ba Min tongzhi (gazetteer of Fujian), 67, 72, 130; and book collecting, 64, 301 75, 89, 90n110, 92, 93–96, 337; and Bai Juyi, 40 Daoxue movement, 275, 279, 280, Bailudong shuyuan (White Deer Hollow 331, 335. See also schools, government Academy), 89 and local Ban Gu, 46, 236 Academy of Scholarly Worthies (Jixian Baoding gazetteer, 106 yuan), 10n29, 75, 81, 333 Baoguang ji (Yin Zhiping), 205t acquisition, book, 71–83; in China Baoyi sanfeng laoren danjue (Jin Yueyan), vs. Europe, 359; in Northern Song, 208t 73–83; by purchase, 83, 87, 88–89, Barrett, Timothy H., 2n1, 3n4, 4nn8–9, 94; in Southern Song, 83–90. See also 5, 6, 7n15, 13, 23 book collections Bi Shouzhen, 185n58 acupuncture, 220, 234 Bian Ren, 155, 160 administrative divisions: in biography (zhuanji), 28, 47; and book encyclopedias, 264–66; maps of, collecting, 65, 82; chronological 245–46, 249, 251–53, 255–58, 260–61, (pulu), 48; and gazetteers, 107, 121, 269; Northern Song, 241, 256–57, 267; 134; in Quanzhen Daoism, 178, pre-Qin, 241; Yuan, 105, 109, 113 183, 184, 191, 194–201; and reading Alaowading (’Alā-al-Dīn), 122, 131 practices, 29; in revisionist history, alchemy, inner (neidan), 170, 171 339–44; in standard histories, 48 almanacs, 9 Black, Jeremy, 257 American colonies, 350 Blair, Ann, 349–60 amulets, 6, 7 Bo shi liu tie, 10n26 Analects (Confucius), 341 Bol, Peter, 28n61, 233, 263n45, 264n48 Ancient Prose (guwen), 26n56, 266 Bolod Temur, 131 annals (biannian), 46, 47, 48, 75, 77, book burning, 19, 106, 122, 169, 182, 276–77, 279, 299, 319–20, 323, 324, 188, 192, 193, 194, 199, 269n57. See 325, 333, 339, 340 also censorship Antanbuhua, 129, 131 book collections, 63–101; acquisition anthologies: of anecdotes (xiaoshuo), of, 71–83, 87, 88–90; catalogs of, 76, 47, 48, 219, 346; of court documents, 79, 80, 112, 244; and civil service 39; of guwen, 26n56; literary (bieji), examinations, 16, 64, 68, 81–84, 86, 20, 35, 37, 47, 48, 115, 263, 266; of 88, 92, 93, 95–96; of commoners, 87, memorials, 47, 48; poetry, 37, 40–41, 92, 95–96; and Confucianism, 64, 66, 61–62; prose, 9, 190, 239; prose style 67, 70, 76, 84, 89, 97; contents of, 16, manuals in, 239, 266; of Quanzhen 25, 70, 76, 78, 82, 88, 244–45, 281; Daoism, 178, 183–90, 204, 205 in Europe, 356–57; family, 92, 93, Anxi xianzhi (Anxi County gazetteer), 95; geographical distribution of, 66, 120 69–70, 88–92; and government posts, Aoxi zhi (Aoxi gazetteer), 130 68, 74–76, 79, 81–84, 86, 87; growth archaeology, 2, 137, 163; of maps, of, 27, 69, 97; imperial, 43–44, 65, 66, 258–60 67n11, 75, 78, 80, 83, 84, 85, 90, 244; Ashoka, King (India), 3, 137, 139 and interconnections of texts, 58–62; astronomy, 70, 82, 264 and learning, 63, 78, 80, 81–82, 92; Astronomy Bureau, 2n3 lists of, 64–65; loss of, 14, 59, 63n1, Avatamsaka Sutra (Huayan jing), 161 76, 80, 88, 96, 97; manuscripts in, 17, 412 index

18, 40, 47; in monasteries, 16, 42, 66, Cai Jing, 55, 57, 61n66, 304, 314, 346n106 67, 69, 74, 96, 97; Northern Song, Cai Xiang, 224–25, 228n49; and medical 64, 68, 70, 92, 95; and patron-client texts, 231–32; and Song reform, ties, 64, 96; and patronage, 64, 96; 233–35 private, 14, 15–16, 43–44, 65–66, calendars, 2, 9, 70, 323, 329, 359 67; of private academies, 64, 75, calligraphy, 130, 136, 155n69, 161, 89, 92, 93–96; and proscriptions, 191n74, 195, 288, 297n42; of Su Shi, 53; quantification of, 15–16, 90, 91; 56, 155 as reference materials, 51–52; of Cangwu junzhi (Cangwu Prefecture scholar-officials, 16, 64, 65–70, 87, gazetteer), 122, 126 92, 94–98; sharing of, 14–15, 93–96; Cao Cao, 323, 325n32, 328, 329, 339, Southern Song, 83–90, 92, 95; Tang, 341–42 66; and transmission of knowledge, Cao Wanru, 243n13, 249n26, 250n29, 63, 96, 97; uses of, 91–96 267n54 book culture, 1, 13, 29, 67, 169, 345 Caotang ji (Wang Dangui), 205 books, printed: availability of, 12, 33–50, Carbone, Ludovico, 352 62, 64, 358, 359; consumption of, catalogs, 4, 14, 15, 18, 28, 75, 293–99; 22, 63, 105, 217; distribution of, 22, of book collections, 62n71, 75, 76, 79, 63, 228, 238; in Europe, 28, 357; 80, 98t, 112, 114, 168n5, 244, 288n25, government donations of, 73; Jin 321; in Europe, 356 period, 168, 169; vs. manuscripts, Catholic Church, 353, 355 12, 27, 67, 112, 114, 349–50, 352–53; Cefu yuangui (Primal mirrors from the modern, 353; overabundance of, records archives), 35, 49 46–47; prices of, 352; and Sima Cen Shen, 61 Guang, 45–50; Song period, 167–68; Cen Shen shiji (The poetry collection of “under arm” ( xieshu, xiece), 37–38; Cen Shen), 61 Yuan period, 168, 169. See also censorship, 25, 52–58; and destruction different kinds of books; survival of woodblocks, 18, 39, 56, 174, 179, bookstores, 61n71, 87. See also 180, 188, 191, 192, 193, 194, 199; acquisition, book enforcement of, 57–58; of examination Boyanchaer, 122, 131 cheat books, 39; of gazetteers, 108, 130, broad learning (boxue), 17 132, 133–34; and Huangchao biannian Brokaw, Cynthia, 29 beiyao, 303–6; and loss, 14–15, 181, Brook, Timothy, 105, 108, 124–25, 129, 182, 188, 192–93, 194, 199, 201; of 132 maps, 269n57; and printing, 19, 53, 55, Buddhism: and book collecting, 42, 64, 354–56; of Quanzhen Daoism, 188; 66, 67, 68, 74, 81, 89, 94, 97; Chan, Yuan (1281), 181, 188, 191, 192, 193, 66; vs. Confucianism, 286; vs. Daoism, 199 169, 179; vs. Daoxue, 67; and early Chaffee, John, 242 printing, 2, 3–4, 8, 13; in Japan, 3n4, Chai Yuangao, 206t 11; and maps, 241, 268; and medical Chan Buddhism, 66 texts, 217n2; pictorial motifs in, 198; Chang Tai, 122 printed texts of, 11, 19, 23, 135, 163, Chang Tang, 123 201, 229; and Quanzhen Daoism, Chang’an, 9, 66 169, 172, 173–74, 179–80, 181n47, Chao Buzhi, 55 182, 183, 184, 187, 192, 195; and Chao Yuanfang, 219 rulership, 23; survival of works of, Chaozhou gazetteer, 108–9 2, 3, 11; Tibetan, 174, 181n47. See Chen Cigong, 331 also Buddhist Canon; illustrations, Chen Deng, 327 Buddhist; monasteries; sutras Chen Di, 300 Buddhist Canon (Tripitaka): Chen family, 73, 93 handcopying of, 66, 72–73; in Chen Jingyuan, 68, 75, 91n112, 92n121, Northern Song, 230; printing of, 4, 11, 94, 98t 74, 89, 169, 219; Zhaocheng, 176–77 Chen Jun, 21; and Daoxue, 275, 280; Bussi, Andrea de, 352 and Huangchao biannian gangmu index 413

beiyao, 281–87; life of, 281–87; Chongyang zhenren shou Danyang Outline and Details of, 273; preface ershisi jue, 206t by, 284–85, 288; and printing of Chow, Kai-Wing, 29, 111, 125 work, 311, 312; and Xubian liangchao Chunqiu (Spring and autumn annals), gangmu beiyao, 310–11 77, 81, 82, 277, 286, 295 Chen Junqing, 281–84, 286, 287, 293, Chunqiu fenji (Analyses of the Spring 309–10, 313 and Autumn period), 258 Chen Lian, 119 “Chunqiu lieguo zhi tu” (“Map of the Chen Liang, 329, 330, 335n70 Spring and Autumn States”; in Lidai Chen Liangzuo, 130 dili zhizhang tu), 258, 259f Chen Mi, 282–83, 284, 294, 313 Chunyang zhenren huncheng ji Chen Shou, 318–23, 325, 328–30, 335, (Collected poems of the perfected 340, 341 Chunyang; Lü Dongbin, comp. He Chen Xun, 98t Zhiyuan ), 185–86, 204t Chen Yaosou, 223 circulation, 3n4, 7, 8, 35, 63, 359; by Chen Zhensun, 35, 40, 62n71, commercial printing, 2, 6; control 112, 226n42, 244, 267n53; and of, 355; of frontispieces, 153; of Chen Jun, 284n20, 293, 294, 295, gazetteers, 116–17, 120–21, 134; 297, 302 of histories, 274, 319, 345; and Chen Zhixu, 208t, 211t inscriptions vs. printing, 194, 198; of Chen Zhong, 155 manuscripts, 350; of maps, 268, 269; Chen Zongli, 85, 92n121, 93n122, 98t of medical texts, 18, 24, 25, 217n2, Cheng Dachang, 241 218, 222, 225, 228, 238; quantification Cheng Duanli, 243 of, 13–17; of technical knowledge, 27. Cheng Yi, 336 See also different kinds of works Chengdu (Sichuan), 9, 22, 71, 72, 87, 90, cities, 9, 71, 202; European, 355, 358, 337n77, 343, 345n103 359. See also Hangzhou; Kaifeng; Chengdu fuzhi (Chengdu Prefecture printing centers gazetteer), 117–18 Classics Mat lectures (jing yan), 286, Chengzong, Emperor (Temür; Yuan), 313, 314, 334; and revisionist history, 337 335–38, 339, 346 Cherniack, Susan, 12, 344, 345 Cleaves, Francis W., 176 Chi Liangxin, 122 codices, 14, 20 Chia, Lucille, 14–15, 18, 19, 21, 22, 25, commoners (min), 12n35, 33, 46, 83, 87, 26, 167–213, 350 92, 95–96, 108, 127, 230, 235, 339, 343 Chiang, Lydia, 231n59 composition: of frontispieces to Lotus Chicheng xu zhi (Supplement to Sutra, 148, 151–52; of single-sheet Chicheng gazetteer), 112 prints, 144, 146; in Wang Yi edition Chicheng zhi (Chicheng gazetteer), 112 of Lotus Sutra, 158–61 Chinggis Khan, 171, 173, 179, 192 Confucian classics: availability of, 34, Chongwen zongmu (catalog), 75 35; and book collectors, 70, 76, 77, Chongyang fenli shihua ji (Collection of 81; and maps, 240–41, 268, 269; in Chongyang on the ten transformations Northern Song, 219, 230; printing of, by dividing the pear; Wang 9–10, 12n35, 13, 23–24, 219, 228, 229, Chongyang), 189, 207t 345n103, 353 Chongyang jiaohua ji (Collection Confucianism: and book collecting, 64, of Chongyang on instruction and 66, 67, 70, 76, 84, 89, 97; book culture conversion; Wang Chongyang), 189, of, 202; vs. Buddhism, 286; motifs 207t in, 198; print culture of, 201; and Chongyang lijiao shiwu lun (Wang Quanzhen Daoism, 172, 183, 189–90, Chongyang), 207t 192; and Song reforms, 233–34; Tang, Chongyang minhua miaoxing zhenren, 233. See also Daoxue 211t Confucius, 118, 233, 277; birth scenes Chongyang quanzhen ji (Wang of, 198n90 Chongyang), 199n93, 205t copyright, 152–53 414 index

Cui Fazhen, 177n31 de Bary, Wm. Theodore, 335 Cui Wei, 148, 149f, 150f De Weerdt, Hilde, 18, 20, 107, 112, currency, 125, 164–65 239–70, 350 Dennis, Joseph, 14, 15, 17, 21, 22, 25, Da Jin Xuandu baozang (Daoist canon 105–34, 350, 351 of the mysterious capital of the Great Deqing gazetteer, 118 Jin), 169, 174 Dezong, Emperor (Tang), 218 Da Ming zhishu (Gazetteer of the Great dharani sutras, 2, 3, 4, 9, 11, 152, 163; Ming), 109 frontispieces of, 137–42 Da Yuan yitongzhi (Comprehensive Di Ku, 246 gazetteer of the great Yuan Dynasty), Diamond Sutra, 3, 140, 151 108, 120 Dili tu (Map of the administrative Da Zhou kanding zhongjing mulu organization of the earth; stele), 249 (Catalog of scriptures authorized by Ding Darong, 109 the Great Zhou), 4 Ding Zhong, 98t Dam-pa, 181n47 Directorate of Education (Guozi jian), Damo liuzu mo (Six Chan Patriarchs of 12, 23–24, 26, 168; and availability of the Bodhidharma Sect), 135 books, 33, 34–35; and book collectors, Danyang shenguang can (Ma Danyang), 74; and histories, 47, 330, 337; and 204t imperial libraries, 43; and medical Danyang zhenren yulu (Wang Yizhong), texts, 36, 218–19, 220, 223; and 206t printing, 43, 36; and Sanguozhi, 318, Danyang zhenren zhiyan, 206t 321, 323, 326, 329 Daochan ji (Wang Zhitan), 205t divination, 3n3, 9, 16, 27, 70, 82, Daode jing, 8, 181 162n85, 164 Daoism: and book collections, 70, 81; Diwang jingshi tupu (Catalog of figures vs. Buddhism, 169, 179; and early illustrating the governance of rulers; printing, 4–5, 6, 13; and illustrations, Tang Zhongyou), 240–41, 258 19, 195; Longmen Quanzhen group, Donation of Constantine, 358 174; motifs from, 161–62; Xuanjiao, Dong Cheng, 342 182, 195, 199; Zhengyi, 174. See also Dong Yi, 96, 98t Quanzhen Daoism Dong Zhuo, 341 Daoist Canon (Daozang): catalogs of, Donglin Monastery, 66, 69, 96 15; commentaries on, 202; Jin, 169, Dong’ou zhi (Dong’ou gazetteer), 111 175; loss of, 14, 15, 174; Ming, 193, Dongxuan jinyu ji (Ma Danyang), 202n95; Northern Song, 169, 174, 190n70, 204t 230; printing of, 4, 5, 21, 135, 168–69, Dongyang xu zhi (Dongyang 229; Qing, 184n55; works deleted supplemented gazetteer), 131 from, 177, 182–83. See also Xuandu Dongyang zhi (Dongyang gazetteer), 109, baozang; Zhengtong Daozang 131 Daolasha, 123, 132 Dongyuan ji (Feng Changquan zi), 204t Daoxue (Learning of the Way) Dongzhai jishi (Record of events from movement: and book collectors, 82; Eastern Studio; Fan Zhen), 55 vs. Buddhism, 67; and Chen Jun, 301, drawings: as models for printing, 148, 310, 313; and Classics Mat lectures, 151, 162–63; printed models for, 336; development of, 275–80; and 135n2, 142–46 dialogic treatises, 183; in Fujian, Drège, Jean-Pierre, 14, 27 280–81; and histories, 274, 275; and Drexel, Jeremias, 357 printing, 21, 22; and reading rules, 16; Du Daojian, 195, 199n91 and revisionist histories, 26, 328–32, Du Feng, 176, 186n60 335, 344–45; and Shi Songzhi, 314 Du Fu, 36n7, 40 Daozang jiyao (Collected essentials of the Du Guangting, 8 Daoist Canon), 184n55 “Du Sanguozhi” (“On reading The Daozang quejing mulu (List of missing Chronicle of the Three Kingdoms”; Li works from the Daoist Canon), 177, 182 Jiuling), 326 index 415

Duan Chong, 98t Europe, 349–60; vs. China, 350–53; Duan Liaozhong, 92n121 commercial printing in, 241–42, 353, Duan Zhong, 68 359; early printing in, 6–7, 8n18; Duan Zichong, 98t effects of printing in, 15, 20, 22, 28, Duanping era, 306, 313–14; and Chen 344n100; literacy in, 358–59; maps in, Jun, 274, 283, 284, 299, 302–3 241–42, 268; movable type in, 6, 22, Dunhuang, 9n22, 19, 140, 147, 151, 349; survival of books in, 28 217n2 examinations, civil service: and book Duoerchiyunfu, 129 collecting, 16, 64, 68, 74, 81–84, 86, Duoerzhiban, 132 87, 88, 92, 93, 95–96; cheat books for, Dushu fennian richeng (Graduated study 37–38, 39; and Chen Jun, 284; and schedule; Cheng Duanli), 243 commercial printing, 24, 36–39; and Daoxue movement, 275–76, 279; and Eastern Han Dynasty, 256 encyclopedias, 264, 266; and local Edgren, Sören, 26, 141 elites, 27; and maps, 239, 242–43, 260, education: and book collecting, 68, 263, 269; medical, 220; and printing, 92, 93; and medical texts, 235, 236; 11, 317, 323; and revisionist histories, and reform, 221–27, 228; and the 319, 334, 335, 337, 345; and Su Shi, state, 24–25, 236. See also academies, 327 private; Directorate of Education; examinations, civil service; schools, Fan Duan, 68, 98t government and local Fan Wenli, 123 Egan, Ronald, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19–20, Fan Ye, 330 24–25, 33–62, 323n22, 358 Fan Yi, 185, 188–89, 190n70, 199n93 Eisenstein, Elizabeth, 23n50, 242, Fan Zhen, 55 344n100, 360n23 Fan Zhongyan, 228, 235 elites, literati: and book collecting, 16, Fan Zuyu, 55 64, 65–70, 87, 92, 94–98; book culture Fei Gun, 243 of, 202; dissemination of writings (Feng) Changquan zi, 204t, 210t of, 8–9; and examinations, 317; and Feng Dao, 9n26, 10 gazetteers, 105, 109–11, 119; and Feng Fujing, 118 manuscripts, 13–14, 41–42; and maps, Feng Liangzou, 333 263, 269, 270; and medical texts, 27, Feng Su, 2n3 235, 238; and Mongols, 133, 134; fiction: in book collections, 16, 70; networks among, 28; as physicians, historical, 320, 346; illustrated, 19, 236, 238; and printing, 8, 11, 317; 165 and Quanzhen Daoism, 170; and Five Dynasties period, 3, 4, 10, 23, 60, standardization, 26; and wen, 233. See 72, 148n50, 229, 324, 325 also officials, government forgeries, 39, 138, 358 elites, local, 27; book-giving culture of, Fozu tongji (A comprehensive account of 123; and gazetteers, 121, 123, 124, Buddhist patriarchs), 137, 241 126–27; and Mongols, 129, 132–33, frontispieces, 19, 136–65; circulation 134 of, 153; composition of, 142, 148, encyclopedias, 16, 20, 35, 47, 49, 230, 151–52, 158–61; for dharani sutras, 244, 245, 268, 269, 276; of formularies, 137–42; as new format, 139; Northern 224, 231; of geographies, 219, 241, 242; Song, 147–54, 159, 160; preparatory maps in, 263–67; of pharmacopeia, paintings for, 162; and private 221; reading instructions for, 265–66 publishing, 146–63; from Xi Xia epidemics, 18, 25, 225–26, 231, 232, 237, empire, 153–54, 159, 162, 164 238 “Fu Xuanfeng qinghui zhe ji” (“Record Ershisi yingxian (Twenty-four on Xuanfeng qinghui tu”; Shi Zhijing), manifestations of Guanyin 194 Bodhisattva), 144 Fu Yucheng, 123 essays, 37, 39, 220 Fu Zao, 132 Estienne, Henri, 351 Fu Zengxiang, 186n62 416 index

Fujian: book collecting in, 89, 90; Great Wall, 251, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, gazetteers of, 301, 311; and political 260 reform, 310, 314; printing in, 22, “Guan Sanguo” (“On contemplating the 71, 90, 280–81, 283, 292, 337n77, Three Kingdoms”; Shao Yong), 326 345n103. See also Jian’an Academy; Guang shengyi (Xuanzong), 8 Jianyang Guangchang xianzhi (Guangchang Fujian tongzhi (Fujian provincial County gazetteer), 127 gazetteer), 311 Guangji fang (Prescriptions for broadening relief ), 218 Gaixiu Sanguozhi (Li Qi), 347t Guangzong, Emperor (Southern Song), Ganshui zhi (Ganshui gazetteer), 120, 123 273, 311 Gao Daokuan, 198n89, 208t Guanshiyin pusa pumen pin (TK 167; Gao Wenjin, 144, 145f, 158 from Khara Khoto), 153–54 Gaozong, Emperor (Southern Song), Guanxiu, 8 57–58, 273, 305, 306 Guarino, Marie, 336, 337n74 gazetteers, local (difangzhi; tujing), 25, Guixin zashi (Zhou Mi), 331–32, 347t 28, 105–34; and book collectors, 82; “Gujin huayi quyu zongyao tu” circulation of, 116–17, 120–21, 134; (“General survey map of Chinese and compilers of, 109–11, 129; cost of non-Chinese territories from the past printing, 21, 124–28, 133; defined, through the present”; in Lidai dili 113–15; donors to, 121–24, 126–27, zhizhang tu), 247, 248f, 251, 257, 265 133; editions of, 114–15; financing of, Guliang (Guliang commentary), 81 121–24; life cycles of, 112–13, 114; in Guo Zhicheng, 204t manuscript vs. print, 17–18, 111–17, Guochao wenlei (Literary anthology of 133; origins of, 107–11; prefaces to, our dynasty, arranged by genre; Su 106, 112, 120, 121; print runs of, 128, Tianjue), 184 351; printing of, 111–21, 350, 353; production of, 105–6; standardization Han Dynasty, 60, 232–33, 235, 237n83, of, 108; survival of, 14, 105–6, 120 323 gazetteers, national, 25, 107–8, 109, 120, Han Ji, 81 128, 265 Han shu (History of the Han), 34, 38, 52, geography, 27, 48, 219, 246; and 78, 82, 88, 236 book collections, 16, 70, 82; in Han Yu, 40 encyclopedias, 263–67; in Europe, handcopying: 9nn22–23, 13; of Buddhist 242; historical, 266, 269; and politics, Canon, 72–73; and examination 26. See also maps preparation, 276; of gazetteers, Gessner, Conrad, 354, 357 116–17, 119; and libraries, 17; vs. Gongyang commentary, 81 printing, 5, 7, 11, 12, 18, 41–42; Su Goossaert, Vincent, 169, 173n17, 179, Shi on, 51–52. See also manuscripts 187 Hangzhou (Zhejiang), 22, 72; book Goryeo kingdom (Korea), 159, 160n77, collecting in, 74, 84, 85, 87, 89, 254 90; Buddhist prints in, 11, 19, government, local: and book collecting, 135–65; Daoist printing in, 199–201; 86, 87; and gazetteers, 121, 124; and frontispieces in, 146–47; motifs from, imperial libraries, 44; printing by, 36, 152; and Xi Xia empire, 154, 161 219; and proscriptions, 53 Hanlin Academy, 75, 84, 94, 191, 220 government offices: appointments to, Hao Datong (Hao Guangning), 171, 68, 74–76, 77, 79, 81–84, 85, 86, 87; 184, 185n59, 204t donations of books from, 73; and Hao Jing, 330, 332–33, 334, 347t; manuscripts, 7, 14; printing by, 13, revisionist history of, 339–41; on 18, 21, 25, 72, 84, 85, 168, 170, 201, Zhuge Liang, 342–44 322n21, 333, 334. See also gazetteers; Hao lixiang (Content to leave home; histories, revisionist; medical texts; Wang Chongyang), 189n68 the state Hargett, James, 107 index 417

Hartman, Charles, 21, 22, 25, 26, Hong family, 73, 93 273–315, 344 Hong Hao, 98 He Daoquan, 206, 210 Hou Han shu (History of the Later Han), He Dazheng, 54–55 34, 77, 78, 330 He Liangshu, 98 Hou Wei shu (History of the Later Wei He Ning, 9 Dynasty), 78 He Wenyuan, 127 Hu family, 73, 93 He Zhiyuan, 185, 204 Hu Shi, 138 He Zong, 127 Hu Taichu, 115 Henry, Eric, 343 Hu Tianlu, 176 Hinrichs, TJ, 18, 22, 24, 35, 217–38, 350 Hu Ye, 98t histories: annals (biannian) format in, Hu Zhongyao, 73, 98t 48, 276–77, 279, 319–20; availability Huainanzi, 237 of, 34, 35, 47; in book collections, Huang Chengyan, 342 70, 76; documentary vs. pedagogical, Huang Gongwang, 208t, 209t 274, 275–81, 311, 314, 344–45; of Huang Jin, 131–32 hegemons (bashi), 48; indexing of, Huang Junfu, 338 295; and legitimacy, 317, 319, 328, Huang Pilie, 288nn27,28, 291n31, 298 329, 330, 339, 341; and maps, 241, Huang, Shih-shan Susan, 19, 135–65 246, 269; Ming nationalist, 318; Huang Tingjian, 44, 55, 57, 98t morality in, 277–79, 319–20, 328, 330; Huangchao biannian gangmu beiyao narrative in, 319–20, 321, 328, 330, (Chronologically arranged complete 338, 339, 340, 341, 345; outline and essentials in outline and details of the details (gangmu) format in, 273, 274, august court; Chen Jun), 273–315; 277, 279, 302, 311, 314; and politics, prefaces to, 281, 283, 284–87, 288, 273, 274, 318–20; printing of, 27, 291, 294, 297, 300–301, 307; printing 219, 274, 317–20, 334, 337–38, 345, of, 287, 300–301, 311–12; surviving 346, 353; of Quanzhen Daoism, 183; imprints of, 288–92, 299, 303, 312; Sichuan school of, 274, 279; survival variant titles of, 293–94, 298–99, of, 275, 306–7, 319, 345; text vs. 300–301, 311–13; writing of, 281–87 commentaries in, 322–23, 329, 338; Huangchao shishi leiyuan (encyclopedia), transmission of, 345; uncategorized 276 (zashi), 48; unofficialyeshi ( ), 47, 48, Huangdi neijing (Inner canon of the 49; unorthodox sources for, 338; in Yellow Emperor), 220n7, 221, 230, Yuan, 128. See also Han shu; Hou 234, 237 Han shu Huangdi yinfu jing zhu (Liu Chuxuan), histories, officialzhengshi ( ), 47, 48, 185n58, 210t 285; access to, 75; vs. encyclopedias, Huangfu Chizheng wenji (The literary 265; printing of, 323; vs. revisionist collection of Huangfu Chizheng), 61 histories, 317–20, 337–38, 344; of Huangfu Shi (Huangfu Chizheng), 61 Three Kingdoms, 317–20;zhengtong Huashan zhi (Gazetteer of Hua shan; Shi in, 323–24 Zhijing), 192 histories, revisionist, 317–47; biography Huayi tu (Map of Chinese and in, 339–44; and Daoxue, 26, 328–32, non-Chinese territories; stele), 249–51 335, 344–45; and examinations, Hui, King of Liang, 233 319, 334, 335, 337, 345; formats of, Huizhen ji (Wang Jichang), 207t 339–44; morality in, 319–20, 330; Huizong, Emperor (Northern Song), 39, printing of, 317–20, 334, 337–38, 345, 40, 55, 56, 61n66, 159, 291, 306, 314; 346; survival of, 319, 345; zhengtong and Daoism, 172, 174, 175, 182; and in, 317–18, 319, 320, 328–29, 332, Huangchao biannian beiyao, 303–4; 338, 340 and medical texts, 220–21, 230, 231; Historiography Academy (Guoshi yuan), reforms of, 232 82 humanism, 353–54, 356, 357, 358, 359 418 index illustrations, Buddhist, 19, 135–65, 195; Jianyan yilai xinian yaolu (Chronological commercial publishing of, 136; in record of important events since 1127; Lotus Sutra, 155–63; motifs in, 19, Li Xinchuan), 274, 275, 276, 279, 306, 147, 148, 198; in painted murals, 309; survival of, 275 194–98; popular printed, 164. See also Jianyang (Fujian), 22, 71, 280 frontispieces Jiang Gongwang, 61 illustrations, Daoist, 19, 165n97, 180, Jiang jianyi zouyi (The policy memorials 192, 194, 195–99. See also murals; of remonstrator Jiang), 61 painting Jiangxi: book collecting in, 15, 22, illustrators, 19, 136, 155–63 passim, 63–101; gazetteers in, 106, 117, 164–65 120, 121, 129; publishing in, 71–83; index, 246, 247, 276, 295, 353 revisionist histories in, 331, 333; Index of Forbidden Books (Catholic School of Poetry (Jiangxi shipai) of, Church), 355 44–45; shortage of books in, 88–90 India, 252, 254 Jiangyin zhi (Jiangyin gazetteer), 108 indulgences, 353 Jin (Jurchen) Dynasty, 325, 332; fall Inoue Susumu, 114, 126 of, 306; histories of, 34, 128, 318; in inscriptions: bronze, 82, 194, 202; maps, 254, 267, 270; printing in, 135, collections of, 50; of Confucian 167, 168n5, 186–87, 188, 201–3; and classics, 9n26; distribution of texts Quanzhen Daoism, 167, 170, 172, by, 229; funerary (beijie) and tomb, 186–87; and revisionist history, 328; 48, 175n26, 178nn35,37, 281n14, survival of books from, 168, 169; 299, 300; maps in, 239, 249–51, 267; visual culture of, 165. See also Jurchen of medical texts, 18, 217, 223–26, invasions 233; preservation of, 56; vs. printing, Jin Yueyan, 208t, 209t 18, 26, 194, 198, 202, 349–50; of Jin Zhenren, 206 Quanzhen Daoism, 170, 172, 173, Jin zhenren yulu (Jin Zhenren), 206t 175n26, 178nn35,37, 179n39, 180n1, Jinlian zhengzong ji (Record of the correct 183, 184, 191, 192; stele, 1, 8, 9n26, line of transmission of the Golden 18, 26, 170, 170, 173, 193, 194, 202, Lotus school; Qin Zhi’an), 178, 212t 217, 223, 224, 225, 226, 229, 233, 239, Jinling xin zhi, 110, 125 249–51, 267, 349–50; and survival, 193 Jinshi lu (Records on metal and stone), 50 Islam, 6–7, 360 Jinyangqiu, 326 Italy, 352n10, 354–55, 358 Jingde xianzhi (Jingde County gazetteer), 128 Jacob, Christian, 241–42, 268 Jingshi jinian (The annals of statecraft; Japan, 1, 2n2, 137, 254; Buddhism and Zhang Shi), 328, 332 Buddhist art in, 3n4, 11, 142, 143f, Jiu Tang shu (Old dynastic history of the 163, 165; Chinese imprints to, 135, Tang), 77, 321 180n44; reading of silences, 267n52 Jiuyu tuzhi (Nine Regions gazetteer with Ji yanfang (Collected tested prescriptions; maps), 107–8 Chen Yaosou), 223 Jixian Institute (Jixian guan), 43 Ji Zhizhen, 190–93, 194, 204t Jiyao guangli fang (Collected essential Jia Dan, 251n30, 253, 257 prescriptions for broadening benefit), Jia Sidao, 333 218 Jiahe zhi (Jiahe gazetteer), 118 Johns, Adrian, 344n100 Jian’an Academy, 334, 347t Jōjin, 135 Jiankang shilu (Veritable record of Jun Fang, 105 Jiankang ), 113 Jurchen invasions (1126–31), 57, Jiankang zhi (Jiankang gazetteer), 254, 304, 305, 306, 310, 319, 328, 113–14, 115, 119 329n43; and book collecting, 80; and Jianwu ji (Ma Danyang), 204t Huangchao biannian beiyao, 303–6; Jianyan yilai chaoye zaji (Notes on and loss of books, 50–51, 59, 80, 83, events since 1127; Li Xinchuan), 310 85, 87, 106, 169; and printing, 42 index 419

Kaibao zang (Buddhist Canon), 11 Li Daoqian, 195, 199n93, 210t, 211t Kaifeng (Henan), 71n30, 72, 273, 304, Li Ding, 175n26, 177n32 305, 306; book collecting in, 73–74, Li Fen, 68, 92, 98t 76, 77, 79, 82, 85, 87, 94; Buddhist Li Huaisu, 191 prints in, 135, 148; imperial collection Li ji (Book of rites), 77 in, 47; as printing center, 9n26, 22, Li Jie, 159, 160f 168 Li Jiuling, 326 “Kaoyi” (“Investigation of Li Qi, 270n57, 347t discrepancies”; Sima Guang), 48–50 Li Qingzhao, 16, 41, 50–52 Katsuyama Minoru, 114 Li Su, 130 Katz, Paul, 191n74, 193, 194, 199 Li Tao, 274–77, 280, 282, 284, 285, 287, Ke Weiqi, 318n3 295, 297n41 Khara Khoto, 136n5, 153–54 Li Xinchuan, 58n59, 274, 276, 280, Khitan (Liao) empire, 37, 106, 256, 309n64, 310, 311 328; histories of, 128, 191n73, 318; Li Yi, 122 in maps, 251, 253–54, 256, 257, 267; Li Ying, 132 religious printing in, 135, 152n56, Li Yishan, 331 160, 162nn86,90; visual culture of, 165 Li Yu, 9n26, 10, 28n62 Khubilai Khan, 181, 182, 191, 332 Li Zhichang, 179n40, 192, 211t knowledge, transmission of: and Li Zhiquan, 178 authority, 230; and book collecting, Lian Zhongmo, 127 63, 96, 97; decentralization of, 67; and Lianjiang xianzhi (Lianjiang County the state, 18 gazetteer), 119n61, 132 Kong Rong, 342 Lianjing bianxiang (painting; Lotus Korea, 1, 2n2, 3n4, 147, 159, 165, 254 Sutra Tableaux; Liang Kai), 163 Kuaiji zhi gazetteer, 126–27 Liang Kai, 162–63 Kunshan junzhi (Kunshan Prefecture Liang Taiji, 310, 312 gazetteer), 131 Liao Dynasty. See Khitan (Liao) empire Liao Yin, 124 Laojun bashiyi hua tu, 212t Liberating the Soul from the Netherworld Laozi, 179, 180, 198n90 (drawing; Liang Kai), 163n91 Laozi bashiyi hua tu (Illustrations of the libraries: buildings for, 92–93, 95, eighty-one transformations of Laozi), 97; European private, 356–57; 180, 192, 194 government posts at, 73, 77, 81, 84, Later Shu Dynasty, 9n26, 229 85, 94; imperial, 43, 44, 45, 334; loss Later Zhou Dynasty, 11, 256 of, 10; and manuscripts, 13–14, 17. Le’an xianzhi (Le’an County gazetteer), See also book collections; Palace 129 Library learning: and availability of books, Lidai dili zhizhang tu (Handy 16–18 passim, 33–36 passim, 41–46 geographical maps throughout the passim, 60–67 passim; and book ages), 240, 241, 268–69; headings in, collecting, 63, 78, 80, 81–82, 92; and 247, 251–52, 265, 266; as historical interconnectedness of books, 60, 62 atlas, 255–63; instructions for reading, legitimacy: and censorship, 305–6; 245–55; prefaces to, 244, 245n20; and Classics Mat lectures, 337; and publication history of, 243–45; in historiography, 317, 318n2, 319, Qunshu kaosuo, 263–67; reprints 324n25, 328, 329, 330, 339, 341; of of, 263; text-image relationship medicine, 229 in, 249–51; time layers in, 257–60, Leifengta (Thunder Peak Pagoda; Xihu, 265–66 Hangzhou), 137n11, 138–40, 142, 148 Lifeng laoren ji (Yu Daoxian), 205t Leqing zhi (Leqing gazetteer), 118 Lin Jie, 281n12, 287, 288, 291n31, 298, Li Bai, 40 300 Li Chang, 41–42, 72, 94, 98t Linting zhi (Linting gazetteer), 110, 115 Li Daochun, 209t Linghu Zhang, 180 420 index literacy: in China, 359; in Europe, Khara Koto frontispieces for, 153–54; 358–59; and medical texts, 222, 223; Qin Meng/Bian Ren edition of, 160; and social distinctions, 27–28; and Rikkoku-an edition of, 160; Wang Yi woodblock printing, 351 edition of, 155–63 Liu Ban, 55 Lu Daohe, 207t Liu Bei, 318n2, 323, 326n36, 327–29, Lu Daotong, 198–99, 200f 332, 339, 340, 343 Lu Dian, 58 Liu Binke ji (The literary collection of Liu Lu Jiuyuan, 89, 97 Binke), 61. See also Liu Yuxi Lu Xinyuan, 288n28, 294, 297n42, Liu Borong, 198n89, 199, 200f 298–99, 302 Liu Chang, 81, 82 Lu You, 17, 58–62; Nest of books (Shu Liu Chu, 87–88, 89, 98t chao) of, 59–60 Liu Chuxuan (Liu Changsheng), 171, Lu Zai, 58 184n55, 185, 188, 189, 204t, 206t, 210t Lü Boshe, 341 Liu family (Gao’an, Jiangxi), 70, 76–80, Lü Dongbin, 170, 185, 191n74, 198n90 85, 86, 91 Lü Zuqian, 241, 244, 326n35 Liu family (Xinyu, Jiangxi), 80–83, 84, Luhe xianzhi (Luhe County gazetteer), 86, 87 117 Liu Fen, 81 Lushi xuji yanfang (A continuation of Liu Fengshi, 82 the Lu clan’s medical prescriptions), Liu Hang, 98t 61 Liu Jingzhi, 98t Lun Zhihuan, 206t Liu Kezhuang, 92n121, 300n48, 309 Luo Bi, 52 Liu Mei, 77, 99t Luo Jingfu, 84, 92n121, 99t Liu Pian, 2n3 Luo Jinjun, 99t Liu Qingzhi, 99t Luo Jun, 92n121 Liu Shi, 81, 88, 99t Luo Liangbi, 99t Liu Shu, 77–79, 80, 82n84, 99t, 324–25 Luo Wujing, 86, 99t Liu Tongwei, 210t Liu Wenshu, 231n60 Ma Dabian, 189 Liu Wenxing, 127 Ma Danyang (Ma Yu), 171, 184n55, Liu Xiaoyou, 189 185n59, 189, 190, 190n70, 204t, 206t Liu Xizhong, 79, 80, 99t, 325 Ma Guangzu, 113 Liu Yanbi, 68, 99t Ma Shou, 121 Liu Yanhua, 99t Ma Tao, 121 Liu Yanshi, 99t Ma Tingluan, 85, 99t Liu Yi, 226 Maitreya Bodhisattva (Gao Wenjin; Liu Yun, 54 Seiryōji, Kyoto), 144–46, 148, 158 Liu Yuxi (Liu Binke), 40, 61, 62 manuscript culture: and handcopying, Liu Zhixuan, 212t 12, 18; vs. print culture, 5, 12, 27, 73, Liu Zhiyuan, 204t, 205t 105, 112; and revisionist history, 318; Liu Zongyuan, 40 and Sanguozhi, 320–21 Liuchao shiji (Events of the Six Reigns), manuscripts: in book collections, 17, 18, 113 40, 47; Buddhist, 4, 155; continuing Liuhe zhangyun tu (atlas), 267n53 importance of, 40–41, 72–73; and Liujing tu (Figures of the Six Classics), costs, 21; of Daoist Canon, 175; and 240, 241n4, 258 elites, 13–14, 41–42; and examination Lo, Vivienne, 237n83 preparation, 276; gazetteers as, 17–18, Longmen site, 217n2 111–17, 133; of Huangchao biannian Longping ji (Collected writings on the gangmu beiyao, 288, 289, 295, 297, period of great peace), 75 299–300, 306; maps in, 257, 263; Longtu Hall (Longtu ge), 43 vs. printed books, 12, 27, 67, 112, Lotus Sutra (Miaofa lianhua jing): 114, 352–53; and printing, 1, 62, frontispieces for, 140, 142, 146–65; 307n61, 314, 349–50; and revisionist index 421

history, 329; survival of, 354. See also Mongol invasions, 190; and book handcopying loss, 22, 106, 108, 169, 174, 181; map guides (tujing, tuji), 106, 107, 109, and Duanping administration, 306; 111, 116, 117, 118, 119n61 and gazetteers, 106, 119; and local maps, 20, 28, 49n42, 108, 122, 136, elites, 129, 132–33, 134; and reform, 239–70; binding techniques for, 314; and revisionist history, 330; of 249–50; historical, 255–63; indexing Sichuan, 22, 275, 280; of South, 203, of, 246–47; instructions for reading, 333. See also Yuan Dynasty 245–55; natural features in, 255, 256; Montaigne, Michel de, 356 politics of, 26, 239, 240, 256, 260–61, morality: and Chen Jun, 286–87, 309; 264, 267, 268, 269; and printing, and Classics Mat lectures, 335, 240–45, 261, 263, 268; and territory, 336–37; in histories, 277–79, 319–20, 245–46, 255; and text, 247, 249, 251, 328, 330; and maps, 256; and medical 252 texts, 217, 221, 235; and revisionist materia medica (bencao), 36, 217n2, 219, history, 319–20, 330 222, 229 motifs: across media, 19; architectural, McDermott, Joseph, 14, 15–16, 17, 22, 142, 159–60, 164; Buddhist, 198; 42, 63–101, 114, 123, 124, 126, 350, Daoist, 162–63; in frontispieces, 140, 345n103, 356 142, 152; furniture, 160–61; in Lotus McLaren, Anne E., 24, 26, 317–47 Sutra, 147, 148, 158–63; pictorial, Medical Service, Imperial (Yiju), 220 161–62, 164; qu shui (twisted rivers), medical texts, 217–38; audience for, 159–60; of single-sheet prints, 146; 222–23, 230; availability of, 35–36, and standardization, 26; thunder 222–23, 224; and book collections, troops, 161–62; wan zi, 159–60 16, 70, 82; dissemination of, 218, 222, moxibustion, 9 225, 228, 238; editing of, 231–32; Mubala, 129 and elites, 27, 235, 238; formularies murals, 19, 147, 152n55, 162, 167, 170, (fangshu), 217n2; as governance, 179, 180, 203; vs. printed illustrations, 227–38; in inscriptions, 18, 217, 194–98, 199n93, 202 223–26, 233; printed, 9, 25, 353; Murray, Julia, 140 and reform, 221–27; as sacred, 229; standardization of, 24, 237–38; and Nanfeng junzhi (Nanfeng Prefecture the state, 18, 24, 35–36, 235–36, 237 gazetteer ), 120, 122, 131 Medical Treatises, Bureau for Editing Naudé, Gabriel, 357 (Jiaozheng yishu ju), 220, 221, 225, Neihuang gazetteer, 106 236 Neo-Confucianism. See Daoxue memorization, 37, 51, 80, 238, 240, 265, (Learning of the Way) movement 287 New Year pictures, 13, 164 Mencius, 233 Ning Shi, 99t Meng Chuo, 185n58 Ningzong, Emperor (Southern Song), Meng Jiao, 40 84, 273, 330 Ming Dynasty: costs in, 125–26; Daoism Niu Daochun, 205t, 209t in, 174, 193, 202n95; gazetteers in, North-South dynasties (Nan-Bei chao), 105, 108–9, 125–26, 133; maps in, 325 263; medical texts in, 238; transition Northern Han kingdom, 328 to, 182 Northern Song Dynasty: acquisition Minghe yuyin (Peng Zhizhong), 206 of books in, 73–83; administrative Mingzong, Emperor (Later Tang), 24 divisions in, 241, 256–57, 267; Mituo tatu (Charts of Amida Stupa), 137 book collecting in, 64, 68, 70, 92, Miya Tsugio, 155, 158 95; and Daoxue movement, 274; monasteries: and book collecting, 11, 16, education projects in, 25; fall of, 60, 42, 66, 67, 69, 74, 96, 97; Buddhist, 73; frontispieces in, 136, 147–54, 16, 66, 67, 135; Daoist, 173, 175, 183, 159, 160; histories of, 286, 306, 312; 190, 200, 202; and manuscripts, 14 maps of, 241, 267; medical texts in, 422 index

217–38; printing in, 36–37, 168, 174; Pei Xian, 190, 191 reform in, 24; Sanguozhi in, 324–28; Pei Xiu, 257 and southern regions, 222n18, 224, Pelliot, Paul, 10 227; vs. Southern Song, 26. See also Peng Weixiao, 84, 99t Jurchen invasions Peng Xingzong, 89n110 notebooks (biji), 28, 29 Peng Zhizhong, 206t Petrarch, 354 officials, government: access to books ’Phags-pa, 181n47 of, 11, 13, 33, 34, 36, 68, 74–76, 79, Pharmacy Service, Imperial, 220, 232, 81–84, 86, 87; and Daoxue movement, 238 275; and gazetteers, 105, 122–23, Pi Yuan, 123 126–27, 128–33; local, 234–35; and Piling zhi (Piling gazetteer), 119 medical texts, 217, 222–23, 224, 227, Pingjiang zhouzhi (Pingjiang Prefecture 231; non-Han, 128–33; and reforms, gazetteer), 131 228, 234–35 Pingyang (Shanxi), 168, 176–77, 181f, oral tradition, 27, 349–50 186, 201, 202 orientalism, 253 Pingyang zhouzhi (Pingyang Prefecture Ouyang Hui, 99 gazetteer), 111, 123, 126 Ouyang Shoudao, 330–31, 344 Pliny the Elder, 357 Ouyang Xiu, 9n21, 10–11, 37n9, 38, poetry: anthologies of, 37, 40, 61–62; 225; bans on work of, 57; and book bans on Su Shi’s, 55; collections of collecting, 75, 81, 91, 95n131, 97, 99t; model (chengwen), 37; Jiangxi School and medical texts, 235; and reform, of (Jiangxi shipai), 44–45; and printing, 228; and revisionist history, 324, 325, 9, 36n7, 44–45; prose- (fu), 84; 327, 329, 331, 332, 339 Quanzhen Daoist, 178, 184, 185, 187, Ouyang Xun, 155n69 190; and reading practices, 29; and Ozaki Yasushi, 322 revisionist history, 345; and Sanguozhi, 326–27; Tang, 40–41, 61–62 pagination, 16, 50–52, 353 politics: and availability of printed painting: and Lotus Sutra, 155–63; materials, 39–40, 57; and Chen motifs from, 164; mural, 147, 162, Jun, 302–3, 311, 313, 314; in 194–98, 202; and printing, 18, 19, encyclopedias, 264; and histories, 273, 27, 62, 165, 198; ruler-lined (jiehua) 274, 318–20; and manuscripts, 350; tradition of, 19, 159; of woodblock of maps, 26, 239, 240, 256, 260–61, prints (banhua), 165 264, 267, 268, 269; and printing, 21, Palace Library (Bishu sheng), 42–44, 273, 321; of Sima Guang, 50. See also 74–75, 78, 87, 330; appointments reform to, 77, 81, 84, 85, 94, 330, 347n10; Poon, Ming-sun, 12n35, 26, 72n33, 337 gazetteers in, 112, 120–21 Possevino, Antonio, 357 Pang Tong, 342 print culture, 11, 44, 129, 135, 344; of Panshan Qiyun Wang zhenren yulu Hangzhou, 160, 163; Islamic, 7; vs. (Lun Zhihuan), 206t manuscript culture, 5, 12, 27, 73, 105, Panshan yulu, 206t 112; transcultural, 165; Yuan, 129 Panxi ji (Panxi anthology; Qiu Chuji), print runs, 14, 128, 351 186–87, 188, 193, 205t printing: artisans in, 26, 119, 120, 153, paper, 4–5, 7n16, 71, 126–27, 158 155, 164, 177, 200, 351; benefits of, paper money, 125, 164–65 7–8, 119–20; in China vs. Europe, paratextual elements, 20, 26; in Daoist 350–53; color, 13, 257; competition texts, 202; in Lidai dili zhizhang in, 261, 263; costs of, 5, 20, 21, tu, 247, 251–52, 265, 266; in maps, 22, 124–28, 133, 351–52, 359; and 243–44, 247, 261, 263 culture, 33–62, 356–60; early history Paupers’ Bibles (Biblia pauperum), 6 of, 1–13; on fabric, 5, 6, 20, 143, 144, Pei Songzhi, 320–23, 325, 326, 328, 338, 249, 267, 268; vs. handcopying, 5, 7, 340–43 11, 12, 18, 41–42; motivations for, index 423

353–56; movable-type, 6–7, 13, 14, 22, Qian family publishers, 147–54, 159 128, 349–52; and other media, 17–23, Qian Shu, 23, 137, 139, 142, 143f, 144, 27, 142, 164, 349–50; overproduction 152 in, 351–52; and quality, 62, 354–55; Qian Weiyan, 54 quantification of, 13–17; and religion, Qin Guan, 55 6–7, 27; state revenues from, 34–35; Qin Gui, 346n106 and teaching, 201–2; technologies Qin Meng, 155, 160 of, 5–9, 13, 228–29, 350–53, 359; Qin Zhi’an, 175, 177, 178, 212t and text-image relationship, 249; Qinchuan zhi (Qinchuan gazetteer), 120 woodblock (xylography), 1–13, Qinzong, Emperor (Northern Song), 124–25, 165, 202–3, 349, 350–51 291, 304, 305, 306 printing, commercial, 23–27; of Qing Dynasty, 174, 238 Buddhist works, 136, 163; censorship Qing’an Yingchan zi yulu (Chai of, 8, 39, 55, 58; and civil service Yuangao), 206t examinations, 24, 36–39; competition Qinghe zhenren beiyou yulu (Yin in, 261, 263; of Confucian classics, Zhiping), 207t 9–10; in Europe, 241–42, 353, 359; Qingli Reforms (1040s), 228 expansion of, 13; of maps, 241–42, Qingli shanjiu fang (Qingli period 261, 268, 269; in north China, prescriptions good for rescuing people), 201; and paratextual elements, 20; 225, 233 and readership, 243; of revisionist Qingyuan dangjin (Proscriptions of the histories, 334, 345, 346; and Qingyuan era), 310 standardization, 25–26. See also Qiu Changchun (Qiu Chuji), 171, printing centers 173–75, 179, 180, 184n55, 185n59, printing, government, 72, 84, 168, 192, 194–95; anthologies by, 186–87, 170; competition in, 261, 263; of 188, 193, 205t, 209t; birth scenes of, revisionist histories, 337–38. See also 197f, 198 gazetteers; medical texts Qu Yong, 294n35 printing, private, 2, 60–62, 72, 346; Quanzhen Daoism, 167–213; anthologies of Buddhist frontispieces, 146–63; of, 178, 183–90, 204, 205; and competition in, 261, 263; of Daoist Buddhism, 172, 173–74, 179–80, 183, works, 169 184, 187, 192; and Confucianism, printing centers, 9, 22, 71–72, 87, 90, 172, 183, 189–90, 192; development 136, 165; Pingyang, 168, 176–77, of, 170–74; lineage of, 178, 183; 186, 201, 202. See also Chengdu; monasteries of, 173, 175, 183, 190; Hangzhou; Jianyang; Kaifeng print culture of, 201–2; printed works Protestants, 350, 355; censorship by, of, 165n97, 184–85; self-cultivation 356n16 in, 170, 171, 172, 187; survival of publishing: and copyright, 152–53; works of, 169, 175, 181, 182, 184, 188, family (jiake), 91, 147–54, 159, 163; 192–94, 199, 202, 204–13t, 275; works geographic distribution of, 9, 22, 71, of, 183–201; in Yuan, 172–74, 180–82, 86, 90, 146–47, 168, 170; growth of, 187, 192 13, 167; regulation of, 15, 25 Quanzhen qinggui (Lu Daohe), 207t Pure Land Buddhism, 66 Quanzhen zuobo jiefa, 207t Qunshu kaosuo (Investigations into Qi sheng (Qi chronicle), 116, 120 multitudes of books; Zhang Ruyu), Qidan guozhi (Ye Longli), 267n54 245n20, 255n37, 263–67, 268, 269 Qizhen (Seven Authentics; Quanzhen Daoism), 171, 184n55 Raozhou gazetteer, 121 Qizhen ji (Liu Zhiyuan), 204t reading: and availability of books, 27, Qizhen nianpu (Li Daoquan), 211t 44–45; effects of media on, 19–20; Qizhenxian zhuan (Wang Cui), 212t history of, 28–29; instructions for, Qian Daxin, 288n25, 291n31, 294, 298, 16, 27, 239, 245–55, 265–66, 268–69; 300 and interconnectedness of books, 424 index

16, 17, 60, 62; of maps, 263, 268–69; seals, talismanic, 4, 6 new styles of, 17, 52; and revisionist self-cultivation, 92; in Quanzhen history, 318, 345; of Sanguozhi, Daoism, 170, 171, 172, 187 325–28 Seneca, 357 reference materials, 2, 16, 20, 116; books Sengge, 181n47, 182 as, 51–52; maps as, 242, 261 shamans (wu), 221–27, 228, 230, 235, 238 reform: centralized, 24, 221–27; and Shan lu (Record of Shan), 128 Confucianism, 233–34; Duanping, Shang Ting, 175n26, 191n74 313–14; and education, 221–27, 228; Shanghan jiusu fang (Prescriptions for European religious, 356, 359; and cold injury to rescue customs), 226, 231 medical texts, 221–27; Northern Shanghan lun (Treatise on cold injury Song, 24; and officials, 228, 234–35; disorders; Zhang Zhongjing), 226, political, 284, 286, 302–3, 309–10, 230n57, 231 313–14; Qingli, 228; of southern Shangsheng xiuzhen sanyao (Gao customs, 217, 218, 221–24, 226, Daokuan), 208t 227–28, 230, 231, 232, 236; of Wang Shangyang zi jindan dayao (Chen Anshi, 39, 54, 55, 75, 78, 228, 232, Zhixu), 208t 234, 235, 325, 327 Shangyang zi jindan dayaoxianpai regionalism, 19, 22, 165 (Chen Zhixu), 208t Reiter, Florian, 186n62, 187 Shanks, Michael, 258–60 Ren Shilin, 199n93 Shao Yong, 326 Renzong, Emperor (Ayurbarwada; Shaoxing, 59, 127, 137, 141 Yuan), 333 Shen Gua, 269n57 Renzong, Emperor (Northern Song), 24, Shenxiao school (Daoism), 172 35–36, 219–20, 221, 225, 233, 337 Shenzong, Emperor (Northern Song), Renzong, Emperor (Xi Xia), 154 39, 46, 94, 270n57, 276 rhyming dictionaries, 9 “Shengchao Yuanfeng jiuyu tu” Ruian gazetteer, 111 (“Map of the nine zones during the Ruiguang Pagoda (Suzhou), 144, 148, Yuanfeng reign in our dynasty”; in 151f Lidai dili zhizhang tu), 256 Shengji jing (Canon of sagely Sacchini, Francesco, 357 beneficence), 221, 230, 231n60 Saliceti-Collins, Anne, 154 Shengji zonglu (Comprehensive record of Šams (Shansi), 109, 129, 130–31 sagely beneficence), 221, 231 Sanchao beimeng huibian (Compendium Shi An, 128 on northern treaties), 306 Shi Hao, 309–10 Sanguozhi (History of the Three Shi Jie, 54 Kingdoms; Chen Shou): availability Shi Miyuan, 274, 283, 284, 302, 303, of, 34; in Northern Song, 324–28; 309, 313, 314 printing of, 318, 320–24; reading Shi Songzhi, 303, 314 of, 325–28; rewriting of, 317–47; in Shi Zhijing, 18, 180, 192, 193–201, 212t Southern Song, 328–32; in Yuan, Shihua (Remarks on poetry; Liu Ban), 55 332–35 Shiji (Records of the Grand Historian; Sanguozhi jinian (Annals of The Sima Qian), 34, 38, 47, 51, 78 Chronicles of the Three Kingdoms; Shijia muta (Shijia timber pagoda; Chen Liang), 329 Fogongsi, Yingxian, Shanxi), 152n56 Sanguozhi pinghua (The tale ofThe Shiqi shi xiangjie (Detailed excerpts from Three Kingdoms Chronicle), 346 “The seventeen dynastic histories”; Lü Schipper, Kristofer, 177n34, 182 Zuqian), 241 scholar-officialsshidaifu ( ). See elites, Shishuo xinyu (A new account of tales of literati the world), 61 schools, government and local, 43, 124, Shizong, Emperor (Later Zhou), 11 284, 287n24, 314, 337; and gazetteers, Shizu, Emperor. See Khubilai Khan 110, 119, 125, 134. See also academies, Shigehisa Kuriyama, 237n83 private Shōtoko, Empress (Japan), 3n4 index 425

Shu Han benmo (Annals of the Shu Han; Southern Tang Dynasty, 72, 73, 81, 256, Zhao Juxin), 334, 338, 347t 328 Shu Han shu (Weng Fu), 347t Squarciafico, Hieronymo, 352 Shu Han state, 318n2, 322, 326–27; in standardization (and printing), 22–26, revisionist histories, 328–29, 332, 333, 230, 344n100; of Buddhist prints, 136, 334, 338–40 164; in Europe, 359; of frontispieces, Shujing (Book of history), 287, 327 146–63; of gazetteers, 108; of maps, Shui Anli, 243, 244, 264 242, 268; of medical texts, 24, 237–38; Shuiyun ji (Anthology of water and cloud; of texts by the state, 11 Tan Chuduan), 185, 187–90, 205t the state: and book acquisition, 43; Sichuan: 57, 69n20, 59, 85, 89, 310; and Buddhist manuscripts, 4; and books and printing in, 2n3, 10, 22, 57, distribution of books, 22; and early 59, 69n20, 85, 89, 90n111; gazetteers printing, 2–3, 8; and education, of, 117; historiography in, 274, 276, 24–25, 236; and gazetteers, 108–9, 279; Mongol invasions of, 22, 275, 121; and individual, 237; and medical 280; prescription texts in, 225n36. See texts, 18, 24, 35–36, 235–36, 237; and also Chengdu national security, 37; and printing, Siku quanshu, 275, 294n35, 307, 334 9–13, 23–26, 27, 34–35, 353, 359; Sima Guang, 78, 335n70, 358; and and private printing, 2, 8; and availability of sources, 45–50; bans public relief, 220, 221, 236. See also on work of, 55, 57; and revisionist censorship; gazetteers; government, history, 332. See also Zizhi tongjian local; government offices; medical Siming tujing (Siming map guide), 107 texts; officials, government; reform; Siming xu zhi (Siming supplemented standardization gazetteer), 110, 130 style, literary, 54, 266 Siming zhi (Siming gazetteer), 130, 132 Su Che, 56 single-sheet prints (Buddhist), 136, Su Shi, 15, 25; bans on work of, 54–58; 142–46, 164 on examination primers, 37, 38; social structure: and access to printed and Lidai dili zhizhang tu, 243–44, materials, 20, 127; and book 245n20, 247; and Lotus Sutra, 155, collecting, 83, 97–98; and literacy, 158n69; on printed books, 51–52; 27–28; and revisionist history, 320. on printing, 41, 42; and revisionist See also commoners; elites, literati history, 324, 325, 327, 339 Song Defang, 175, 176, 177, 178n37, Su Tianjue, 116, 184, 333–34 186, 187 Sufism, 7n15 Song Minqiu, 40, 61–62 Sui Dynasty, 4, 48, 66, 67, 69, 107, Song shi (History of the Song Dynasty), 227n46, 229 128, 223, 283, 297n42, 298, 299, 314, Suiji yinghua lu (He Daoquan), 206 318 Sun Qingjing (Sun Bu’er), 171, 184n55 Song Zhirui, 109 Sun Ribian, 123 Songchao si da shu (Four Great Sun Shutong, 99 Compilations of the Song), 35 survival: and borrowing, 15; of Buddhist Southern Han Dynasty, 256 works, 2, 3, 11; and censorship, 14–15, Southern Song Dynasty: book collecting 181, 182, 188, 192–93, 194, 199, 201; in, 64, 69, 83–92, 95; Buddhist of gazetteers, 14, 105–6, 108–9; of frontispieces in, 136, 152, 164; and histories, 275, 306–7; and invasions, Daoist Canon, 175; gazetteers in, 59, 60, 106, 169, 174; from Jin period, 105–7 passim, 113, 114, 133; histories 168, 169; of maps, 267–68; of medical of, 295; localism of, 86; Lotus Sutra texts, 238; of printed books, 22, 28, illustrations in, 155–63; maps of, 62, 120, 174, 194, 349–50, 353–54; of 267; vs. Northern Song, 26; religious Quanzhen Daoist works, 169, 175, 181, printing in, 135; and reoccupation 182, 184, 188, 192–94, 199, 202, 275; of North, 306, 313–14; Sanguozhi in, of revisionist histories, 319, 345; from 328–32 Song period, 22, 28, 167–68 426 index sutras, 7n15, 8, 19, 74, 89, 127, 136, 147, Three Institutes (San guan), 10n29, 43, 161; dharani, 2, 3, 4, 9, 11, 152, 163. 45, 76 See also Diamond Sutra; frontispieces; Three Kingdoms period, 317–47 Lotus Sutra Three Teachings sanjiao( ), 172, 180, 187, Sweden, 359 201 Tian Jiujia, 123 Taigu ji (Anthology of grand antiquity; Tian Xiaofei, 321 Hao Datong), 184, 204t Tianningsi (Huzhou, Zhejiang), 140–41 Taiping guangji (Expanded records of the Tiantai junzhi (Tiantai County Taiping period), 35, 230 gazetteer), 111 Taiping huimin hejiju fang (Prescriptions Tiantai tujing (Tiantai map guide), 109 of the Pharmacy Service for great Tibetans, 251, 254 peace and for the benefit of the Tibetan Buddhist monks, 174, 181n47 people), 220, 232 Tillman, Hoyt Cleveland, 328, 329n43, Taiping shenghui fang (Taiping era 343n98 prescriptions of sagely grace), 219, 221, TK 90 (Xi Xia frontispiece), 162 224, 231, 233, 234 TK 167 (Guanshiyin pusa pumen pin), Taiping yulan (Imperial encyclopedia of 153–54 the Taiping period), 35, 230 Tong’an zhi (Tong’an gazetteer), 106 Taiqing feng lu jing, 181f Töregene, Empress (Yuan), 175 Taishang laojun nei riyong miaojing, 207t Taishang laojun wai riyong miaojing, 208t Valla, Lorenzo, 358 Taiyi ju fang (Prescriptions of the van der Loon, Piet, 177n32, 179n39, 182 Imperial Medical Service), 220 Venice, 358, 359n21 Taiyi ju zhuke chengwen (Model essays Vergil, 358 for the examinations at the Imperial Vietnam, 254 Medical Service), 220 visual culture, 136, 142, 163, 164, 165 Taiyuan shiji ji (Record of the traces of von Glahn, Richard, 125 the matters of Taiyuan), 111 Taizong, Emperor (Northern Song), 34, Waldron, Arthur, 253 35, 160n77; and medical texts, 219, Wang, Eugene, 139 221, 224, 230–31, 234 Wang Anshi, 25, 286; and book Taizu, Emperor (Northern Song), 24, 34, collecting, 81, 91, 97; and medical 219, 254, 256, 339 texts, 225, 233; New Policies of, 39, “Taizu huangdi zhaozao zhi tu” (“Map 54, 55, 75, 78, 228, 232, 234, 235, of Emperor Taizu founding the 327; and poetry, 40–41, 61–62; and dynasty”; in Lidai dili zhizhang tu), Sanguozhi, 324–25, 327 256 Wang Bochu, 91n114, 99t Tan Chuduan (Tan Changzhen), 171, Wang Cao, 70 184n55, 185, 187–90, 205 Wang Chongyang (Wang Zhe), 170–72, Tang baijia shixuan (A selection of one 178, 184–89, 197f, 198, 199, 205t, hundred Tang poets), 40 207t, 209t Tang Dynasty, 2, 3, 66, 135, 217, 229 Wang Chuyi (Wang Yuyang), 171, Tang jian (Tang Dynasty mirror; Fan 184n55, 185n59, 205t Zuyu), 55 Wang Cui, 212t Tang Zhongyou, 240–41 Wang E, 180n41, 190–92, 194 Tangut empire. See Xi Xia (Tangut) Wang Housun, 110, 130, 132 empire Wang Jichang, 207t, 210t Tao Yuanming, 321 Wang Jie, 209t taxes, 124, 127, 172, 173 Wang Jieqing, 99t theater, 345–46, 350 Wang Liuhui, 188 Thesaurus Linguae Latinae (Estienne), Wang Mingqing, 304 351 Wang Pan, 46 Three Dynasties histories, 26 Wang Pang, 100t index 427

Wang Qi, 36n7 56, 169, 174, 179, 180, 188, 191–94, Wang Qinruo, 100t 199; production of, 71 Wang Tingzhen, 91nn112, 114 writing, 44–45, 60, 233, 239, 358. See Wang Wei, 40 also handcopying Wang Weiyi, 220 Wu, Empress (Tang), 3, 4, 13, 23 Wang Yi (1092–1173), 68, 88, 92n121, Wu, kingdom of, 256, 322, 326–27, 329, 100t 339 Wang Yi (1157–1202), 92n121, 100t Wu jun tuzhi (Wu Prefecture gazetteer Wang Yi (chief of police), 122 with maps), 116 Wang Yi (illustrator), 158 Wu Liangsi, 68, 100t Wang Yi (student), 131 Wu Qing, 81 Wang Yi edition (Lotus Sutra), 155–63 Wu Shen, 100t Wang Yinglin, 244, 245n20 Wu shu (Xianping edition), 322 Wang Yishan, 309 Wu-Yue kingdom, 10, 11, 23, 135, 136, Wang Yizhong, 206t 137–46, 161n79, 163 Wang Yuangong, 130 Wu Zhaoyi, 9n26 Wang Yugen, 42n28, 44, 45 Wu zhi, 321 Wang Yuyang (Wang Chuyi), 171, Wubai luohan moyin (Five Hundred 184n55, 185n59, 205t Lohans), 135 Wang Zao, 100t Wudai shi (History of the Five Wang Zhe. See Wang Chongyang Dynasties), 324, 325; Jiu Wudai shi Wang Zhen, 128 (Old history of the Five Dynasties), Wang Zhi, 100t, 324n27, 325 9n21, 47, 324; Xin Wudai shi (New Wang Zhijin, 190, 191, 207t history of the Five Dynasties), 9n21 Wang Zhitan, 205t Wudai shi xiangjie (Detailed excerpts Wang Zhu, 318n3 from “The History of the Five Wei, kingdom of, 322, 323, 325, 327, Dynasties”; Lü Zuqian), 241, 258 329, 339, 341 Wugou jing guang da tuoluoni jing, 3n4 Wei guozhi, 321 Wuwei qingjing Chansheng zhenren Wei Su, 334 zhizhen yulu (Liu Chuxuan), 206t Wei Yingwu, 40 Wuxing, 137 wen (pattern, writing, texts, culture), 233 Wuxing zhi (Wuxing gazetteer), 122, 126 Wen Cao, 74, 93–94, 100t wuyun liuqi (Five Circulatory Phases Wen Yi, 70, 88, 92n121, 100t and Six Climatic Qi) theory, 231n60 Wendi, Emperor (Sui), 4 Wuzhen ji (Li xiansheng), 204t Wenshi zhenjing zhu (Niu Daochun), Wuzong, Emperor (Tang), 11 205t Wenxuan, 10n26 Xi Xia (Tangut) empire, 37, 135, 136n5, Wenying, 55 159, 161, 165, 256, 328; and Buddhist Wenyuan yinghua (Blossoms from the frontispieces, 153–54, 159, 162, 164, garden of literature), 35 252, 254 Wenzhou luzhi (Wenzhou Circuit Xi Zuochi, 318n2, 334 gazetteer), 111 Xikun School (Xikun ti), 54 Wenzong, Emperor (Tang), 2n3 Xiyun ji (Guo Zhicheng), 204 Weng Fu, 347t Xia Song, 227 Weng Shan, 77 Xiahou Lin, 92, 100t Weng Tongwen, 21 Xiang Minzhong, 34 Weng Zai, 332, 347n109 Xiangfu zhouxian tujing (Prefecture and White, Hayden, 319–20 county map guides of the Xiangfu witchcraft, 225 Era), 111 woodblocks: for Buddhist illustrations, Xiangshan yelu (Rustic records from 135, 138; carvers of, 120, 153, 155, Xiangshan; Wenying), 55 177, 200; for Daoist Canon, 174, 176, Xianle ji (Anthology of the joy of the 177, 188, 189; destruction of, 18, 39, immortals; Liu Chuxuan), 185, 204t 428 index

Xianxi zhi (Xianxi gazetteer), 123, 132 Xu Yunjian zhi (Supplement to Yunjian Xiao Chang, 317n1, 324n26, 330–34, gazetteer), 124 339–47 Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian (Long draft Xiao Minwang, 94 continuation of the “Comprehensive Xiaozong, Emperor (Southern Song), 85, mirror for aid in governance;” Li Tao), 273, 309, 310, 329n43, 346 274–77, 279, 282, 287n24, 295, 306 Xiaozong baoxun (Precious instructions Xu Zongru, 199, 200f of Emperor Xiaozong), 301 Xuandu baozang (Precious canon of the Xie Gu, 100t mysterious capital; 1244), 169, 170, Xie Kejia, 295 174–83, 186, 191, 202; carving of Xie Weixin, 245nn19–20 blocks for, 177; destruction of blocks Xie Xichan, 212t for, 179–81; surviving fragments of, Xie Zhensun, 123 181–82 Xielipuhua, 129–30 Xuanfeng qinghui tu (Illustrations of a Xin Tang shu (New history of the Tang felicitous convocation of the sublime Dynasty), 10–11, 321 spirit of the Dao; Shi Zhijing), 191n72, Xinxian pagoda (Shandong), 147–51, 192n77, 193–201, 203, 212t 153n61 Xuanquan zi, 207t, 210t Xinxing xianzhi (Xinxing County Xuanxu zi mingzhen ji (Xuanchong shi gazetteer), 132 [Liu Zhiyuan]), 205t Xing Bing, 12n35, 33, 34 Xuanzong, Emperor (Tang), 4, 8, 218, Xiong Ke, 309n64 219 Xiulian xuzhi, 208t Xubian liangchao gangmu beiyao Xiuzhen wenyuan (Literary anthology of (Complete essentials in outline and the cultivation of the authentic; comp. detail of the two courts, continued), Li Zhiquan), 178 273, 310–11 Xiyou ji (Account of the journey to the Xuelijiesi, 129, 132 west; Li Zhichang), 179n40, 192 xylography. See printing: woodblock Xu Bi, 92n121 Xu Bochen, 84, 91n114, 100t Yan family publishers, 147–54, 159 Xu Du, 62n71, 324n27, 325 Yan Jidao, 100t Xu Hou Han shu (Sequel to The History Yan Shu, 100t of the Later Han; Hao Jing), 332n57, Yan Wei, 288n28 333, 347t Yan Zhenqing, 155n69 Xu Hou Han shu (Sequel to The History Yang Dong, 284 of the Later Han; Xiao Chang), 330, Yang Hui, 131 331, 332, 347t Yang Qian, 124 Xu Hou Han shu (Sequel to The History Yang Shiqi, 121 of the Later Han; Zhang Shu), 334, 347t Yang Wanli, 56, 61n71, 67, 84 Xu Hou Han shu (Sequel to The History Yang Xiaoben, 74n41, 100t of the Later Han; Zheng Xiongfei), Yang Yi, 54 347t Yangzi delta, lower, 68, 71, 72, 74, Xu Luqing, 92n121, 93n122, 100t 82n84, 90, 91–92, 94 Xu Mengxin, 309n64 Yangzi valley, 64, 66 Xu Peizao, 281n13, 282, 294, 297n42, Yanshou, 137, 144 298–99, 300, 307n62 yanyi (historical fiction) genre, 320 Xu Qin, 100t Ye Dehui, 125 Xu Si, 327 Ye Longli, 267n54 Xu Tongjian changbian juyao (Li Tao), Ye Mengde, 136 295 Ye Sheng, 297n42, 307 Xu Tongjian gangmu (Outline Yee, Cordell, 247 and details for the “Continued Yelü Chucai, 179n40, 211t comprehensive mirror”), 283 Yijing (Book of changes), 79, 171, 191 Xu Yuanjie, 90 Yilinzhen, 129, 131, 132 Xu Yuanting, 155n69 Yiwu zhi (Yiwu gazetteer), 131 index 429

Yixing, 245 Yuanyou faction, 54, 55, 58 Yin Zhiping, 175, 176n30, 205t, 207t Yuchen Palace (Yuchen dian), 43 Yingxian Guanyin (Ōgen Kannon; ‘Yugong’ shanchuan dili tu (Maps of the Manifestations of Guanyin; drawing), topography and geography in ‘The 142–46 Tribute of Yu’; Cheng Dachang), 241, Yingzao fashi (Manual on architecture), 243, 258 19, 159, 160 Yugong shuo duan (Evaluating Yingzong, Emperor, 43 explanations of ‘The Tribute of Yu’), Yongjia xianzhi (Yongjia County 258 gazetteer), 111 Yuji tu (Map of Yu’s footsteps; stele), 249 Yongle dadian, 275, 312n71 Yunguang ji (Wang Chuyi), 185n59, 205t Yongle gong (Palace of eternal joy; Yunjian zhi (Yunjian gazetteer), 124, 126 Shanxi), 177n33, 191n74, 195, 197f, Yunshan ji (Clouds and mountains 198, 198nn89–90 collection; Ji Zhizhen), 190–93, 194, Yongzhou fuzhi (Yongzhou Prefecture 204t gazetteer), 116 Yushu Pavilion (Yushu yuan), 43 You Mao, 226n42, 244n18 Yuzhi mizang quan (Imperially Yu Daoxian, 205 composed explanation of the secret Yu Ji, 184 treasure), 160n77 Yü Chün-fang, 146 Yu Pingbo, 138 Zangwai Daoshu, 181f Yu Qian, 116, 120 Zeng Chongfan, 95n132 Yu Qin, 116 Zeng Gong, 75, 100t Yu Yan, 185 Zeng Zhao, 100t Yu Yunguo, 281n14, 282, 307n62 Zeng Zhen, 100t Yushu jing (Scripture of the Jade Pivot), Zhang Bangchang, 305–6 162n90 Zhang Daxun, 70, 87, 101t Yuan Dynasty: censorship in, 181, 188, Zhang Gang, 101t 191, 192, 193, 199; currency of, 125; Zhang Gaoping, 42n30, 44, 45 Daoist works in, 174, 176–77, 183, Zhang Guogan, 105, 106nn2,4, 111 188; fall of, 182; frontispieces in, 159, Zhang Hong, 84, 91n112, 92n121, 101t 165; gazetteers in, 105, 108, 117–18, Zhang Ji, 40 120, 124–26, 128–29, 133; histories, Zhang Jian, 39 128; printing in, 129, 167, 168, 169, Zhang Jinwu, 273, 307n61 201, 202, 203; and Quanzhen Daoism, Zhang Jun, 282n15, 309 172–74, 180–82, 187, 192; resistance Zhang Kui, 193n81 to, 129, 132–33, 134; Sanguozhi in, Zhang Lei, 55 332–35; survival of books from, 168, Zhang Liusun, 182 169 Zhang Rongjing, 307n61, 309n66 Yuan Haowen, 172, 173, 178nn35,37, 184 Zhang Ruyu, 245n20, 255n37, 263–64, Yuan Jue, 130, 184 265n50 Yuan Kang, 100t Zhang Shi, 328, 329n43, 330, 332, 339, Yuan Tingtao, 288n27, 291n31 342, 343n98 “Yuan Wei Beiguo tu” (“The map of Zhang Shu, 334, 347t the Wei Dynasty and the Northern Zhang Wangzhi, 325n32, 332, 339 States”; in Lidai dili zhizhang tu), 261, Zhang Xiumin, 144n34, 152, 153n57, 167 262 Zhang Zhao, 34 Yuan Zhen, 40 Zhang Zhe, 111, 123 Yuanhe junxian tuzhi (Prefecture and Zhang Zhongjing, 226, 226n37, 230n57, county map guides of the Yuanhe 231 Reign), 107 Zhangzong, Emperor (Jurchen Jin), 175 Yuanshi tianzun shuo dedao liaoshen Zhansiding, 130, 131, 132 jing, 208 Zhao Buyu, 92n121, 94, 101t Yuanyou Empress (Northern Song), 304, Zhao Daoyi, 212t 306 Zhao Juxin, 334, 347t 430 index

Zhao Liangfu, 244 Zhongxing liangchao biannian gangmu Zhao Mengfu, 182n48, 199n91 (Chronologically arranged outline and Zhao Mingcheng, 50 details of the two restoration courts; Zhao Ruteng, 281n14, 294, 300 Chen Jun), 273, 286, 293, 295, 298, Zhao Ruyu, 101 306–10; variant titles of, 307, 313 Zhao Shanying, 69, 101 Zhongzhou ji (Anthology of the central Zhao Xibian, 101t, 293–94, 295, 297, plain; comp. Yuan Haowen), 184 302, 311, 312 Zhou Baoquan, 256 Zhao Zongba, 148n50 Zhou Bida, 72n32, 84, 85, 91, Zhaowen Institute (Zhaowen guan), 43 92nn118,121, 93n122, 96n134, 101, Zhezong, Emperor (Northern Song), 330, 331, 339, 346 159, 290, 336 Zhou Dynasty, 232–33 Zhen Dadao school (Daoism), 173 Zhou Mi, 294n38, 306n60, 331–32, Zhen Dexiu, 282–88, 295, 298, 301, 346n105, 347t 302, 303, 310, 312, 313; preface by, Zhou Ruteng, 299 281n12, 282–84, 286–88, 297n42, 300 Zhou Yinghe, 113 Zhenxian zhizhi yulu (Xuanquanzi), 207 Zhou Yu, 326 Zhenzong, Emperor (Northern Song), Zhouli (Rites of Zhou), 232 12n35, 33–34, 35, 36, 43, 53, 54 Zhu Baoyi, 189 Zheng Gong, 331 Zhu Bian, 57 Zheng Jingyue, 121 Zhu Changwen, 116 Zheng Xingzhi, 294, 302, 303; and Chen Zhu Hui, 120 Jun, 283, 298, 299–301, 307, 311–14; Zhu Lian, 131 preface by, 281n12, 284, 287, 288 Zhu Ruixi, 335, 336nn71,73 Zheng Xiongfei, 332, 347t Zhu Xi, 26, 81, 243, 310, 314, 347n108; Zheng Yuansu, 69n15 and book collecting, 88, 89; and Chen Zhenghe Wanshou Daozang (Daoist Jun, 282, 284, 285–86, 293, 297, 298, canon in the Wanshou palace of the 301–2, 313; and Daoxue movement, Zhenghe period), 169, 174, 175n27, 182 274; in Fujian, 280–81; and morality, Zhengsu fang (Prescriptions to correct 277–79; and revisionist history, 330, customs), 226, 231 331, 332, 344 zhengtong (True Succession), 133, Zhu Xiangxian, 191, 193, 211t, 212t 325n32, 336; in official histories, Zhubing yuanhou zonglun 323–24; in revisionist histories, 317–18, (Comprehensive treatise on the origins 319, 320, 328–29, 332, 338, 340 and symptoms of diseases; Chao Zhengtong Daozang (Daoist Canon of Yuanfang), 219, 220, 229 the Zhengtong period; Ming), 169, Zhuge Liang, 326, 336, 338, 341, 342–44 181, 182–83, 185, 186–92 Ziran ji, 204t Zhengtong lun (Ouyang Xiu), 332 Zizhi tongjian (A comprehensive mirror Zhichang xiansheng wenji (Prose for aid in governance; Sima Guang), collection of Zhichang; Ji Zhizhen), 78, 276, 277, 279, 295, 296f, 325, 190 332, 335n70, 338, 343n98, 398; and Zhili, 144 availability of sources, 45–50; source Zhizhai shulu jieti (Catalog of books with criticism in, 48–50 explanatory notes of the Zhi Studio), Zizhi tongjian gangmu (Outline and 112, 267n53 details of “Comprehensive mirror for Zhizheng Jinling xin zhi (New Jinling aid in governance”; Zhu Xi), 26, 277, gazetteer), 110 278, 279n9, 283n18; and Chen Jun, Zhizhou xiansheng quanzhen zhizhi (Jin 285–86, 293, 297, 298, 301–2, 313; Yueyan), 208 and revisionist history, 330, 331, 332 Zhongguo gu fangzhi kao (An Zizhi tongjian mulu (Index to the Investigation into China’s ancient “Comprehensive mirror for aid in gazetteers; Zhang Guogan), 105 governance”; Sima Guang), 295, 296f Zhongli Quan, 170 Zou Bin, 101t Zhongwu hou zhuan (Zhang Shi), 342–43 Zuo zhuan (Zuo commentary), 81, 277