The Owl in the Odes and Other Ancient Literature

In all three versions of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” there is reference to the Duke of Zhou's composition of the “Chixiao” as he attempts to allay King Cheng's suspicion. What is this poem about, and what does the Duke of Zhou wish to accomplish with it? None of the three versions say. Assuming that “Chixiao” is the poem of the same title now found in the Book of Odes, the earliest commentators Mao and Zheng Xuan match the content of the poem with the events described in “The Metal-bound Coffer,” an interpretation that I will consider in some detail below. Before doing so, however, I would like to first conduct a quick survey of the owl in the Odes and other ancient literature. This will provide a basis for reading the “Chixiao” and understanding the thinking of its two ancient commentators.

The first to be considered is the “Zhan ang” 瞻卬 (Looking up), which concerns Bao Si 褒姒, the evil consort of King You of Zhou 周幽王 (r. 781–771 b.c.e.). In a line from this poem: 懿厥哲婦，為梟為鴟；婦有長舌，維厲之階 “Beautiful is the clever woman, but she is an owl; a woman with a long tongue, she is the steps to calamity,” the owl is identified as a direct reference to Bao Si by Zheng Xuan. According to Zheng: 梟鴟，惡聲之鳥，喻褒姒之言無善 “Xiaochi is the bird of wicked sound and is a metaphor that there is nothing good in Bao Si's words.”Footnote ⁸ And later he adds: 長舌喻多言語，是王降大厲之階 “The long tongue is a metaphor of her loquaciousness and is the king's steps for descending into great calamity.” This explanation corresponds with what the poem goes on to say about Bao Si and her cronies: 鞫人忮忒，譖始竟背 “When they pick people to pieces, their slander is first entirely disregarded.” Formally, although wei xiao wei chi 為梟為鴟 is not exactly the same as chixiao, xiao 梟, and xiao 鴞 have such similar pronunciations in Old Chinese that they are simply different ways of writing the same word.Footnote ⁹ After all, in several other poems of the Odes, Mao identifies xiao 鴞 as e'sheng zhi niao 惡聲之鳥 “the bird of wicked sound,” a characterization that matches Zheng's explanation for xiao 梟 under the “Zhan ang.” These are the “Mu men” 墓門 (The gate of the graveyard), “Pan shui” 泮水 (The Semi-circular water), and “Xiao bi” 小毖 (Small chastisement).Footnote ¹⁰ Thus, it should be clear that whether called xiao 鴞, xiao 梟, chixiao 鴟鴞 or xiaochi 梟鴟, the owl is interchangeable with slander or “wicked sound” in the literature of the Warring States, Qin, and Han.Footnote ¹¹

For example, in one of Xunzi's 荀子 (active third century b.c.e.) poetic expositions, there is a discussion that in time of political turmoil, the good and the bad are easily confused: 螭龍為蝘蜓，鴟梟為鳳皇 “Dragons have become chameleons and geckos; owls have become phoenixes.” This is immediately preceded by the statement: 道德純備，讒口將將﹔仁人絀約，敖曓擅彊 “Against those in whom the Way and its power are richly perfected, tongues buzz in a chorus of slander. Humane men are degraded and reduced to poverty, while proud and violent men usurp and tyrannize at will.”Footnote ¹² That is, those who are morally just are maligned, and true gentlemen go into hiding to avoid being bullied. In the “Diao Qu Yuan wen” 弔屈原文 (Essay consoling Qu Yuan) by Jia Yi 賈誼 (201–169 b.c.e.), there is the line: 鸞鳳伏竄兮，鴟梟翱翔 “The phoenixes hunched down and hid away, while owls soared on high.”Footnote ¹³ This is preceded by the line: 遭世罔極兮，乃隕厥身 “You encountered an era where there were no restraints, and thus you lost your life.” Here the expression wang ji 罔極 “to have no restraint” is a reference to the “Qing ying” 青蠅 (Green flies) of the Odes, one of the classic statements about slander, as can be seen in the line from that poem: 讒人罔極，交亂四國 “The slanderous men have no restraint, they bring into disorder the states of the four quarters.”Footnote ¹⁴ Finally, in the Chunqiu fanlu 春秋繁露 (Luxuriant dews of the Spring and Autumn) associated with Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 (c. 179–104 b.c.e.), a text called the “Wuxing shunni” 五行順逆 (Complying with and going against the five activities) contains the following:

This is preceded by a warning that the ruler should not associate with the wrong persons:

It is clear that regardless of the variations in the name of the chixiao, the equation of the owl and slander is standard in ancient literature.Footnote ¹⁶

For further comparison, one can turn to the “Shenwu fu” 神烏賦 (Poetic exposition of the divine crows), a manuscript excavated from an Eastern Han tomb in Yinwan 尹灣, Jiangsu Province, dated around 10 b.c.e.Footnote ¹⁷ Although no owl appears in this poem, the “Shenwu fu” tells the story of a pair of crows being robbed of their nest, and in that sense shares with the “Chixiao” a literary theme that was common throughout the entire ancient period.Footnote ¹⁸ Interestingly, the “Shenwu fu” ends with a warning against slander, quoting the “Qingying” that I mentioned above (slips 127–128): 云云青蠅，止于杆；豈弟君子，毋信讒言 “The green flies go buzzing about, they settle on the fence; joyous and pleasant lord, do not believe slanderous words.”Footnote ¹⁹

Related to the “Shenwu fu,” in the “Yanzi fu” 燕子賦 (Poetic exposition of the swallows) discovered at Dunhuang 敦煌, another literary work about a bird protecting its home, one finds the same concern with slander.Footnote ²⁰ In describing the conflict between two swallows, this poem even includes a courtroom scene where the two swallows confront each other before a judge. Such a dramatic and popularized scenario is of course a far cry from the “Chixiao,” but it shares with that poem the same interest in telling truth from lies.

Against this background about the owl and other related fowls, it is now possible to turn to the “Chixiao”:

Reading this against the story of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” I would connect the two as the following.Footnote ²² The Duke of Zhou composes the “Chixiao,” as a response to the rumors spread by his detractors. With the line: 鴟鴞鴟鴞，既取我子，無毀我室 “Oh owl, oh owl! You have taken my children. Do not destroy my nest!” this is a plea for chixiao, the owl or the “bird of the wicked sound” to stop its slandering. Despite mentioning his zi 子 “children,” he senses the futility of saving them, and instead turns his attention to protecting his home, the main focus of the poem. As he goes on to say: 恩斯勤斯，鬻子之閔斯 “For it I have toiled. For this young one you should have pity,” I take en 恩 and qin 勤 to denote the same action, performed on the nest, more commonly written yinqin 殷勤 “to toil”;Footnote ²³ and I understand yuzi 鬻子 “the young one” to be the speaker's reference to himself, powerless before the intruding owl. The rest of the poem goes into greater detail about the building of the nest. For the Duke of Zhou, this could be his own home or the dynastic house of the Zhou.Footnote ²⁴

For the ancient commentators of the Odes, however, this is not what the “Chixiao” means. Both Mao and Zheng Xuan identify chixiao as the Duke of Zhou, so it is the chixiao that tries to protect its home.Footnote ²⁵ They also identify the zi “children” mentioned in the poem. For Mao, they are the Zhou royalties Guan 管 and Cai 蔡, “taken away” (qu 取) because they have been lured to defect to the enemy camp. For Zheng, they are the followers of the Duke of Zhou, about which I will have more to say when I turn to the text of “The Metal-bound Coffer.” But the biggest problem for Mao and Zheng's interpretation is that by identifying the chixiao as the Duke of Zhou, they have to read the poem's opening line according to Zheng's paraphrase: 鴟鴞言：已取我子者，幸無毀我巢 “The chixiao says: I hope he who has taken my children would not destroy my nest.”Footnote ²⁶ Such a reading is extremely awkward and not supported at all by the grammar of the sentence, which requires chixiao chixiao 鴟鴞鴟鴞 to be understood as the addressee, not the addresser.

How does one account for this difference between my reading, on the one hand, and those of the poem's ancient commentators, on the other? It is possible to simply dismiss the reading by Mao and Zheng, just as one might reject their understanding of the opening poem of the Odes, the “Guan ju” 關雎 (The ospreys), in light of a recently excavated manuscript, the “Wu xing” 五行 (Five conducts) from the Han tomb at Mawangdui 馬王堆.Footnote ²⁷ But I think it is equally important to ask why Mao and Zheng interpret the poem the way they do. The following gives two explanations, one in the discussion immediately below, and one in my later discussion of ancient owl lore. There may well be others, which need not be mutually exclusive. Since Mao and Zheng merely comment on the poem without explaining why, one can only deduce their reasoning based on the commentaries themselves and reflect on them in the broader context of ancient discourses about the Duke of Zhou.

In my view, the key to understanding the interpretations of Mao and Zheng Xuan lies in the identity of the chixiao. In my reading, the chixiao is the clear villain of the poem, and this is supported by evidence about the owl seen elsewhere in the Odes and other ancient literature. If Mao and Zheng are correct in identifying the chixiao as the Duke of Zhou, then one has to look elsewhere to identify the figure who intruded and threatened to destroy the bird's nest. In Mao's reading, this figure is an unspecified ren 人 “someone.” By contrast, Zheng suggests it is the young King Cheng, or yuzi 鬻子 “the young one”; more specifically, because King Cheng is deluded by the rumors and is dissatisfied with the Duke of Zhou, he is directing his anger at the Duke of Zhou's followers, and the Duke of Zhou urges him to stop the persecution and the confiscation of land and property belonging to them.Footnote ²⁸ Even leaving aside all the inconsistencies in this reading, Zheng's suggestion is problematic because it weakens the conflict at the heart of “The Metal-bound Coffer.”Footnote ²⁹ In spite of all the disagreements and misunderstandings, King Cheng is not a villain in the eyes of the Duke of Zhou, and yet a villain is what one expects to find in the “Chixiao” if one takes into account some of the discussions cited above, especially the “Shenwu fu” and “Yanzi fu.” If this analysis is correct, then we might pose the question a little differently: why do Mao and Zheng want to remove the villain from their interpretation of the “Chixiao,” or at least make him less of a factor?

There are several ancient discussions about the Duke of Zhou where an author questions or even criticizes his intentions during the events described in “The Metal-bound Coffer.” In particular, these discussions raise the question whether the Duke of Zhou was really ren 仁 (benevolent). I believe such discussions would have been a main motivation behind the interpretations by Mao and Zheng. If my reading is correct that the chixiao refers to the detractors of the Duke of Zhou, particularly the brothers Guan and Cai, and the “Chixiao” is his protest in response, then such reaction would not have been regarded as ren, at least in some eyes. In fact, any reaction on the Duke of Zhou's part would have had its repercussions. For there not to be any, the reaction would have to be directed at someone who is completely indefensible, like Bao Si, the evil consort mentioned in the “Zhan ang” cited above.

Here I can illustrate my point with a passage from the Mengzi, 2B9. This passage contains a question for Mencius (active fourth century b.c.e.), posed by a challenger Chen Gu 陳賈:

Here the king is the ruler of Qi 齊, who earlier in the passage expresses that he is no match for a sage such as the Duke of Zhou. In response to this, Chen Gu explains that if the Duke of Zhou already anticipated his brother's plot of mutiny, then it was not ren of him to dispatch his brother to oversee the Shang, because this would have been akin to luring him into the crime. On the other hand, if the Duke of Zhou had no clue, then he was simply not zhi 智 (wise). Either way, Chen Gu implies, the Duke of Zhou was not the enlightened leader that Mencius and other Confucian scholars took him to be. In his response, Mencius denies that the Duke of Zhou was not ren; at most, he was not zhi, but this was unproblematic because he was also capable of admitting his own mistakes and correcting them. Such exchange between Chen Gu and Mencius is representative of the debates concerning the Duke of Zhou that circulated from the Warring States to the Han. Chen Gu's question is an example of the criticism against him, whereas Mencius’ response represents the defense. I would understand Mao and Zheng's interpretation of the “Chixiao” in the same way. By doing away with the villain in their readings of the “Chixiao,” these commentators purposely weakened the conflict at the heart of the poem and made the Duke of Zhou a more benevolent figure than he otherwise appeared. In this way, Mao and Zheng cleared the Duke of Zhou's name and helped to consolidate his image as a moral exemplar.Footnote ³¹

Mengzi 2B9 can be read with another passage from Mencius, 2A4, which actually contains a quotation of the “Chixiao”:

In this discussion, Mencius cites the “Chixiao” to support his point about the state: just as a bird's nest needs to be diligently maintained, the state prospers only when it draws on all the inputs of its worthy men.^{Footnote 33} The ruler who has the virtue of ren (benevolence), or a genuine concern for the people, would devote himself wholeheartedly to this endeavor. Interestingly, the discussion makes no reference to the Duke of Zhou, and in fact the early commentator of the Mengzi, Zhao Qi 趙岐 (d. 201) understands the poem to be a criticism against an unspecified ruler of Bin 邠. This is a line of interpretation that has puzzled many later scholars, given the clear indication in “The Metal-bound Coffer” that it is the Duke of Zhou who composed the poem. It is difficult to imagine that Mencius or Zhao Qi had no knowledge of this work.Footnote ³⁴

To account for this problem, one possibility is of course to concede that there were simply different interpretations of the “Chixiao”: “The Metal-bound Coffer” tied it with the Duke of Zhou, Mencius did not. But in light of the discussion about Mengzi 2B9 from above, I would propose tying together the two interpretations in the following way: what 2A4 stands for is not just another reading, but an attempt to offer an interpretation different from “The Metal-bound Coffer”—one that steers the poem away from the Duke of Zhou and his fratricide and emphasizes a more positive and thus uncontroversial aspect of his career. By the time of Zhao Qi, this new interpretation had become so entrenched that the Duke of Zhou was not acknowledged at all.Footnote ³⁵ If this understanding is correct, then 2B9 and 2A4 constitute a concerted effort by Mencius to represent the Duke of Zhou in a more favorable light. The first defends him against the accusation of fratricide, and the second takes the poem that could be used as evidence against him and simply offers a different reading of it. In both cases, Mencius emphasizes the virtue of ren, a motivation that I believe is also shared by the commentaries by Mao and Zheng as well as many other ancient discussions.

The following are additional examples of criticisms against the Duke of Zhou, similar to the question raised by Chen Gu in Mengzi 2B9:

1. 1. 王季為適，周公殺兄，長幼有序乎？（《莊子．盜跖》）Footnote ³⁶

   King Ji received the inheritance, the Duke of Zhou killed his elder brother—does this indicate any proper order between elder and younger?

2. 2. 弟賢不過周公，而管叔誅。（《韓詩外傳》卷八）Footnote ³⁷

   No younger brother was more worthy than the Duke of Zhou, but Guanshu was punished.

3. 3. 周公誅管叔、蔡叔，以平國弭亂，可謂忠臣矣，而未可謂弟弟也。（《淮南子．泰族》）Footnote ³⁸

   The Duke of Zhou executed Guanshu and Caishu to bring peace to the country and end their rebellion. You could call him a loyal minister, indeed, but you could not call him a good brother.

4. 4. 周公放兄誅弟，非不仁也，以匡亂也。（《淮南子．齊俗》）Footnote ³⁹

   That the Duke of Zhou exiled his older brother and executed his second brother was not that he was not humane; it was that he was rectifying chaos.

5. 5. 誳寸而伸尺，聖人為之；小枉而大直，君子行之。周公有殺弟之累，齊桓有爭國之名，然而周公以義補缺，桓公以功滅醜，而皆為賢。（《淮南子．氾論》）Footnote ⁴⁰

   Curling up to the shortness of an inch or extending to the length of a foot are things the sages do. Minimizing wrongs and maximizing rights are things the superior man practices. The Duke of Zhou was saddled with the burden of killing a brother, and Duke of Huan of Qi had a reputation for competing with other states. Yet the Duke of Zhou relied on rightness to compensate for his shortcomings, and Duke Huan relied on his merit to eradicate evil, so that both became worthies.

6. 6. 夫觀逐者於其反也，而觀行者於其終也。故舜放弟，周公殺兄，猶之為仁也；文公樹米，曾子架羊，猶之為知也。（《淮南子．泰族》）Footnote ⁴¹

   Evaluate those who pursue by what they bring back; evaluate those who flee by where they end up. Thus, Shun banished his younger brother; the Duke of Zhou executed his older brothers, but they both alike were considered humane. Duke Wen planted rice, Zengzi yoked a goat, but they both alike were considered wise.

7. 7. 故以枝代主而非越也，以弟誅兄而非曓也，君臣易位而非不順也。（《荀子．儒效》）Footnote ⁴²

   Hence, for a cadet branch of a family to supplant the main line does not constitute a “transgression”; a younger brother's execution of an older brother does not constitute a “crime of violence”; and for the ruler and minister to change positions does not constitute an “act of disobedience.”

Items 4, 5, 6, and 7, though attempts to defend the Duke of Zhou, are clearly made in response to discussions such as those in items 1, 2, and 3. Item 6 is especially close to Mengzi 2B9 in that it juxtaposes ren (benevolent) and zhi (wise).

The discussion in the first part of this study has focused on a small but significant detail in “The Metal-bound Coffer”: the composition of the “Chixiao” by the Duke of Zhou. Drawing on evidence from the Odes and other ancient literature where the owl is frequently associated with slander, I believe it is possible to posit a different interpretation of the “Chixiao” than the one proposed by the ancient commentators Mao and Zheng Xuan. By reference to the Mengzi and other related discussions, I have shown that the reading devised by Mao and Zheng was part of a debate about the Duke of Zhou's moral character, particularly the question whether he was ren (benevolent).

The rest of this section will consider some remaining issues about “The Metal-bound Coffer” as it relates to the “Chixiao,” or to be more precise, some points of connection between the Duke of Zhou story at large and the greater body of ancient owl lore. The first concerns two poetic fragments from the Warring States now at the Shanghai Museum, which editors entitle “Youhuang jiang qi” 有皇將起 (The phoenix is about to rise) and “Liuli” 鶹鷅.Footnote ⁴³ As pointed out by scholars soon after their publication, the two manuscripts are actually one text, since they share the same physical attributes, calligraphy, and literary form (both consisting of four or five-character phrases, followed by the disyllabic particle jinke 今可); and I believe this is valid.Footnote ⁴⁴ Leaving the more technical details for the appendix, here I will highlight only some of the most prominent themes and comment on their relation with the present study. To begin, like the “Chixiao” and many of the sources about the owl in ancient literature, this poem juxtaposes two kinds of bird. One is reprehensible for its indolence, comparable to the intruding owl that only takes the fruits of the labors of others, seen in the “Chixiao”; this is identified as the liuli 婁（鶹）（鷅）.Footnote ⁴⁵ The other is the jiaofan 膠膰, a more lofty, virtuous bird that exemplifies purity in the face of slander.Footnote ⁴⁶ Here the keyword is of course bang 旁（謗）“slander,” a theme that echoes the “Chixiao” and other ancient literature. Thus the two manuscripts from the Shanghai Museum add to the list of examples cited above, and in fact should appear at the top of that list, given their unmistakable Warring States origin.

This being said, the “Youhuang jiang qi” and “Liuli” are more than just another example of the theme of slander in ancient bird lore. A closer examination of the content of the two manuscripts reveals a more striking feature. As seen in the opening line of the “Youhuang jiang qi” (s. 1), the poem is an instruction offered by the persona to a prince, or baozi 保子 “protected son.” On the one hand, the prince is instructed to be ren (benevolent). On the other hand, he is encouraged to work with the persona in weeding out the bad influences, identified rather explicitly as those who have “different minds within a single state,” or tongbang yixin 同（邦）異心 (s. 2). Finally, the persona makes two separate references to reforming past mistakes.Footnote ⁴⁷

Comparing the two manuscripts with ancient discourses surrounding the Duke of Zhou, the connections are striking. The persona is the Duke of Zhou, and the prince is King Cheng. The virtue of ren that the persona singles out is one of the recurring themes in the debates surrounding the Duke of Zhou, as shown in my discussion above. The bad influences are the brothers Guan and Cai, and it is precisely King Cheng's allegiance that the Duke of Zhou seeks in order to overcome the dissension within the royal family. The reference to “different minds within a single state” cannot be more direct. As for the admonitions to reform one's past mistakes, this refers to King Cheng's initial credulity of the rumors against the Duke of Zhou. As told in “The Metal-bound Coffer,” the purpose of the Duke of Zhou's composition of the “Chixiao” is precisely to diffuse those rumors, and the story ultimately ends with King Cheng realizing he was wrong.

Here one is likely to raise the question whether I am forcing the two Shanghai Museum manuscripts into conformity with the Duke of Zhou story, whether “connections” should be “parallels” at best, whether my reading is too heavy-handed. But how else does one understand the remark from the “Youhuang jiang qi” (s. 6) that one should emulate the bird jiaofan in order to she sanfu zhi bang （舍）三夫之旁（謗） “cast aside the slanders of the three men”? The “three men” (sanfu 三夫) must be a direct reference to the rebels spreading rumors about the Duke of Zhou, identified as the sanjian 三監 “three guards” in various ancient sources.Footnote ⁴⁸ To be sure, “three men” could be a general reference to a multitude; and there is also some disagreement over the identities of the “three guards” from the Shang–Zhou transition.Footnote ⁴⁹ But in the light of all the other similarities between the two manuscripts and the Duke of Zhou story, I think one would be remiss not to recognize the connection. In fact, all the variations in the identification of the “three guards” (clearly there were more than three people involved) are indicative: the wide currency enjoyed by the expression sanjian must have not been the invention of a single author, but the product of a broader tradition. Such a tradition would have also been the basis for the two manuscripts from the Shanghai Museum.

All this points to the conclusion that the “Youhuang jiang qi” and the “Liuli,” as a single poem, was written to comment on the Duke of Zhou story. Thus, rather than comparing it to the “Chixiao” and other ancient owl lore, I find it more productive to place it side-by-side with “The Metal-bound Coffer.” If the Shanghai Museum poem had made any reference to “The Metal-bound Coffer,” it would have been plausible to characterize it as a poetic commentary of that text, much like some parts of Zhao Qi's commentary of Mencius. That it does not do so suggests a different relation: both this poem and “The Metal-bound Coffer” are part of a broader discourse about the Duke of Zhou, and they parallel each other in drawing on the equally rich and extensive ancient owl lore in commenting on the Duke of Zhou story. Where the Shanghai Museum poem differs from “The Metal-bound Coffer” is of course its poetic form. If one is of the view that such literary device reflected a more popular or even performative medium, then this text would open up all kinds of possibilities in the exploration in those directions. Recall that two of the literary works related to the owl cited above are the “Shenwu fu” and “Yanzi fu,” two poetic expositions that must have been transmitted on a more popular level than the “Chixiao” now found in the Odes.

I turn now to the poem “Xiao bi” from the Odes, the second text that I would like to consider in connection with the Duke of Zhou story. In so doing, I will have opportunity to mention some of the most important themes in ancient owl lore. This is a body of literature that I have alluded to at various points in the discussion above, but much remains that is simply too rich and too fascinating to relegate to the background.

I begin with the following line from the “Xiao bi”: 肇允彼桃蟲，拚飛維鳥 “At first, one trusted those taochong, and they flew up and became birds.”Footnote ⁵⁰ Regarding taochong 桃蟲, Mao's commentary identifies it as jiao 鷦, adding that it is “a bird that starts out small but ends up big” (niao zhi shi xiao zhong da zhe 鳥之始小終大者). To this Zheng Xuan suggests the following: 鷦之所為鳥，題肩也，或曰鴞，皆惡聲之鳥 “The kind of bird that jiao is is the tijian, or some say xiao. Both are birds of wicked sound.” Related to this, Kong Yingda notes that the identification of taochong as jiao can also be seen in the Er ya 爾雅Footnote ⁵¹ and the commentary of that work by Sheren 舍人.Footnote ⁵² Moreover, Kong cites the view of Guo Pu 郭璞 (276–324): 鷦𪃐，桃雀也，俗名為巧婦；鷦𪃐小鳥，而生鵰鴞者也 “Jiaomiao is ‘Peach Sparrow,’ popularly called ‘Clever Wife.’ Though the jiaomiao is a small bird, it gives birth to the pengdiao.”Footnote ⁵³ This is consistent with the view of Lu Ji 陸璣 (c. third century) also cited by Kong: 今鷦鷯是也，微小於黃雀，其雛化而為鵰，故俗語鷦鷯生鵰 “This [taochong] is the jiaoliao of the present. It is smaller than the ‘Yellow Sparrow.’ Its chick transforms into the diao. Thus, the popular saying is that the jiaoliao gives birth to the diao.”Footnote ⁵⁴

Among the various opinions cited here, Zheng Xuan's identification of the xiao as a “bird of wicked sound” (e'sheng zhi niao 惡聲之鳥) is one I have already mentioned. But I did not draw attention to Zheng Xuan's connection of the “Xiao bi” with the Duke of Zhou story. This is Zheng's glosses for the same “Xiao bi” line:

Along the same line, Mao's commentary (as explained by Kong Yingda, based on Wang Su's suggestion, since Mao never directly states his opinion) understands the metaphor of the taochong to be an “evil that is about to come” (jiang lai zhi e 將來之惡). Given the connection between this and Duke of Zhou story, it is necessary to comment on Zheng's commentary at some length.

According to Zheng, the “Xiao bi” is concerned with the conflict between the Duke of Zhou and his brothers Guan and Cai. Curiously, Zheng makes no reference to the “Chixiao” in spite of its connection with the same conflict. This is true even in the light of Zheng's identification of taochong as the xiao that also appears in the name chixiao. I would tie the two poems together as the following: the brothers Guan and Cai are the Duke of Zhou's blood relatives (the taochong that starts out a small bird), but later on, as they spread the rumors and slander his character, they become his enemies (the xiao that ends up a big bird). In order to explain himself to King Cheng, the Duke of Zhou makes a plea to the two brothers, asking them not to push him to the brink (this is the content of the “Chixiao”). Such a narrative is based on Zheng's reading of the “Xiao bi” and my own interpretation of the “Chixiao,” and it is consistent with the various ancient owl lore, cited earlier. Of course, as mentioned before, Zheng has a different understanding of the “Chixiao,” and I have also speculated on the reason why. Here I would only add that judging from the “Xiao bi,” it is evident that another interpretation of the “Chixiao” was not completely unimaginable for Zheng. For Zheng to ultimately choose the interpretation such as currently found under that poem, he must have had a very strong incentive.

It remains for me to go over some other themes in ancient owl lore. Some explanatory remarks are in order. First, my discussion is not exhaustive and considers only those accounts that have a direct bearing on the present study. Second, to avoid overwhelming the readers, the sources that I consider are generally no later than the Western Han (206 b.c.e.–25 c.e.), except when a later source is the sole testimony of an account, and even then it must be corroborated in some way by other earlier sources. Finally, when looking at the various accounts, I do not place any great emphasis on the names by which the birds are identified. Instead, it is the information about the birds and the recurring themes that receive my attention. One will see when all the accounts are lined up that the multiple names of the owl form a kind of chain, such that A is defined as B, B as C, C as D, and so on. Although I do not state this explicitly, readers who are interested to do so will find that it is quite easy to connect the dots. This last point is related to a broader question about the study of ornithology in general. While there must be some basis in reality for the body of lore considered here, indeed any lore about zoological creatures in ancient China, the attempt to match it with present-day knowledge needs to proceed with caution, recognizing the following possibilities: 1) the sources may have different standards and degrees of rigorousness when discussing the creatures; 2) they may inherit traditions or information passed on from other sources, without verification; 3) they may be mistaken; 4) they may deliberately fabricate.Footnote ⁵⁵ Such matching is beyond the scope of my discussion here, which is mainly concerned with how some birds were imagined and what were the ideological concerns underlying the sources; but I hope the findings presented here may pave the way for further research.Footnote ⁵⁶

A significant number of the sources identify the owl as a bird that eats its own mother. An example of this appears in connection with the “Mao qiu” 旄丘 (Backward-sloping hill) of the Odes. Under the line: 瑣兮尾兮，流離之子 “How small and beautiful are the chicks of the liuli,” Lu Ji says the following: 流離，梟也，自關西謂梟為流離；其子適長大，還食其母 “Liuli is xiao. West of the pass xiao is called liuli. When its chick grows up, it returns to eat its own mother.”Footnote ⁵⁷ This is echoed by a textual fragment now preserved in the Yi lin 意林 (Forest of meaning): 梟生子，子長，食其母，乃能飛 “The xiao gives birth to its chick. The chick grows up, eats its own mother, and then has the ability to fly.”Footnote ⁵⁸ Although neither of these sources gives the reason for the chick's appalling behavior, there is some indication in other accounts that this is a result of the mother's doting on its chick. Thus, in Lüshi chunqiu 呂氏春秋 (Annals of Lü Buwei) “Fen zhi” 分職 (Distinguishing proper functions), a narrative reports that the Duke of Bai 白公, upon usurping the throne in the state of Chu 楚, appropriated the booty and was ultimately murdered because of it. The narrator compares the Duke of Bai's greed to the xiao that loses its life because of its unconditional love for its chick: 譬白公之嗇也，若梟之愛其子也 “One can compare the Duke of Bai's miserliness to the love of the xiao for her chick.”Footnote ⁵⁹ Parallel accounts can be found in Huainanzi 淮南子 “Dao ying” 道應 (Responses of the way) and Wenzi 文子 “Wei ming” 微明 (Subtle brightness).Footnote ⁶⁰ Though brief, these references must be based on more extensive lore about the owl, and I believe the account about the chick eating its own mother is the most extreme manifestation. In fact, appalling as this tradition is, it hints at a theme of aberration that I believe is comparable to the reference in the “Xiao bi” about a small bird transforming into a big bird. One can imagine how following this metamorphosis, a bird appears a stranger before its own mother, perhaps even a mortal enemy. This is consistent with what one finds in Mao's commentary of the “Mao qiu,” which suggests that the liuli is “fine in its youth but ugly when grown” (shao hao zhang chou 少好長醜).Footnote ⁶¹

In contrast to the lore about the owl eating its own mother, there is another set, equally prominent, where the owl is a victim of harm.

1. 1. 南方有鳥焉，名曰蒙鳩，以羽為巢，而編之以髮，繫之葦苕。風至苕折，卵破子死。巢非不完也，所繫者然也。（《荀子．勸學》）Footnote ⁶²

   In the southern regions, there is a bird called the mengjiu that builds its nest out of feathers woven together with hair and attaches the nest to the flowering tassels of reeds. The winds come and the tassels snap off, the eggs break, and the baby birds are killed. It is not that the nest was not well made; rather, it resulted from what it was attached to.

2. 2. 臣見鷦鷯巢於葦苕，著之髮毛，建之，女工不能為也，可謂完堅矣。大風至則苕折、卵破、子死者，何也？其所託者使然也。（ 《說苑．善說》）Footnote ⁶³

   Your servant has seen the jiaoliao that builds its nest in the flowering tassels of reeds, weaving it out of hair … so well that even a weaving girl could not have done it; it can truly be called well-made and solid.Footnote ⁶⁴ But when a great wind comes along, the tassel snaps, the eggs break, and the baby birds are killed. Why is this? It results from what it puts its reliance on.

3. 3. 有鳥於此，架巢於葭葦之顛，天喟然而風，則葭折而巢壞，何也？其所托者弱也。（《韓詩外傳》）Footnote ⁶⁵

   Here is a bird that has built its nest in the top of some reeds. A puff of wind from the sky, the reeds break, and the nest is ruined. Why? Because what [the bird] put its reliance on was weak.

4. 4. 桃雀竊脂，巢於小枝，搖動不安，為風所吹，心寒慄慄，常憂殆危。（《易林》謙之遯）Footnote ⁶⁶

   The “Peach Sparrow” steals lard and builds its nest on a small branch. Shaking and without rest, it is blown by the wind. Its heart freezes with fear; the dire situation it constantly dreads.

Also relevant may be a passage from Zhuangzi “Xiaoyao you” 逍遙遊 (Free and easy wandering): 鷦鷯巢於深林，不過一枝 “When the jiaoliao builds its nest in the deep wood, it uses no more than one branch.”Footnote ⁶⁷

In all of these sources, a tiny bird builds its nest in a precarious place. Blown by the wind, not only does the nest get destroyed, but also the eggs or the chicks are harmed. It seems to me that much of this is directly parallel to the “Chixiao,” where one finds not only a detailed description of a bird's labor in its building a nest, but the same concern for its chicks. This is no doubt the reason that under the “Chixiao,” Lu Ji provides the following gloss about the chixiao:

This is also reminiscent of Guo Pu's gloss for the taochong from the “Xiao bi”: 鷦𪃐，桃雀也，俗名為巧婦 “Jiaomiao is ‘Peach Sparrow,” popularly called ‘Clever Wife.’” Many of these names hint at the skillfulness of the bird in building a nest.Footnote ⁶⁹ In connection with the earlier part of the study, I should mention that it was perhaps due to such lore about the chixiao that Mao and Zheng Xuan identify this bird as the persona of the “Chixiao,”’ the addresser rather than the addressee. This provides another motivation for the readings by Mao and Zheng, but it does not contradict the one that I pointed out earlier.

From this quick survey, one can see that there are two groups of lore about the owl. One concerns a small bird and its toilsome but ultimately futile effort to build a nest; the other is about a mother's doting on its chick, which has the unintended consequence of the chick's returning, as a big bird, to harm its own mother. Interestingly, these two groups are sometimes merged. For instance, in Chen Lin's 陳琳 (d. 217) essay, “Xi Wu jiangxiao buqu wen” 檄吳將校部曲文 (Proclamation to the generals, officers, and troops of Wu), there is the line: 鸋鴂之鳥巢於葦苕，苕折子破，下愚之惑也 “The ningjue builds its nest in the flowering tassels of reeds, and the tassels snap off and the chicks are ruined; such is the confusion of the ignorant ones at the bottom.” In his commentary for the Wen xuan 文選 (Selections of refined literature), Li Shan 李善 (630–689) suggests the following, based on a Han 韓 tradition of the Odes:

Note that the identification of ningjue as chixiao echoes what one finds in Lu Ji's commentary of the “Chixiao,” as given in the previous paragraph, and is ultimately traceable to Mao's commentary of the same poem. Here the theme of the building of the nest such as seen in the first group is tied with the theme of the mother's doting on its child, which ultimately brings harm to the chick, as seen in the second group.

But it is by going back to in the interpretative traditions surrounding the “Xiao bi” that one can see how two groups of lore which appear so different from one another come to center on a single bird, the owl. According to commentators from Mao and Zheng Xuan to Lu Ji, the taochong featured in this poem can “start out small but end up big,” literally transforming into a bird of a different species. Although such metamorphosis seems quite incredible from an ornithological perspective, it was evidently thought possible by the ancient commentators, and similar claims can be found throughout the literary record.Footnote ⁷¹ Perhaps it was the “Xiao bi” that led to the confusion of the two groups of lore. Perhaps the existence of the two groups enabled the interpretations about the “Xiao bi.” What is clear, in spite of this chicken-egg (or rather, owl-egg) question, is that two different types of bird were collapsed into one, one small, one big, as were the two groups of lore associated with them.

In the end, what one finds in all the sources considered in this section are reflections of the rich and extensive owl lore that must have circulated quite widely during the ancient period. For the “Chixiao” and the “Xiao bi,” regardless what the poems originally meant, ancient commentators made an effort linking the poems to discourses about the Duke of Zhou. In the case of the “Chixiao,” one might argue that this was prompted by the reference to that poem in “The Metal-bound Coffer.” But I believe it is more plausible to suggest that “The Metal-bound Coffer” only took part in a much more pervasive practice. After all, no such reference exists with regard to the “Xiao bi.” If the two Shanghai Museum manuscripts are any indication, the poem preserved in them was also independent of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” and yet it made its own connection to the Duke of Zhou. (Recall that the Mengzi 2A4, in its quotation of the “Chixiao,” also steered clear of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” whether deliberately or not.) It is worth asking where one should situate the origin of this allegorical mode of reading, particularly the attempt to link the Duke of Zhou story with ancient owl lore. This is a question that I cannot answer, except to point out that such an effort involved the author of “The Metal-bound Coffer” and the poet behind the Shanghai Museum poem, not to forget the commentators behind the Odes and Documents. None of these figures was able to make the match perfectly, and my reconstruction of their rationales is, at the end of the day, both speculative and heuristic. Nevertheless, this is an investigation that has taken me deeper into the hearts of these texts than I could have ever imagined, and like bird-watching, the pleasure derived from it has been immense, indeed.

The “Metal-bound Coffer” and Its Three Testimonies

I now come to the second part of the study, where I turn to the rest of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” looking in turn at three passages that have considerable discrepancies among the three versions. At first glance, some of these discrepancies may seem rather disparate, even trivial, and it is true that a difference is sometimes just that, the result of what must have been multiple lines of transmission not wholly aligned with one another. But there are other instances where the discrepancies are meaningful, and still others where it is possible to show how one testimony settled on a certain reading in response to another. In this way, by lining up the different testimonies into a sequence and offering an explanation about their relationship with one another, it is possible to get in the mind of the individual passing down the text and specify how he imposed his understanding on the text that he left behind. As in the previous section, one will learn how transmitters, commentators, and the re-teller rewrote or reinterpreted the text in order to teach a lesson: the Duke of Zhou occupied a subordinate position vis-à-vis the ruler, and must never undermine him in any way.

The first passage I examine is a statement from the Duke of Zhou's prayer, a plea to the ancestors to exchange his life for his brother's. The three versions of the text can be listed as the following:

1. 1. 隹（惟）尔（爾）元孫發也，不若但（旦）也，是年（佞）若丂（巧）能，多（才）多埶（藝），能事（鬼）神。（清華簡）

   Your chief descendant Fa is unlike me, Dan, who is capable of being pleasing and clever, and who is possessed of many abilities and arts, which fit me to serve ghosts and spirits. (Tsinghua)

2. 2. 予仁若考能，多材多藝，能事鬼神。乃元孫不若旦多材多藝，不能事鬼神。（《尚書》）

   I am capable of being pleasing and clever, and I am possessed of many abilities and arts, which fit me to serve ghosts and spirits. Your chief descendant is unlike me, Dan, in having many abilities and arts, and is not so capable of serving ghosts and spirits. (Documents)

3. 3. 旦巧能，多材多蓺，能事鬼神。乃王發不如旦多材多蓺，不能事鬼神。（《史記》）

   I, Dan, am capable, and I am possessed of many abilities and arts, which fit me to serve ghosts and spirits. Your king Fa is not like Dan in having many abilities and arts and is not so capable of serving ghosts and spirits. (Shi ji)

Comparing the three testimonies, it seems to me that the manuscript is the most direct and easiest to understand. For the expression ning ruo qiao 年（佞）若丂（巧）, I follow previous scholars in reading nian 年 as ning 佞 “pleasing” and kao 丂 as qiao 巧 “clever,” with ruo 若 being a coordinative conjunction meaning “and.” In this way, ning ruo qiao is simply another form of ningqiao 佞巧, a compound well attested in ancient texts. Here its purpose is to describe the Duke of Zhou's ability to please the ancestors, and it can be read together with his follow-up statement that he possesses many talents.Footnote ⁷² Turning to the received text of the Documents, the commentary attributed to Kong Anguo offers the following paraphrase: 我周公仁能順父，又多材多藝，能事鬼神 “I the Duke of Zhou have the virtue of benevolence such that I am capable of complying with the elders, and moreover I am possessed of many abilities and arts which fit me to serve ghosts and spirits.” Such a reading not only involves a reshuffling of the expression ren ruo kao neng 仁若考能 (in effect reading it as *ren neng ruo kao 仁能若考), but it also understands ren as the virtue “benevolence.”Footnote ⁷³

In light of the argument presented in the first part of this study, where I draw attention to the prominence of ren in ancient discourses about the Duke of Zhou, I believe the reading of ren in the Documents should be understood against this background. I would suggest the received text gives ren rather than the more natural ning “pleasing” in order to emphasize the Duke of Zhou's possession of that virtue. However, in saying this, it would be improper for the text to continue with the comparison of the Duke of Zhou and King Wu and state that the Duke of Zhou is more benevolent than his brother. Such a statement would undermine the ruler and be at odds with other ancient discussions: the Duke of Zhou can advise King Wu about ren, and he himself can even be praised for the same virtue, but he must never surpass the ruler in this regard.Footnote ⁷⁴ This must be the reason that the received text leaves out the reference to ren when it goes on to compare the two brothers, thus breaking the parallel between the first and second half of the statement. This is supported by the text of the Shi ji, which closely resembles the Documents, with the sole exception that it omits the character ren, thus removing the possibility that the Duke of Zhou might be more benevolent than King Wu, as I have just mentioned. The result is also an imbalance between the two halves of the statement.

For further indication of the notion that the Duke of Zhou must not undermine the ruler, I turn to the second passage from “The Metal-bound Coffer,” a more complex example that involves several textual variants. Using the received text from the Documents as the basis, I mark out the Chinese text using double underline and the corresponding spots in the translation using single underline:

In the first instance, the received text has pi 辟 “to punish,” whereas Zheng Xuan gives the reading of bi 避 “to escape.”Footnote ⁷⁶ As Kong Yingda explains, Zheng's reading reflects an entirely different narrative of the events: upon hearing the rumors, the Duke of Zhou does not punish the rebels, but rather, bi “escapes” or goes into retirement in the east; and the zuiren 罪人 “guilty men” that are apprehended are not the rebels, but the Duke of Zhou's followers who have been implicated in their leader's crimes. In an effort to seek their pardoning, the Duke of Zhou composes the “Chixiao” and pleads for King Cheng's mercy. It is only later, after the coffer is opened and their misunderstanding resolved, that the Duke of Zhou returns to be regent once again, and it is then that he sets off on a campaign to quell the rebellion, thus heading out to the east a second time.Footnote ⁷⁷

For this part of the text, the Shi ji has the statement: 我之弗辟而攝行政者，恐天下畔周，無以告我先王 “I do not avoid serving as the regent because I am afraid that the world will rebel against the Zhou and we will have nothing to report to the royal ancestors.” This is evidently reading pi as bi “to escape,” a la Zheng Xuan, even though the overall sense is closer to the received text.

In the second instance, the received text has yi 貽 “to present,” and even though this is given as wei 遺 “to leave with” in the “small preface” of the “Chixiao” found in the Odes, the change in meaning is not significant. Once again, it is Zheng Xuan who has a completely different reading: rather than the Duke of Zhou presenting the poem to King Cheng or leaving it with him, Zheng has the Duke of Zhou attempting to yi 怡 “appease” King Cheng with it. The purpose of this is so that King Cheng would pardon the Duke of Zhou's followers; and in this way it is tied with Zheng's narrative of the events, mentioned immediately above.

Based on the first two variants and the different narratives in which they are embedded, one finds two images of the Duke of Zhou. The received text has him playing an active role, full of authority, as he shows no hesitation “punishing” the rebels, and later on, in an effort to clarify his misunderstanding with King Cheng, simply “presents” or “leaves” him with the poem. By contrast, Zheng Xuan's understanding has the Duke of Zhou in a more passive role. Faced with the challenge by the rebels, his first impulse is to “escape” from it, and later on, it is as a supplicant that he attempts to “appease” King Cheng with his poem. This second understanding removes or at least weakens the conflict between him and his brothers. Rather than punishing these guilty men, the Duke of Zhou now labors to save those other culprits, or his followers. However, because these followers are nowhere mentioned in “The Metal-bound Coffer,” Zheng Xuan's understanding seems more a supposition than a reading based on the details of the text.Footnote ⁷⁸ I believe Zheng's effort here is consistent with his interpretation of the “Chixiao” as described in the first part of the study.Footnote ⁷⁹

For the first two variants, the manuscript version of “The Metal-bound Coffer” is damaged in the first instance; and in the second instance, it has wei “to leave with,” the same as the “small preface” of the “Chixiao,” and there is no reason to believe that it should read otherwise. It is only with the third variant that it gives a reading with significant difference, and this calls for a more detailed discussion. When describing King Cheng's response upon receiving the poem from the Duke of Zhou, the manuscript says: “The king did not greet the duke” (wang yi wei ni gong 王亦未逆公).Footnote ⁸⁰ Here the word ni 逆 “to greet” indicates King Cheng's reaction if he believed the Duke of Zhou's explanation; and he does not, because he remains displeased with the Duke of Zhou and refuses to greet him in person. The same word appears again later in the manuscript, after King Cheng realizes he was wrong to distrust the Duke of Zhou, and he makes the following statement: 隹（惟）余（沖）人（其）親逆公，我邦（家）豊（禮）亦宜之 “I, princeling, will greet him in person, and indeed, this is appropriate according to the rites of our state.” This is immediately followed by the statement: 王乃出逆公至鄗（郊）“The king went forth to the suburbs to greet the duke.”

Comparing the manuscript with the Shi ji on this point, the difference is striking. According to the Shi ji, by the time King Cheng comes around to recognizing his mistake, the Duke of Zhou has been deceased for some time. Thus it is the remains of the Duke of Zhou that King Cheng welcomes back and goes out to “greet.” As for King Cheng's comment about such a gesture adhering to the rites, the meaning of this also changes accordingly, understood by commentators to refer to ceremonies performed in the suburbs. Such difference is consistent with an earlier part of the story. Whereas the manuscript says “the king does not greet the duke” in describing King Cheng's response to the “Chixiao,” the Shi ji has the following: 王亦未敢訓周公 “The king did not dare admonish the Duke of Zhou.” This indicates the same displeasure that one finds in the manuscript, but by putting gan xun 敢訓 “to dare admonish” in the place of ni “to greet,” the possibility that King Cheng might personally meet the Duke of Zhou at a later point is denied altogether in the Shi ji.

What do these differences mean? With the manuscript, King Cheng goes out to greet the Duke of Zhou, a move that is ritually improper by those at court who are careful to maintain the strict hierarchy between the ruler and his subjects, hence King Cheng's remark in anticipation of the criticism: “This is appropriate according to the rites of our state.” By contrast, no such problem exists for the Shi ji, given that the Duke of Zhou is already deceased by this point. This makes it possible for King Cheng to treat him with maximum ceremony without any fear of disrupting the hierarchy between the two, perhaps much in the same way that it was only after his death that Confucius came to be referred to as suwang 素王 “the unadorned king.”Footnote ⁸¹ In fact, such a gesture on King Cheng's part only reinforces the ruler's authority and entrenches the Duke of Zhou in his subordinate position.Footnote ⁸²

The same concern in the hierarchy between King Cheng and the Duke of Zhou is pervasive throughout the Shi ji, and it is worth looking at several details unparalleled in either the manuscript or the received text. The first is an episode about the Duke of Zhou's anticipation of his death:

As is consistent with the interest in the Duke of Zhou's post-mortem treatment, pointed out earlier, this passage reports a disagreement between the Duke of Zhou and King Cheng over the rites that he is to receive after his death. Here King Cheng is unreserved in his decision to bury the Duke in the same royal cemetery as King Wen, thus affording him a regnal privilege: 以明予小子不敢臣周公也 “To make clear that ‘I, the little one,’ did not venture to treat the Duke of Zhou as a vassal.”Footnote ⁸⁴ By contrast, it is perhaps an indication of the Duke of Zhou's humility that before his passing, he expresses the wish to be buried elsewhere: 以明吾不敢離成王 “To make clear that I do not venture to leave King Cheng.” In a closely related account in a fragment of the Shang shu dazhuan 尚書大傳 (Great commentary of the Book of Documents), this last statement is stated more explicitly: 示天下臣于成王 “to show the world that I am a vassal to King Cheng.”Footnote ⁸⁵ This completes the parallel and reveals how the topic of the Duke of Zhou's post-mortem treatment was embedded in the more serious concern about the respective places between him and King Cheng.Footnote ⁸⁶ In another passage from earlier in the Shi ji, again unattested in either the manuscript or the received text, one finds the following:

Particularly noteworthy in this passage is the attention to the detail about the Duke of Zhou's position vis-à-vis the ruler. As a regent, the Duke of Zhou assumes the place of the ruler and faces south, looking out to his subjects; but as soon as he returns power to King Cheng, he takes the place of the subject, now facing north.Footnote ⁸⁸ This betrays the same concern as what I have suggested above, only that one is concerned with the Duke of Zhou's place while he is still alive, and one with that after his death. In both cases, the Duke of Zhou is to occupy a subordinate place. And if he was to be elevated any higher, this could only come about as a result of the ruler's order.Footnote ⁸⁹

For another detail from the Shi ji, absent from the both the manuscript and the received text, it is possible to mention the suggestion that King Cheng is still a swaddled infant when he inherits the throne, with the Duke of Zhou acting as regent. As pointed out by several scholars, such a detail is inconsistent with the rest of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” including King Cheng's reading of the “Chixiao” and his reconciliation with the Duke of Zhou; it would be more plausible if he was older when he became ruler and older still when the said events took place. This view is undoubtedly correct, though I also think King Cheng's infancy is not simply a bungling of the timeline, but instead an attempt to legitimatize the Duke of Zhou's regency. The weaker or more infantile King Cheng is, the more natural and more unproblematic it is for the Duke of Zhou to dominate the court as he does. While such a tradition is unique to the Shi ji among the three versions of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” it can be found in several other sources and must have not been the invention of Sima Qian alone.Footnote ⁹⁰

Related to the controversy about King Cheng's age when he assumes the throne, one might think of two further details in early Western Zhou chronology, touched upon by “The Metal-bound Coffer”: the precise year of King Wu's passing, and the number of years that the Duke of Zhou spends in the east, regardless of the purpose. Like the controversy about King Cheng's age, these are two events about which there are many disagreements among the sources, even though the evidence does not permit one to reach any certain conclusions. Still, it should be clear from the discussion above how attempts to reconstruct early Western Zhou chronology could be extremely problematic, failing as they do to take into account the ideologies behind the sources. This is a topic on which I will have more to say later in the study.

Finally, the Shi ji is also unique among the three versions of “The Metal-bound Coffer” in that it reports an additional prayer made by the Duke of Zhou, on behalf of King Cheng, when the latter falls ill. This episode so closely resembles the earlier account of the Duke of Zhou's prayer for King Wu that it can only be regarded as a variation on the same theme. As in his prayer for King Wu, the Duke of Zhou offers to exchange his life for King Cheng's. However, this second prayer says nothing about the Duke of Zhou's talents or his assumption of the ruler's responsibilities (see discussion below). I believe these differences only underscore his loyalty to King Cheng, not the possibility that he might overtake him. This is no doubt the reason that Sima Qian does not think it redundant to include this episode.

In this way, coming back to the received text of the “Metal-bound coffer,” one can see how it understands the last part of the narrative in a way consistent with the Shi ji. Where the manuscript records the first instance of ni, about King Cheng not “greeting” the Duke of Zhou, the received text has gan qiao 敢誚 “to dare blame,” a reading that does not differ significantly from gan xun “to dare admonish” of the Shi ji. Where the manuscript has King Cheng actually meeting the Duke of Zhou, the received text merely says that he “goes forth to the suburbs” (wang chu jiao 王出郊), thus leaving it unclear whether this is to “greet” the Duke of Zhou in person or to receive his remains. The only appearance of ni in the received text is King Cheng's assertion that his “greeting” of the Duke of Zhou is ritually proper, but this, too, can be interpreted either way. Whoever transmitted the received text must have thought, as Sima Qian did in writing the Shi ji, that it was problematic for King Cheng to greet the Duke of Zhou. However, having removed this scenario, he did not change the narrative as radically as Sima Qian did by reshuffling the events or introducing additional content to it. The result is a certain ambiguity as to which version of the story he really wanted to tell.

As for the ancient commentators, in the case of Kong Anguo, the Duke of Zhou is still alive when King Cheng realizes his mistake, and in the latter's anticipation of his return, he does consider “greeting” him. However, by insisting that the word modifying this act of greeting, xin 新, should be read as it is, meaning “anew” (rather than the more natural qin 親 “personally” from the same phonetic series), Kong is able to twist the meaning of the text so King Cheng avoids a direct encounter with the Duke of Zhou.Footnote ⁹¹ As Kong explains, it is after King Cheng has “reformed and renewed himself” (gaiguo zixin 改過自新) that he “dispatches an envoy to greet him” (qian shizhe ying zhi 遣使者迎之). As for Zheng Xuan, he is silent on this part of the received text, and only alludes to King Cheng's greeting of the Duke of Zhou under another poem from the Odes, the “Jiu yu” 九罭 (Nine nets), thus leaving one guessing whether he has a position worked out.Footnote ⁹² Perhaps for Zheng, any kind of transgression on the Duke of Zhou's part was permissible as long as he served as regent, nominally a position ordained by the ruler.Footnote ⁹³

The remainder of this section will look at one more set of discussions about the Duke of Zhou and ritual. This is a minor but not insignificant detail about ancestral sacrifices, particularly the type of bull offered to the Duke of Zhou. For those who have little interest in such a matter, I suggest skipping over the rest of this sub-section to go directly to my analysis of the next variant in “The Metal-bound Coffer.” For those who do not mind working through the relevant scholastic debates, I believe this topic uncovers the reasoning behind one of the Duke of Zhou's most lasting legacies.

I will begin with a discussion attributed to Dong Zhongshu and recorded in Chunqiu fanlu “Jiaoshi dui” 郊事對 (An official response regarding the suburban sacrifice).Footnote ⁹⁴ This is a discussion concerning the jiao 郊 “suburban” sacrifices, offerings made to Heaven and the ancestors in exchange for a year of success in the cultivation of the crops. Arguably the most important ritual for an agricultural society, such sacrifices were made by the royal court and the various polities, each with its own ancestors. According to Dong, whereas the Duke of Zhou, as the ancestor of the state of Lu, was offered the baimu 白牡 “white bull,” the royal ruler was offered the xinggang 騂犅 “red bull,” and the other feudal lords were offered the bumao 不毛 “motley bull.” As Dong explains: 故成王使祭周公以白牡，上不得與天子同色，下有異於諸侯 “Thus King Cheng used a white bull when ordering the sacrificial offering for the Duke of Zhou. With respect to his superior, it was not the same color sacrificial victim as that used by the Son of Heaven, and with respect to his subordinates, it was different from that used by the feudal lords.” In other words, the bulls used in ancestral sacrifices are distinguished according to the statuses of the figures to whom the offerings are made, with the ruler being the most elevated, followed by the Duke of Zhou, and finally the rest of the feudal lords. Intriguingly, when one compares this with a similar account in the Gongyang zhuan 公羊傳 (The Gongyang tradition of the Spring and Autumn), one finds an important difference.Footnote ⁹⁵ While the two texts concur on what the feudal lords and the Duke of Zhou received, the Gongyang zhuan states that it was the later rulers of Lu, rather than the Son of Heaven as asserted by the Chunqiu fanlu, that received the red bull. In this way, the particular type of sacrificial animal offered to the highest authority, according to one text, was now given to a lesser figure, according to another. This is all the more unusual given that a part of the Gongyang zhuan is actually quoted by the Chunqiu fanlu. Needless to say, such a difference is important because the grading of the red, white, and motley bull has a direct bearing for understanding how the Duke of Zhou was regarded: did he enjoy a privilege that equaled the Son of Heaven?

To account for this disagreement, I believe it is necessary to look more carefully at the Chunqiu fanlu and the nature of the discussion by Dong Zhongshu. Here the dialogic format is characteristic of the scholarly tradition of the Chun qiu 春秋 (Spring and autumn annals), seen sporadically in the Zuo zhuan, but more frequently encountered in the Gongyang and Guliang 穀梁 commentaries. The very fact that some matters need to be explained and clarified suggests that the ritual institutions were being codified and standardized as the interlocutors spoke. Thus one should be careful not to take Dong's response at face value, but instead look into the particular concerns that his response addresses. In this way, it is worth reading more closely the question that prompts Dong's reply about sacrificial bull: 周天子用騂犅，群公不毛；周公，諸公也，何以得用純牲 “The Zhou Son of Heaven used a red bull to offer in sacrifice, whereas the numerous dukes used motley bulls to offer in sacrifice. The Duke of Zhou was a duke. How then was he able to use a pure-colored bull to offer in sacrifice?” What confuses the novice is why the Duke of Zhou, a mere feudal lord like the other ones, should have been treated any differently and offered the chunsheng 純牲 “pure-colored bull” rather than the more conventional bumao “motley bull.” Notice that the question implies an equation of the bull that the Duke of Zhou receives with that for the ruler: whether it is the xinggang “red bull” or the baimu “white bull,” as seen earlier in the Chunqiu fanlu, both are chunsheng “pure-colored bulls.” Certainly this is what the novice observes, that there does not seem to be any distinction between the Duke of Zhou and the ruler in this regard. It is also what is implied in the Gongyang commentary: both the Duke of Zhou and his descendants, i.e. the later rulers of Lu are offered pure-colored bulls, whereas the other feudal lords are offered the motley bulls of a lower grade. Herein lies the crux of the matter and the source of all the discussions to follow. For the novice, this is a matter of some concern, hence the question about ritual propriety. In his reply, Dong attempts to account for this by suggesting that the red and white bulls are slightly differentiated, but such a response is prescriptive in nature and introduces a distinction that is more Dong's innovation than reality as perceived by the novice.Footnote ⁹⁶

The background of these scholastic discussions is the widely shared tradition that the state of Lu was permitted to perform the suburban sacrifices that were otherwise the exclusive privilege of the Zhou ruler, thanks to the distinguished career of the Duke of the Zhou and the honor that King Cheng had bestowed on him.Footnote ⁹⁷ Like the discussion about the reception of his remains and that about his burial in the royal cemetery, this tradition also concerns the question whether the status of the Duke of Zhou might have been so elevated that it ended up surpassing that of the ruler.

From an even broader perspective, it is not insignificant that ritual institution is the topic underlying all of the discussions about the Duke of Zhou, cited in this sub-section. No doubt these discussions played a role in the oft-repeated tradition that it was the Duke of Zhou who instituted the rites and music of the Zhou. One could go a step further and emphasize the importance of the events narrated in “The Metal-bound Coffer.” By returning the throne to King Cheng, the Duke of Zhou safeguarded the succession from King Wu to King Cheng and set a precedent for primogeniture that was to become the norm for the remainder of the Zhou, and indeed much of Chinese history. This contrasted with the Shang, where the genealogies recorded in both the received literary record and inscriptional sources confirm that succession was determined by seniority within an enclosed group. In the eyes of later authors, the Zhou marked the beginning of a new era. Once the institutions surrounding succession were put in place, not only was it clear where the Duke of Zhou stood vis-à-vis King Wu and King Cheng, but it was natural for the other rites (e.g. whether to inter one in the royal cemetery and whether descendants such as the rulers of Lu were permitted to perform the suburban sacrifices) to fall in line.Footnote ⁹⁸

Thanks to the study, Chinese Society in the Age of Confucius (1000–250 BC): The Archaeological Evidence, by Lothar von Falkenhausen, the tradition that the Duke of Zhou instituted the rites and music of the Zhou has received much attention recently. Drawing on earlier research by Jessica Rawson, Falkenhausen comments at length on the so-called Late Western Zhou ritual reform and corroborates it with evidence from the archaeological record for which his monograph offers such a valuable synthesis.Footnote ⁹⁹ Yet it seems to me that Falkenhausen overstates his case when he uses these findings to challenge any possible role that the Duke of Zhou might have played. After all, the archaeological record and the tradition about the Duke of Zhou largely speak past one another: the Duke of Zhou belonged to the highest level of Western Zhou society and was active during the period of its founding, and it is difficult to find evidence for either in the archaeological record. If one were to try to incorporate evidence from the archaeological record into the tradition about the Duke of Zhou and early Western Zhou (more plausible and probably easier than the other way around), then it seems to me that one ought to begin by entertaining the possibility that they do not contradict one another.

A final passage to be considered is from the first part of “The Metal-bound Coffer”: after the Duke of Zhou has prayed to the ancestors about King Wu's illness, he performs a divination. Meeting a favorable result, he consults a divination guidebook and confirms that it is indeed auspicious. The Duke of Zhou goes on to make a statement, reported in the received text as the following:

In my reading of this passage, the statement by the Duke of Zhou is his prognostication, a prediction based on the results of the divination. As noted by previous scholars, such expressions as yi xi ji 一習吉 “all alike were favorable” and wang qi wang hai 王其罔害 “the king will suffer no harm” resemble the language of divinatory records from the Shang and are indications of their very ancient roots.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ The same is true with the expression yu yiren 予一人 “I the lone man,” a form of self-address used by the ruler, seen also in inscriptional sources.Footnote ¹⁰¹ In the context of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” I understand this to be the Duke of Zhou's reference to himself, and I take the related yu xiaozi 予小子 “I the humble prince” to be a variation, a humbler form that emphasizes the Duke of Zhou's inferior place vis-à-vis the ancestors.Footnote ¹⁰² When he says “It is for a lasting future that I have planned” (wei yongzhong shi tu 惟永終是圖), this does not refer to his own longevity, but the welfare of the state that will be enhanced by his self-sacrifice. When he says “What I now await is that they will have concern for me, the lone man” (zi you si, neng nian yu yiren 茲攸俟，能念予一人), this refers to the summoning of the ancestors, or death. The word si 俟 “to await” carries the same meaning from an earlier statement in the Duke of Zhou's prayer: 爾之許我，我其以璧與珪，歸俟爾命 “If you grant what I request, I will take these discs and this mace and will go back and await your command.” There the Duke of Zhou is negotiating with the ancestors over King Wu's recovery and pledging the precious objects as well as his own life. “To await” implies the surrender of any further action in anticipation of one's death. In his later statement, the Duke of Zhou tries to reinforce this earlier agreement: the ancestors should “have concern” (nian 念) only for him, because he, the lone man, has taken on all the ruler's responsibilities, for the moment at least, and now stands as the sole representative of the descendants in the human realm.

It is possible to compare this section of “The Metal-bound Coffer” with a passage in Mozi “Jian ai (zhong)” 兼愛中 (Ungraded love [middle]), where King Wu discusses his principle of governing. When encouraging the people to do good, he reserves his highest esteem to those who have the virtue of ren (benevolence), and when punishing them, he the “lone man” takes all the blame that might be incurred. In the account by Mozi: 雖有周親，不若仁人；萬方有罪，維予一人 “Although I have close relatives, their help was not equal to that of the benevolent men. Should crimes be committed any place, I, the one man, alone am to blame.”Footnote ¹⁰³ Here, as is consistent with my reading of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” the expression yu yiren appears as a form of self-address, not a reference to another person, and it is an assertion of the ruler's absolute power. To be sure, there are several other ancient texts where this same adage is found, as an advice offered to King Wu by the Duke of Zhou.Footnote ¹⁰⁴ In all of these cases, however, there is no confusion between the two figures. If the Duke of Zhou makes an appearance, then he appears as a loyal subject, subordinate to King Wu and never to supplant the ruler in any way.Footnote ¹⁰⁵

On this basis, one can turn to the Shi ji and consider how it conveys the Duke of Zhou's prognostication:

By prefacing the statement with the phrase: 周公入賀武王曰 “The Duke of Zhou entered and congratulated King Wu,” the Shi ji makes it clear that the Duke Zhou is speaking to King Wu, thus removing any doubt that yu yiren “I the lone man” at the end could refer to anyone but King Wu. With regard to yu xiaozi “I the humble prince” from the received text, the Shiji has in its place Dan 旦, the Duke of Zhou's personal name, and this, too, is unambiguous. Such differences result in a text where King Wu and the Duke of Zhou are firmly lodged in their respective places as ruler and subject, but in my view, they are also the smoking gun that hints at a deliberate effort to rewrite what must have been regarded as a problematic text.

The same is true with the commentary by Kong Anguo. Consider his paraphrase of the Duke of Zhou's statement: 周公言：我小子新受三王之命，武王惟長終是謀周之道 “The Duke of Zhou says: Our humble prince has newly received a mandate from the three kings; it is for a lasting future that King Wu makes plans for the Zhou.” And for the second part: 言武王愈，此所以待能念我天子事，成周道 “This says that King Wu is cured and awaits here to concern himself with his affairs as the Son of Heaven and to bring the Zhou way to completion.”Footnote ¹⁰⁷ In the first instance, Kong understands wo xiaozi 我小子 to refer to King Wu, and this is how I have translated his paraphrase; and he inserts Wuwang 武王 to emphasize the continuity between the two phrases.Footnote ¹⁰⁸ In the second instance, by replacing yu yiren with wo tianzi 我天子 “our Son of Heaven,” this also resolves the ambiguity of the original statement, since there can only be one Son of Heaven: King Wu.

In light of this discussion, when one turns to the manuscript, it is striking that the prognostication does not appear there at all. After the account about the Duke of Zhou's prayer to the ancestors, the manuscript simply reports that he stores the prayer in the metal-bound coffer, and then the narrative skips right to the beginning of his regency. Given what is known about the manuscript—it is an authentic document from the Warring States, relatively early in date and untouched by later transmitters—and given that there is no clear rupture in the narrative, many scholars have suggested that the absence of this section represents the earliest and most original among the three testimonies.Footnote ¹⁰⁹ I would like to suggest differently. If, as previous scholars say, “The Metal-bound Coffer” did not originally have the prognostication by the Duke of Zhou, it would be difficult to explain why ancient transmitters introduced this section, only then to look for ways to rewrite it. Instead, it is more likely that they included this section because they had to; it had been handed down from a credible ancient source. This is consistent with the linguistic features of the additional section, as noted before, which correspond to inscriptional sources from as early as the Shang. In this way, I believe the received text and the manuscript simply represent two different transmissions of “The Metal-bound Coffer.” If the received text was “later,” that is, it introduced materials to “The Metal-bound Coffer” that had not been there before, these materials must have been culled from another source no later than the original “Metal-bound Coffer.” Similarly, if the manuscript was “later,” that is, “The Metal-bound Coffer” had certain materials to begin with, only to have them removed at a later point, one cannot completely rule out that this removal took place at an earlier point prior to the writing of the manuscript, and the manuscript was simply inheriting this excised version from an earlier testimony. I make these comments in order to complicate one's understanding of a potentially controversial conclusion. Whichever the case, it was in the hands of Sima Qian and Kong Anguo that the prognostication underwent a radical transformation as the most problematic statements were rewritten or reinterpreted to reflect a more proper relation between the Duke of Zhou and King Wu.

For each of the three passages considered in this section, I begin with a comparison of the three testimonies of “The Metal-bound Coffer.” For the first two passages, it is possible to posit the manuscript as the earliest reading and proceed to understand the other testimonies, the received text of the Documents and the Shi ji, on that basis. In the case of the third passage, I believe the received text is the earliest, though this is not the received text as interpreted traditionally, but a simpler and more direct reading, proposed by me and based on evidence internal to the text. This allows me to consider the differences with the Shi ji, the interpretation attributed to the early commentator Kong Anguo, and the manuscript. The lack of any consistency in the ordering of the testimonies is unsurprising, given what must have been a much greater number of testimonies in circulation during this period; the three that happen to have survived represent only three instantiations in these multiple lines of transmission, and one cannot assume any absolute relation. That being said, the story they tell is the same over and over again. In each case, the comparison reveals an effort by transmitters, commentators, and the re-teller to emphasize the Duke of Zhou's subordinate role vis-à-vis the ruler. By matching this understanding with other ancient sources independent of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” I am able to suggest that such an effort was no isolated phenomenon; instead, it reflects a broader discourse about the Duke of Zhou, both a debate of conflicting opinions about him and a concerted move to cast him in a certain light.

As encountered in these three passages, their discrepancies may include textual variants that can be further analyzed as words from the same phonetic series (ning 佞 versus ren 仁, pi 辟 versus bi 避, yi 貽 versus yi 怡, and qin 親 versus xin 新), phonetic loans (yi 貽 *lə versus wei 遺 *[G][r]uj-s) or near synonyms (qiao 誚 “to blame” versus xun 訓 “to admonish”). In the case of qiao 誚 and ni 逆, the relation is less certain and perhaps involves both graphic confusion and phonetic loaning.Footnote ¹¹⁰ But these are only some of the differences. If one included the insertion of additional words, sentences, even sections; the introduction of scenarios and the rearrangement of the sequence of events, then the matter is even more complex. Surely it is no accident that such variations all occur within a text that is also politically sensitive, to say the least. While this illustrates the multivalence enabled by the Chinese writing system and attests to the “joyful excess” of manuscript culture, it is most primarily driven by textual exegesis, or more precisely, the ideological interests of the various parties involved in the discourses about the Duke of Zhou—the transmitters, commentators, and the re-teller—all of whom sought to fashion a certain image of the Duke of Zhou.Footnote ¹¹¹ For a text such as “The Metal-bound Coffer,” where each variation can have significant ramifications for the entire narrative, meaning was created, literally, by all these individuals working within the same textual tradition. Simply put, these later readers portrayed a Duke of Zhou who, in spite of his close ties with King Wu and his high position under King Cheng, must not undermine the ruler in any way. From this emerged the Duke of Zhou the loyal minister, an image every bit as constructed as the benevolent sage that I discussed in the first section, and every bit as influential.

The Duke of Zhou, Alone and Silent

It remains for me to consider some additional discussions of the Duke of Zhou in ancient texts. In a passage from Mozi “Geng Zhu” 耕柱, the Duke of Zhou appears as someone who was so misunderstood by the world that he was called kuang 狂 “demented”:

In spite of this, as Mozi points out, he was vindicated and ultimately saw his reputation change for the better. What is most interesting about the discussion is its reference to the Duke of Zhou's taking up residence in the east. Elsewhere in the Mozi, there is another passage in the “Fei ru” 非儒 (Condemn the Ru), which also seems to allude to this episode in his career. This is a cryptic comment attributed to Confucius: 周公旦非其人也邪？何為舍亓家室而託寓也 “How can Dan, Duke of Zhou, be regarded as the right person? He abandoned his familial home and went off to live alone.”Footnote ¹¹³ Though Confucius never explains the reasons for his disapproval, one does find Mozi's disapproval of Confucius’ disapproval, which is that the venerated master has placed too much emphasis on xinshu 心術 “the workings of the heart,” or what the heart dictates. Presumably, for Confucius, the Duke of Zhou's abandonment of his home was a breach of the virtue of ren, defined elsewhere by Confucius as the love for one's kin. Instead, this decision by the Duke of Zhou was evidence of his devotion to the state and the welfare of the people, and for Mozi this (perhaps an indication of the Duke of Zhou's sense of public duty, or yi “righteousness”) was good enough. If this reading is correct, then the two positions represented by Confucius and Mozi would be consistent with the debate about the Duke of Zhou's moral character, mentioned in the first section of this study. Whereas those other discussions criticize the Duke of Zhou for not being ren, these two passages from the Mozi simply accept it, make no attempt to defend him, and instead find in him another virtue worthy of praise.

As mentioned in the second section, the suggestion that the Duke of Zhou “escaped” to the east can be seen in Zheng Xuan's commentary on “The Metal-bound Coffer.” The two passages from the Mozi reinforce my earlier point that this was part of a larger interpretative tradition surrounding the Duke of Zhou, by no means Zheng Xuan's innovation alone. In fact, a comparison of the two shows that they are not wholly consistent with one another. On the one hand, Zheng Xuan takes the retirement to emphasize that the Duke of Zhou was ren in avoiding the conflict with his brothers. By contrast, Mozi evidently takes it to be a manifestation of his yi, since he was acting out of his concern for the people. Thus the same event is interpreted differently according to the interests of different authors. A further difference is that Mozi takes the “home” of the “Fei ru” to refer to the Duke of Zhou's own home, whereas for Zheng Xuan, it is the homes of his followers. With this example, I hope I have drawn attention once again to the complexities of the various opinions about the Duke of Zhou.Footnote ¹¹⁴

Finally, one can also compare the two Mozi passages with another comment attributed to Confucius in a fragment of the Shizi 尸子. Here Confucius expresses his opinion about the Duke of Zhou's stepping down from the position of regent and returning power to King Cheng:

In other words, if the Duke of Zhou had truly been concerned about the welfare of the people, he would have retained his power, rather than returning it to King Cheng. In terms of their critical tone, these remarks resemble those words attributed to Confucius in the “Fei ru,” but in their actual content, they are closer to Mozi's position in emphasizing the Duke of Zhou's service to the people. The Shizi fragment is also interesting for hinting at the possibility that the Duke of Zhou might supplant King Cheng on the throne, a theme touched upon in the discussion above.

But the topic that I want to return to is the one about the Duke of Zhou being misunderstood. As I read through the “Chixiao,” “The Metal-bound Coffer” and various ancient discussions about the Duke of Zhou, the following image lingers on with me: night, the Duke of Zhou alone, accompanied by a shadow only barely visible, with a dim light in the distance. If one tries to imagine what it was like to be the Duke of Zhou, there must have been a moment in this man's life when he was alone, isolated, and understood by no one. Much of this was a result of his unusual role: a powerful statesman who also happened to be the king's younger brother, and later the successor's uncle. Whenever a vacuum of power appeared at court, the Duke of Zhou was the incumbent whether or not he actually took over the throne.Footnote ¹¹⁶ One recalls that this was a time when the remnant forces of the Shang were not yet fully subjugated, and internally, some dissensions were brewing among the other royalties (and eventually led to the breakaway of the brothers Guan and Cai). To assist the ruler, the Duke of Zhou had to stand in his place, yet if his effort proved effective and his capacity as a ruler thus validated, he would have to step aside immediately. Such was the dilemma that he faced. In the context of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” this dilemma is illustrated by the object that gives the text its title: sealed away and unknown to others, his true intentions were nevertheless good. It is also the reason that several ancient texts mention the Duke of Shao, another senior statesman at court and a royalty, being bu yue 不說 “displeased” with him.Footnote ¹¹⁷ But the basis of my imagination is the following statement in Huainanzi “Miu cheng” 繆稱 (Profound precepts): 夫察所夜行，周公慙乎景，故君子慎其獨也 “Now when he examined his evening gait, the Duke of Zhou was embarrassed by his shadow; thus the gentleman is watchful over himself when alone.”Footnote ¹¹⁸ The great Qing philologist Wang Niansun 王念孫 believes that a character bu 不 has accidentally dropped from the text, and the text should read Zhougong bu can hu ying 周公不慙乎景 “The Duke of Zhou was not embarrassed by his shadow.” In many ways, this proposal and one's decision to accept or reject it mirror the choices that the Duke of Zhou must have faced: whether or not to step in King Wu's place and offer himself in sacrifice; whether or not to punish his siblings in the interest of the nascent state; whether or not to return the throne to young King Cheng and resume his role as a minister. Such are the choices that break or make a hero. As for which side of history the Duke of Zhou finally came out on, it depends on who you ask. Personally, I think he fared pretty well.

The hiddenness of the Duke of Zhou's intentions lies at the heart of another discussion, an anecdote from Shuo yuan (Garden of Sayings) “Zhi wu” 指武 (Rebuffing prowess):

This anecdote follows a conventional setup seen in countless ancient texts: the exchange between a teacher and his pupil. The narrative is told skillfully. As the main interlocutor Master Wang Man draws closer to the Duke of Zhou, he reveals more of his lesson. In this way the anecdote dramatizes the theme of hiddenness central to “The Metal-bound Coffer.” Just as his decision to punish his brothers is understood by no one in that story, here the Duke of Zhou is advised to do so by a mysterious interlocutor whose message is ultimately unspeakable. Note that an episode similar to the Shuo yuan anecdote is recorded in a Lüshi chunqiu text called the “Jing yu” 精諭 (On subtle communication), and there the exchange is between the Duke of Zhou and a speaker identified as Sheng Shu 勝書, literally “more preferable than writing.”Footnote ¹²⁰ In both cases, the factitiousness of the narrative cannot hide the Duke of Zhou's predicament, and yet it is through such imaginary retelling that one catches a glimpse of what might have been his actual state of mind. As with the numerous texts cited throughout this study, there is much in the literary record about the Duke of Zhou and the discourses that have dominated later perceptions of him, waiting to be excavated and reread from a fresh perspective.