Ever since Hayden White declared that as a literary artifact the historical text is indistinguishable from fiction,Footnote 1 the study of historiography has ceased to be the prerogative of historians. It is thus no accident that we owe some of the finest recent works on the Zuo zhuan, China's oldest narrative history, not to historians but to scholars of Chinese literature. In her splendid book on The Readability of the Past in Early Chinese Historiography (Cambridge 2007) Li Wai-yee demonstrates just how fruitful it is to treat Chinese historiography from a literary perspective. She puts to rest the “idea that kernels of historical truth can or should be separated from the rich verbal fabric” in favor of “what is more germane to the sense of history,” namely “the conscious formulation of patterns and principles to understand the past” (Li 2007, pp. 2–3).
The Zuo zhuan's history, then, is a rhetorically “patterned past” (Schaberg 2001). But Li wai-yee adds an important observation to this well-known insight: “This rhetoric is, however, imposed on a reality of violence and disorder,” in fact it is “a corrective rhetoric to a reality of violence and disorder,” and sometimes “the more exalted the rhetoric, the more violent the reality” (Li 2007, pp. 4, 8, 12). Thus history turns out to be not a mirror of the past but a remedy for an unsettling present. The “rhetoric of order” that “presumes and fosters continuity” (Li 2007, p. 4) actually reflects rampant disorder and a disquieting awareness of discontinuity. This strikingly cogent argument leads to an entirely new perspective on the historiography of the Zuo zhuan, which Li Wai-yee illustrates in great detail. Discussing the interpretation of (in)auspicious signs, the function of music, the role of women, the evaluation of gestures, effects of divination, and many other topics that shape Zuo zhuan narratives, she provides thoughtful insights into diverse ways in which the past and the present were constructed in the Zuo zhuan.
In what follows, I will focus on the fundamental issue that underlies Li Wai-yee's case studies, namely the “shape of history” (Li 2007, p. 27). Gathering numerous clues distributed throughout the book, occasionally reading between the lines and expanding on Li Wai-yee's thoughts, I shall try to identify some very basic “patterns and principles to understand the past”: ways in which history was constructed in Zuo zhuan narratives and, indeed, in ancient China at large.Footnote 2
History as Compensation
The principle of compensation outlined above—the rhetoric of order making up for the disorder at hand—provides an appropriate starting point for this discussion, since it applies not only to the narratives of Zuo zhuan. Rather, it may be regarded as the underlying principle of history in toto. Just like traditions are invented “when a rapid transformation of society weakens or destroys the social patterns for which ‘old’ traditions had been designed,”Footnote 3 so “history begins only at the point where tradition ends.”Footnote 4 The sense of history is born from the awakening to the fact that the past was essentially different from the present.Footnote 5 Nota bene, this is not a comforting thought. Rather, the awareness of discontinuity is a disturbing problem, and it is precisely this problem that is being addressed by historiography. Arguably, the basic function of historiography is to compensate for this perceived discontinuity by constructing new continuities. Whereas historical consciousness by definition presupposes the knowledge of change in time, historical narrative “fosters continuity” by suggesting that despite all the changes some things have stayed the same. History, then, serves as a remedy for the disruption in temporal coherence.Footnote 6
In China, the need for such a remedy seems to have arisen in the middle Western Zhou period, which saw thorough-going military, administrative, land, and ritual reforms as well as the decline of the Zhou which culminated in the overthrow of a Zhou king in 842 b.c.e.Footnote 7 These were epochal transformations. It is perhaps no accident that precisely at this time the Chinese seemed to have acquired a sense of history.Footnote 8 The difference between past and present was deplored in contemporary bronze inscriptions, and even more significantly, the first genealogical texts were written. The most striking examples are those found on the Shi Qiang pan and the Lai pan, which recount the succession of the Wei and Shan families, respectively.Footnote 9 “Happy and helpful was Ancestor Yi! … Clear-eyed and bright was Grandfather Xin of the branch lineage! … Extending and even was my cultured deceased-father Duke Yi! … Filial and convivial is Scribe Qiang!”Footnote 10
Apparently, the function of such genealogies was to bridge the gap between a past, one that seemed increasingly removed, and the present: they were precisely what Li Wai-yee calls “a corrective rhetoric.”Footnote 11 They evoke permanence in change by claiming that despite all historical transformations the family line has remained unbroken.
Traditional History
This form of historical narrative that harks back to the “origins of present world orders and life forms” may be called “traditional history.”Footnote 12 It invokes an uninterrupted tradition which, despite all surrounding historical change, still provides valid guidance in the present. This seems to have been the most ancient form of historiography in China. Traditional history appears not only in middle Western Zhou bronze inscriptions, but also in some songs of the Shi jing that recount the genealogy of the Shang and Zhou, drawing a line from remote origins to the present and thereby concealing the disruptions of historical change.Footnote 13 Looking for the “shape of history” in ancient China, the first one encounters is a vector.
“Traditional history” also figures very prominently in the Zuo zhuan. Among the most well known examples is a speech by Zichan of Zheng to a Jin minister upon Zheng's invasion of Chen that Li Wai-yee discusses on pp. 375–76:
Formerly Yu Efu became the Zhou director of pottery production so as to serve our former king. Our former king, in recognition of how his vessels benefited all, and also of his descent from Shun, the sage king of divine illumination, gave his eldest daughter, Tai Ji, in marriage to Yu Efu's son, Hugong, and put him in power in Chen to complete the honors due the “three respected lines.” Thus Chen came from our Zhou house, and to this day relies on its beneficence. With the unrest following the death of Lord Huan of Chen, the leaders of Cai wanted to establish as ruler the Chen heir born of a Cai lady. Our former ruler, Lord Zhuang, supported Wufu and established him as ruler. The leaders of Cai killed him, and we worked with them to support and maintain Lord Li. Coming to Lords Zhuang and Xuan, each was established as ruler by us. During the rebellion of Xia Zhengshu, Lord Cheng wandered as an exile, and was also brought back into Chen through our effort. That is something you, my lord, knew about. Now Chen has forgotten the great virtue and beneficence of Zhou, rejected our ties by marriage, and relied on Chu forces to threaten and demolish our humble settlement. It could not be satisfied. That was why we had last year's request.
昔虞閼父為周陶正，以服事我先王。我先王賴其利器用也，與其神明之後也，庸以元女大姬配胡公，而封諸陳，以備三恪。則我周之自出，至于今是賴。桓公之亂，蔡人欲立其出，我先君莊公奉五父而立之，蔡人殺之，我又與蔡人奉戴厲公。至於莊、宣，皆我之自立。夏氏之亂，成公播蕩，又我之自入，君所知也。今陳忘周之大德，蔑我大惠，棄我姻親，介恃楚眾，以憑陵我敝邑，不可億逞，我是以有往年之告。(Zuo zhuan Xiang 25.10, 1104–5)Footnote 14
Throughout his speech, Zichan refers to historical origins and the resulting obligations that are irrevocable “to this day.” He describes an unbroken line from the past to the present, arguing that—whatever other historical changes there may have been—the relationship between Zhou and Chen remains unchanged. Interestingly, this argument is—pace Li Wai-yee (Li 2007, p. 376)—entirely amoral. Zichan offers a compelling appeal to the “binding origins of present life forms and their permanent enforcement,”Footnote 15 showing no concern whatsoever for ritual propriety, righteousness, humaneness, reverence, good faith, or other “virtue words” (Li 2007, p. 7). The one seeming exception, de 德, arguably does not refer to moral virtue at all. Being “perhaps the most multifaceted and disputed term of ancient Chinese political, ethical, and religious discourse,”Footnote 16de originally referred to the ruler's charisma (or perhaps his very commands) or power.Footnote 17 In Chunqiu times, de was increasingly associated with ministers or junzi as well, and the concept came to acquire ethical meanings, eventually turning into a virtus moralis.Footnote 18 In Zichan's speech, however, the term is only associated with the Zhou rulers, apparently still retaining the old meaning of binding power. As such, de is in fact a key term in traditional history which is invoked time and again. In Wangsun Mang's famous reply to the Chu king's inquiry regarding the nine tripods, the regalia of Zhou (discussed in Li 2007, 300–301), the term appears no fewer than six times:
Size and weight depend on virtue, not on the cauldrons. In the past, just when Xia possessed virtue, men from afar depict various creatures, and the nine superintendents submitted metal, so that cauldrons were cast with images of various creatures. The hundred things were therewith completely set forth, and the people thus knew the spirits and the evil things. That was why when the people entered rivers, marshes, mountains, and forests, they would not meet what could harm them, and the sprites of the hills and waters could not get at them. Thus they were able to harmonize with those above and below them and to receive heaven's blessings. The last Xia king, Jie, possessed dimmed virtue, and the cauldrons were moved to the house of Shang, there to remain for six hundred years. The last Shang king, Zhou, was violent and tyrannical, and the cauldrons were moved to the house of Zhou. When virtue is bright and resplendent, the cauldrons, though small, are heavy. When virtue is distorted, dimmed, and confused, the cauldrons, though large, are light. Heaven blesses those of bright virtue, giving them the place for realizing and maintaining it. When King Cheng put the cauldrons in place at Jiaru, he divined on the number of generations and got thirty; he divined on the number of years and got seven hundred. This is what Heaven has commanded. Although Zhou virtue is in decline, the heavenly command has not yet changed. The question of whether the cauldrons are light or heavy may not be asked yet.
在德不在鼎。昔夏之方有德也，遠方圖物，貢金九牧，鑄鼎象物，百物而為之備，使民知神、姦。故民入川澤、山林，不逢不若。螭魅罔兩，莫能逢之。用能協于上下，以承天休。桀有昏德，鼎遷于商，載祀六百。商紂暴虐，鼎遷于周。德之休明，雖小、重也。其姦回昏亂，雖大、輕也。天祚明德，有所厎止。成王定鼎于郟鄏，卜世三十，卜年七百，天所命也。周德雖衰，天命未改。鼎之輕重，未可問也。(Zuo zhuan Xuan 3, 669–72)
Again a piece of traditional history, the cauldrons being the symbol for continuity in change and the proof that “the heavenly command has not yet changed.” Although Li Wai-yee translates de as “virtue” throughout this speech, it is clearly not meant as a moral virtue. Rather, it is an essential quality of the king, his power to bind and rule.Footnote 19 Especially the phrase mingde 明德, which features prominently in late Western Zhou and Chunqiu bronze inscriptions but becomes very rare in Zhanguo texts, points to an archaic understanding of the concept which had nothing to do with “Confucian” moral values. It is not a personally acquired quality but the inborn habitus of a ruler, passed on from generation to generation. Remaining unchanged in time, “virtue” encapsulates what traditional history is all about. Moral virtues, per contra, have no place in this discourse. Rather than being passed on from ruler to ruler, they can be acquired by anybody and must always be reaffirmed anew through good deeds: this makes them unfit for a discourse that serves to legitimize hereditary rights.
Traditional history is fundamentally amoral. This is all the more remarkable since moral principles are widely held to be the fabric of Zuo zhuan's “rhetoric of order.” Yet, they are conspicuously absent from speeches that describe traditional history.Footnote 20 Take the famous speech by prince Zhao of Zhou (Li 2007, 389–91) which is worth being quoted in full.
In times past, when King Wu had prevailed over Yin, King Cheng pacified the four quarters, and King Kang gave the people their ease. Both of them set up their younger full brothers in order to serve as a bulwark for Zhou. Indeed they said, “We would by no means enjoy exclusive possession of the achievements of Kings Wen and Wu. What is more, should our successors lose their way and fail, capsizing and drowning in troubles, these men will come to their rescue.” When it came to the reign of King Yi, the king suffered a serious illness, and there was none among the princes who did not hurry about and offer all of the prospect sacrifices in order to pray for the king's health. When it came to the reign of King Li, the king was cruel-minded, and the myriad people could not tolerate him, so they settled the king at Zhi. Princes left their own posts to join the royal government. Only when King Xuan was cognizant was he given his official position. When it came to the reign of King You, Heaven was ruthless to Zhou: the king was benighted and incompetent and therefore lost his place. The Xi King usurped the mandate, but the princes put him aside, setting up a successor to the king and at the same time moving him to Jiaru. This, then, is how brothers can exert themselves on behalf of the royal house. “When it came to the reign of King Hui, Heaven gave Zhou no peace, but conceived in Prince Tui thoughts of insurrection, which then affected Prince Dai. Kings Hui and Xiang, escaping the troubles, departed the royal city. Then duly Jin and Zheng extirpated the crooked men in order to stabilize the royal house. This, then, is how brothers can carry forward the mandate of the former kings.” In the sixth year of the reign of King Ding, a phantom came down among people in Qin and said, “In Zhou there will be a mustachioed king, who will be capable of cultivating his official duties: the princes will submit to him in enjoying their domains, and for two generations they will revere their duties. Then there will be in the royal house one who usurps the royal office: the princes will not plan against him, but will suffer the disturbance and disaster that will follow.” When it came down to the time of King Ling, he was born with a mustache. The king was very spiritual and a sage, and was in no way hated by the princes. Kings Ling and Jing were able to bring their reigns to completion.
Now the royal house is in disorder, and Shan Qi and Liu Di have thrown the world into confusion. They act on their own, defying precedent, and claim, “What constants did the former kings keep to? Whatever our minds should command—who would presume to chastise us?” At the head of a mob of depraved ruthless men, they have sown disorder in the royal house. In their predations and desires they are insatiable, and in their plotting and requests they have no standards. They habitually offend the ghosts and spirits, they haughtily toss aside the penal codes, they betray and violate covenants, they superciliously trample upon royal dignity, and they lyingly arrogate the authority of the former kings. Jin has acted contrary to the way, aiding these men and abetting them, in this way thinking to indulge them without limit. This is why I, the inadequate one, have been shaken and cast to the winds, skulking among the Man of Jing, with no place as yet to stop and rest. If one or two of you, my brothers, nephews, and uncles, should restore and comply with Heaven's law, offering no aid to the rogues, but instead following the commands of the former kings—not spurring on Heaven's punishments, but instead relieving me and planning on my behalf, the inadequate one—then that is precisely what I would wish. Although I presume to lay out in full my own heart's desires as well as the constant rules of the former kings, it is the princes who must plan deeply about it.
In times past, the command of the former kings said: “When there is no legitimate heir by the queen, then choose and establish the eldest as heir. When sons are of equal age, go by their virtue. When they are of equal virtue, go by divination. The king does not establish his heir on the basis of preference, and lords and ministers are without personal bias.” That was the system of old. When Queen Mu and the heir apparent Shou died young and passed from the world, Shan and Liu helped their personal favorite and established a younger son as heir, thereby defying the former kings. Indeed it is up to you alone, kinsmen old and young, to plan about it.
昔武王克殷，成王靖四方，康王息民，並建母弟，以蕃屏周，亦曰：『吾無專享文、武之功，且為後人之迷敗傾覆而溺入于難，則振救之。』至于夷王，王愆于厥身，諸侯莫不並走其望，以祈王身。至于厲王，王心戾虐，萬民弗忍，居王于彘。諸侯釋位，以間王政。宣王有志，而後效官。至于幽王，天不弔周，王昏不若，用愆厥位。攜王奸命，諸侯替之，而建王嗣，用遷郟鄏，則是兄弟之能用力於王室也。至于惠王，天不靖周，生穨禍心，施于叔帶。惠、襄辟難，越去王都。則有晉、鄭咸黜不端，以綏定王家。則是兄弟之能率先王之命也。在定王六年，秦人降妖，曰：『周其有頿王，亦克能脩其職，諸侯服享，二世共職。王室其有間王位，諸侯不圖，而受其亂災。』至于靈王，生而有頿。王甚神聖，無惡於諸侯。靈王、景王克終其世。「今王室亂，單旗、劉狄
亂天下，壹行不若，謂『先王何常之有，唯余心所命，其誰敢討之』，帥群不弔之人，以行亂于王室。侵欲無厭，規求無度，貫瀆鬼神，慢棄刑法，倍奸齊盟，傲很威儀，矯誣先王。晉為不道，是攝是贊，思肆其罔極。茲不穀震盪播越，竄在荊蠻，未有攸厎。若我一二兄弟甥舅獎順天法，無助狡猾，以從先王之命，毋速天罰，赦圖不穀，則所願也。敢盡布其腹心及先王之經，而諸侯實深圖之。「昔先王之命曰：『王后無適，則擇立長。年鈞以德，德鈞以卜。』王不立愛，公卿無私，古之制也。穆后及大子壽早夭即世，單、劉贊私立少，以間先王。亦唯伯仲叔季圖之！」 (Zuo zhuan Zhao 26, 1475–79)
This speech is paradigmatic for traditional history. It harks back to the very origin of Zhou rule (“King Wu had prevailed over Yin”) and explicitly mentions the binding commitment of their relatives (“these men will come to their rescue”). Then it traces the succession of the Zhou “former kings” (先王, which Zichan also refers to) from Wu, Cheng and Kang to Yi, Li, You, Hui, and Ling. The leaps in this list are elegantly glossed over by the repeated phrase 至于 (“when it came to”). Just like Zichan's speech (which also uses 至), it is clearly designed to suggest continuity over time: the “commands of the former kings” have come down right to the present, the “system of old” is still effective and must be abided by. Arguably, the references to the former kings are not so much “analogies of past and present disorder” (Li 2007, 390), “analogy” implying a difference between the cases compared, but rather instances of one continuous political order. As will be seen anon, the argument by analogy belongs to quite a different sort of historical discourse.
As in the case of Zichan's speech, prince Zhao's injunctions are not couched in moral terms: none of the “virtue words” mentioned above appear. Instead, only the charismatic virtue (德) of the Zhou kings is invoked.Footnote 21 Yet another element of traditional history becomes apparent in this speech: the reference to written sources. Prince Zhao seems to have based his speech on written “documents and records of Zhou” that he had taken with him on his flight to Chu.Footnote 22 This is significant. Writing is the historical medium par excellence, insofar as the symbolization of the absent through writing makes possible the presence of the past, the currency of origins (for example, of an aristocratic house), and thus the legitimizing force of arché, origo, basis. The consequences, as is well known, are ambivalent: by orientating oneself to the past, one's attention is drawn to what is different in the present.Footnote 23
Writing is much more effective than oral tradition in stabilizing information over long periods of time. By giving a (potentially) unaltered account of the past, it accentuates the difference between present and past: and it is precisely the awareness of this discontinuity that constitutes historical consciousness. Writing would seem to be intimately connected with the rise of history.Footnote 24 In particular, the “keen awareness of how ‘documents and records’ define memory and serve as emblems of authority” (Li 2007, 388) is associated with traditional history, which refers to origins by (implicitly or explicitly) quoting documents. This seems to be precisely what is meant by the phrase wenci 文辭 which is repeatedly used to characterize such speeches.Footnote 25 Not simply “patterned phrases” in the sense of “beautiful words” (Li 2007, 391), wenci quite literally means “written words,” that is words quoted from written documents. By calling a speech wenci, it is acknowledged as being “exemplary for its archaic style and its citation of the most hallowed precedents of early Zhou history.”Footnote 26 In short, it is exemplary for citing old documents.Footnote 27
In early China, only the rulers (and their ministers) could quote written sources to bolster their claims, since only they had privileged access to such documents. In fact, as Li Wai-yee observes, it is almost exclusively the aristocracy that appeals to origins: “Zhou kings and ministers have the best reasons to appeal to the early Zhou political order, when the Zhou kings rewarded kinsmen and meritorious helpers with domains, which were supposed to seal bonds of obligation toward the royal house” (Li 2007, 380). Only the aristocratic elite could derive legitimacy from historical origins—only they had a history. For non-aristocrats, the use of traditional history simply would not make sense. In another example, which Li Wai-yee discusses on pp. 385–86, it is the Zhou king himself who summons up the origins of the royal order. Arguing with a Jin envoy over ritual offerings to the Zhou, he pronounces:
Younger uncle, you have forgotten! The royal uncle Tang Shu was a full younger brother of King Cheng; could he have had no portion? The drum and grand chariot of Mixu, with which King Wen conducted his grand muster, and the Quegong armor, with which King Wu overcame the Shang: Tang Shu received these and was placed with them in the region governed by the asterism Shen, where he was surrounded at his borders by the Rong and Di. Afterward, there were King Xiang's two chariots, his bronze axe, his millet wine, vermilion bow, and “tiger runner” guards, which Lord Wen received as he took possession of the Nanyang territory and pacified the eastern Xia regions. If this was not a portion, what was it? To have some achievement and not to let it fade; to have some accomplishment and to have it recorded; to have it upheld with landholdings, confirmed with sacrificial vessels, marked with chariots and regalia, made conspicuous with patterned flags, so that one's descendants do not forget it: this is what is known as a blessing. If your blessings are not registered, then what place is there for you, uncle? What is more, in times past your distant ancestor Sun Boyan was supervisor of Jin's archival records, which were used for great administrative matters, and he was therefore called Ji, or “Records.” It was when Xin You's second son Dong went to Jin that Jin first had the Dong scribes. You are the descendant of supervisors of the archives. Why have you forgotten these things?
叔氏，而忘諸乎！叔父唐叔，成王之母弟也，其反無分乎？密須之鼓與其大路，文所以大蒐也；闕鞏之甲，武所以克商也， 唐叔受之，以處參虛，匡有戎狄。其後襄之二路，鏚鉞、秬鬯，彤弓、虎賁，文公受之，以有南陽之田，撫征東夏，非分而何？夫有勳而不廢，有績而載，奉之以土 田，撫之以彝器，旌之以車服，明之以文章，子孫不忘，所謂福也。福祚之不登，叔父焉在？且昔而高祖孫伯黶司晉之典籍，以為大政，故曰籍氏。及辛有之二子董之晉，於是乎有董史。女、司典之後也，何故忘之？(Zuo zhuan Zhao 15.7, 1371–73)
“Why have you forgotten these things?” Like the Jewish zakhor, which reverberates throughout the Hebrew Bible, the admonition bu wang—don't forget—is the shibboleth of traditional history. As the audience of these speeches “is enjoined to remember, so it is adjured not to forget.”Footnote 28 The Zhou king blames the Jin envoy for having forgotten their ancestry, Zichan criticizes that “Chen has forgotten the great virtue and beneficence of Zhou,” and when Jin severs its relations with Qin, Lü Xiang famously reports that Lord Mu “did not forget the old ties of beneficence,”Footnote 29 duke Dao of Jin, upon promoting an officer, warns him that the virtue of his forebears may not be forgotten.Footnote 30
To sum up: a distinct and perhaps the most ancient form of history in ancient China may be called traditional history. It is characterized by
— reference to origins and the continuous legitimacy of an ancient order;
— the appeal to memory and the injunction not to forget traditional commitments;
— the (implicit or explicit) reference to written documents;
— the absence of moral arguments and instead the invocation of charismatic virtue;
— its employment by rulers and their spokesmen.
The significance of these characteristics will become even clearer when discussing a second form of historical discourse which differs radically from traditional history.
Exemplary History
The second form of historical discourse to be found in the Zuo zhuan may be called exemplary history. It
follows the well-known slogan “historia magistra vitae.” History teaches general rules of action through the wealth of past events that she transmits.… For example, stories that recount the deeds of rulers teach precepts of wise rulership; stories about the rise, the transformation and fall of political entities teach insights into the ways in which rulership changes under certain circumstances. Such regular abstract-general insights may be transferred to a wealth of historical examples and thus strengthened.Footnote 31
This form of history is so well known to historians of ancient China that a single example may suffice to illustrate it.Footnote 32 It is the famous letter that Shuxiang of Jin wrote to Zichan in 536 b.c.e. after the latter had cast legal codes on bronze vessels.
In the beginning I expected much from you, but now I no longer do so. Long ago the former kings consulted about matters to decide them, but did not make penal codes: they feared that the people would become contentious. When they still could not restrain them, they therefore fenced them in with dutifulness, bound them with governance, employed them with ritual propriety, maintained them with good faith, and fostered them with nobility of spirit. They determined emoluments and ranks to encourage their obedience, and decided punishments and penalties strictly to overawe them in their excesses. Fearing that that still was not enough, they taught them loyalty, rewarded good conduct, instructed them in their duties, employed them harmoniously, supervised them with vigilance, oversaw them with might, and adjudged them with rigor. Further, they sought superiors who were sage and principled, officials who were brilliant and discerning, elders who were loyal and trustworthy, and teachers who were kind and generous. With this, then, the people could be employed without disaster or disorder resulting. When the people know that there is a code, they have no wariness of their superiors. All together, they get contentious ideas, appealing to the writings, and achieve their goals after seeking lucky opportunities. They cannot be governed.
When there was disorder in the Xia government, they created the “Code of Yu.” When there was disorder in the Shang government, they created the “Code of Tang.” When there was disorder in the Zhou government, they composed the “Code of the Nine Punishments.” These three penal codes in each case arose in the dynasty's final age.
Now as chief minister in the domain of Zheng you have created fields and ditches, established an administration that is reviled, determined the three statutes, and cast the penal writings. Will it not be difficult to calm the people by such means? As it says in the Odes,
“Take the virtue of King Wen as a guide, a model, a pattern; Day by day calm the four quarters.”
And as it says elsewhere:
“Take as model King Wen, And the ten thousand realms have trust.”
In this case, why would there be any penal codes at all? When the people have learned how to contend over points of law, they will abandon ritual propriety and appeal to the writings. Even at chisel's tip and knife's edge they will contend. A chaotic litigiousness will flourish and bribes will circulate everywhere. Will Zheng perhaps perish at the end of your generation? I have heard that “When a domain is about to fall, its regulations are sure to be numerous.” Perhaps this is what is meant?
始吾有虞於子，今則已矣。昔先王議事以制，不為刑辟，懼民之有爭心也。猶不可禁禦，是故閑之以義，糾之以政，行之以禮，守之以信，奉之以仁；制為祿位，以勸其從；嚴斷刑罰，以威其淫。懼其未也，故誨之以忠，聳之以行，教之以務，使之以和，臨之以敬，涖之以彊，斷之以剛；猶求聖哲之上、明察之官、忠信之長、慈惠之師，民於是乎可任使也，而不生禍亂。民知有辟，則不忌於上。並有爭心，以徵於書，而徼幸以成之，弗可為矣。夏有亂政，而作《禹刑》；商有亂政，而作《湯刑》；周有亂政，而作《九刑》：三辟之興，皆叔世也。今吾子相鄭國，作封 洫，立謗政，制參辟，鑄刑書，將以靖民，不亦難乎？《詩》曰：『儀式刑文王之德，日靖四方。』又曰：『儀刑文王，萬邦作孚。』如是，何辟之有？民知爭端矣，將棄禮而徵於書，錐刀之末，將盡爭之。亂獄滋豐，賄賂並行。終子之世，鄭其敗乎？肸聞之：『國將亡，必多制』，其此之謂乎！(Zuo zhuan Zhao 6, 1274–76)
Shuxiang's line of reasoning is clearly historical.Footnote 33 Yet it differs significantly from the discourse of traditional history described above. Rather than describing an unbroken line from the past to the present, Shuxiang lists isolated events from widely different contexts. The Xia, Shang, and Zhou equally serve as examples for the point he wants to make: laws are a sign of decay, “when a domain is about to fall, its regulations are sure to be numerous.” He does not appeal to historical origins and obligations that are irrevocable “to this day,” but rather points to a rule of history that applies no matter when and where. This is where the argument by analogy comes into play. The “former kings” (who, significantly, remain anonymous) are not invoked as the founders of a tradition which still rests upon the contemporaries' shoulders, but as exemplars of good rulership. If the shape of traditional history is that of a vector which connects the past with the present, exemplary history takes the shape of parallels that may be drawn between past and present.
This past is no longer, as in traditional history, limited to the line of one ruling house. The scope of historical examples is unlimited: virtually any person or any event may be adduced to prove a general point. Now history becomes a vast reservoir of cases that may be freely used by way of illustration. In the exemplary mode, history radically expands its possibilities. It is no accident that this form of history became so ubiquitous that it appears as the Chinese historical discourse par excellence. Now, anything may serve as history, and history may serve anybody. Whereas in traditional history, only those who had history, namely the aristocrats, could avail themselves of historical arguments, exemplary history is potentially available to everybody. It became the standard rhetorical device of the rising class of shi 士, and the “philosophical” literature of the Zhanguo period—Mozi, Mengzi, Xunzi, Guanzi, Zhuangzi, Hanfei zi, Lüshi chunqiu, and others—abound with exemplary history. Even women could use exemplary history for their purposes, as the remonstrance of Shuxiang's mother against his intended marriage with the daughter of Wuchen from Shen demonstrates (Li 2007, 156–57):
Qu Wuchen's wife Xia Ji has killed three husbands, one ruler, and one son, and has brought one domain and two high ministers to their destruction. Should you not see her faults? I have heard that “Great beauty must necessarily hold great evil.” That woman was the daughter of Yao Zi, the lesser wife of Lord Mu of Zheng; she was the younger sister of Lord Ling of Zheng. Lord Ling died early without an heir, and Heaven concentrated beauty in this one, for it was certain to use this one to bring about great destruction.
Long ago a girl was born to the Youreng lineage. Her thick black hair was very beautiful and glossy enough to use as a mirror. They would call her the Dark Wife. The music director Lord Kui took her to wife and she bore Bofeng, who had in him the heart of a swine, insatiably greedy and violent beyond all bounds. They called him the Great Swine. Lord Yi of Youqiong destroyed him, so that Lord Kui receives no sacrifices. What is more, the falls of the three dynasties and the deposing of the Jin heir Shensheng were all due to these creatures. What do you intend to accomplish by this? This is an extraordinary creature, one capable of changing a man. Unless he is a man of virtue and dutifulness, there is sure to be disaster.
子靈之妻殺三夫、一君、一 子，而亡一國、兩卿矣，可無懲乎？吾聞之：『甚美必有甚惡。』是鄭穆少妃姚子之子，子貉之妹也。子貉早死，無後，而天鍾美於是，將必以是大有敗也。昔有仍氏 生女，黰黑，而甚美，光可以鑑，名曰玄妻。樂正后夔取之，生伯封，實有豕心，貪惏無饜，忿纇無期，謂之封豕。有窮后羿滅之，夔是以不祀。且三代之亡、共子 之廢，皆是物也，女何以為哉？夫有尤物，足以移人。苟非德義，則必有禍。(Zuo zhuan Zhao 28, 1492–93)
Predictably, Shuxiang “did not dare marry her.” The historical evidence his mother musters is overwhelming: five examples from a span of well over a millennium (from before the Xia to the calamity of Jin in 666 b.c.e.) are irrefutable proof for the point she makes: “Great beauty must necessarily hold great evil.” Shuxiang's mother does not refer to a narrow family tradition—only one of her examples is taken from Jin history—but to general, even proverbial wisdom. The phrase “I have heard that,” introducing such sayings also appears in Shuxiang's speech, above: it is typical of exemplary history. Whereas traditional history's admonition not to forget appeals to family lore that the listener is expected to have known all along, exemplary history introduces potentially new knowledge. Knowledge, not remembrance, is the catchword of exemplary history:Footnote 34 knowledge acquired by hearsay or, more systematically, by learning. Whereas family history may be conveyed more or less informally by socialization, the wide expanse of historical knowledge opened by the exemplary discourse can only be explored through learning.
By the same token, one can learn from this history. Whereas traditional history, by its very logic, offers no truths that go beyond the particular case in point, the lessons of exemplary history may be applied by analogy to all kinds of situations. Thus history becomes a teacher for life: historia magistra vitae. The implicit assumption of exemplary history is that there is a correspondence between past and present insofar as they follow the same general rules: similar actions will lead to similar results, no matter when and where they are carried out. This is clearly stated in another text, the Lüshi chunqiu:
The relation between the present and the past resembles that between the past and later ages. The relation between present and later ages also resembles that between the past and the present.Footnote 35 Therefore, by examining the present, one can know the past; and knowing the past, one can know what follows: therefore past and present, before and after are one. Therefore the sages know the past thousand years and the coming thousand years.
今之於古也，猶古之於後世也。今之於後世，亦猶今之於古也。故審知今則可知古，知古則可知後，古今前後一也。故聖人上知千歲下知千歲也。(Lüshi chunqiu 11.5, 604)
Of course, the statement that “past and present, before and after are one” does not refer to particular events but to historical rules of cause and effect. These unchanging rules and the constancy of human nature represent the elements of permanence in change that every historical narrative needs, they are the remedy for the discontinuity that is history.
Due to its universal scope, exemplary history may be used by anyone, and it may rely on virtually anything as a source of information. Whereas the sources of traditional history are largely limited to documents from the own family tradition, the exemplary discourse may cite proverbs, anonymous traditions, documents, odes, etc. In fact, exemplary history does not even need sources at all (and mostly they are not quoted). By its very logic, it is perfectly appropriate to simply invent exemplary stories. If “by examining the present, one can know antiquity,” then any story may be inferred from present circumstances; and if “antiquity and present, before and after are one,” then the parallel to the present sufficiently validates a fabricated story. Exemplary history may serve to “prove anything.”Footnote 36 No modern scholar would seriously believe that the pre-dynastic (i.e. neolithic) tales that Shuxiang's mother extemporizes or, for that matter, many other stories in classical literature are actually true.Footnote 37 But this is not the point. Exemplary history is not about historical truth in a modern critical sense, but about how things should have been.Footnote 38 It is all about an instructive lesson: historia magistra vitae.
Among the sources that are quoted in exemplary history—not for historical events, but for the moral of the story—two corpora stand out: the odes that were later collected in the Shi jing and the documents many of which later became the Shu jing. This is all the more remarkable as both sources are almost completely absent from the discourse of traditional history (see n. 27 above). Only in the context of exemplary history, the odes and the documents become widely cited “repositories of dutifulness.”Footnote 39 Shuxiang quotes from the odes twice in his above-quoted letter. Significantly, he does not recite them in full, but only quotes single stanzas from different odes (Nos. 272 and 235). This is typical for the discourse of exemplary history: just like it adduces isolated historical examples severed from a larger narrative, it quotes isolated ode stanzas severed from their context. The odes are simply used as “suppliers of exempla.”Footnote 40 Reduced to the quality of proverbs, as it were, they are adduced to make one, and only one, point. For exemplary history, it is unnecessary—indeed, undesirable—to know the whole story, and it is equally uncalled for to recite the entire ode: any additional information would increase potential ambiguity and thus dilute the moral lesson.
This may explain why odes and documents do not appear in traditional history: only in the context of exemplary history are moral lessons called for. Whereas traditional history is void of moral considerations, exemplary history brings into play the entire vocabulary of “virtue words.”Footnote 41 Shuxiang, cited above, mentions “dutifulness” (義), “ritual propriety” (禮), “good faith” (信), “nobility of spirit” (仁), “loyalty” (忠), “harmony” (和), “vigilance” (敬) and several others. “Virtue,” which appears in coordination with “dutifulness” (德義) in the speech of Shuxiang's mother, is now understood as a moral quality.Footnote 42 This is the kind of “moral rhetoric” (Li 2007, 77) that is so pervasive in classical Chinese literature as to appear indispensable to historical reasoning. Yet, as the comparison with traditional history shows, it is not. In fact, it only makes sense under certain circumstances. The rulers of ancient China, for whom history served to legitimize the existing order, were well advised not to invoke moral virtues, since these might as well be claimed by others or even be used against them. Rather, they would turn to traditional history, which offers an incontestable circular argument: things should be the way they are because they have always been that way.
On the other hand, moral considerations are regularly brought forth when the rulers' actions are challenged. They provide the stock arguments for protests, remonstrances and for exemplary history. Indeed, exemplary history and remonstrance seem to be intimately connected. Whereas traditional history legitimizes the powers that be, exemplary history serves to delegitimize.Footnote 43 It is a counter-narrative that challenges authoritative claims or decisions. Shuxiang employs it to criticize Zichan's politics, his mother uses it to prevent him from pursuing his marriage plans, and countless political advisors avail themselves of exemplary history to counter the plans of their rulers. “This will not do” (buke 不可) is a typical opening sentence (Li 2007, 153–54) for narratives of exemplary history. They present the “efficacious rhetoric that defends a vision of ritual propriety” (Li 2007, 338) even against the ruler's resolution.
To sum up: a second distinct form or history in ancient China, likely younger than traditional history, may be called exemplary history. It is characterized by
— reference to isolated historical events that serve as exempla;
— the appeal to knowledge and a didactic function in the sense of historia magistra vitae;
— quotations of anonymous sayings, isolated stanzas from odes or phrases from the documents;
— the reference to “Confucian” moral values;
— its employment by diverse speakers;
— its function as a delegitimizing counter-narrative that challenges political orders or decisions.
The significance of these features may be fully appreciated by contrasting them to traditional history as discussed above. Exemplary history embodies the “idea that history writing is the corrective, compensatory gesture that addresses decline and failure” (Li 2007, 416) that came to characterize the mainstream of Chinese tradition. But, as Li Wai-yee has amply demonstrated and as this article has tried to analyze, there where other interpretations of history besides that. So Li Wai-yee is right: the “relative reticence of Zuo zhuan” in addressing moral decline may be explained by the fact “that the text predates that idea about history writing” (Li 2007, 416). Indeed, many of its narratives adhere not to exemplary history but to the older idea of traditional history. Just like the Zuo zhuan is multi-faceted, the shape of Chinese history itself is polymorphic.
