Chapter Twelve
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Myth, History, Cultural Values, Social Tensions
This chapter was an integral part of the textbook in earlier versions, and it has two main goals. The first is historiographical: to gain some understanding of the process of rendering mythology into history and to see the process whereby views of "the" past change as cultural, political, and other circumstances change. The second goal is more straightforward: to understand some basic, enduring Chinese cultural values and tensions through a reading of myth and legend. We begin with the stories of the major culture heroes and Sage Kings who allegedly existed in China's ancient past. Be careful! Our primary purpose here is not to memorize some quaint old stories (although you should remember the major points in them). It is to analyze these stories in ways that shed light on the two goals mentioned above. Important: go back now and review the material on history writing in the Han dynasty in the last section of Chapter Six if it is no longer fresh in your mind.
Recall the accounts of the origins of civilization in the two Han dynasty histories. The main figures in these accounts are Fuxi (伏羲 "Ox Tamer"), Shennong (神農"Divine Farmer"), the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi 黃帝), Yao 堯 Shun 舜, and Yu 禹, usually in this order. All of these figures had diverse mythical origins. Han historians reworked the myths, removing many of the fantastic elements and fitted these diverse figures together into a linear narrative. The fit was not perfect, but the overall result of the Han historians' efforts was, according to Lewis:
nothing less than a history of the emergence of humankind out of savage nature. Underlying all the tales about the sages was a belief that in the earliest times men had not been clearly distinguished from animals. They lived intermixed with animals in the wilds, went naked or wore animal skins, built nests in trees or dwelt in caves, ate wild plants or raw meat. The fundamental work of the sages was to separate men from the animals and create a distinctive human world, the world of morality and social existence. This process has three basic aspects: the physical separation of men from animals, the transformation of the material conditions of existence through the invention of tools and technological processes, and the introduction of a specifically human code of conduct. (Mark Edward Lewis, Sanctioned Violence in Early China [Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990], pp. 169-70.)
Keep these three aspects in mind as we examine the tales of the culture heroes and Sage Kings: 1) physical separation between humans and other animals; 2) transformation of material conditions of existence; and 3) creation of a specifically human code of conduct (i.e., laws and rules of morality). Remember, too, that we are dealing here not with actual historical figures that existed in the flesh, but mythical beings accorded the status of actual human rulers by Han historians. Although they did not "exist" in body, they did "exist" as important cultural icons in the minds of educated Chinese from Han or even late Zhou times until the beginning of this century (and to some extent even to this day).
At some point way back in the misty past, humans lived just like animals, as the story goes. Recall that Daoists and Confucians accepted this premise, as did Legalists to the relatively minimal extent that they discussed ancient human origins. For reasons unexplained, an ancient sage arose to begin the process Lewis describes above. Recall from the reading in Chapter Six that Fuxi "looked up and perceived the patterns inherent in the heavens" and that he "looked down and perceived the paradigmatic contours of the earth." This terminology should ring several mental bells at this point. First, Fuxi closely resembles the ideal military commander of the late Zhou period in terms of his ability to discern regular patterns and laws out of the apparent chaos of the world. Second, notice the concern with underlying patterns. Although the specific concept of the cosmic pattern that we studied in the previous chapter was not around in Han times, the general idea of an underlying regularity in nature was. This idea served as a basis of correlative cosmology.
Recall also that Fuxi "started with his own body as a model and extended his quest to various other objects, thereby creating the eight trigrams." In this way, "he gained insight into the personal power resulting from clear spirituality and gained the means to classify all creatures and all things on the basis of their conditions." Essentially, Fuxi was the founder of correlative cosmology in this Han dynasty account. Notice also the term "clear spirituality," which presages the Song Confucian quest for clarifying the Material Force Nature to allow the Fundamental Nature to shine forth to its fullest--precisely what would be required for sagehood. But the term "Fuxi," in these sentences indicates one particular Fuxi, namely, the Fuxi depicted in Han dynasty histories. This Fuxi was a human sage and ancient ruler. He is typically depicted clad in leaves or other coarse clothing because cloth had not yet been invented in such ancient times. Let us call this figure *Fuxi1*. In addition to the #eight trigrams,# Fuxi1 is credited with domesticating animals, creating the institution of marriage (by marrying his sister), and, in some sources, creating a calendar.
Here is a description of Fuxi1 in the form of a verse written on the wall of a shrine during the Han dynasty:
Fuxi, the Black Spirit:
He initiated leadership
He drew the trigrams and made knotted cords;
To administer the land within the seas. (Quoted in Wu Hung, The Wu Liang Shrine: The Ideology of Early Chinese Pictorial Art [Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1989], p. 160, with minor modification)
It was standard practice to depict sages of the past in verse and pictures on the walls of tombs and shrines during the Han dynasty. This verse clearly depicts Fuxi as an ancient ruler and administrator. Wu Hung comments on Fuxi1 as follows: "This shadowy personage was believed to be the creator of human history. He was the first leader to appear in the world, and he learned the art of administration not from a human being, but from nature--heaven, earth, animals, and birds. This art, symbolized by the Eight Trigrams (an abstraction of all concrete things and a code for communicating with the unknown), enlightened all later great rulers." (The Wu Liang Shrine, pp. 160-161) Fuxi1 created a uniquely human society from the world of nature, thus symbolizing both harmony with nature's laws and the separation of humans from the other animals.
The next Fuxi we consider is also a Han dynasty creation, but his (its?) form harkens back to Fuxi's pre-Han origins as a guardian spirit or deity with a reptilian (often dragon-like) shape. In Han dynasty depictions this Fuxi, let us call him *Fuxi2,* appears as half human, half reptile, with clothes on the human upper half of his body, and his reptilian tail intertwined with that of his sister and wife Nüwa. Referring to Fuxi2 and Nüwa, art historian Li Zehou points out that "If we remove the human disguise in which they were cloaked by later generations, we may find that primitive peoples saw them as giant reptiles." He further points out that "most of the gods, supernaturals, and heroes mentioned in ancient Chinese legends were beings with human heads and snake bodies." One ancient text, for example, states that "Between Danhuzhi and Yuti, a distance of 5,490 li, there are twenty-five hills. The gods there all have the faces of human beings and the bodies of snakes." (Li Zehou, The Path of Beauty: A Study of Chinese Aesthetics, translated by Gong Lizeng [New York: Oxford University Press, 1994], pp. 4-5. A li is approximately one-third of a mile.) "Snake" here undoubtedly refers to a proto-dragon, for Chinese dragons were clearly based on the body of a snake. Although Fuxi2 looks quite different from Fuxi1, his function was similar, and he reflects the world view and values of educated Chinese of the Han dynasty.
Nüwa herself was responsible for a number of cultural creations, most notably the cultivation of silkworms to make silk. Wu describes some of the symbolism in the typical depictions of Fuxi2:
Standing at the beginning of history, Fuxi was thought to be an interjacent figure between the divine and the human sphere; his greatness lay in his transmission of divine patters to human society. His unique status and role are represented in Han pictorial art by portraying him as a hybrid figure, half-human half-serpent, holding a carpenter's square, a symbol of his ability to regulate the world. As the creator of the human world, he was thought to have institutionalized the laws of marriage--the most important rule of human society. This explains his depiction together with Nüwa. (Wu, The Wu Liang Shrine, p. 161, with minor modification)
Just like Fuxi1, Fuxi2 bridged a number of fundamental gaps such as human vs. animal, natural world vs. human culture, deity vs. human, the age of myth vs. the age of history, and more. In some depictions of Fuxi2 and Nüwa, he is depicted along with the sun and she is depicted with the moon. This Fuxi2/sun/male vs. Nüwa/moon/female dualism was an early prototype of the yin-yang dualism that Han scholars developed much more fully in their theories of correlative cosmology. Notice also in the depictions of Fuxi2 and Nüwa (via the above link) that a fully human child (albeit with very flexible legs), one of their offspring, often connects them by grasping their sleeves--further indication of the role of Fuxi2 and Nüwa as primordial creators.
How do we account for the two Fuxis that we have seen thus far? First, as noted above, their symbolism and alleged function in human history has much in common. Nevertheless, Fuxi1 is obviously more thoroughly humanized than Fuxi2. Furthermore, Fuxi1 is a male sage more closely associated with the Confucian tradition. Although associated with correlative cosmology, the eight trigrams allegedly created/discovered by Fuxi1 require no complementary female counterpart. Fuxi2 and Nüwa are more suggestive of Daoist origins in which female qualities had at least equal importance with male qualities. Of course, the idea of Fuxi as creator of human culture and civilization (common to both images) would be contrary to early Daoist ideals.
Let us move into the Song dynasty and examine a third Fuxi, *Fuxi3.* By this time, Buddhism had become well entrenched in Chinese culture. Although Buddhism and Confucianism were sometimes antagonistic, the overall trend was for Chinese artists and intellectuals to try and #harmonize the two#, just as during the Han dynasty there was a blending of Confucianism, Daoism, Legalism, and other systems of thought. The best example of the influence of Buddhism in Song times was the new Confucianism of Zhu Xi, which, although created in competitive response to Buddhism also appropriated many Buddhist concepts.
In the Song-era depiction of Fuxi3 (#memory refresh#), he is clad in rather crude fur robes (as opposed to silk), and retains a somewhat primitive appearance (in the other depiction on the page, of course, he still wears a cloak of mugwort leaves). Near his feet are the eight trigrams and a turtle. The turtle was an important symbolic animal in Chinese culture from as far back as the Shang dynasty, and it represented the cosmos. By Song times, one common account of Fuxi's discovery of the eight trigrams has a magic turtle coming out of the water and crawling over to him. On its back were the markings of the eight trigrams, and Fuxi, being a sage, immediately recognized their significance.
What is particularly interesting in this depiction of Fuxi3 is the Buddhist imagery. In Buddhist lore, there are #32 primary external indications# of an enlightened being (a Buddha, a Bodhisattva, a Lohan, etc.--terms we examine later in the course). These indications include elongated earlobes, a large, flat forehead, oversized hands and feet, and long fingers, often with pointed nails. The Song image of Fuxi3 includes all of these features, none of which are present in the two Han dynasty depictions. Notice the close similarity between the depiction of Fuxi and that of the Lohan. In addition to similar ears, foreheads, facial expressions, hands, and feet, the general posture and shape is similar. Here we see a new Fuxi that reflects the changed intellectual conditions of Song China. In this brief survey we have seen three distinctly different Fuxis, each having some elements in common but each also reflecting different cultural concerns and conditions.
Let us return to the typical story line of the Han histories. As you know, Fuxi was succeeded by *Shennong.* Although mythical accounts of Shennong eventually spread throughout most of China, his origins lie in the south, possibly beyond the border of Chinese cultural influence. He was an agricultural deity, apparently with ox-like features (more on that below). Because of his association with agriculture and plants, he also became associated with herbal medicine in some later accounts. Although depicted as a "ruler" or "emperor," Shennong had none of the qualities that would have been required of a successful ruler such as skill in military affairs or administrative acumen. He was a peaceful agriculturalist. As Lewis points out: "As the premier agriculturalist [Shennong] stands in direct opposition to the figures of the huntsman and the warrior." He "made possible a human existence that required no violence whatsoever. Shennong may have been the patron saint of an ancient Chinese school of philosophy that envisioned an egalitarian agricultural utopia. In the ideal society of this "school of the tillers," all people, including the ruler, grew their own food. (Lewis, Sanctioned Violence, pp. 177-178)
Recall that according to the Book of Changes account of the rise of ancient civilization, Shennong "cut wood to make a plowshare and bent wood into a handle, teaching the world the benefits of plowing open the earth." In addition to teaching farming techniques, "He set up markets at midday" in order to promote the flow and exchange of agricultural produce and various goods. In short, his primary association was with the fundamental economic livelihood of the average person. Keep in mind, of course, that China was primarily a society based on settled agriculture throughout its known history, unlike the nomadic peoples to the north of the Chinese cultural area.
Typical depictions of Shennong (see earlier link) show him clad in grasses and leaves, since silk cloth had not yet been invented (Nüwa cultivated silkworms in many accounts, but it was the Yellow Emperor's wife who actually made clothing out of silk). Shennong is typically depicted with grain in at least one hand and usually both. Furthermore, he is often chewing on it, much like a cow would chomp on grains or grasses. Also prominent in typical depictions are two (sometimes only one) bumps on the head. Although such bumps are common in certain forms of Chinese depiction (of children, for example), and we can see them in pictures of Fuxi, they are particularly large and prominent in the case of Shennong. One theory is that these bumps were the vestiges of horns after the Han dynasty scholars "humanized" what had been a mythical ox-headed, hoofed, semi-human creature. This theory is supported by a few surviving early depictions of Shennong as *precisely such a creature.* Of course, an ox would make perfect sense for a "ruler" like Shennong, because it was the most important animal for plowing and other agricultural work.
Just as Fuxi3 reflects the influence of Buddhism, we can also find depictions of Shennong in the manner of a Buddhist saint. Examine the Song dynasty picture of Fuxi3 and the picture of the Lohan, and then compare them with the depiction of Shennong *shown here* (all needed images are together on this one page). Some depictions of Shennong even reflect indirect Greek influence. The practice of European medicine became increasingly widespread in Japan during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (but not in China). It became common at that time for Japanese artists to draw Shennong #alongside Hippocrates,# the "Father" of western medicine, sometimes also accompanied by a Daoist deity associated with healing or medicine. Such depictions often took the form of signboards, which Japanese physicians and pharmacists would place outside their shops.
Let us return again to the traditional historical narrative. Being peaceful farmers and herbalists, Shennong and his descendants could not deal effectively with the violent challenges to their rule that inevitably developed. The following passage from an Han dynasty historical text provides an excellent contrast between the pacific character of Shennong's rule and the violent nature of the rule of his successors. Some background is necessary to understand the passage. Bo Yi and Shu Qi were two famous brothers who had, by Han times, become larger-than-life paragons of virtue. They lived at the end of the Shang period, and having heard that the Shang dynasty was being challenged by the house of Zhou, they went to observe the new Zhou rulers first hand. The two brothers were most disappointed. Contrary to their expectations of peaceful virtue, they saw the Zhou king sacrificing and burying blood-smeared covenants to help win victory over the Shang. The two brothers then lamented that the peaceful ways of Shennong seem gone forever:
How strange! This is not what I call the Way. Long ago, Shennong held all under Heaven. His seasonal offerings were totally reverent, but he sought no blessings. He treated people with trust and made everyone and everything correct, but he demanded nothing. He delighted in correctness, and thereby made all correct; he delighted in order and thereby made all orderly. He did not achieve his purpose through harming others. Now Zhou [i.e., the Zhou king] sees that Yin [i.e., the Shang king] is deviant and chaotic, and he seeks instantly to make them correct and orderly. So the lord schemes and carries out bribes [to the supernatural world in the form of sacrifices and covenants]; he relies on weapons in order to constrain through fear; he carves up sacrifices and swears blood oaths in order to create trust. . . . He kills and assaults in order to seek benefit, and hopes thereby to summon Yin to his court. This is to change rampant violence for chaos. (Quoted in Lewis, Sanctioned Violence, pp. 178-179, with minor modification)
Notice that this passage portrays Shennong as having ruled by moral authority in the best Confucian fashion. One of the many tensions we see in early historical texts is the ideal of rule by peaceful means and moral persuasion versus the reality of the inevitable link between political leadership and violent force. Although the passage above contrasts Shennong and the Zhou king (probably King Wu), in the standard account, Shennong was succeeded by a different military figure: the *Yellow Emperor* (Huangdi). The Yellow Emperor is by far the most complex figure of all the rulers featured in this chapter. He seems to have been nearly everything to nearly everybody. To anticipate our conclusion, we shall see that the figure of the Yellow Emperor embodies all the tensions, ambiguities and contradictions inherent in the real-life office of emperor from the Han period onward.
Let us begin with a typical Han dynasty description of the Yellow Emperor from one of the historical texts:
The Yellow Emperor was the son of Shao Dian. His surname was Gong-sun and his personal name was Xuanyuan. At birth his spirit was magically efficacious, in infancy he could speak, when young he was wise and equitable, when he grew up he was quick-witted, and when he reached maturity his perceptions were supremely accurate. At that time the lineage of Shennong had been in decline for generations. The nobles attacked one another and violently persecuted the common people, and the lineage of Shennong could not send punitive expeditions against them. So the Yellow Emperor practiced the use of weapons in order to punish all those who did not attend the ruler's court, and the nobles all served him as retainers. (Quoted in Lewis, Sanctioned Violence, pp. 174-175, with minor modification)
Notice that Fuxi separated humans from the rest of the animals, Shennong got them to start farming, and the Yellow Emperor created the political institutions of the state. In Han mytho-history, China as a political entity, as an empire, begins with the Yellow Emperor and his conquests.
The Yellow Emperor created China as a political entity by conquering "barbarian" tribes and "rebellious" local rulers in the Yellow River region. Interestingly, some old accounts have the Yellow Emperor battling powerful, rebellious supernatural enemies such as the demon-like creature *Chi You* 嗤尤. Undoubtedly there is a connection here. In other words, the Yellow Emperor was originally a supernatural being in mythology who conquered various supernatural opponents. Then, in the process of being "humanized" by Han historians, he became an earthly ruler who did the same thing. (And, interestingly, #Chi You#, the Yellow Emperor's major supernatural opponent became humanized as "king" and founder of the Hmong people of Vietnam.)
The origins of the Yellow Emperor are not entirely clear, but there is strong circumstantial evidence that he originated as a ruler of the underworld in popular religious beliefs. Sarah Allen explains: "Huang, yellow . . . is the color of the springs which ran under the earth [in ancient Chinese mythology,] and in oracle bone inscriptions it is one of two colors, yellow-bright, as opposed to xuan dark, the color of the sky and sun-birds, in a primitive color dualism. This suggests that the Yellow Lord [Yellow Emperor] may have originally been the Lord of the underworld, the counterpart of Shang Di, the Lord on High [in Shang religion]." (Sarah Allen, The Shape of the Turtle: Myth, Art, and Cosmos in Early China [Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991], p. 65) Do not worry about understanding all the points Allen makes here, because this passage is part of a much larger and complex argument about the nature of ancient Chinese thought and religion. The main point for our purposes is simply that the Yellow Emperor probably originated as a deity or lord of the underworld.
From his humble origins in the underworld, the Yellow Emperor ended up doing quite well for himself. From Han times onward, Confucians traced their origins back to the Yellow Emperor (via Confucius, of course). Interestingly, Daoists also traced their origins back to the Yellow Emperor. The Legalist Han Feizi praised the Yellow Emperor as a firm, no-nonsense ruler. The Yellow Emperor got credit for the creation of many key items of material culture including houses, silk clothing (through his wife), and writing (through an official, Cang Jie). Furthermore, he came to be regarded as an expert on sex (China's first sex therapist) and the founder of the science of medicine (or co-founder, with Shennong and/or Fuxi in some accounts). When, in modern times, Europeans brought their obsession with "colors" and "races" to China (where these notions took root and flourished), Chinese intellectuals began to regard the Yellow Emperor as the biological progenitor of "the Chinese people" and thus the founder of "the Chinese race." Yellow, it should be noted, has always had highly positive connotations in Chinese culture, and was associated with imperial authority and splendor. Today, there is even an officially recognized "Religion of the Yellow Emperor" in Taiwan. From a guide to Taiwan's religions (Huangti = Haungdi):
Hsuan-yuan Chiao was established by an old legislator named Wang Han-sheng in 1957 in Taiwan. 'Hsuan-yuan' is the name of Huangti, the Yellow Emperor who unified China, while 'Chiao' means teachings or religion in Chinese. This religion was conceived because of Wang's anguish over the dispossession of the Chinese mainland to the Chinese communists.
Each lunar year, a large-scale ceremony is held to honor Huangti on the ninth of the first month. Other smaller ceremonies are held on specific days of other months to celebrate Huangti's birthday and his ascent to heaven. The largest Hsuan-yuan temple is situated in Tamsui. (source: http://www.marimari.com/content/taiwan/general_info/religion/religion.html)
Let us examine these various aspects of the Yellow Emperor in greater detail. Like Fuxi and Shennong, the Yellow Emperor was a creator. Some of his alleged accomplishments not mentioned above include the invention of weapons, determining the boundaries of agricultural lands, and the building of a palace in which he dwelt with his "upper and lower garments hanging down"--an expression indicating a ruler with a serene mind in firm control of the situation. From most accounts, the Yellow Emperor appears to have been #a superman:# a great general, ruler, inventor, and administrator with vast knowledge and talent. But a closer look suggests some doubts about the Yellow Emperor's strength. It turns out that in many cases he was dependent on others for his accomplishments, knowledge, and achievements.
For example, perhaps the greatest cultural accomplishment of the Yellow Emperor was the (alleged) invention of writing. The importance of writing in Chinese culture cannot be overstated. The word for writing, wen 文 also means culture, civilization (as opposed to barbarity, yi 夷), refinement, literature, and the civil arts (as opposed to the military arts, wu 武). In short, writing embodied the essence of nearly everything good and desirable in Chinese culture. Because of the great difficulty of learning the complex writing system that evolved in ancient China--and which is still with us today--participation in literate society was until recently a mark of elite status. For this reason, writing also became associated with wealth, power, and prestige. Many Chinese regarded written characters as having an almost magical power. Even into the twentieth century, casually discarding a piece of paper with writing on it was inappropriate behavior in polite society. Such paper should be collected, stored in elegant containers, and periodically burned with proper ceremonial honors. Calligraphy has been and remains the most prestigious of the fine arts, not only in China but throughout East Asia.
As the story goes, the Yellow Emperor created and systematized the various characters that constituted ancient Chinese writing, but not directly. Instead, he delegated the task of creating a writing system to his official, Cang Jie 倉頡, honored today with a font bearing his name. It was #Cang Jie# who did all the work (although he did have four eyes!). A similar situation obtained with the invention of silk cloth. The Yellow Emperor got the credit for it, but his wife actually did the work. The Yellow Emperor's primary mode of "invention" was to recognize the excellence of what others had created or developed.
The Yellow Emperor was supposedly an expert on sex. As with the case of writing and silk, however, the Yellow emperor did not acquire his expertise through his own effort. Indeed, the ancient sexual classics often portray the Yellow Emperor as suffering from all sorts of difficulties in this area. It was a woman (a goddess in some accounts) called "Plain Girl" (Su Nü) who taught the Yellow Emperor all about the finer points of the art of the bed chamber. In one passage from The Classic of Plain Girl, the Yellow Emperor complained "Now when I try to force myself to have intercourse, my 'jade stalk' will not rise. I blush and feel embarrassed and beads of sweat the size of pearls stand out." Plain Girl's reply includes some technical terminology with which you are unlikely to be familiar, but the general Daoistic point of the importance of harmony should be clear:
What Your Majesty inquires about is a common condition. Whenever you wish to have intercourse with a woman there is a prescribed order of things. You must first harmonize your vital energy [qi, "material force" in other contexts] with that of your partner before the 'jade stalk' will rise. Act in accord with your 'five constancies' and concentrate on the arousal of her 'nine parts.' The woman manifests 'five colors' by which to assess her satisfaction. Gather her overflowing vitality [jing] and take the liquid from her mouth. The energetic vitality [jingqi, the combination of both partners' energies] will be returned and transformed in your own body . . . When the internal organs are at peace, one will appear radiant and glossy. Every time you have intercourse there will be an immediate erection. (Quoted in Douglass Wile, Art of the Bedchamber: The Chinese Sexual Yoga Classics Including Women’s Solo Meditation Texts [Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992], p. 86)
Here, the Yellow Emperor appears not as a mighty conqueror but as a frail human, subject to the same problems and stresses as anyone else. Even on the battlefield, the Yellow Emperor frequently found himself at a loss over what to do and had to be instructed or saved by a deity, often a goddess.
Having created so many aspects of human culture, it should be no surprise that Confucians of the Han dynasty and later tended to regard the Yellow Emperor as the founder of the "way" (dao) of which Confucius spoke. In other words, the cultural tradition (siwen) that Confucius passed on and refined consisted in large part of the cultural forms the Yellow Emperor allegedly created. One might suppose that because of all his many cultural creations, Daoists would have viewed the Yellow Emperor in a negative light. On the contrary, however, most Daoist texts claimed the Yellow Emperor as one of their own.
The typical portrayal of the Yellow Emperor's turn toward the Daoist way describes the him as having realized the error of his ways late in life after the burdens of rulership had taken their toll on him. The Daoist text Liezi, for example, provides the following account:
For fifteen years after the Yellow Emperor came to the throne, it pleased him to be borne on the heads of the Empire. He 'tended life,' amused his eyes and ears, pampered his nostrils and mouth, till his ravaged flesh darkened and his dulled senses were stupefied. During the next fifteen years he worried about the misgovernment of the Empire, and devoted all his eyesight and hearing, knowledge and strength, to ruling the people. But still his *ravaged flesh* grew darker and his dulled senses more stupefied. Then the Yellow Emperor breathed a sigh and said: 'Deep is my error! It is an affliction to care for oneself alone, and as great an affliction to govern the myriad things!' (Quoted in A. C. Graham, trans., The Book of Lieh-tzu: A Classic of the Tao [New York: Columbia University Press, 1960, 1990], pp. 33-34)
After this realization, he refused to concern himself with decisions of policy, left the Imperial chambers, dismissed his attendants, discarded his orchestra of bells and drums, reduced the delicacies of his kitchen. He retired to live undisturbed in a hut in his main courtyard, where he fasted to discipline mind and body, and for three months had nothing to do with affairs of state.
In this account, the pressures of civilized life and the responsibilities of emperorship nearly ruined the Yellow Emperor's health. Is it any wonder he sometimes suffered from "jade stalk" problems? After this initial period of Daoist life, the Yellow Emperor sought out an old Daoist immortal named Guang Chengzi, from whom the Yellow Emperor learned the finer points of the Daoist way.
The Yellow Emperor is a fascinating mythological/legendary figure because he wore so many different hats. Chinese from the Han dynasty to the present day have made the Yellow Emperor into one thing or another to suit their needs or views. To Confucians, he was the founding father of the way of the sages; to Daoists, he was one of their own; physicians began their training by memorizing a #medical text# that bore the Yellow Emperor's name; for Legalists, he was a no-nonsense ruler who knew how to use violence to create an orderly society; and in modern times the Yellow Emperor became the founder of China as a nation and "the Chinese" as a "race."
On the surface, the Yellow Emperor was an all-powerful conqueror and ruler, whose abilities appeared superhuman. He was truly an emperor capable of harmonizing the three realms. On the other hand, the Yellow Emperor was often utterly dependent on the assistance and instructions of others, many of whom were women. This weakness even applied to the military realm. In one Song dynasty text, for example, when the Yellow Emperor was unable to oppose a fierce enemy, he "looked up to Heaven and sighed. Heaven then sent a Celestial Woman to bestow upon the Yellow Emperor the Spirit Tally of Military Efficacy." (Quoted in Lewis, Sanctioned Violence, p. 203) Magic tally in hand, the Yellow Emperor emerged victorious.
Is there an explanation for this paradoxical quality in the Yellow Emperor's career? There is, and the key is in his name. The Yellow Emperor perfectly symbolizes the *contradictions and tensions* inherent in the office of emperor as it had developed from Han times onward. Real-world Chinese emperors were, in theory, all powerful, holding the power of life and death in their hands. On the other hand, they were almost entirely dependent on the assistance and instruction of learned officials in order to function effectively as ritualists and political administrators--as we have seen in detail in Chapter Six. The Yellow emperor's dependency on others mirrored real Chinese emperors' dependency on their officials.
Read the *Canons of Yao and Shun*
In the traditional story line, the Yellow Emperor was succeeded by two unimportant rulers, his grandson and great-grandson. Next came a great-great-grandson named *Yao,* the first of three famous rulers, who as a group are called the Sage Kings. Like the culture heroes above, there is no reliable evidence that the Sage Kings actually existed in the flesh. A Han dynasty tomb inscription describes Yao as follows:
Sovereign Yao is named Fang Xun
Whose benevolence matches Heaven,
And whose wisdom resembles [that of] divinities.
Going toward him, he [is bright] like the sun;
Approaching him, he [is remote] like clouds. (Quoted in Wu, The Wu Liang Shrine, p. 251)
Unlike the busy Yellow Emperor, with his (pre-Daoist, at least) stressful life of conflict, Yao's career was low-key to the point of boredom. His major palpable achievement seems to have been the creation of a revised, improved calendar, although even this work was done by subordinate officials. Some accounts also attribute certain forms of music to Yao. Otherwise, however, Yao is not known for any cultural creations. His fame comes from the alleged fact that during Yao's time on the throne, the whole empire existed in a state of perfect peace and harmony. This alleged harmonious state was the direct result of Yao's perfect moral authority. Recall the Classic of Documents account of Yao, whose "Light penetrated the four corners of the world," and who "succeeded in fully manifesting his moral authority." First, he caused "the nine branches of his family to regard each other with affection." Then, "he transformed the various people in nearby areas," after which time his moral authority "harmonized the myriad principalities. The final result was "the people . . . all transformed, all living in harmony." Yao was great, in other words, because he existed in a state of moral perfection
Yao was the ideal sage, a single one of which, thought Confucius, would create harmony throughout society. The charismatic force of Yao's moral authority (de, see Chapter Three) eventually transformed the whole of the Chinese empire and even the lands beyond--at least as the story goes. Notice that in typical Confucian fashion, *Yao's transformative influence* started with himself, spread to his family and relatives, and then extended outward in ever-widening circles (recall the eight steps of the Great Learning as well).
In the Chinese literary tradition, Yao became synonymous with all-around sagehood. It is rare to see depictions of Yao excelling at any particular virtue (e.g., filial piety, loyalty, trustworthiness, courage, etc.) because he was the perfectly balanced embodiment of all of them. The Sage Kings were discussed in Chinese literature earlier than the culture heroes. Confucius, for example, often spoke of the Sage Kings, but never mentioned the culture heroes. About Yao, he said: "The Master said, 'Great indeed was Yao as a ruler! How lofty! It is Heaven that is great and it was Yao who modeled himself upon it. He was so boundless that the common people were not able to put a name to his virtues. Lofty was he in his successes and brilliant was he in his accomplishments." (Quoted in D. C. Lau, trans., The Analects [New York: Penguin Books, 1979], pp. 94-95. All subsequent quotations from Confucius refer to this edition of the Analects.) Yao was so "lofty," that is, morally superior to everyone else, that his virtue was beyond anything that one could easily name or label. In this sense, Yao was the most "abstract" of the three Sage Kings we examine here. He symbolized the totality of sagehood, not any specific aspect or manifestation of it.
After a long and prosperous reign, Yao began to feel the onset of old age. He assembled his ministers and asked them for advice on a worthy successor. One minister said, "Your son and heir, Zhu, is wise," to which You responded, "Alas! He is deceitful and quarrelsome. How could he be acceptable?" Yao, in other words, regarded his own son as morally unfit to rule. This part of the story is remarkable, in light of all the emphasis on Yao's moral authority. Of all people, it should have most affected his sons and daughters, but it seems to have passed his son by. What is going on here is an attempt to make Yao seem ultra-virtuous by unselfishly passing over his own son in favor of the best person for the job. In other words, Yao had the good of the whole empire in mind, not the advancement of his own family. This point can only be made, however, at the expense of creating a contradictory situation with respect to the power of Yao's moral authority--contradictory, at least, from a classical Confucian standpoint.
After considering and rejecting several other possible successors, Yao asked his ministers to recommend a worthy, virtuous person of humble status. The ministers all agreed on the best candidate: a farmer and swineherd named *Shun.* One minister described Shun as "the son of a blind man. His father is stupid, his mother deceitful, and his half-brother Xian is arrogant. Nevertheless, by means of filial piety he has been able to live with them in harmony." Shun, in other words was an exemplar of filial piety. Yao responded with a willingness to put Shun to the ultimate test of his fitness to rule. "I will wed him to my two daughters," said Yao, "and observe his behavior." Why it was that living with Yao's two daughters would be such an ordeal, we are not told, but once again it appears that Yao's renowned moral authority came up a little short on the home front.
Shun passed this and other tests of his moral character with flying colors. The early histories generally portray Shun's moral excellence as being on the same lofty level as was Yao's, but there are at least two important differences between Yao and Shun. First, Shun was #more active.# Although nowhere near as active as the Yellow Emperor, Shun got out and traveled around his empire. He was also directly involved in administering the affairs of state, including the meting out of punishments. Passive moral authority, in other words, was not sufficient for maintaining harmony and peace during Shun's reign. Although not emphasized in most tales, here we see the intrusion of Legalist means into an otherwise ideal Confucian world (review the material on Shun at the end of Chapter Six).
The second difference is that whereas Yao embodied virtue in the abstract, Shun was a paragon of one specific virtue: filial piety (xiao). Although filial piety has its abstract aspects, it is a virtue that can be put into concrete practice in a number of ways. Because Confucius regarded it as the root virtue from which all others develop, a paragon of filial piety would, in theory, also be outstanding in all the other virtues. According to Mencius: "When one does not please one's parents, one cannot be a son. Shun did everything that was possible to serve his parents, and succeeded, in the end, in pleasing the Blind Man. Once the Blind Man was pleased, the pattern for the relationship between father and son in the Empire was set. This is the supreme achievement of a dutiful son." (Quoted in D. C. Lau, trans., Mencius [New York: Penguin Books, 1970], p. 127. All subsequent quotations from Mencius refer to this edition of Mencius.) By establishing a model father-son relationship, defined by the father being pleased, Shun thus established the basis by which all of society could be made harmonious.
The early histories record a number of different stories illustrating the almost superhuman extent of Shun's filial devotion. In these accounts, Shun's father is always portrayed as blind, and in classical literature is simply called "the Blind Man" (Gusou 瞽瞍). His father was literally blind in the sense that his eyes could not see, but the true significance of the name lies in his moral blindness, for which his physical blindness was a metaphor. Shun's father, in short, was utterly evil. Portraying the Blind Man and the other members of Shun's family as arch villains was a rhetorical strategy to accentuate the super good (i.e., super filial) qualities of Shun.
How evil were his family members? After Yao began to consider Shun as a possible successor, the other members of Shun's family became so jealous that they tried various ways to kill Shun. In #one famous story,# his half brother and father asked Shun to go up on the roof of the barn to repair it. With Shun on the roof, they set fire to the barn from below, and the flames quickly engulfed the structure. Fortunately for Shun, he was wearing an extremely broad hat, which he employed as a crude parachute. Hat held high, Shun leaped from the roof of the barn and escaped unharmed. In another, more fantastic version of the tale, Shun escaped by turning into a bird. Despite this and other attempts by his family to kill him, Shun harbored no resentment against them. He continued to work hard on their behalf and attended to all their needs, while also maintaining harmonious relations with Yao's daughters. The moral power of his filial piety finally transformed even this wretched family into a peaceful, harmonious unit--which was the achievement Mencius praised in the passage quoted above.
With the onset of old age, Shun also began to think of a successor. The deliberation about this matter between Shun and his advisors closely resembled Yao's conversation with his. The advisors suggested that Shun's son succeed him, to which Shun replied that his son had nowhere near sufficient moral virtue to be a good ruler (same contradiction as in Yao's case). Instead, Shun turned his attention to *Yu,* who had been serving Shun as Minister of Works. "As Minister of Works you have regulated the land and water of the realm," said Shun to Yu. "Henceforth you are to become Prime Minister." This promotion was part of a series of tests Shun set up for Yu to see if he had what it takes to become the supreme ruler. Not surprisingly, Yu passed with flying colors.
Yu's major accomplishment was in the area of flood control. He was a great *hydraulic engineer,* who worked tirelessly on behalf of the people of the empire. His alleged birthday became a holiday, Engineers' Day, in republican China. Even after succeeding Shun to the throne, Yu pursued the work of flood control, the construction of irrigation works, and other projects single mindedly, all the while living a simple, frugal lifestyle--most difficult to imagine in the case of a real king or emperor. Yu is the most "concrete" of the Sage Kings, the embodiment of the virtues of hard work for the benefit of others combined with a simple lifestyle. Confucius lavished praise on Yu as follows:
With Yu I can find no fault. He ate and drank the meanest fare while making offerings to ancestral spirits and gods with the utmost devotion proper to a descendant. He wore coarse clothes while sparing no splendor in his robes and caps on sacrificial occasions. He lived in lowly dwellings while devoting all his energy to the building of irrigation canals. With Yu I can find no fault." (p. 95)
Yu, in other words, was a model of self-sacrifice on behalf of the larger society. But is there really no fault we could find with Yu?
As the story goes, Yu was the son of an official Shun executed for failing to control the flooding of north China's major rivers. Wanting to make up for his father's failure, Yu labored for thirteen years, rushing from place to place supervising the workers on a variety of flood control and irrigation projects. In the course of his work, he sometimes passed by the door of his house, but he was too busy to stop. On these occasions, Yu could hear his wife and children wailing in grief over the absence of their husband/father, but the demands of his work were too great to permit even the briefest visit. Yu, in other words, faced a dilemma over conflicting priorities: the good of his immediate family versus the good of society. He chose the latter, although, of course, to some extent his motives may have included a filial desire to make up for his father's failings. Still, the rhetorical intent in most tales of Yu is to stress the suffering of his wife and children and how the larger society benefited at the expense of their happiness. In this sense, Yu is typically portrayed as the opposite of Shun, who, in the words of Mencius "looked upon casting aside the empire as no more than discarding a worn shoe" had the duties of his office ever conflicted with the well being of his family.
Like Yao and Shun before him, Yu passed over his son and appointed an unrelated, virtuous minister to become the next ruler. After Yu died, however the people of the empire refused to accept Yu's choice and insisted instead that Yu's son succeed Yu as ruler. Thus began, according to historical legend, China's first dynasty, the Xia. So, unwittingly, Yu also created dynasties. This alleged creation leads to an interesting study of Han Chinese views of the dynastic cycle, a topic we have already examined in a previous chapter. Yu was the Xia dynasty's virtuous founder. Recall that the dynasty's allegedly evil last ruler was Jie (of lake of wine and forest of meat fame). In between Yu and Jie, of course, were many other rulers, but in a Han dynasty shrine, Yu and Jie appear side-by-side (see graphic). Let us compare the two figures.
In *this shrine fresco,* Jie and Yu appear to be looking at each other. Despite the symmetry between the two, there are many points of contrast. Jie appears impassive, whereas Yu seems to be inviting the viewer to follow him. Yu wears the simple attire of a manual laborer, not the elaborate robes one might expect of a king. Relevant items of Yu's clothing include his wide-brimmed straw hat, his short robe, and his rope belt. In one hand he carries a wooden spade-like tool, which also appears in some early depictions of *Shennong as a farmer.* The depiction of Yu emphasizes his hard work on behalf of others' welfare and his simple, frugal, unpretentious lifestyle--all admirable traits in a ruler and traits that are sure to maintain possession of Heaven's mandate for that ruler. By contrast, Jie wears an elaborate, multi-layered robe and sash, held around his waist by a belt with elaborate decorations. Jie carries a halberd in his hand, consonant with a Han dynasty history that describes him as a ruler who "did not attend to cultivating virtue, but instead, hurt people with his military power." Most striking is that Jie is literally sitting on the backs of two palace ladies. These women form a human couch as they kneel next to each other. Jie, in short, symbolizes addiction to luxury and sensual pleasure as well as the abuse of power. Looking at such a depiction, a viewer would be inclined to think that it is no wonder that Jie lost the Mandate of Heaven to the founder of the Shang dynasty.
As Wu points out, in the historiography of the Han dynasty Yu and his Xia dynasty signified an important turning point, following which:
the pattern of historical development was altered. History was characterized not by a linear succession of virtuous rulers but by a spiral development: each dynasty experiences rise and decline, a process determined by the moral conduct of individual rulers. Each of the Three Dynasties [i.e., Xia, Shang, Zhou] was founded by a virtuous king and terminated by an evil ruler; each dynasty was given a mandate by Heaven because of the goodness of its wise, benevolent, and hardworking founder, and each lost its mandate because of the evil of its corrupt, sybaritic, selfish, and evil last king. (The Wu Liang Shrine, p. 162)
It is this phenomenon, the dynastic cycle, that the adjacent, opposing images of Jie and Yu on the tomb wall illustrate.
From where did these stories of the Sage Kings and the Xia dynasty originate? They probably date back to the Shang dynasty. Recall in a previous chapter we mentioned Allan's argument that the Xia dynasty was the imaginary, mythical inverse of the Shang dynasty. Allen argues that the Xia dynasty, its rulers, and their immediate predecessors, the Yellow Emperor, Yao, and Shun, derived from Shang myths. Then. Zhou dynasty Chinese came to regard the Xia as a real, political entity. Allan summarizes the process as follows:
Within the Shang myth system, there was also a dualism . . . in which the suns, sky, birds, east, life, the Lord on High were opposed to the moons, watery underworld, dragons, west, death, the Lord below . . . and a myth in which the Shang ancestors who were identified with the suns, east [etc.] . . . had vanquished a previous people, the Xia, identified with the underworld, dragons, west [etc.] . . . . When the Zhou conquered the Shang, this myth was reinterpreted in the light of their [i.e., the Zhou conquerors'] own historical context as a similar historical event at an earlier period and the Xia came to be regarded as a political dynasty. Later, Huang Di [the Yellow Emperor], originally the lord of the underworld or Yellow Springs and thus closely associated with the Xia, was also transformed into an historical ruler and, with his descendant Zhuan Xu, placed before Yao, who was a transformation of the Lord on High, Shang Di, in the historical sequence. Thus, the historical accounts from Huang Di to the Xia may all be understood as deriving from the Shang myth system. (Allen, The Shape of the Turtle, p. 73)
If Allen is correct, then there was a gradual evolution and transformation of the Yellow Emperor through Xia dynasty segment of the story line from Shang times through the Han period. What about the first two culture heroes, Fuxi and Shennong? Their mythic origins lay elsewhere, perhaps from regions outside the Chinese cultural sphere. It is interesting to note that Han histories, although usually starting with Fuxi and Shennong, have rather little to say about them. The details begin with China as a political entity under the Yellow Emperor. It was not until the Song dynasty that Fuxi and Shennong, especially Fuxi, attracted significant attention from scholars. Zhu Xi, for example, was especially enamored of Fuxi, even writing the following poem with sexual overtones:
Suddenly at midnight a peal of thunder;
Ten thousand gates and a thousand doors open in succession.
As if from nothing an apparition appears;
Behold with your own eyes Fuxi comes. (Quoted in Wile, Art of the Bedchamber, p. 43)
Zhu was a devotee of "pure practices," a type of physical and spiritual training that sought to transcend sexual desire (a goal, incidentally, that Zhu was unable to accomplish, at least by his own admission). In this strange poem Fuxi's sudden appearance seems to substitute for orgasm. In any case, the main point about Zhu is that he and other major Song dynasty scholars tended to "add on to antiquity" (to borrow the terminology of the late 18th- early 19th-century #critical historian Cui Shu#). Specifically, they built up and expanded the historical roles of pre-Yellow Emperor figures, especially Fuxi. By the Qing dynasty, scholars had added even more figures on to "antiquity," starting the story line with figures who predated Fuxi. Note that Confucius and Mencius spoke only of the Sage Kings. Thus we have an interesting process whereby as time went on, the (major) starting point of "the past" got pushed farther and farther back into antiquity. Joshua A. Fogel points out that "While Confucius spoke of antiquity going back no further than the sage-kings Yao and Shun, by the Han dynasty Sima Qian began his Shiji [Records of the Grand Historian] with the Yellow Emperor; later historians went still further back to Fuxi." *This graphic* illustrates this process of "adding on to antiquity." (Joshua A. Fogel, The Cultural Dimensions of Sino-Japanese Relations: Essays on the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries [Armonk, N.Y.: M. E. Sharpe, Inc., 1995], p. 9)
The major transformation of the figures we have examined in this chapter took place during the Han dynasty. It was mainly at this time that they moved from the realm of mythology into the realm of legend presented as historical fact. To summarize what we have seen of this process here and in Chapter Six, there were three major processes by which pre-Han (and often pre-Zhou) myths were rendered into history. First, Han historians tended to tone down the fantastic aspects of the myths and to humanize the figures involved, making reptilian deities into earthly rulers, for example. Second, the Han historians wrote social and moral ideas into these toned-down, humanized former myths. These moral ideals generally came from the Confucian tradition. Third, Han historians fitted diverse and unrelated tales (with vastly different mythic origins in some cases) together into a continuous, linear narrative. The fit was not always perfect, of course, which is one source of the tensions and contradictions in the Han histories.
In later dynasties, "the past" changed to accommodate new ideas. The most important of these was Buddhism, which was particularly influential in Tang and Song times. We have seen Buddhist-influenced images of Fuxi and Shennong in this chapter. Buddhism also greatly affected Confucian thought, which in turn affected interpretations of the past, although an analysis of Neo-Confucian historiography is beyond the scope of this course.
This process, that is, contemporary concerns and values shaping views of "the past" seems to be universal in the human quest for meaning. The idea that the discipline of history produces a single, correct view of "the past" that is true for all times, places, and circumstances remains part of the popular (mis)understanding of history, but comparatively fewer historians would be so epistemologically confident. "The past" of the United States, for example, has undergone significant changes over just last past twenty years as new issues and new questions come to the fore in historians' writings.
Obviously, the stories of the culture heroes and Sage Kings tell us little or nothing about pre-Shang China. In fact, they do not tell us anything reliable about what happened in a specific time in a specific place. If Fuxi and company did not really exist, why bother even to study them? One reason is that nearly all educated Chinese until the twentieth century believed that these figures existed and that they did the things attributed to them in classical histories (even today, high school students in Taiwan typically memorize these tales as if they were historical facts). These ancient mythical sages and their alleged deeds served as models of ideal behavior for many generations of Chinese, a process we see in action even as early as the time of Confucius and Mencius. Mencius, for example, said:
If one wishes to be a ruler, one must fulfill the duties proper to a ruler; if one wishes to be a subject, one must fulfill the duties proper to a subject. In both cases all one has to do is to model oneself on Yao and Shun. Not to serve one's prince in the way Shun served Yao is not to respect one's prince; not to govern the people in the way Yao governed his is to harm one's people. (p. 118)
The ancient sages served as proof for many educated Chinese that human beings had once achieved perfection, both as individuals and as a society, and that therefore they could do so again. In this way, the culture heroes and Sage Kings became powerful objects of inspiration. They were also a source of frustration because human perfection on a large scale seemed unattainable during later dynasties. Why--many Chinese wondered generation after generation--does it seem impossible to re-create the glorious days of Yao and Shun? Today, of course, we might answer that the alleged glorious days of Yao and Shun never were, but the thought would have been unimaginable to the vast majority of educated Chinese until this century.
Another important reason to study the culture heroes and Sage Kings is that their stories reflect important cultural forms and values, many of which have had a lasting influence in China and throughout East Asia. Let us examine some of these cultural forms and values. Fuxi's creation of marriage reflects the general importance of the family institution, and Shun's extraordinary filial piety reflects the tremendous importance of intra-family relations in Chinese society. As mentioned previously, it is impossible to over emphasize the importance of filial piety in China for all social classes and groups. Although the definition of "filial" was not always precise and has changed over the centuries, both during the Han dynasty and today, filial piety is the premier moral value in Chinese society and throughout East Asia.
The importance of writing as a cultural practice in China and East Asia also cannot be overemphasized. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that one of the ancient sages would get credit for inventing it, even though, of course, writing could not have been invented by one person from scratch. Some accounts regard Fuxi's eight trigrams as the origin or writing, but most attribute its invention to the Yellow Emperor via Cang Jie. As stated earlier, #calligraphy# (artistic writing) is the most prestigious of the fine arts in East Asia. Children in China, Taiwan, and the other countries that employ Chinese characters in their writing systems--South Korea and Japan--spend the major portion of their time and energy during the first nine or more years of education learning how to read and write. Poor handwriting is akin to moral failure in East Asia and indicates an uneducated, uncultured person. The word for writing and civilization are the same in classical Chinese (wen), both of which acquired the status of a moral virtue in the high cultures of East Asia. Prior to this century, only a small minority of the population of China was capable of sophisticated reading and writing, and so the manipulation of the written word functioned as a marker of elite status.
The stories of the culture heroes and Sage Kings also reflect a number of political ideals. The ruler, for example, should work for the benefit of the common people. We see this ideal in the praise by Confucius, Mencius, and the Han historians for the benefit that Yao, Shun, and Yu brought to the common people. We also see this ideal in the praise for the simple, unpretentious lifestyles of Shun the peasant and Yu the hard working engineer. Shennong and the Yellow Emperor were held in such high esteem in large part because they created so many items and practices that enhanced the material quality of life for ordinary people. Recall from Chapter Six that Han dynasty intellectuals emphasized the importance of material well being as the basis for the moral development of the common people. Evil rulers, on the other hand, were typically portrayed as selfish indulgers in luxury who did not work for the benefit of the common people. On the contrary, the common people worked for the benefit of the evil rulers, the opposite of an ideal Confucian society and a recipe for losing the Mandate of Heaven.
We also see the idea that the best ruler is the one with the highest degree of moral virtue. Even the humble Shun was the perfect choice to become king owing to his outstanding filial piety. Yao, Shun, and Yu handed or attempted to hand their throne not to relatives but the most virtuous candidate they could find. They upheld the principle that merit should be the qualification for high office. A closely related political ideal was the importance of the ruler selecting worthy ministers. Because the ruler cannot govern alone, he must rely on others. We see this reliance on others particularly well in the case of the Yellow Emperor, who, for all his glory, would have been helpless but for the aid of others, often women. That Shun served Yao for a trial period and Yu did the same under Shun is another instance of the ruler paying careful attention to the selection and promotion of worthy subordinates. Recall from previous material that evil last rulers of dynasties were portrayed as surrounding themselves with sycophants and "yes men," killing or imprisoning worthy ministers courageous enough to point out the ruler's shortcomings.
Another political ideal in the tales we have seen is rule by moral authority. Yao, of course, is the perfect example, but all the others were able to govern well because they exuded a moral charisma that inspired the cooperation of others.
Finally, notice the importance of agriculture and flood control, particularly in the stories of Shennong and Yu. Throughout China's history there have been two recurring problems. One was attack and conquest by northern peoples beyond the Chinese cultural sphere (the "northern barbarians" in Chinese literature). The other was starvation. Starvation had many causes, of course, but the major ones were connected with the control of water. First, flooding of the Yellow and other rivers resulted in massive, short-term crop losses. Second, proper irrigation was a major factor in food production. Third, without adequate means to transport food efficiently, crop loss in one area of China might result in starvation there before relief grain could be shipped from a part of the empire with greater food supplies. Rivers and canals were the main routes for the shipment of food and other essential items. Keeping these waterways in good condition was a major concern from at least the Han dynasty onward, and throughout most of its history China was home to the most sophisticated hydraulic engineering technology in the world.
Overall, what are these tales of the culture heroes and sage kings about? Also, what are they not about? Mythology often attempts to explain the origins of humans in general or a specific group of people in particular, but none of these Chinese tales do. This is not to say that there were no Chinese myths about these topics--there were--but the myths that made it into the major historical accounts were not concerned with the origins of human beings, Chinese in particular, the earth, or China in particular. These things seem to have been taken for granted. Instead, the myths rendered into history explain the origins of culture and civilization, both material and non-material. (*Study this graphic.*) In their Han dynasty forms, the tales appear sanitized, with high doses of moral ideology and no mention of the explicit sex and violence common in the creation mythology of many other societies (e.g., Korea and Japan).
To understand any culture it is essential to understand that society's ideals and values. It is equally essential, however, to realize that real life is never ideal. Any attempt to create an ideal society in one respect is likely to lead to conflict with other ideal values. The tales we have studied are full of such conflict. As a result, they reveal some of the fundamental tensions within Chinese society.
One of these tensions is the style of ideal rulership. Shennong, the Yellow Emperor, and Yu were extremely busy, active rulers, physically involved in the details of administering the empire. Compared with them, Yao was thoroughly passive. He simply let his moral authority radiate outward and delegated any specific tasks that needed to be done to competent ministers. Fuxi and Shun, while more active than Yao, nevertheless tend in the direction of relatively passive rulership style. The general term for passive rulership is wuwei 無為, which means something like "not actively striving" in this context. Although probably of Daoist origin, both classical Confucians and Legalists idealized shadowy, passive rulers who sat with their garments hanging down yet still had everything under control. By contrast the Yellow Emperor or Yu's style of rulership was youwei 有為, active striving. (*Study this graphic.*) Interestingly, these contrasting styles of "rulership" can be seen in recent U.S. presidents, with Jimmy Carter having been a "youwei" leader and Ronald Reagan having been a wuwei leader (at least as far as appearances went). Carter was often criticized for a seeming inability to delegate, whereas Reagan was often criticized for remaining blissfully unaware of the activities of his subordinates. In Chinese culture, both styles have been associated with great kings and emperors, but the political rhetoric of the Han era and later tended to look with greater favor on the wuwei style of ruler like Yao. The ideal ruler, in other words, would be morally perfect and would delegate the specific tasks of government administration to able ministers instead of trying to do them himself.
A second tension connected with the ruler is reflected in many of the specific tales about the Yellow Emperor: the emperor as all powerful versus his dependence on others. We have already covered this topic in detail above, so we need not reiterate it here.
A third tension, particularly evident in the stories of Shun and Yu, is the good of one's family versus the good of the broader society. In theory, there should be no conflict here because harmonious well-regulated families were the foundation of a stable and prosperous country in classical Chinese political theory. (*Study this graphic.*) In practice, however, things are never so simple. A high-ranking official, for example, would be in a position to enrich his family by various means of questionable benefit to the greater public. Would the dictates of filial piety favor an official's enriching his family at public expense, or vice versa? Nepotism and related forms of corruption involving official use of government resources to enrich one's family has long been a problem in China, even in recent times such as during Mao's regime (a time when family connections were extremely important).
Finally, there is the very important tension of *merit versus heredity,* which was related in part to the tension between the good of one's family versus the good of society. On the one hand, concern over heredity and family lineage has always been dear to the hearts and minds of most Chinese. Hereditary succession from father to son would certainly make sense in a society so concerned with family matters. The problem, of course, is that a good ruler or official will not necessarily produce equally capable offspring. Shun's evil father produced Shun, who produced an incapable son. Much would be at stake in the case of rulers and high government officials, for misgovernment could wreak havoc on the whole society. On what basis, therefore, should rulers and officials be selected: heredity or merit?
From the earliest known times, the position of ruler (king or emperor) in China has been hereditary. There is no indication that anything like Yao's relinquishing the throne to Shun and Shun's relinquishing it to Yao ever actually happened. On the other hand, merit did gradually become the basis for selection of officials. In Han times, we find a great deal of rhetoric about appointing worthy officials, although in reality heredity was more important, especially for high office. During the Tang dynasty, however, the civil service examinations became a major avenue to officialdom, and by the Song dynasty and later the exams were the primary means by which officials were selected. In the exam system, of course, "merit" meant mastery of the classical literary tradition, for it was here that moral perfection was to be found in its purest form. Ideally, these meritorious ministers would be able to compensate for the luck of the hereditary draw bringing an incompetent emperor to the throne. The tension between merit and heredity, however, was never fully resolved at any time in China's past.
