The Poetics of Sovereignty
Page 19
Here, Taizong is making an argument we have not seen previously in his
writings. When he writes, “If the five gateways are closed off to what is
close at hand, then this will allow virtue to flourish even at a remove; if
one is vulnerable within to the thousand desires, then the wellspring of
disaster will gush outwards,” he is no longer paraphrasing from the
—————
106. Marx’s idea of use-value has been criticized for drawing on such explanatory fictions as “nature” or “necessity.” See Baudrillard, Mirror of Production, pp. 22–23. However, even in the early writings of Marx, one sees an awareness that concepts such as “use-value” and
“need” are complex. For example, Marx and Engels describe the production of second-
order needs from the fulfillment of first-order needs. See Marx and Engels, German Ideology, p. 49.
107. The “five gateways” ( wuguan 五關) refer to the eye ( mu 目), ear ( er 耳), nose ( bi 鼻), mouth ( kou 口), and body ( shen 身).
108. This is a paraphrase of a passage in the Lüshi chunqiu. See note 111.
109. “Red osmanthus” and “scarlet flames” would seem to be parallel allusions or figures concerning excellence or potential greatness. However, while “red osmanthus” is often used to figure men of talent, “scarlet flames” does not seem to have such a meaning.
110. Di fan zhu, 2.1a–2a; and Tang Taizong quanji jiaozhu, pp. 610–13.
This content downloaded from 129.174.21.5 on Sat, 20 Jul 2019 13:01:38 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
102
On Sovereignty and Representation
Huainanzi. Instead Taizong is using language that draws upon the Lüshi
chunqiu: “Thus it is said, when desires from within do not get out, it is
called barring [the gate]; when desires from without do not enter, it is
called shutting [the door]” 故曰，中欲不出謂之扃，外欲不入謂之
閉.111 What both Taizong’s argument and the Lüshi chunqiu have in
common is the ideal of a body that is closed off—hermetically sealed—so
that desires from inside cannot cause imbalance without, and stimuli
from outside cannot disorder the mind within.
The closing of the sensory organs or the body off from the world arises
from the rhetoric of stillness. Again, one of the earliest sources is the
Laozi: “Block its apertures, shut its gates, and all your life you will not suffer; open its apertures, meddle in affairs, and all your life nothing will save
you” 塞其兌，閉其門。終身不勤。開其兌，濟其事。終身不
救.112 What the hermetic body of the Laozi represents here is an elegant
solution to the problem of desire. Against the Confucian position that
desires can be governed through ritual or sovereign example, the Laozi-
inspired traditions argue that the only way to control desire is to contain
it. For texts such as the Lüshi chunqiu and the Huainanzi, it is only the disciplining of the body—the practice of askēsis— that can allow the sovereign not to visit harm upon the empire. Thus, Taizong argues that, “De-
sires are born in one’s body; if they are not kept in check, then the body
will perish.” The problem is not that society needs social conventions that
will govern the flow of desires, but that desires have to be neutralized
while they are still within the body of the sovereign.
As “Model for an Emperor” was composed at the end of Taizong’s
reign, there is a clear sense of how Taizong has himself failed to live up to
the principles of self-discipline upon which he insists. In the postface to
the essay, Taizong adopts an almost plaintive tone, telling his heir not to
take him as the model of sovereignty, but rather to emulate the wise sover-
eigns of the past. He diminishes his own reign and achievements, speaking
in the voice of a humble ruler who recognizes his failings. Here, Taizong
takes up the recurring theme of the essay—the problem of imperial de-
sires—but in a personal tone largely absent from the rest of the essay:
—————
111. Lüshi chunqiu xinjiaoshi, 17.1059–60. I have consulted the translation in Knoblock and Riegel, Annals of Lü Buwei, p. 409.
112. Laozi jiaoshi, 52.206–207.
This content downloaded from 129.174.21.5 on Sat, 20 Jul 2019 13:01:38 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
On Sovereignty and Representation
103
Since I assumed the throne, my failings have been numerous.113 Marvelously
beautiful adornments, splendid brocade, and pearls and jade were ceaselessly set
before me—this was a case of not inhibiting my desires.114 As for carved pillars
and engraved columns, high terraces and deep ponds, each gave rise to its respec-
tive labors—this was a case of not moderating my will. As for hounds and horses,
hawks and falcons, I had to send for them no matter how distant they might be—
this was a case of not restraining my mind. On numerous occasions there were
tours and visits, frequently causing the people to toil—this was a case of not
humbling the self. These numerous affairs were my profound offenses. Do not
take this as correct and afterwards model yourself upon this.
Still, in my aiding and nurturing the common people, the benefits have been
many; in my pacifying and settling the territories, the achievement has been great.
When the benefits are many and the harms few, the people will not take it as a
cause for grievance; when the achievements are great and the offenses minor,
then my virtue was not lacking. However, to compare it to “the tracks of perfect
beauty”—there I would be much chagrined; or to compare it to “the way of per-
fect goodness”—looking at this I would feel shame.115
Moreover, you are without the slightest bit of achievement, only relying on
the foundations and treading in the grace [of your forebears]. If you revere good-
ness and broaden virtue, then you will make the patrimony great and your person
secure. If you give free rein to your passions and lose yourself in iniquity, then you will topple the patrimony and bring death to your own person. Further, that success comes slowly and defeat comes quickly is the basis of the state; that loss is
easy and gain is hard is the apportionment of Heaven. Can this not be regretted?
Can this not be feared?
吾在位已來，所缺多矣。奇麗服翫、錦繡珠玉，不絕於前，此非防慾
也。雕楹刻桷、高臺深池，每興其役，此非儉志也。犬馬鷹鶻，無遠
必致，此非節心也。數有行幸，以亟人勞，此非屈己也。斯數事者，
吾之深過也。勿以茲為是而後法焉。
但吾濟育蒼生，其益多矣，平定區宇，其功大矣。益多損少，民不
以為怨，功大過微，德未之虧。然猶盡美之蹤，於焉多愧，盡善之
道，顧此懷慚。
—————
113. Luo Zhenyu’s text reads, “What I have instituted is numerous” 所制多矣. I follow the Yongle dadian, which reads que 缺, instead of zhi 制.
114. Here, Luo Zhenyu’s text reads, “are not practiced before me” 不施於前. I follow the Yongle dadian text, which reads jue 絕 instead of shi 施.
115. This is an allusion to Lunyu 3.25 / Lunyu jishi, 6.222–24. I discuss it below.
This content downloaded from 129.174.21.5 on Sat, 20 Jul 2019 13:01:38 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
104
On Sovereignty and Representation
況汝無纖毫之功，直緣基而履慶。若崇善以廣德，則業泰而身安。
若肆情以縱非，則業傾而身喪。且成遲敗速者，國之基也。失易得難
者，天之位也。可不惜哉？可不慎哉？116
At last, Taizong evaluates his own reign, comparing his actions and con-
duct to the principles that he has laid out in the twelve preceding sections.
He admits to Li Zhi that he himself has not been able to live the life of
frugality and moderation that he had espoused in the previous sections.
This is a striking moment, since Taizong so consistently represents him-
self through the rhetoric of askēsis in his speeches and writings. His con-
fession of failure is, however, in keeping with the representational mode
of the postface: Taizong is stepping out of the voice of sovereign to speak
forthrightly about the successes and failures of his reign—as if his reign
were already over, or as if he were about to bestow the throne upon his
heir at the very moment of writing.
Though the essay may take the form of an address to Li Zhi (the “you”
of the work), Taizong remains the inescapable center of his own argu-
ment. In raising the question of succession (and whether his son is prepared
for such responsibilities), Taizong returns to his own problematic acces-
sion to the throne. Taizong speaks of being ashamed by comparisons to
“perfect beauty” and “perfect goodness,” which are periphrastic references
to a comment by Confucius regarding the respective “Shao” and “Wu” suc-
cession dances of the sage-king Shun and King Wu of the Zhou dynasty:
The Master said of the “Shao”: “It is perfect beauty, and moreover, perfect good-
ness.” He said of the “Wu”: “It is perfect beauty, but not yet perfect goodness.”
子謂《韶》：“盡美矣，又盡善也。”謂《武》：“盡美矣，未盡善
也。”117
Shun was given the throne by Yao in the first example of shanrang, or ab-
dication in favor of a worthy successor. King Wu overthrew Zhou, the last
ruler of the Shang dynasty, as an act of fangfa , or legitimate conquest of a despotic regime. For these two rulers, the musical dances of the “Shao” 韶
and the “Wu” 武 symbolize the propriety of their exemplary successions—
the first in peace and the second in war. Of course, it should be noted that
while the “Wu” is exemplary, it is not as perfect as the “Shao,” since Shun
—————
116. Di fan zhu, 2.4a–4b; and Tang Taizong quanji jiaozhu, p. 620.
117. Lunyu 3.25 / Lunyu jishi, 6.222–24.
This content downloaded from 129.174.21.5 on Sat, 20 Jul 2019 13:01:38 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
On Sovereignty and Representation
105
was given the empire without having to use force; succession by virtue is
always more esteemed than succession by righteous war.
By contrast, Taizong came to the throne through the unsanctionable
violence of fratricide and unfilial behavior. Of course, Taizong would rep-
resent his actions at Xuanwu Gate in the rhetoric of both shanrang and
fangfa, since later historical accounts of the incident describe his killings as “punishments” and depict his father as voluntarily abdicating to the future Taizong. The question, then, is why Taizong would draw attention
to the actual circumstances of his accession in a work that he seems to
have conceived as the last testament of his reign. After all, he might have
merely passed over the subject without making even the slightly peri-
phrastic references to Shun and King Wu. It is tempting to take the con-
fessional tone of the postface as the voice of the true Taizong—the sover-
eign laying his soul bare in the face of his own mortality. However, even
when Taizong speaks as himself, he cannot escape the fact that he is the
sovereign performing the act of negating the sovereign voice. The “truth”
of the sovereign is that he is always sovereign, regardless of the manner of
his representation. This is the problem at the heart of imperial literary
self-representation, which I will take up more directly in the following
chapters.
This content downloaded from 129.174.21.5 on Sat, 20 Jul 2019 13:01:38 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
T H R E E
The Reception of Literature
in Tang Taizong’s Court
One of the most distinctive aspects of the Tang founding was its atten-
tion to the question of literature and its place within the imperium.1 To
be sure, literary discourse had long been understood as belonging to the
political sphere, and prior to the Tang, historians and scholars had argued
for the interrelation of sovereignty and literary production. For example,
the textual sources of the late Zhou represented the recitation of poetry as
a means of revealing character in social and diplomatic exchanges, since
the poem was seen as the outward expression of one’s aims or political in-
tent ( zhi 志).2 Moreover, at the dawning of empire, both Qin Shihuang
and Han Wudi saw poetic and literary form as a significant medium for
the fashioning of imperial ideology.3
—————
1. For other discussions of Zhenguan literary thought, see Owen, Poetry of the Early T’ang, pp. 14–59 passim; Yang Encheng, “Lun Tang Taizong de wenxue guan,” Tangdai wenxue yanjiu, pp. 522–31; Wang Yunxi and Yang Ming, Sui Tang Wudai wenxue piping shi, pp.
37–60; Luo Zongqiang, Sui Tang Wudai wenxue sixiang shi, pp. 22–38; and Warner, Wild Deer amid Soaring Phoenixes, pp. 23–33.
2. Among other studies, see Van Zoeren, Poetry and Personality, pp. 56–79; and David Schaberg, A Patterned Past, pp. 234–43.
3. See Kern, Stele Inscriptions of Ch’in Shih-Huang; and Knechtges, “Emperor and Literature,” pp. 51–76.
This content downloaded from 129.174.21.5 on Sat, 20 Jul 2019 13:01:41 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
The Reception of Literature in Tang Taizong’s Court
107
By the time of Taizong, however, the relationship between literary
writing and sovereignty would become much more complex. No longer
would literary works be seen as merely testifying to the success or failure
of earlier dynasties, a hermeneutical model in which literature was subor-
dinated to the role of supplemental historical evidence. Instead, under the
court of Taizong, the history of literature would not be understood so
much as an index of dynastic history, but as, in fact, one of its sources.
That is, Taizong and his court would insist upon an essential identifica-
tion between literary history and dynastic history, one in which literary
trends during a given historical period were not simply consigned to an
indexical or reflective status within the cultural superstructure, but played
a direct and active role in the construction and preservation of sovereign
power. Consequently, for the new Tang rulers, much importance was
placed on the forging of a new literary style, one that would reflect the
successful unification of northern and southern cultural practices, while
avoiding the failures and deficiencies of both.
The early Tang discourse on literature would itself draw upon a long
and complex history of literary debate. In this chapter, I first examine the
critical background to the early Tang conception of literature, showing
how the arguments over literary significance and dynastic fortune first de-
veloped out of earlier comments and writings on literature. In the second
part of the chapter, I turn to Taizong’s own comments on literature, as
well as the literary views represented in the dynastic histories compiled
during Taizong’s reign.
Defining Poetry in Early China
I begin with a scene from the Zuo zhuan, an episode that has to do with
Chong’er 重耳 (the future Duke Wen of the state of Jin 晉文公, r. 636–
628 bc). In the course of his wanderings, Chong’er was feasted by Duke
Mu of Qin 秦穆公 (r. 659–621 bc). At the feast, Chong’er recited a poem,
“The Yellow River’s Waters” 河水, and Duke Mu responded with “Sixth
Month” 六月.4 At this, Chong’er bowed deeply, touching his head to the
—————
4. Commentators such as Du Yu 杜預 (222–84) considered the “Yellow River’s Waters” a
“lost poem” ( yishi 遺詩), but as numerous later scholars have pointed out, it almost certainly refers to the poem “Waters of the Mian” 沔水 (Poem 183), in the Classic of Poetry.
This content downloaded from 129.174.21.5 on Sat, 20 Jul 2019 13:01:41 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
108
The Reception of Literature in Tang Taizong’s Court
ground. The duke protested this display of humility, but Zhao Shuai 趙
衰, Chong’er’s retainer, said, “In what you, my lord, said about “helping
the Son of Heaven,” you have laid the charge upon Chong’er—how dare
Chong’er not bow to you?” 君稱所以佐天子者命重耳，重耳敢
不拜.5
This is a hermeneutical situation. Chong’er has chosen a poem to re-
cite; the Duke of Mu has understood Chong’er’s choice and responded in
kind; Chong’er has understood the Duke of Mu’s intentions and thus
prostrates himself. The duke politely protests, but Zhao Shuai quickly in-
terjects, making explicit what had been implicitly understood already by