PREFACE: THE QUESTION OF CHU'S OTHERNESS

Traditional scholars were overwhelmingly inclined to view Chu as the cultural Other of the Zhou world. The reasons for this verdict are not difficult to find. Already some of the Western Zhou 西周 (ca. 1046–771 BCE) sources indicate considerable enmity between the Zhou realm and the state of Chu. The most notable manifestation of this enmity were campaigns of King Zhao of Zhou 周昭王 (r. 975–957 BCE) against Chu in ca. 960–957 BCE. The latter of these campaigns ended in the disastrous loss of royal armies; and the king himself perished. The memory of this humiliation lived for centuries.Footnote ²

Tensions between Zhou and Chu continued into the reign of King Xuan of Zhou 周宣王 (r. 828–781 BCE). The ode “Plucking White Millet” (Cai qi 采芑) in the Canon of Poems (Shijing 詩經) hails a minister of King Xuan who allegedly invaded and overawed the “Savage Jing” (man Jing 蠻荊). Whether or not this term refers to the state of Chu (which often appears under the name Jing or Jing-Chu in early sources) or to other tribesmen of the Han 漢 and middle Yangzi basin is debatable,Footnote ³ but elsewhere the Canon of Poems seems to unmistakably signify the state of Chu as a major enemy. Two of the Lu 魯 and Shang 商 (probably Song 宋) hymns contain references to battles with the Jing-Chu, which, in a Lu hymn, is placed unequivocally aside the alien tribesmen Rong and Di 戎狄.Footnote ⁴ These hymns probably date from the Springs-and-Autumns period (Chunqiu 春秋, 770-453 BCE), yet they do indicate that the tradition of political cum cultural enmity toward Chu that started in the Western Zhou period continued and perhaps strengthened thereafter.

Zuo zhuan 左傳 (Zuo Tradition), our major source for the history of the Springs-and-Autumns period, records the rise of Chu and its epic struggle for supremacy in the Zhou world against the northern coalitions, led first by Qi 齊 and then by Jin 晉. A superficial reading of Zuo zhuan will lend support to identification of Chu as a culturally distinct entity. A Lu minister's saying, “They are not of our kin, their heart must be different” (非我族類，其心必異), is commonly—albeit erroneously—interpreted as pertaining to Chu's “racial” otherness.Footnote ⁵ This interpretation is wrong, but Zuo zhuan does contain many other negative comments on Chu, which is perceived as a rival of the Xia 夏 entity centered around the Zhou royal clan. Thus, a Jin commander accuses Chu of eliminating many polities established by the Zhou royal clansmen (the Ji 姬 clan);Footnote ⁶ and many of Chu leaders, from its prime-minister (lingyin 令尹) Ziyu 子玉 (d. 632 BCE) to infamous King Ling 楚靈王 (r. 540–529 BCE) are singled out as arrogant and aggressive statesmen eager to violate rules of ritual and propriety. All this often leaves an impression of the text's overall enmity toward Chu.

A careful reading of Zuo zhuan shows that the picture is more complex. Chu is never treated in the text as the cultural Other: in distinction from other southern powers, such as Wu 吳 and Yue 越, Chu are never called manyi 蠻夷 (“savages”). Some Chu leaders are denigrated indeed, but others—most notably King Zhuang 楚莊王 (r. 613–591 BCE)—are given high respect. Moreover, some of the pejorative remarks about Chu in Zuo zhuan should be read cum grano salis. After all, the very state of Lu, whose statesman opposed relying on Chu who “are not of our kin,” was at times closely allied with Chu, seeking its military assistance against the neighboring power of Qi. And the elimination of Zhou clansmen's polities was performed not just by Chu but also by the self-proclaimed defender of the Zhou, the state of Jin.Footnote ⁷ Actually, some of the imperial readers considered Zuo zhuan too biased in favor of Chu; and some of the exegetes—most notably Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200)—opined that Zuo zhuan itself was a product of Chu historiography.Footnote ⁸

Going further in history, in many of the Warring States–period (Zhanguo 戰國, 453–221 BCE) texts we encounter ever more pronounced enmity toward Chu. In particular, its association with “barbarians” becomes a commonplace. This association is reiterated throughout the Discourses of the States (Guoyu 國語),Footnote ⁹ even though the overall view of Chu in this text is far from negative, and parts of it contain laudatory comments on Chu (see below). A pejorative view of Chu is more explicit in Gongyang zhuan 公羊傳, a rival (to Zuo zhuan) commentary on the Springs-and-Autumns Annals (Chunqiu 春秋). Chu is consistently identified in the text as a “barbarian” (yi 夷 or yidi 夷狄) state; it is oddly claimed to have no ranked nobles (which is patently wrong, judging from the Annals’ text itself), and it is frequently treated with undisguised enmity.Footnote ¹⁰ One of the Gongyang zhuan statements is particularly important because of its lasting influence on subsequent views of Chu:

This statement—coming from amid one of the most famous passages in the entire Gongyang zhuan—set the framework for discussions of Chu political and cultural position within the Zhou world for millennia to come. It marked Chu as the epitome of the cultural Other, the malevolent polity which can be subjugated only under the reign of the True Monarch, and even then will forever remain prone to rebel. Coupled with a few other pejorative statements toward Chu, e.g., in Mengzi 孟子 and the Records of the Historian (Shiji 史記),Footnote ¹² the Gongyang zhuan denigration of Chu attained the position of an orthodox view in traditional Chinese scholarship.

The traditional view of Chu as a distinct cultural entity was reinforced in the last quarter of the twentieth century, as many discoveries from the Chu tombs brought to light the peculiar, “flamboyant”Footnote ¹³ style of its mortuary objects. Lothar von Falkenhausen observed: “Dazzled by these unique archeological treasures, many scholars and impressionable laypersons had been clinging to the romantic notion that Chu was a separate southern civilization, an elegant and exuberant other to the dour, disciplined Zhou in the north.”Footnote ¹⁴ Yet this view of Chu as an “alternative civilization” was questioned later in view of subsequent archeological discoveries. The new understanding, summarized by Xu Shaohua in the seminal volume by Constance A. Cook and John S. Major is that “there is little archeological evidence of a distinctive Chu culture during the Western Zhou times.”Footnote ¹⁵ It was only from the Springs-and-Autumns period on that a divergent cultural pattern associated with Chu began emerging, and even then Chu's elite culture remained strongly conformant with the Zhou ritual practices.Footnote ¹⁶ This suggests an entirely different cultural trajectory: Chu was not a “barbarian entity” attracted by the glory of the Zhou culture as hinted in the Mengzi,Footnote ¹⁷ but a normative Zhou polity that developed cultural assertiveness in tandem with the increase in its political power.Footnote ¹⁸

The difficulty of analyzing Chu's identity derives not only from the complexity of its cultural trajectory but also from the nature of our textual sources. The overwhelming majority of Chu-related accounts in transmitted texts come from the histories produced outside the state of Chu. The Springs-and-Autumns Annals and their commentaries were composed in the states of Lu and Qi; most of the Discourses of the States come from the Zhou royal domain, Lu, and Jin; and so is the case of most of historical anecdotes scattered throughout the Warring States–period texts. While the Chu sections of the Discourses of the States and of Stratagems of Warring States (Zhanguo ce 戰國策), as well as segments of Zuo zhuan, may well have incorporated original Chu materials, we have no idea about the degree of editorial intervention by northern compilers in these materials. Look for instance at the Records of the Historian, our major source for pre-imperial history. Even those who do not subscribe to the accusation of Sima Qian 司馬遷 (ca. 145–ca. 90 BCE) as the one who “describes Chu in the imperialist terms of a northerner,”Footnote ¹⁹ would not deny the obvious northern bias in his—and other historical—writings. This consideration should dictate utmost caution in reading these texts. To accept, for instance, the self-identification of Chu as a “barbarian” polity on the basis of citations in the Discourses of the States and Records of the Historian,Footnote ²⁰ strikes me as a haphazard conclusion.

It is on this backdrop that we can appreciate the import of the newly unearthed historical and quasi-historical manuscripts from the state of Chu. These materials comprise several dozen historical anecdotes, a semi-legendary history (Rongchengshi 容成氏), a sketchy history of Chu's capitals and royal palaces (Chuju 楚居), and a more detailed Chu-focused history of inter-state relations from the eleventh to the early fourth century BCE (Xinian 繫年). An integrative view of these materials may yield a novel perspective of Chu's self-image.

That history writing was—and is—commonly utilized to articulate, strengthen, or shape the collective identity of a cultural, ethnic, or political entity is almost a truism. To be sure, this is just one of a means of strengthening or constructing a separate cultural or political identity, and not necessarily the major one. Yet, the importance of history writing with this regard, especially insofar as the educated segments of the population are concerned, is undeniable.Footnote ²¹ Paul R. Goldin noted that the emergence of local histories in the Eastern Zhou 東周 (770–256 BCE) period may be related to the nascent sense of regional identity.Footnote ²² In what follows I shall check whether or not this observation is valid for the state of Chu. How much do Chu historical texts reflect its separate cultural identity or contribute toward its formation? Do they polemicize with the denigration of Chu's culture in the northern texts? Do they bolster the Chu kings’ legitimacy as potential leaders of All-under-Heaven? Do they present a different picture of Chu's relations with the Zhou polities from the one we have in the received texts? Do they use such common means of strengthening collective identity as focusing on Chu's wars with its rivals, glorifying its victories and lamenting its defeats? By answering these questions I hope to advance toward better understanding both of the issues related to the formation of Chu's identity and of the role of history-writing in the cultural processes during the Zhou era.

CHU HISTORICAL ANECDOTES

Didactic anecdotes—short vignettes valued for their edifying messages—are ubiquitous in pre-imperial writings. They permeate most texts later classified as either “histories” (like Discourses of the States and Stratagems of the Warring States), or “philosophies” (e.g., Han Feizi 韓非子, or Lüshi chunqiu 呂氏春秋), and even some of the “classics” (e.g., Zuo zhuan).Footnote ²³ The anecdotes figure prominently in the Shanghai Museum collection of Chu manuscripts, of which they constitute more than a half of the heretofore published titles; they are present, albeit less prominently, among the Chu manuscripts possessed by Qinghua (Tsinghua) University; and a few of them appear in other collections of Chu materials.Footnote ²⁴ It is therefore appropriate to start our discussion of Chu historiography with the survey of these anecdotes. Since the lion's share of the anecdotes comes from the Shanghai Museum collection, I shall focus in what follows on this collection only.Footnote ²⁵

One striking feature of the anecdotes from the Shanghai Museum collection is what Sarah Allan called their “cosmopolitan” content.Footnote ²⁶ According to Allan's count, of twenty-four vignettes, thirteen come from Chu while the rest are spread throughout most of the Zhou world, coming from Lu (four), Qi (four), and one each from Jin, Zheng 鄭, and Wu 吳. My own count differs slightly from Allan's, primarily because I count two anecdotes embedded in the same manuscript separately, and also because I follow rearrangements of slips into a different sequence of manuscripts as proposed by a few later redactors.Footnote ²⁷ Yet the differences are minuscule. Putting aside multiple anecdotes related to Confucius and his disciples, we may summarize that Chu vignettes constitute just slightly over 60 percent of the anecdotes in the Shanghai Museum collection and the percentage will further decrease should we add anecdotes from another sites and collections, which are overwhelmingly non-Chu in their focus.Footnote ²⁸ This allows an immediate observation: members of the Chu educated elite who took anecdotes with them to the final journey to the netherworld appear to be interested in the affairs of the entire Zhou realm rather than being narrowly focused on their own country. The next question will be: to what extent the Chu-related anecdotes from the Shanghai Museum collection represent aspects of Chu political or cultural identity? To facilitate the discussion of this question I have briefly summarized the content of the anecdotes in Table 1 below.

Table 1 Chu anecdotes from the Shanghai Museum collection

¹ Chen Jian 陳劍, “Shangbo zhujian Zhao wang yu Gongzhi Shui he Jianda wang po han du houji” 上博竹書《昭王與龔之脽》和《柬大王泊旱》讀後記, http://www.jianbo.org/admin3/2005/chenjian002.htm.

² Ebine Ryōsuke 海老根量介, “Shangbo jian Shengong chen Lingwang jianlun: tongguo yu Zuozhuan bijiao”上博簡《申公臣靈王》簡論——通過與《左傳》比較 (2012), http://www.gwz.fudan.edu.cn/SrcShow.asp?Src_ID=1893.

³ Wei Cide 魏慈德, “Qinghua jian Xinian yu Zuo zhuan de Chu shi yitong” 《清華簡·繫年》與《左傳》中的楚史異同, Donghua Hanxue 東華漢學 17 (2013), 17–22.

⁴ Asano Yūichi 淺野裕一, “Shangbo Chu jian Wang ju zhi fuyuan yu jieshi” 上博楚簡《王居》之復原與解釋, trans. Diao Xiaolong 刁小龍 (2011), http://www.gwz.fudan.edu.cn/SrcShow.asp?Src_ID=1685.

⁵ Asano Yūichi, “Shangbo Chu jian.”

⁶ Kudō Takushi 工藤卓司, “Shangbo jiu—Bangren bu cheng zhaji” 《上博九 · 邦人不稱》札記, Zhili xuebao, renwen yu shenghuo yingyong tekan 致理學報，人文與生活應用特刊 (2014), 997–1026.

Fifteen Chu anecdotes from the Shanghai Museum collection cover almost two centuries of Chu history: the earliest (#12) is related to the events of 633 BCE (on the eve of the Chengpu 城濮 battle), while the latest (#3) dates from the time of King Jian of Chu 楚簡王 (r. ca. 431-405 BCE).Footnote ²⁹ These eventful centuries witnessed the rise of Chu hegemony and a few severe setbacks, glorious victories and disastrous defeats, periods of domestic stability and of woeful turmoil. One may expect that these events will be at the focus of Chu historians’ interest, but this is not the case. Of major battles, for instance, only two are mentioned in the anecdotes, and even they are given a marginal place in the narrative. The Chengpu battle of 632 BCE in which Chu lost its hegemony to the newly rising power of Jin is the backdrop of anecdote #12; yet rather than focusing on the battle, the anecdote just tells a story of military incompetence of Chu's Prime Minster (lingyin) Ziyu 子玉. The story closely parallels the Zuo zhuan narrativeFootnote ³⁰ and the picture of Ziyu's inadequacy presented in it mirrors that in Zuo zhuan.

That the Chengpu setback is all but glossed over is understandable; yet Chu's successes also generally do not attract the authors’ attention. An exception is the Bi 邲 battle of 597 BCE in which King Zhuang of Chu 楚莊王 (r. 613–591 BCE) defeated the Jin armies and solidified his hegemony over the Zhou world. This battle—or, more precisely, the events that led to it—are at the center of anecdote #8. The narrative partly parallels Zuo zhuan but also departs from it in a few important details. Most notably, Chu's assault on Zheng which led to the Bi battle is presented as a punitive expedition against Prince Guisheng 公子歸生 (aka Zijia 子家) of Zheng who assassinated his ruler, Lord Ling 鄭靈公, in 605 BCE. This presentation is obviously biased in favor of Chu. As is clear from the very detailed depiction of these events in Zuo zhuan and elsewhere, King Zhuang's assault on Zheng in 597 BCE had nothing to do with penalizing Zijia, who was already dead by then and who in any case was posthumously chastened by Zheng leaders. The real reason for King Zhuang's assault on Zheng was to punish the perfidy of Zheng's rulers, who repeatedly switched allegiance from Chu to Jin and back to Chu. By replacing power consideration with the noble goal of punishing Zijia, the authors of the anecdote legitimate King Zhuang's assault on Zheng. The anecdote further implies that it is due to the king's morality and ritual correctness that he had subjugated Zheng and defeated the Jin army. So is it pure pro-Chu propaganda? Possibly yes, but not necessarily so. As Wei Cide noticed, the anecdote is less concerned with defending King Zhuang's actions, but, rather with the didactic conclusion: only morally justified military campaigns will meet with success.Footnote ³¹ Hence this anecdote cannot be considered a decisive manifestation of pro-Chu sentiments.

Among other anecdotes, only one (#14) mentions military affairs of Chu, but this is done very briefly in the context of discussing correct military training; the list of successful campaigns of the past is not invoked to enhance the country's prestige. At times Chu's military successes are hinted at—e.g., in anecdote #4—but only as a backdrop for discussing the imminent danger of Chu's decline. In general, the anecdotes’ authors are not much interested in Chu's past attainments and display no pride in the country's successes. When another expansionist ruler, King Ling 楚靈王 (r. 540–529 BCE) is mentioned, this is done to reiterate his negative image as an arrogant and intemperate leader rather than to hail his achievements (anecdotes ##5 and 13).

The major goal of the Chu-related anecdotes from the Shanghai Museum collection is not to glorify the militarily prominent Chu kings but rather to extol those monarchs who were able to heed remonstrance and mend their ways. Most of the remonstrance-focused anecdotes revolve around two of the least powerful Chu kings, King Ping 楚平王 (r. 528–516 BCE) and his son, King Zhao 楚昭王 (r. 515–489 BCE). The first of these rose to power in a fratricidal struggle which not only put an end to the reign of King Ling, but also caused a considerable decrease in Chu's international prestige, and the country's territorial contraction. King Zhao encountered an even greater disaster: an assault by Wu armies in 506 BCE caused him to flee the capital and put the entire country on the verge of collapse. As the weakest ruler on the throne of Chu during the period under discussion, King Zhao appears to be more prone than his predecessors or successors to heed remonstrance, mend his behavior, and tolerate criticism. These qualities are hailed in several anecdotes (##1, 2, 9). One's impression is that the authors of the anecdotes prefer weak and compliant kings to those who display extraordinary martial prowess but are also less tolerant of critical-minded aides.

To summarize, Chu vignettes from the Shanghai Museum—with the possible exception of anecdote #8—appear to be unconcerned with the country's separate identity, its pride, its glorious past, and the like. Most of these anecdotes lack an identifiable Chu flavor: they could be placed in a different setting and with a different list of protagonists without altering their meaning.Footnote ³² In a few other cases—such as anecdotes ##4 and 5 (which, to repeat, are part of the same manuscript)—there is no doubt that the authors targeted exclusively a Chu audience, because both anecdotes presuppose a high level of knowledge of Chu history, without which they would remain barely comprehensible.Footnote ³³ However, these anecdotes, much like the rest surveyed above, are devoid of any visible emphasis on Chu's cultural or political specifics. It may be justifiable to speak of them, and of the heretofore published Chu anecdotes in general, as “identity-neutral.”

This impression strengthens when we take into account non-Chu anecdotes from the Shanghai Museum collection and other materials from Chu tombs. Take for instance a manuscript named Wu ming 吳命, which revolves around a speech apparently delivered by the messenger of King Fuchai of Wu 吳王夫差 (r. 495–473 BCE) to the Zhou Son of Heaven.Footnote ³⁴ The speech justifies Wu's ongoing war with Chu as defense of the Zhou house; Chu is accused of “acting not in accordance with the Way” (Jing [or Chu ren] wei bu Dao 荊 [or 楚人] 為不道, slips 4 and 9).Footnote ³⁵ That this accusation appears in a speech attributed to one of Chu's staunchest foes is expectable; but that it is not qualified at all in an anecdote that circulated in the state of Chu, was transcribed into a Chu script, and was buried in a Chu tomb is surprising.

The surprise becomes even greater when we notice the Chu manuscripts’ attitudes to the figure of Wu Zixu 伍子胥 (d. 484 BCE). Wu Zixu, a son of a high minister of Chu who fell victim to slanderers and was executed by King Ping, vowed to avenge his father's death. He fled to the state of Wu and led its assault against Chu, bringing about Wu's occupation of Chu's capital, Ying, in 506. The occupation was a deeply humiliating and traumatic event; according to the Guliang Commentary (Guliang zhuan 穀梁傳) on the Springs-and-Autumns Annals, it involved among other things desecration of King Ping's tomb and flogging his corpse.Footnote ³⁶ Wu Zixu made a brilliant career in Wu, but later King Fuchai rejected his advice and ordered him to commit suicide. In due time, Wu Zixu became a paragon of loyalty entering the pantheon of righteous ministers who met an inglorious end.Footnote ³⁷ This perspective, however, is decidedly non-Chu: after all, from the Chu point of view, Wu Zixu should be considered a major enemy, a murderous turncoat. Yet in two of the Chu manuscripts—Poverty and Success are a Matter of Timing (Qiong da yi shi 窮達以時) from the Guodian collection and Good Ministers (Liang chen 良臣) from the Qinghua collection, Wu Zixu is hailed as a model minister without any mention of his anti-Chu deeds.Footnote ³⁸

This latter example further strengthens my tentative conclusion: Chu historical anecdotes, as well as other historical and philosophical texts, lack any visible interest in Chu identity. Their Chu affiliation is marginal to their content. Their focus is decisively supra-regional: they concern the affairs of “All-under-Heaven” and could be produced in any of the competing states.

CHU JU

Aside from multiple anecdotes, recent discoveries of Chu-related histories yielded a few lengthier texts, to which I shall turn now. One of these, Chu Residences (Chu ju 楚居), from the first volume of the Qinghua collection, is the first known example of a pure Chu history. This brief text, transcribed on 14 slips, records Chu's history from the semi-legendary progenitor of the Chu royal lineage, Jilian 季連, down to King Dao of Chu 楚悼王 (r. ca. 401–381 BCE). It provides a few important details on the early history of Chu,Footnote ³⁹ including, significantly, about the formation of its major aristocratic lineages.Footnote ⁴⁰ However, as we enter the better known historical period (primarily the eighth century BCE and later), the narrative becomes very sketchy. Its only focus is on the changing location of the country's capitals, or, more precisely, of the ruler's palaces.Footnote ⁴¹ Almost no additional information is given: battles, domestic struggles, victories and defeats are all but absent, except in a few cases when they directly influenced the capital's location (for instance, the Ruoao 若敖 lineage's revolt of 605 BCE, the Wu occupation of Chu's capital in 506 BCE, and the revolt of Duke of Bai 白公 in 479 BCE). Sensitive information is not necessarily concealed (as is the case with Xinian, discussed below); it is simply not considered essential.

Chu ju is a puzzling text. Who were its audience? One may well read this sketchy, even if informative, text as an early version of a gaokao 高考 material: a draft reply for an exam on Chu's historical geography. Speaking more seriously, I may speculate that this short survey of Chu's royal residences could be prepared specifically for foreigners in the service of Chu kings. Perhaps dwellings of former rulers possessed a certain ritual or cultic importance that should be clarified to a newcomer to the state of Chu. Maybe this was a kind of sensitive domestic information akin to local taboos and prohibitions which the foreigner should learn upon arrival?Footnote ⁴² Needless to say this assertion is currently impossible to verify.

Chu ju is a useful source of information for those seeking to augment sketchy data in the received sources about early ancestors of the Chu royal lineage, and it contains seeds of heretofore unknown early dynastic legends, but these are less relevant to my discussion.Footnote ⁴³ Here I want to focus on the opening lines of Chu ju, which narrate the story of the primeval ancestor of Chu, Jilian. The story tells:

Limitations of space prevent me from adequately dealing with the rich geographical and mythological information in this section; I shall focus on its political aspects only. Jilian—whose “descending” (jiang 降) apparently implies divine birthFootnote ⁴⁵ —is considered the forefather of the Mi 羋 clan, i.e. the royal clan of Chu. Normally he is not identified as the earliest of Chu ancestors. According to the “Hereditary house of Chu” chapter in the Records of the Historian, Jilian was preceded by several primordial ancestors, most notably the primeval Thearch Zhuanxu 顓頊 and the Rectifier of Fire (huozheng 火正) Zhurong 祝融.Footnote ⁴⁶ Chu sacrificial materials from Tomb 2, Baoshan, Jingmen 荊門包山 (Hubei), from Tomb 1, Wangshan, Jiangling 江陵望山 (Hubei), and from Tomb 1 at Geling, Xincai 新蔡葛陵 (Henan), all record sacrifices to Zhurong and to his ancestor Laotong 老僮, who were apparently considered more worthy of sacrifice than Jilian.Footnote ⁴⁷ Yet these primeval ancestors are not mentioned at all in Chu ju. Instead the focus is on Jilian and on his relations with the son of the Shang 商 king, Pangeng 盤庚, whose daughter Jilian married.Footnote ⁴⁸ This emphasis on the relations with the Shang ruling lineage suggests that the Shang connection was highly important for the narrators. Evidently, marrying Pangeng's granddaughter was a source of pride for the ancestor of the Chu ruling house, possibly an important asset for bolstering the house's legitimacy and prestige.Footnote ⁴⁹

The emphasis on Jilian at the expense of his illustrious ancestors and some of his meritorious descendants is significant in the context of my discussion. It shows surprising modesty of the Chu historians who composed the Chu ju. To demonstrate the degree of this modesty it may be useful to compare Chu ju with a rarely noticed piece of pro-Chu propaganda in a transmitted text, namely the Zheng section of the Discourses of the States. The “Zheng yu” 鄭語 narrates an advice given by the Zhou Scribe Bo 史伯 to Lord Huan of Zheng 鄭桓公 (r. 806–770 BCE) on the eve of the collapse of the Western Zhou. The dating of the text is debatable, but it is likely that it is anterior to Chu ju.Footnote ⁵⁰ One of the most interesting parts of this text is the section in which Scribe Bo predicts the unstoppable rise of Chu. According to his analysis, Chu's good fortunes derive from the merits of its leaders, past and present:

This passage—which is exceptional in its pro-Chu attitudes among all the texts of the Warring States period—provides two justifications for the anticipated rise of Chu: good qualities of its contemporaneous ruler, Jixun 季紃 (fl. ca.770 BCE), and the merits of Chu's mythical ancestor, Zhurong. Surely this line of argumentation in bolstering Chu's prestige was known to Chu statesmen and historians of the early Warring States period (which is the approximate time of Chu ju compilation).Footnote ⁵⁹ That they opted to ignore it and to emphasize instead relations of the Mi clan to the Shang king Pangeng cannot be accidental. For whatever reasons, the composers of Chu ju may have considered intermarriage with the Shang royal clan as a more significant factor in supporting the Chu royalty than deeds of meritorious ancestors. Once again, a Chu historical text appears much less concerned with pro-Chu propaganda than could have been expected.

XINIAN

Xinian 繫年 is another bamboo manuscript from the collection of Qinghua University. It is the lengthiest and most detailed historical text unearthed in recent decades. The text is divided into 23 sections that narrate major events from the history of the state of Chu, its rivals, and its allies from the beginning of the Western Zhou period to the early fourth century BCE. As I have discussed its structure, its dating, its potential audience, and the question of its authenticity elsewhere,Footnote ⁶⁰ I shall focus here on the following topics: the text's relation to the state of Chu, its relevance to our search for traits of separate Chu identity, and the relation between its narration of Chu history and that in Zuo zhuan.

Xinian is a composite text that incorporates materials from several Zhou polities; judging from the chronology it applies, these are the Western Zhou royal domain, and the states of Jin and Chu from the Eastern Zhou period. Yet despite the heterogeneity of the source materials, there are clear indications that Xinian was composed and probably edited in the state of Chu. First, each section of the text, except for the first, which narrates exclusively Western Zhou affairs, deals with the state of Chu either directly or through discussing its primary rivals or allies, such as the state of Jin. Second, the geographical perspective of Xinian is obviously biased toward the western part of the Zhou world. For instance, the state of Qin—an important ally of Chu during much of the period under discussion—is covered much more expansively than in other contemporaneous texts,Footnote ⁶¹ while eastern states, such as Qi and Lu which played a lesser role in Chu history, are less prominent; thus, the exploits of Lord Huan of Qi 齊桓公 (r. 685–643 BCE), which occupy pride of place in Zuo zhuan, are given only marginal attention. Third, the Chu affiliation becomes more pronounced in the last sections of the text, which—uncharacteristically for the rest of Xinian—adopt the Chu chronology even when the narrative deals with Jin. Fourth, there are ritual indications of the text's respect toward the Chu kings: their deaths are invariably recorded as solemnly “passing away” (jishi 即世), while this courtesy is not uniformly observed with regard to other regional lords.Footnote ⁶² All this suggests that the text was produced in Chu, although it clearly incorporated non-Chu materials.

In marked distinction from Chu ju that focuses on internal history of Chu (or, more precisely, on a single aspect of it, namely the location of royal capitals and palaces), Xinian is preoccupied with Chu's foreign relations. Domestic affairs of Chu are rarely mentioned, and major instances of internal turmoil, such as the coups that first catapulted King Ling into power and then caused his fall, are glossed over. This concealment reminds one of the Springs-and-Autumns Annals, which never report directly about major domestic troubles in the state of Lu.Footnote ⁶³ Yet Xinian does not conceal cases of Chu's military defeats, nor even tries to soften their impact. Let us look at section 21, which deals with the late fifth-century BCE struggle between Jin and Chu:

The story of a continuous tit-for-tat struggle between Jin and Chu is depicted in such a neutral fashion that save from the Chu chronology nothing indicates its Chu origin. The text narrates in detail the humiliating defeat of the Chu armies: first, they abandoned the siege of Jin's Chiyan, retreating to Chu's Long Wall at Fangcheng 方城; then they were battered there, throwing away “banners and tents” and fleeing by night. The text which does it best to conceal domestic troubles at Chu, narrates quite candidly how ingloriously its armies fought. This candor becomes even more pronounced in the last section, which depicts a series of Chu-Jin campaigns ca. 400–396 BCE. That section ends with the following passage:

Putting precise details of these campaigns aside we can immediately notice the highly unflattering depiction of Chu military performance in the text. The text not only frankly admits the magnitude of Chu's defeat but even buttresses it through a humiliating comparison of Chu's fleeing armies to running dogs. Clearly, the idea of strengthening the Chu identity and its pride in a or its glorious past was not the concern of Xinian composers.

Two above examples suffice to show how candid the Xinian authors are in depicting Chu's military defeats. Nor do they hail the victories too much. The beginning of Chu's territorial expansion is briefly mentioned in sections 2 and 5, but it is not eulogized nor is it connected to any merits of Chu kings. Rather it is presented as coincidental: favorable inter-state circumstances allowed Chu to advance into the Han 漢 River valley and beyond. Great victories of Chu under King Zhuang, the singularly successful Chu leader, are noticed but do not merit detailed discussion. Oddly, King Zhuang's exploits are highlighted in Xinian much less than in Zuo zhuan. Nor does the text single out any other Chu leader for exceptional praise.

That Xinian is not concerned with Chu's local pride does not require further illustrations. Yet its discovery may allow us to pose another question: How does its presentation of Zhou history differ from that in transmitted sources, especially Zuo zhuan? Since the bulk of Xinian (sections 4–19) largely parallels the Zuo zhuan narrative, this allows a meaningful comparison between the two. Elsewhere I have undertaken this comparison and have demonstrated the considerable similarities between the two narratives.Footnote ⁷⁴ The two texts do differ with regard to certain details, but generally the differences are minor. In a few cases, however, different narration of the same chain of events in Xinian may reflect its authors’ pro-Chu stance. For our discussion the most interesting case is section 16 of Xinian, which differs from Zuo zhuan in a few important details. Let us focus on its account:

This narrative focuses on the first attempt to establish a lasting peace between Chu and Jin—the peace conference in the state of Song in 579 BCE—and the rapid breakup of amicable relations between the two parties thereafter. I shall not focus here on the very minor discrepancies between the Xinian and Zuo zhuan narratives. What matters for me is the core of the story: Who was responsible for the breakup of the first attempt to reconcile two rival powers?

The events depicted in Xinian are narrated in great detail in Zuo zhuan, and the two sources agree on the basic facts. What differs, though, is the nature of the peace conference in 579 BCE, and the reasons for its failure. In Zuo zhuan, the conference was attended by just two parties, Jin and Chu; and the covenant (the content of which is cited) focused on establishing amicable relations between the two parties only. In Xinian, in distinction, the meeting was attended also by the “nobles of regional lords” (i.e., was multilateral), and the covenant's goal was attaining peace in “All-under-Heaven,” similar to the later multilateral peace conferences of 546 BCE and 541 BCE.Footnote ⁸⁰ On this point, Zuo zhuan appears more reliable: should a 579 BCE peace conference have been attended by more parties, it is likely that this would be reflected in the Springs-and-Autumns Annals as well, which is not the case. It is more plausible that the Xinian authors (or the authors of their source) conflated the agreements of 546 BCE and 541 BCE with that of 579 BCE.

What happened after the agreement? Zuo zhuan insists that Chu was perfidious: soon after the covenant was sealed, the Chu lingyin 令尹 (Prime Minister) warned his visiting Jin colleague that the two rulers, if they ever met, would only exchange arrows and not ceremonial greetings.Footnote ⁸¹ The subsequent Jin assault on Qin in 578 BCE is presented as unrelated to the Jin-Chu peace agreement and as fully justifiable in light of Qin's anti-Jin machinations. It is Chu's attack on Zheng in 576 BCE that violates the covenant with Jin; Zuo zhuan repeatedly cites pronouncements of Chu and Jin dignitaries, who blame the Chu leadership for violating the peace and leading to the disastrous (for Chu) battle of Yanling 鄢陵 in 575 BCE. Only at the depiction of the battle itself does the Zuo zhuan narration shift toward a more critical stance toward Jin: its success is presented as a Pyrrhic victory, leading soon to domestic turmoil.

Xinian’s interpretation of these events differs radically. The Jin assault against Qin is viewed as a violation of an agreement to establish “universal” peace; Chu's assault on Zheng appears as a retaliatory measure. Moreover, the Xinian authors are manipulative in their account: by dispelling with precise chronology after 578 BCE, they present all the events that spanned five years (Chu's attack on Zheng, Jin's retaliation, the Yanling battle, and the coup against Lord Li of Jin) as happening immediately one after another in the direct aftermath of Jin's anti-Qin aggression. The blame for the collapse of peace is placed squarely on Lord Li of Jin, whose violent death a year after the Yanling battle may be seen as divine retaliation for his perfidy. Chu was the victim; and while it was defeated militarily, the perpetrator, Lord Li, was punished by a humiliating death.

There is no doubt that we have here two radically different interpretations of the same chain of events: the predominantly pro-Jin narrative of Zuo zhuan versus the unequivocally pro-Chu version of Xinian. Yet we should notice immediately that in terms of facts both narratives do not differ substantially (except for the precise content of the 579 covenant). And while each of the accounts is manipulative, neither appears to abandon the basic factual framework. This supports my earlier observation that the historical accounts of both Xinian and Zuo zhuan are fundamentally reliable—minor embellishments, mistakes, and manipulations notwithstanding.Footnote ⁸² For the current discussion, suffice it to notice that while there are traits of pro-Chu sentiments in Xinian, in general this text contributes very little—if at all—to strengthening the Chu identity. Much like the anecdotes and Chu ju, Xinian remains overwhelmingly neutral in its depiction of Chu's past.

RONGCHENGSHI

The final text that I want to consider here is Rongchengshi 容成氏, from the collection of Shanghai Museum. This relatively lengthy text of slightly over 2,000 characters presents the history of the Chinese world from the time of legendary thearchs down to the founding of the Zhou dynasty. The goal of this presentation is not purely historical: the narrative is built so as to convince the reader of the advantages of non-hereditary power transfer (ideally through the ruler's abdication in favor of a worthier candidate). Since the text had been translated and discussed twice,Footnote ⁸³ I shall not address its complexity here but focus only on its Chu-related aspects.

The Chu affiliation of Rongchengshi is not self-evident. While the manuscript was produced by a Chu scribe using Chu orthography, and was in all likelihood interred in the tomb of a Chu elite member, almost nothing in its content relates it to Chu. The only possible Chu trait is in the final phrase of the narrative about the creation of the Nine Provinces by Thearch Yu 禹 in the aftermath of the great flood. The narrative itself has no observable Chu connection, and the map of the Nine Provinces in Rongchengshi is markedly shifted to the north in comparison with its variants scattered through other texts, leaving Chu on the southern margins of the habitable world.Footnote ⁸⁴ Yet the ending lines say: “Yu then created five hundred famous valleys to the south of the Han River and five hundred famous valleys to the north of the Han River”.Footnote ⁸⁵ This centrality of the Han River strongly suggests a Chu affiliation of the text's authors. However, as noted by Vera Dorofeeva-Lichtmann, it is also possible that the line was added by a Chu transmitter who wanted to make the text—originally produced elsewhere—more relevant to Chu.Footnote ⁸⁶ Aside from this single line, no other aspect of Rongchengshi connects it with the state of Chu.

I remain undecided regarding the origin of Rongchengshi: perhaps we should not consider it at all as a product of Chu historiography. However, insofar as the manuscript was looted from a Chu tomb, and insofar as it can be assumed that the text circulated in the state of Chu (and might have enjoyed sufficient prestige to merit interment in a tomb) it is justifiable to consider it in the framework of the present discussion. Two points should be raised here. First is the marked absence of identifiable Chu royal ancestors—such as Zhuanxu, Zhurong, and the like—from the lengthy list of legendary heroes discussed in the text. Second, the Rongchengshi narrative is markedly “center-oriented,” as it focuses exclusively on the monarchs who ruled the entire subcelestial realm. Regional lords, be they the kings of Chu or leaders of other polities, are simply ignored. The norm, as the authors repeatedly emphasize, is universal rule, attaining which represents the apex of the monarch's achievements. Thus, the text hails a primordial thearch whose reign preceded that of Thearch Yao 堯:

Elsewhere, the text hails the rule of Thearch Yu:

Both passages emphasize the universality of the thearch's rule. In the first case the encompassing power of an unnamed thearch transcends the boundaries of humankind, reaching down to birds, beasts, fish, and turtles: all those strive to become the thearch's subjects.Footnote ⁸⁹ In the second case unity remains confined to the realm of humans, but it is still comprehensive: all those from “within and outside the four seas” duly request to submit tribute. In both cases the entire subcelestial realm—“near” and “distant” alike—remains under the unified control. Regional polities appear in the text only when we enter the calamitous age of the last Shang tyrant, Zhouxin 紂辛 (d. ca. 1046 BCE). Then, rebellions by regional lords and the danger of political disintegration appear as important symptoms of the overall deterioration that eventually justified the overthrow of the Shang.

The Rongchengshi insistence that a politically unified world is the only normative situation may explain why Chu remains outside the narrative. In the unified universal realm independent or semi-independent regional lords (such as the king of Chu) are just an aberration. Accordingly, the multi-state system that stands at the center of Xinian and which was the norm for centuries prior to the composition of Rongchengshi is glossed over altogether. Under the rule of sage kings, regional states play no role, nor is there any meaning for regional identities. In the political vision of Rongchengshi there is simply no place for the state of Chu.

SUMMARY: WHERE IS THE CHU IDENTITY?

We may summarize our findings heretofore. Four different types of texts discussed above share certain commonalities insofar as their views of Chu are concerned. First, none of them (with the minor exceptions of anecdote #8 and section #16 of Xinian) provides an alternative pro-Chu narration of the country's history. Second, none—with the partial exception of Chu ju—displays any interest in primeval deified ancestors of the Chu ruling house. Third, none appears apprehensive of the Chu kings’ claims for supreme authority in All-under-Heaven. Fourth, none seems to be interested in eulogizing Chu's military achievements or lamenting its failures so as to bolster the readers’ identification with their country. Fifth, all the surveyed texts refrain from overt identification with Chu. They refer to their country neutrally as “Chu” rather than employing the first person pronoun “we, us” (wo 我), which is from time to time used in sections of Zuo zhuan that deal with Lu. In addition to all these, the above texts pay little attention to Chu's local sensitivities (as is seen, for instance, from their eulogizing of Wu Zixu). When we compare these texts with identity-focused historical writings elsewhere (just think of Greek or Jewish historiography, for instance), we may conclude that Chu historians were simply not interested in articulating or strengthening a separate cultural or political identity of their country.

How should we understand this almost counterintuitive conclusion? Does it mean that the otherness of Chu is just a myth, a by-product of our uncritical acceptance of anti-Chu propaganda in some of the received texts? Not necessarily. There is ample evidence to show that Chu identity did matter at least to some of its elite members. Look for instance at divination slips from the tombs at Baoshan, Wangshan, and Geling (all—tombs of top-ranking Chu nobles): these routinely mention divinized ancestors of the Chu royal clan as objects of sacrifice, and also incidentally refer to Chu as “our” (wo 我) state. While these texts do not belong to historical accounts strictu senso, they do appear much more Chu-oriented than the historical texts surveyed above. Or take the famous Chu Songs (Chuci 楚辭). Without entering discussions about their authorship and dating, we can state that at the very least some of them—such as “Lamenting Ying” (Ai Ying 哀郢) or “Fallen to the State” (Guo shang 國殤)—all display a strongly pronounced Chu identity.Footnote ⁹⁰ Why then this identity is absent from the historical texts surveyed?

I think there are two complementary explanations for this phenomenon. First, let us consider certain peculiarities of early Chinese historiographic tradition. History writing in China did not start in individual polities of the Springs-and-Autumns period but rather was part of the common Zhou legacy. This common legacy is most vivid in the annalistic tradition represented by the Springs-and-Autumns Annals. From the study of the Annals and of other annalistic records scattered through Zuo zhuan and Xinian we may arrive at several conclusions. First, the Annals were not peculiar to the state of Lu but belonged to what appears as a common Zhou tradition of ritualized historical records; among other courts these records were prepared also at the court of Chu. Second, annalistic records were subjected to sophisticated “rules of recording” (shu fa 書法), which again were shared—and were understood—across the Zhou world. Third, although the annals were not supposed to circulate broadly, their content, or at least parts thereof, was sufficiently known to members of the educated elite throughout the Zhou world so as to turn their records into an efficient means of censuring political misconduct. As such, despite their localized nature, the annals were a means of perpetuating cultural cohesiveness among the Zhou elites rather than a vehicle of estrangement.Footnote ⁹¹

Aside from laconic annals, the court scribes (shi 史) of competing polities were preparing lengthier narrative histories. Although none of those histories survived, their nature may be inferred from the segments incorporated into Zuo zhuan Footnote ⁹² and from comparing Zuo zhuan and Xinian narratives.Footnote ⁹³ For the present discussion what matters is that these histories can also be considered part of the common Zhou tradition. This topic deserves further exploration, but some preliminary observations may be made already. For instance, evident similarities in terms of structure, styles of narration, didactic messages, and the like in narrative histories created throughout the Zhou realm may explain the seamless incorporation of several regional historical accounts into Zuo zhuan. Although our evidence is still very limited, it suggests that narrative histories produced in regional states did not exclusively target members of a single polity but rather addressed common concerns of the educated elite throughout the Zhou realm. Once again, history writing was a unifying rather than dividing exercise.

The pan-Zhou similarities in historical production may reflect commonalities in education and training of the court scribes, who were the major (or the exclusive) producers of historical texts throughout the Springs-and-Autumns period.Footnote ⁹⁴ By the Warring States period, however these scribes lost their erstwhile monopoly on preparing historical texts, and ritualistic historiography was eclipsed by a moralizing one, represented most notably by the genre of didactic anecdotes. These anecdotes and most other historical or quasi-historical texts, such as Rongchengshi, were composed and read by the members of the shi stratum who rose from the margins of nobility to become the new ruling elite throughout the Zhou realm.Footnote ⁹⁵ What matters to our discussion is that the shi were much less attached to individual polities than the hereditary nobles of the Springs-and-Autumns period. Rather, they traversed the realm in search for better employment, serving “Qin in the morning and Chu in the evening” (zhao Qin mu Chu 朝秦暮楚). The focus of their concerns was the entire subcelestial realm and not a single state, and this is duly reflected in their philosophical and historical production. Therefore, even under these new circumstances historical texts continued to perpetuate rather than weaken the pan-Zhou ties.

This brings me to the second point relevant to our discussion. When we speak of “Chu identity,” we should distinguish among cultural identities of distinct social strata in the state of Chu. The highest segment of Chu hereditary aristocracy, represented among others by the occupants of Baoshan, Wangshan, and Geling tombs, were members of the royal clan, whose ancestors for generations served the Chu kings. These men were strongly attached to the state of Chu, and it is natural that their identity was Chu-focused. It is furthermore likely (albeit cannot be proven beyond doubt) that local identity was strong among the commoners, whose destiny was also intrinsically linked to their ancestral state.Footnote ⁹⁶ But the intermediate group, viz. the shi, who were the producers and the major consumers of philosophical and historical texts discovered in the Chu tombs, remained less Chu-oriented than either top aristocrats above or commoners below. Their very career pattern which led many (most?) of them to seek employment outside their native state was conducive toward formation of the outlook that prioritized the whole over its parts, All-under-Heaven over an individual state, common culture over local customs.Footnote ⁹⁷ That we discern in the Chu historical anecdotes (and in other Chu historical texts) what Sarah Allan dubs a “cosmopolitan” outlook comes therefore as no surprise.Footnote ⁹⁸

If my latter observation—based as it is on Chu materials only—is correct, then it may explain why local and regional identities that became increasingly articulated during the Warring States periodFootnote ⁹⁹ had never developed into a true “national” identity akin to what happened in early modern Europe. Insofar as the intellectuals—the stratum that contributed decisively toward formation of national identities in Europe—remained overwhelmingly focused on the interests of the oikouménē as a whole rather than on an individual state, regional identities could not coalesce into a politically meaningful factor. The above discussion demonstrates that history writing—a potent means of identity creation elsewhere—remained in the Zhou world a means of cultural integration rather than separation.