Harmony and Counterpoint: Ritual Music in Chinese Context 9780804764902

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HARMONY AND COUNTERPO INT

Ritual Music in Chinese Context

HARMONY AND COUNTERPOINT

+ Ritual Music in Chinese Context

EDITED BY BELL YUNG, EVELYN S. RAWSKI, AND RUBIES. WATSON

STANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

Stanford, California

Stanford University Press Stanford, California © 1996 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior University Printed in the United States of America CIP data appear at the end of the book Publication of this book was underwritten in part by a grant from the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation for International Scholarly Exchange

Acknowledgments

The essays in this volume were first read at the conference entitled "Music in Chinese Ritual: Expressions of Authority and Power," organized by the three editors of this volume and held on the campus of the University of Pittsburgh May 5 to 9, 1993. The editors thank the invited discussants to the conference for their comments on the papers: David McAllester, Victor Mair, Rulan Chao Pian, and Anthony Seeger. The editors also thank the Asian Studies Program of the University of Pittsburgh for providing assistance in the organization of the conference. The conference and the subsequent preparation of the manuscript were supported by a major grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities. A cassette tape of recorded examples of music mentioned in Chapters 3, 4, 5, and 6 is available for purchase at the cost ofU.S.$8.oo, which includes mailing and handling. Please send your name and address, along with a check (payable to the University of Pittsburgh and drawn on a U.S. bank) or an International Money Order to "Harmony and Counterpoint," Music Department, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, PA r 5260, USA. This offer expires on January r, 1999. B.Y., E.S.R., R.S.W.

Contents

Tables, Maps, and Figures

ix

Contributors

xi

Introduction

I

BELL YUNG, EVELYN S. RAWSKI, RUBIES. WATSON I.

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound

13

BELL YUNG

Part I: Behind the Scenes: Creating Legitimacy 2.

Ritual and Musical Politics in the Court of Ming Shizong

35

JOSEPHS. C. LAM

3· State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity

54

ROBERT C. PROVINE

4· Musical Assertion of Status Among the Naxi ofLijiang County, Yunnan

76

HELEN REES

Part II: Musical Transformations: Rites of Passage

5· Chinese Bridal Laments: The Claims of a Dutiful Daughter RUBIES. WATSON

107

viii

Contents

6. Processional Music in Traditional Taiwanese Funerals

130

PING-HUI LI

7. The Creation of an Emperor in Eighteenth-Century China EVELYN S. RAWSKI

Part III: Musical Transcendence: Rituals ofPropitiation

8. Singing to the Spirits of the Dead: A Daoist Ritual of Salvation

177

JUDITH MAGEE BOLTZ

9. Ritual Opera and the Bonds of Authority: Transformation and Transcendence ELLEN R. JUDD

Reference Matter

Notes Works Cited Character List Index

226

Tables, Maps, and Figures

Tables I. I

3·I 3·2 7·I 7·2 8.I

Everyday versus formalized speech acts Great and medium state sacrificial rites in the early Chason dynasty Basic ceremonial program Categories and numbers of instruments used in zhonghe shaoyue performances Examples of ritual sequences and accompanying music Order of the service

27 6o 6I I63 I67 I88

Maps 4·I 4·2

People's Republic of China, showing Yunnan province and Lijiang Lijiang county, showing major places mentioned

77 82

Figures I. I

2.I 6.I 6.2 6.3 6-4 6.5

Musical scale used in the six songs Six Songs for the Sacrifice to the Progenitor of Sericulture An excerpt from "Sangzhong" with repetitions Suona fingerings and scale degrees of the sevenguan "Da jie" in Covering-gong and Covering-huan "San tong" as a preparation for change Insertion between phrases-Type I

26 47 I43 I44 I45 q6 I47

x

Tables, Maps, and Figures

6.6 7. I 7.2 7. 3 8. I

Insertion between phrases-Type 2 The Forbidden City Yuanping music Heping music Wall painting at Baoning Monastery depicting guhun seeking revenge

J48 I 55 173 173

220

Contributors

completed her Ph.D. in the Department of Oriental Languages of the University of California, Berkeley. Her publications include A Survey of Taoist Literature, Tenth to Seventeenth Centuries(1987). ELLEN R. JUDD is Professor of Anthropology at the University of Manitoba. She is the author, most recently, of Gender and Power in Rural North China (Stanford University Press, 1994), and continues to work on gender relations in contemporary China. She has also published widely on the performing arts in China and, since 1989, has been doing research on ritual opera in contemporary China. JOSEPH s. c. LAM is Assistant Professor of Music at the University of California at Santa Barbara. His monograph entitled Creativity Within Bounds: State Sacrifices and Music in Ming China is forthcoming. He is currently working on another monograph entitled Historicizing Chinese State Sacrificial Music from the Southern Song. His research interests focus on theories of ethnomusicology, music historiography, and Chinese ritual music. PING-HUI LI received her Ph.D. degree in 1991 from the University of Pittsburgh with a dissertation entitled "The Dynamics of a Musical Tradition: Contextual Adaptation in the Music of Taiwanese Beiguan Wind and Percussion Ensemble." Currently an Assistant Professor of Music at the University of Puerto Rico, Rio Piedras, her areas of research interest include the music of Taiwan and mainland China, ritual music, and Puerto Rican music. ROBERT c. PROVINE received his Ph.D. in Music from Harvard University in 1979 with a thesis on music of Chinese origin performed in JUDITH MAGEE BOLTZ

xii

Contributors fifteenth-century Korean state sacrificial rites. Currently he is Professor and Chair of the Music Department at the University of Durham (England). He served as President of the Association for Korean Studies in Europe from 1993 to 1995. EVELYN s. RAWSKI is Professor of History and University Center for International Studies Research Professor at the University of Pittsburgh. A socioeconomic historian, she is currently writing a social history of the Qing imperial family and its institutions. HELEN REES obtained her Ph.D. in Ethnomusicology in 1994 from the University of Pittsburgh. She is currently Assistant Professor of Music at New College of the University of South Florida. Her research interests include ritual music and tourist performance in southwest China, and her articles and book reviews have appeared in Asian Music, Chime, and Intercultural Music. RuBIE s. wATsoN is Associate Director of the Peabody Museum and Senior Lecturer in Anthropology at Harvard University. She has conducted long-term fieldwork in Hong Kong's New Territories and is the author of Inequality Among Brothers: Class and Kinship in South China (Cambridge University Press, 198 5) and most recently edited a volume entitled Memory, History, and Opposition Under State Socialism (School of American Research Press, 1994). BELL YUNG is Professor of Music at the University of Pittsburgh and holds Ph.D.s in both Music (Harvard University) and Physics (Massachusetts Institute of Technology). The author, most recently, of Celestial Airs of Antiquity: The Music of the Seven-String Zither of China ( 199 5 ), he is currently writing on Cantonese narrative songs and on the intellectual link between musicology and physics in the modern era.

HARMONY AND COUNTER POINT

Ritual Music in Chinese Context

Introduction BELL YUNG, EVELYN S. RAWSKI, RUBIES. WATSON

Gesture, artifact, speech, and music are the primary architectural elements of rituals. In this book we are concerned with the music in the ritual. Whether we focus on the cacophony of a Taiwanese funeral procession, the austere rhythm of a Confucian rite, or the sung poetry of a lamenting bride, we listen to the music. This listening, we believe, adds to and enhances an extensive ritual literature, which has used insights from linguistics, phenomenology, semiology, and theater arts to study the performance styles and "logics" of particular rituals. How, we ask, does music, one of a constellation of ritual elements, empower an officiant, legitimate an officeholder, create a heightened state of awareness, convey a message, or produce a magical outcome, a transformation, a transition? In an important article published in I968, Stanley Tambiah argued that orthodox anthropological approaches had limited ritual to "forms of stereotyped behaviour consisting of a sequence of nonverbal acts and manipulation of objects" and so had devalued the role of words ( I968: I75 ). Seeking to understand the "magical power of words," Tambiah contended that in ritual "language appears to be used in ways that violate the communication function" (I968: I79) and considered the various verbal forms used in ritual to examine how these forms (along with gestures and artifacts) gave ritual its power. Tambiah illustrated his approach by describing how a Trobriand garden magician "unites both concept and action, word and deed" within the context of a ritual to establish metaphorical equivalences. The magician thus transfers an attribute from one object to another and so "achieves" the practical goal of a better harvest (I 968: I 94). Writing in I974, Maurice Bloch, like Tambiah, was concerned with "the Durkheimian problem of how ritual makes its statements appear powerful and holy" (1989: 21). For Bloch, "ritual is an occasion where

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syntactic and other linguistic freedoms are reduced" through a process of formalization (I 9 89: 27). Formalization, which characteristically involves stylized speech and singing, dramatically restricts what can be said (1989: 3 6). In Bloch's view, song is an extreme example offormalized language in which individual choice is minimized (1989: 36). Reintroducing the language of Durkheim, Bloch claimed that it is "as though the singer were experiencing language from outside himself" (1989: 36). Bloch was certainly not the only scholar to suggest that ''you cannot argue with a song" ( 1989: 37). In his study of the Ge-speaking Suya of Brazil, Anthony Seeger notes that in the Suya scheme of things, songs are "legitimated by extrahuman origins" and are thought to be unchanging (1987= 44). Whether ritual is the captive of authority is subject to debate (Tambiah 1981: I 55, 166). In recent years scholars have focused increasingly on the counter-hegemonic elements in ritual. James Scott, for example, refers to "counterpoint traditions which include shamanistic performances and 'ritualized profanations.'" In his view these traditions are not simply mystic or symbolic evasions; rather, they provide participants with a "critique of the existing order and an alternative symbolic universe" (1977= 31). Other scholars have shown that rituals of resistance can rally forces against colonial incorporation (Lincoln 1987) and that carnivals, festivals, and rites of reversal can challenge and help change the status quo (Davis 1975, 1978). Although these writings frequently cite music as a medium for the counter-hegemonic message, the musicality of the event is rarely seriously considered.

The Study ofMusic in Ritual Beginning in the 195o's and 196o's, scholars in the discipline of ethnomusicology turned their attention to ritual study, with the credo that understanding the social context of music is as important as knowing the nature of the musical sound. This new direction was represented by several pioneering works, including the two now-classic studies: David P. McAllester's (I 9 54) on the Enemy Way ritual of the Navajo and Kwabena Nketia's (I 9 55) on Ghanaian funeral dirges. These studies, by creating a synthesis based on a deep familiarity with the culture and the local performance repertoire, produced a solid foundation for subsequent work in both theory and research methodology. In recent years, the study of music and ritual in ethnomusicology has taken many different directions. Barbara Hampton (1982) has studied the ritual symbolism of music in a Ga funeral, and Kay Kaufman Shelemay

Introduction (1986) made use ofFalasha liturgical music to shed light on representations of Ethiopian history and the relations between Jewish and Christian liturgy. Fremont Besmer's (1983) study of a Rausa possession-trance cult provided a detailed, multifaceted, ethnographic description of the possession event, including that of music. The role of music in the ritual of healing is treated in recent studies by Marina Roseman ( 1993) and Carol Laderman (1993). In Deborah Wong's (1991) study of the Thai ritual of honoring teachers of music and dance, the connections among kings, teachers, knowledge, and performance are described as a network of power exchange and renewal that continues to impel Thailand's classical court arts. Wong and Rene Lysloff ( 1991) took a comparative look at the Thai homrong and Javanese talu, two musical overtures that precede their respective rituals, each of which provides "a transition from the mundane to the extraordinary." One of the most important monographs is Gilbert Rouget's (1980) comprehensive study of music and trance. By careful analysis of an enormous amount of data-both ethnographic material from such sources as Haitian voodoo, Balinese initiation rites, Ghanaian possession dances, and Mro- Brazilian candombia and historical sources on Greek and Renaissance ritual and drama-Rouget attempts to sketch a general theory of the relationships between music and possession. Beginning in the 197o's, many anthropologists and ethnomusicologists turned their attention to the study ofhuman emotion (see, e.g., Brenneis 1987; Grima 1992; Kapferer 1979; Lutz 1986), and music, especially ritual music, played an important role in many of these studies (see, e.g., Feld 1982, 1990; George 1990, 1993; Mazo 1994; A. Seeger 1987; Seremetakis 1990, 1991; Tolbert 1990 ). Explorations into the interactions of music, emotion, ritual, and gender opened new avenues in ritual studies. Studies of various lament traditions have been especially productive. Nadia Seremetakis ( 1991 ), studying Greek death ritual, cited laments as an important channel through which women make truth claims for their own experiences. In a process ofbiographic testimony, of"crying one's fate" as her informants put it, powerful sets of emotions are constructed and defined. For these women, according to Seremetakis, the mortuary-lament cycle is central to the construction and transmission of aesthetical forms of music and poetry, juridical discourse, gender identity, and indigenous oral history (1991: 3). Steven Feld focuses on many of the same issues as Seremetakis, but in the context of a very different population (the Kaluli of Papua, New Guinea) and with a keener attention to the music in the ritual. Feld ( 1990) is explicitly concerned with how "linguistic and musical creativities inter-

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act" in lament performances. He examines the aesthetics of emotionality among the Kaluli through the laments or "wept thoughts" that women sing in honor of themselves as well as their audience. "The process of performing sa-yalab," Feld explains, "involves two or more women simultaneously voicing personal memories, thereby situating their immediate emotions, their relationships to each other, the deceased, and those listening, and their social biographies in a layered collaborative text-voicing" ( I990: 24 7; on this point see also Tolbert I990 ). Feld's analysis is important not only for what it tells us about Kaluli emotion, ritual, and expressive forms but also for the lament vocabulary he creates as he integrates words and music into his ritual analysis. Margarita Mazo, in her study of Russian laments (I 994 ), moves beyond structural factors such as rhythm, melody, and phrasing into the paramusical expressions often ignored by musical scholars, in part because they are very difficult to transcribe in conventional musical notation. She links these expressive means directly to the emotional state of the lamenter. In taking a broad view of the definition of music, and in extracting information from spectrographic data, Mazo opens up a new world of oral expressivity and redefines the lament. No discussion of music in ritual would be complete without acknowledging the tremendous impact of performance theory and analysis. Victor Turner and those influenced by his approach have played a key role in this development (see, e.g., Kapferer I979; Schechner and Appel I99o; Schieffelin I 9 8 5; Tambiah I 9 8 I; Turner I 9 8 6). Schieffelin (I 9 8 5), for example, stresses process rather than structured meaning as he criticizes views of ritual that emphasize deciphering codes of meanings. Attention should instead focus, he contends, on how beliefs are brought to life in ritual and how rituals "galvanize social reality" ( I985: 7I2). "What renders the performance compelling," he argues, "is not primarily the meanings embodied in symbolic materials themselves ... but the way the symbolic material emerges in the interaction" of performance (I985: 72I). It is perhaps in the intersection between the study of performance and music that some of the most exciting work in ritual analysis has been done. In two recent articles, Nketia has addressed broad methodological issues in the analysis of ritual music. Placing ritual music in the context of a performance event, Nketia proposes that a successful performance "is judged among other things by the extent and quality of participation, the levels of intensity generated by the performance, and the manner in which familiar form and content are reproduced, recreated or reenacted so that they become the focus of aesthetic interest" (I988: 84). His concept of

Introduction "intensity factor" can be applied to any musical performance, including those in ritual. In another article ( 1989 ), he calls for a focus "on the behavioral aspects of music performed on ritual occasions" ( 1989: 123 ). Both articles treat ritual music from a performative aspect and emphasize the importance of fieldwork observation.

Music in Chinese Ritual The essays in this book address several issues raised in the theoretical and sinologicalliterature. Music has held a special place in philosophical discussions concerning governance in China. Kenneth DeWoskin suggests that music attracted the attention of Chinese thinkers "because it could be used to demonstrate interaction between physically separate entities" (1982: 30). Since music "revealed principles of order in diverse events" ( 1982: 3 1), it was possible for music to link the lord and his people, grateful descendants to the spirits of their ancestors, and rulers with the power of heaven. For millennia, music has been part of the process by which claims to authority were made and maintained in Chinese society. Music connected a living emperor to his predecessors and a reigning dynasty to previous dynasties. Like writing, music provided a medium for heavenearth communication, a kind of aural corridor linking the past to the present. Music was a core element in the imperial rites, and the idea that music bound China's emperors and officials to powerful cosmic forces endured despite changes in both the rites and music. AsK. C. Chang (1983: 8o-81, 95, 107) has argued for ancient China (see also DeWoskin 1982; Lam 1987; Powers 1991 ), ritual (including music and dance), art, and writing allowed access to ancestral wisdom and so defined as well as constituted political legitimacy. To be seen to control the channels of heaven-earth communication and the technology that enabled that communication established one's right to wield imperial power. Even today in Taibei, bronze bells and jade plaques are played in solemn rituals that the faithful believe sanctify Guomindang claims to be the true guardians of China's ancient cultural heritage and therefore the legitimate holders of political power (for a description of these modem rites, see Fuyen Chen 1976). In the following chapters, music in Chinese ritual is examined from many perspectives and in many contexts. The highly formalized music of Confucian ritual lends support to Bloch's claims, but as Bell Yung points out in Chapter 1, music is not as conservative a force as one might think, even in the context of court ritual. Yung begins his chapter by laying the

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groundwork for analyzing musical sound in the ritual context. He suggests that in view of the gray areas between speech and song on the one hand and between noise and percussion music on the other, it may be strategically wise to transcend, particularly in dealing with Chinese ritual music, the division between "music" and "non-music." He deconstructs ritual sound into a set of musical elements and proposes all sonic events as a potential object of study. Using examples from rituals studied in the subsequent chapters of the volume, Yung challenges Bloch's notion that ritual utterances are always, in comparison with everyday speech, stereotyped and stylized. He posits that, in terms of the proposed musical elements, ritual sound possesses both a restraining and a liberating force, and concludes that "as one examines the issue of authority and power in rituals, it is important to focus one's attention on the music, and to place it within the context of other forces that are at play in the ritual environment." Music is also implicated in establishing cultural authority. In Chapter 4, Helen Rees shows how a group of men belonging to an ethnic minority in southwestern China created symbolic capital for themselves through their production of the Han Chinese ritual music known as "Dongjing music." In the 1930's and 1940's well-to-do Naxi men living in Ujiang county, Yunnan, attended Chinese-language schools, participated in state-sponsored Confucian sacrifices, sometimes married Han women, and played Han music. Attacked after the Maoist revolution in 1949, these musical groups and their participants were forced to disband, but since Mao's death, the relaxation of political controls has stimulated the re-emergence of Dongjing music, for informal secular enjoyment and in the guise of entertainment for tourists. In Chapters 2 and 3 Joseph Lam and Robert Provine are concerned with music and political legitimacy. Their examinations of how ritual music was constructed not only reveal contending views regarding the role of music in ritual and the role of ritual in legitimating power, but also provide considerable insight into the dynamics of court politics. Both Provine (for Korea) and Lam (for Ming China) are blessed with richly variegated sources that allow readers to glimpse the complicated issues involved in constructing the "authoritative" ritual that will be presented as timeless and universal. Lam's investigation of a dispute between a sixteenth-century emperor and his ritual specialists explores the issue of just who was in charge: the ruler, who played the primary role in interceding with the gods on behalf of his people, or the Confucian specialists, who traditionally monopolized this arena. In analyzing sericultural ritual, Lam raises important questions concerning the construction of official views on the role of gender in state religion.

Introduction

Provine's study of Korean ritual music raises several extremely provocative issues. In focusing on the subtleties of cultural borrowing, Provine provides us with a glimpse of the counter-hegemonic process at work. Music-in this case, the number and kinds of musical instruments, the arrangement of the ensembles in the temple courtyard, and the number of dances in the ritual-was subject to manipulation as a symbol of the rank and authority of the Korean king within a Chinese ritual hierarchy. Second, the actual divergence of Korean aak from its Chinese counterpart raises questions of what Koreans meant in asserting they had adopted Chinese ritual music. This question could be duplicated within China itself in the claims of a dynasty and local governments to perform the "standardized" court-imposed music. How should scholars interpret the disregard for variations in musical performance in favor of a stress on uniformity? Disputes over ritual issues involved more than the Sino-Korean relationship; they were also intimately linked to court politics in Korea. The Chason dynasty adopted a pro-Confucian policy as a vehicle for countering the strong Buddhist factions that had troubled its predecessor. The root cause of ritual disputes within the court concerned the degree to which the Korean king's ritual performance should conform to his status as a vassal to the Chinese emperor: a vassal did not qualify to sacrifice to Heaven, for example, but could conduct other rituals on an ad hoc basis to obtain relief from severe drought. Provine demonstrates how an emphasis on the king's subordination to China benefited the bureaucrats, who monopolized Confucian learning. The contest for power pitted a king, who focused on amplifying the Korean content of court-sponsored culture, against bureaucrats, who defended a Chinese Confucian order. But, as Provine notes, the bureaucrats were also constructing a Korean cultural identity: they were committed to Confucianism but not to China. For these officials, the idea of China-an idea synonymous with high civilization-was more important than the Chinese reality. The representation of Korea as "more Confucian than China" enabled the educated elite to claim superiority to contemporary Chinese and thus served as an expression of national pride. Provine demonstrates that music occupied center stage throughout this contestation over cultural representation. Music, like ritual, has the power to express complex emotions and sentiments that cannot be organized linearly and put into speech. Consider, for example, the multiple communications in Ping-Hui Li's analysis of Taiwanese funeral processions (Chapter 6). Li is especially concerned to see ritual "in the context of performance" as she focuses on the unfolding drama of the soul's journey to its final resting place. As a (suona-playing) member of a Drum Pavilion (guting) ensemble, Li has performed in many

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Taiwanese funeral processions. She describes the clash of musical styles and forms as guting, bayin, and beiguan ensembles compete with brass bands and firecrackers in the sometimes raucous processions that lead the coffin, priests, and mourners through the streets ofTaibei. Li reports that as many as four or more ensembles may contribute their very different styles to the production of"heat and noise"-important in comforting both the dead and the living. This apparent discord is not, however, as disharmonious as it may seem. The guting leads the procession and is essential, we are told, to the soul's well-being during the crucial passage from home to grave. As Li's ensemble leader explained, "The piping of the [guting] ensemble is like a tourist guide. It tells the soul of the deceased where to go" (on this point see also J. Watson 1988b). Li reports that each ensemble is paid by a specific group of mourners: sons and unmarried daughters provide theguting, married daughters the bayin (this ensemble is sometimes called "the Daughter's Pipe"), and friends and relatives contribute beiguan and/or brass bands. Sometimes there are many ensembles as groups of friends or relatives each contribute their own musical memorials. Far from indicating noisy discord, Li argues, the ensembles direct the way and musically express, with an exuberance for which the Taiwanese are justly famous, the completion of a good life surrounded by kin, friends, and music. The funeral procession's music itself expresses the broad and overlapping social relationships of the deceased, which define the content of a life well-lived for many Chinese. The music thus not only helps the soul of the deceased find rest, but tells his community about the social richness of his life. In Chapter 7, Evelyn Rawski discusses how a central political ceremony, the accession ritual, encodes the ambivalent sentiments attending the death of one ruler and the passing of the throne to his heir. These two events are inevitably locked together in many premodern monarchical systems of government, posing the same problem in each case: How does one fully acknowledge the mournful nature of the first, while recognizing the joyous character of the second event? Moreover, the legitimacy of the Chinese dynastic model rested not on claims of blood descent but primarily on "virtuous rule," which in the eighteenth century was defined in terms of fidelity to the Confucian "three bonds" (san'gang), the series of bilateral social relationships tying subject to ruler, son to father, and wife to husband. The state was the family writ large, and from Ming times, the emperor's authority rested in part on presenting him as the "father and mother" ofhis people, the "ultimate parental figure" (Farmer 1990: 112). In order to be a fully acceptable parent, the emperor also had to be an

Introduction

exemplar of filiality. His legitimacy-his credibility as ruler-lay in his ability to fulfill the expectations of the idealized social role of a son. Music, along with clothing, regalia, and ritual action, helped express the complex transactions taking place within the accession ritual that constructed an emperor out of a subject. Music also offers a channel for social criticism and for exploring human relations and emotions situated outside the boundaries of official discourse. This aspect of ritual music has been extensively studied for other societies, but not for China. As in many societies, communications with superiors in China are hedged with elaborate forms of etiquette. What can be said and how it can be said are dictated by detailed codes, which were informed (and in many ways are still informed) by Confucian ideas of hierarchy, order, and li (ceremony). Criticism and "unofficial sentiments" remained outside this ordered world, but were expressed in oral literature, fiction, poetry, song, and music as well as heterodox religious movements (Owen 1985; Ropp I993; Lowry I993; B. Yung 1985). What Lila AbuLughod has called "veiled sentiments" ( 1986) were often expressed in musical and poetic form during rituals. In a recent paper Kathryn Lowry examines the claims ofMing scholarofficial Feng Menglong, who maintained that popular song provided a unique forum for expressing "real" or "authentic" emotions. Feng and others, Lowry writes, appealed to the precedent of the classic Book of Songs ( Shijing) in order to justify collecting and publishing "currently popular airs," which, they argued, should be valued as "unmediated expressions of human sentiment" (I993: 94). Lowry's Ming scholars traced the tradition of collecting, publishing, and imitating popular forms of poetry and song to a revered past from which their right to beseech authority, to describe injustice, and to think about "unmediated emotions" derived (see also Ropp I992). In many respects the instrumental music of the qin (seven-stringed zither) neatly captures the combination of precedent, tradition, and individual creativity so important in the expressive culture of China. For the literati, playing the qin required that they apply their personal experience and creativity to the written musical notation preserved from the past. Performers, Yung writes, were encouraged to reinterpret pre-existing pieces. "Meter, rhythm, and phrasing, taken for granted in Western art music as important factors of identity," he writes, "are, in the music of the seven-string zither, allowed a more flexible interpretation from one performer to another, and from one performance to another by the same performer" (I 9 8 5: 3 8 I). Why, we ask, did poetry and music make it possible to think about veiled sentiments,

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heterodox beliefs, and self-expression? Why were popular songs, qin music, and oral poetry so intimately linked to self-expression and social criticism? In Chapter 5, Rubie Watson asks What is the power of the Cantonese bride's songs? In the past, village women in Guangdong sang laments at their marriages in which they criticized their fathers and brothers, poured scorn upon their future husbands and mothers-in-law, and mourned the fate that forced them to be unfilial daughters. Watson argues that in her laments the bride sang of herself as a fully sentient, suffering being; yet she sang in a well-rehearsed genre. The power of her songs resided, Watson maintains, in the conflation of cultural form and personal style. In her songs, the bride externalized in public performance "an understanding of filial piety and loyalty that is filled with the dilemmas of being a woman in a world where the instructing discourse ignores women and their particular struggles." Just as ritual provides a framework that not only permits but may also increase the power of personal expression, highly institutionalized rituals may heighten the energies that officiants and the audience pour into the ritual performance. In Chapter 8, Judith Boltz focuses on one such framework by examining a major Daoist ritual performed for the spirits of the neglected dead. Her study touches on a central element in Chinese religion, what Westerners formerly called "ancestor worship." Because in the Chinese view the souls of deceased persons could affect the fortunes and lives of the living, the unknown or neglected dead-those without living descendants, those who died in accidents and other catastrophes, whose bodies were not properly interred and whose spirits remain restless-are of particular concern to communities. The pudu ritual addresses these concerns directly by propitiating these souls and permitting them to rest in peace. Basing her discussion on a ritual text, which includes detailed directions for the performative elements as well as the liturgy, Boltz describes a rite in which poetry, music, and movements combine to empower the officiant and make the rite efficacious. By systematically arranging and effectively ordering the complex material of the rite so that the performative elements as well as the text are delineated, her paper sets a model for similar studies of other Daoist rituals and prepares future researchers for the field study of this particular ritual in its proper and, in particular, its musical context. In Chapter 9, Ellen Judd shows how a series of powerful aesthetic and religious forces are brought together in the context of opera and ritual. Judd describes a performance of Mulian opera. Performed in the past as part of the summer rites to exorcise "hungry ghosts" and purifY the com-

Introduction munity, the Mulian opera draws powerfully on images of filiality, karmic retribution, and Buddhist salvation (D. Johnson I989 ). The lines dividing priest from actor, and audience from performers, are frequently demolished in the course of the plays in the Mulian cycle. The music of Mulian opera drives the action, framing and producing the great transformations and contradictions at the heart of the performance. As Judd notes, socialist government officials respond precisely as did their predecessors: appreciating the play's power to arouse strong emotions, they attempt to control and limit the audience and appeal of this traditional genre. In each of the ritual events discussed in this volume, music is seen to play a crucial role. But the specific "voice" of the music varies according to context. In some cases, particularly in state-sanctioned rituals, music speaks in harmony to the messages of the other voices of the performative act; in other cases, such as the bridal laments music of Hong Kong, it speaks in opposition to them. In the funeral processional music of Taiwan, several individual musical performances occur simultaneously in the same ritual environment at close spatial proximity. From a strictly musical point of view, the total aural effect may appear cacophonous; yet within the ritual context, the musics speak in counterpoint to one another and to the other voices to produce a rich performative texture for the desired meaning. In every case, music's voice is unique and irreplaceable.

I I

CHAPTER I

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound BELL YUNG

The concept of music and its related vocabulary in Western scholarship developed largely from consideration of the European art-music tradition and from the common application of the word to entertainment in popular culture. Within these contexts, music is assumed to possess a host of properties that have long been taken for granted. For example, one widely accepted notion is that music consists of aural "objects" in the form of individual compositions-"pieces" of music or individual "songs." A "piece" of music is the product of individual creative expression; it has entertainment and/or aesthetic value; it has a definite beginning and ending; and so on. These notions have been challenged in recent decades by the relatively young scholarly discipline known as ethnomusicology. Ethnomusicology examines music from global and comparative perspectives; it considers music in a variety of performance contexts in addition to the concert stage; and it utilizes theories drawn from the social sciences, particularly anthropology, in its research and methodology. It raises such fundamental questions as What is music? How do people make music? And why do people make music? In general, ethnomusicology treats music as an integral part of social and cultural life with a value beyond aesthetics or entertainment. For example, David McA!lester, who has training in both anthropology and music, has examined the concept and value of music in Navaho societies, which are quite different from those commonly accepted in the West (1954). Charles Seeger, defining music broadly, in 1951 proposed new viewpoints, orientations, and methods in the study of music-any kind of music. And in a later article ( r 970 ), he advanced a model of music research that incorporates other scholarly disciplines, ranging from physics and

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mathematics to anthropology and folklore. Rather than focus on particular cases, Seeger, with his vast musical knowledge and familiarity with many scholarly disciplines, set the basic premise for research in this field. McAllester, Seeger, and other ethnomusicologists have revolutionized the understanding of music, broadly defined, in fundamental ways; they have also played a critical role in changing scholarly attitudes and approaches toward music research. Despite the advances in ethnomusicology, its many new orientations, viewpoints, and methods have yet to be widely disseminated among social scientists outside the field of music. Music research continues to be relatively isolated from cognate disciplines. Although ethnomusicologists reached out to the social sciences for ideas and methodologies, they have not actively introduced new ideas about music back into the social sciences; as a result, social scientists have yet to be broadly exposed to the innovations in musical research. 1 In common usage outside the field of musicology, traditional concepts developed from the study of the European art-music tradition continue to be applied and transferred to the consideration of music in other cultures such as China or to other performance contexts such as ritual. These applications are often not wholly appropriate and may create problems. The central question that each essay in this volume asks in the consideration of music in Chinese ritual is What role does music play in the overall function and meaning of the ritual? Before this question is investigated, one must first define and clarifY the meaning and scope of the term "music": What is music? What is not music? Second, one must recognize that music, however defined, must be treated as integrally related to the other performative aspects of the ritual that are not music-gesture, artifact, speech, written text and non-verbal symbols, physical and social settings, and a myriad of other observable phenomena. In short, one must take the paradoxical position of both isolating what is being studied and integrating it with that which is other than itself.

Chinese Ritual Sound Within the context of Chinese ritual, what falls within the scope of "music"? 2 It certainly includes musical instruments, musicians, song texts, and musical notation, as well as the uses and functions of music, the learning process, the cognitive and creative processes, musical concepts and theories, and other considerations and related issues. 3 However, lying at the core of investigation is the physical manifestation of music-the aural

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound dimension, which, not surprisingly, is the most difficult for non-music scholars to handle and often hard to define. Within the aural dimension, one asks the questions: What is music sound? What is non-music sound? One may also consider whether these questions are relevant at all-that is, instead of distinguishing music from non-music sound, should one treat all sound as having musical elements? In order to investigate these questions within the context of Chinese ritual, it may be useful to survey the types of ritual sound reported in this volume and categorize them. First, instrumental music is performed by "musical" instruments, such as the two-stringed fiddle ( erhu) or the double-reed pipe with a flared metal horn (suona). The sound made by these and other instruments is generally accepted as music not only because the instruments themselves are almost exclusively associated with music-they are not known to be used for other purposes but are widely played in more conventionally accepted musical events such as concerts-but also because the sound produced has conventionally accepted musical characteristics such as a well-defined melody and rhythmic patterns. Indeed, some of the music performed by these instruments in ritual settings consists of well-known compositions with individual titles that are also performed in concerts. One example reported in this volume that falls into this category is that of the pieces called xiaodiao performed by an ensemble of mainly melodic instruments tor rituals in the Daoist Scripture associations of Yunnan (see the essay by Rees). Daoist rituals in many parts of China share a large repertory of instrumental music with secular performance situations. In general, sound in this category is accepted as music without dispute. A second category of ritual music is vocal music performed by one or more singers or speakers who orally deliver verbal text with various degrees and kinds of stylization. These range from minimally stylized modes of speaking nearly indistinguishable from everyday speech to singing that is identical to, say, that on an operatic or concert stage. Many terms found in Chinese literature and oral usage denote different modes of oral delivery of text, including du (reading), song (reciting), yin (chanting), and chang (singing). Each of these terms implies a certain degree and kind of stylization in performance, but it is difficult to draw lines between them, just as it is difficult to distinguish the English categories of speaking, reciting, in toning, chanting, singing, and the like. In common usage, the lines drawn or implied are often quite arbitrary and inconsistent. The question thus arises: What should be considered speech and what music? Verbal texts are of central importance to most Chinese rituals, and furthermore such texts are almost always orally delivered. Examples mentioned in this volume include

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the six songs for the sacrifice to the progenitor of sericulture in the Ming dynasty (Lam), the zhonghe shaoyueperformed during sacrifices at the state altars and during the emperor's ritual ascent to the throne in the Qing dynasty (Rawski), the Chinese sacrificial rituals in Chason Korea (Provine), the bridal laments in the New Territories of Hong Kong (Watson), the dadiao songs performed in the rituals of the Daoist Scripture associations ofYunnan (Rees), and the performance of the liturgy in the Daoist pudu ritual (Boltz). Needless to say, the ritual operas reported by Judd cannot be performed without verbal texts. A third category is purely percussive music performed by instruments such as gongs, drums, and woodblocks. The sound made by these and other instruments is considered "music" because, first, the instruments themselves are often associated with music, being widely used in musical events such as operas and concerts, and second, these instruments often are used to produce the same kinds of sound as they would in operas and concerts. On the other hand, the sounds made by these instruments might not be considered music because they generally lack stable pitches and consistent pitch intervals. Furthermore, the sound, or sequence of sounds, produced by these instruments does not often form a coherent whole, or a "piece." For example, the woodblock may be struck only once at a particular juncture during a ritual without being related to any other musical passages. Such an isolated sonic event could be considered nothing more than noise because it may be indistinguishable from similar "noises" made by ritual paraphernalia that are not generally considered musical instruments. Examples of music produced by percussive musical instruments such as gongs and drums are found in most of the rituals reported in this volume, whereas examples of non-musical "instruments" and the sounds they produce mentioned in this volume include the slamming of the door as the bride exits her parents' house (Watson), the explosion of firecrackers at ritually marked moments in a Mulian opera performance (Judd), the whipcrack at the Ascension and New Year's Congratulatory Ritual for the emperor (Rawski), and the general "hustle and bustle" at a funeral procession in Taiwan (Li). Thus within the range of music sound are gray areas that blur its boundaries. Specific examples are those between song and speech when the music sound involves orally delivered verbal text and between music and noise when the music sound involves solely percussion instruments. One must assume, however, that the slamming of a door has special meaning in the context of the larger ritual event, and that the oral delivery of a text with little or no musical content-while other texts are delivered as "song" -has a special significance. These "non-musical" sonic events may

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound well have a ritual significance similar to those considered musical. In music in the context of ritual, any clear distinction between music and speech on the one hand and music and noise on the other is problematic; arbitrary dividing lines separating music from non-music serve only to hinder a comprehensive understanding of "music" in ritual. The study of ritual music must include all ritual sound. Whether the sonic event is closer to noise, to speech, or to music is ofless significance than the particular role it plays in the context of ritual.

Music and Musical Elements Nevertheless, dismissing a distinction between music and non-music should not lead to disregarding characteristic features that distinguish some sonic events from others, for such features are likely to be significant in the interpretation of ritual. For example, an extremely loud and sharp sound, be it the slamming of a door or a crash of a pair of cymbals, may serve a specific ritual function in a way that other kinds of sound do not. Thus the loudness and the sharpness of the sound become the focus of study rather than the question ofwhetherthe sonic event is "music." Another example is a pattern of tones repeated over and over again in a monotonous manner and sustained for an extended period of time-a characteristic feature of many Chinese rituals. In this case, both the general idea of repetition and the specific pattern being repeated become important data for analysis. These characteristic features give special meaning to the sonic event beyond the content of speech or the cacophony of noise. Because they have meaning and are not expressed in terms of speech, we shall call these characteristic features "musical elements," and sonic events that contain musical elements shall be considered "musical." Each of the sonic events that occur in ritual may be analyzed and deconstructed to reveal a myriad of musical elements that render them more "musical" than otherwise. The following is a proposed list of musical elements, each of which will be discussed below using examples from the essays in this volume. 4 1.

2.

3. 4· 5. 6. 7. 8.

Prescribed pattern ofloudness Prescribed timbre or quality of sound A regular pulse that is implied or explicitly stated Prescribed intonation Prescribed rhythmic patterns Prescribed tonal patterns Prescribed tempo Prescribed absolute pitch

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If the sonic event involves verbal text, the additional features are 9. Verse structure in the text that prescribes the number of syllables in a phrase, the number of phrases in a line, and the number oflines in a cyclical unit oftext ro. Verse structure in the text that prescribes patterns of phonic elements such as rhyme, alliteration, and linguistic tones LOUDNESS AND TIMBRE

The loudness of a sonic event in a ritual context is almost always strictly prescribed. For public rituals, particularly those held outdoors such as a funeral procession through the streets, loud percussion instruments such as gongs and cymbals and loud melodic instruments such as the doublereed pipe ( suona) are used. In contrast, private or semiprivate rituals in which the sonic event is self-directed or intended for an intimate environment, such as the bridal lament or the chanting in the Daoist Scripture association, a soft voice is prescribed. That the funeral procession, the prospective bride, and the Dongjing ritual all use a fixed loudness patternindeed a single and sustained degree of loudness throughout the performance-is also quite apparent (Recorded examples 8, 7, 3). This specific performance style is found in many kinds of so-called folk songs, as Charles Seeger has noted in connection with Anglo-American ballads: "While continual variance in loudness is the rule in twentieth-century concert music (and in the singing of folk songs by professional or professionally influenced performers), in the folk art the tendency is to invariance" (I97T 284). Related to the prescribed loudness pattern is a prescribed timbre, or quality of sound. In the case of vocal utterances, a consistent vocal timbre is apparent in recordings of the bridal lament and the Daoist chanting. The invariant timbre is consistent with vocal utterances in many other Chinese rituals and with invariant loudness in the same sonic events. For instrumental music, the timbre depends upon the kinds of musical instruments, and the timbral differences-and the difference in musical instrumentsbetween different kinds of ritual are obvious. A comparison of the list of musical instruments used in the state rituals for emperors as reported by Rawski and those used in a funeral procession for present-day Taibei residents as reported by Li reveals that completely different musical instruments are used. Not only do certain instruments have inherent associations and symbolism due to material, shape, and origin, but the timbrat characteristic of an instrument is critical to its appropriateness in a ritual setting.

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound The importance of timbre in Chinese ritual music (and Chinese music in general) is underscored by the traditional categorization of musical instruments, as given in Table 7.1 of Rawski's essay. In contrast to the common Western system of categorization (string, wind, brass, and percussion), Chinese group the instruments according to the material used to make the instrument: metal, stone, skin, silk, and the like. Since the timbre of the sound produced by an instrument depends primarily upon the rnaterial that produces the sound, this categorization system reflects the importance of timbre in the perception and use ofmusic. 5 REGULAR PULSE

Alan Lomax, in his study offolk-song styles ( 1968), writes: "From the outset song was seen to be the most highly ordered and periodic of vocalizations. In fact, song may be recognized and defined as more frequently redundant at more levels than any other kind of vocalizing. Most of the regularities of speech are carried over in song and are usually employed in some more formalized way in sung verse than in speech. Not only are the sounds, words, syntax, and forms of a language all touched by the peculiar regularities of poetry, but the redundancy introduced in song at the non-verbal level gives rise to meter, melody, harmony, and the singing voice" (p. 13). Probably the simplest "level" of redundancy is the regular pulse in a sonic event. In other words, the relative rhythmic freedom in everyday speech is reduced within the confines of certain regularities, the simplest of which is that individual sonic signals are forced into durational slots of equal value. Certainly this is one of the most commonly exhibited features of"music," found in marches, work song, and dance, as well as in many other kinds of music. In the ritual events reported in this volume, the musical notation provided by Lam and Rawski imply a regular pulse, and the recorded examples of Provine (2), Li (8), and Rees (8) clearly exhibit it. Watson's example ( 7) is a little more ambiguous: the singer would occasionally pause from time to time, breaking up the pulses. On the local level, however, the sense of pulse is still there. In Jiang (Rees's example 6), the performer uses a normal speaking rhythm rather than a regular pulse. For public rituals involving a large number of people, whether officiants or observers, the sonic events are inevitably highly regular and redundant, among which a regular pulse is the easiest to achieve. It is a simple and effective means of unifying the participants in a ritual by giving them a sense of interaction. Private rituals such as bridal laments do not call for such unity and are therefore less likely to conform to a regular pulse.

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INTONATION

"Intonation" refers to the characteristic features of a sonic event that pertain to pitch level and contour. For a musical instrument, its intonation-the ability to produce certain pitches and those pitches alone-is probably its most critical feature. In everyday speech in a non-tonal language, the pitch level of one's voice rises and falls without conscious manipulation or control-the speaker, theoretically, has an unlimited choice of pitches and pitch contours. The situation is somewhat different for a tone language such as Chinese. Because intonation is a phonemic feature of the language, each word must be enunciated at predetermined pitch level, be it high, medium, or low, and with a certain pitch contour-flat, rising, falling, or a combination of these. Nevertheless, in everyday Chinese speech the speaker can vary the pitch level (though retaining the pitch contour) so long as the relative pitches among words are retained. When one departs from everyday speech, the speaker's intonation is controlled by the nature of the occasion, the style of performance, and the function of such speech. In general, three possibilities are evident. First, the pitch choice may become extremely limited, with the natural rising and falling of pitch level suppressed. The extreme case is a monotone delivery; that is, using one single pitch throughout a passage. Such a style of text delivery is variously described as "intoning" or "chanting," with examples reported by Rees and Boltz in this volume. Second, the pitch range may be expanded to include very high and very low pitches generally not employed in everyday speech. In the case of Chinese, the expansion of the pitch range may simply be an exaggeration of natural speech tones. Such exaggeration is commonly found in the Chinese performing arts such as operas and storytelling, but is also reported by Rees as jiang in rituals of the Daoist Scriptures association. 6 Third, whether the range of pitches is compressed or expanded, the specific pitches used may be greatly limited, so that the entire delivery uses only a small number of fixed and sustained pitches. This is simply the conventional understanding of singing with a melody, the melody being made up of a limited number of pitches. Each pitch is used many times throughout the delivery in such a way that the absolute value of the pitch remains constant. The musical notation of the Six Songs in Lam's essay is a good example (see discussion below). RHYTHMIC PATTERN

A regular pulse, though providing a unifying framework, is characterized by a lack of individuality tfom one sonic event to another, and from

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound one point to another within the same sonic event. In contrast, a prescribed rhythmic pattern that departs from a simple regular pulse individualizes a particular sonic event, or a particular juncture in it. "Prescribed rhythmic pattern" refers to a combination of long and short durations of tones. On the one hand, such a pattern provides some order and structure within the free-flowing rhythm of everyday speech and noise; on the other hand, it provides a diversion from the monotony of regular pulse and adds interest and individuality to the moment. For example, the bridal lament (Watson) has an overall rhythmic pattern composed of long and short phrases, with pauses between them. The pattern is repeated from verse to verse. In Li's example of funeral processional music, the "insertions" in the music performed by the Beiguan Ensemble (Li, Fig. 6.5) repeat a short musical phrase five or six times in the middle of a tune. Such a pattern, combining characteristic melodic and rhythmic patterns, assumes an individual personality. Rhythmic patterns are important in the construction of a musical phrase. The repetition of a rhythmic pattern confers on a sonic event a certain identity and flow. In addition, a rhythmic pattern may or may not be underlined by a regular pulse. For example, even though one senses a regular pulse within a single phrase of the bridal lament in Watson's example, the pauses between the long and short phrases break the continuity of the pulse. Thus the regular pulse exists only on a local level and is not carried out consistently through the entire song. In contrast, the rhythmic pattern of the "insertion" in the funeral processional music studied by Li has a strong underlying regular pulse throughout the performance. TONAL PATTERN

Parallel to rhythmic pattern is tonal pattern, which can be understood as a sequence of tones with stable and well-defined pitches. Such a combination of tones of high and low pitches, just like a combination oflong and short durations of tones, gives a sonic event an identity and individuality, an identity lacking both in monotone chanting and in everyday speech, where the intonation glides through a range of pitches without an identifiable pattern. When a prescribed tonal pattern is combined with a prescribed rhythmic pattern, the result is commonly called a "melody." (Another way of putting this is that a melody, when dissected, consists of a tonal pattern and a rhythmic pattern.) It follows that a "piece" of music is identified by a sequence of melodic phrases that combine to form a coherent whole. Both Rawski and Lam provide examples, in musical notational form, of "pieces" of music composed of distinct musical phrases. In both

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cases, the rhythmic pattern is undistinctive: since all the tones are of equal duration within a melodic phrase, one phrase is identical to another as far as rhythm is concerned. In terms of rhythmic patterns, one song would hardly be distinguishable from another. The individuality of the songs, however, lies in the tonal pattern. In other kinds of music, the combination of both rhythmic and tonal patterns plays a distinctive role. It is common for the "melody" to be the most obviously identifiable aspect of a song or a composition. However, some melodies in Chinese rituals do not stand alone as songs, but are merely fragments attached to other fragments, and serve specific purposes. For example, Li's report on the Beiguan Ensemble music in the Taiwan funeral procession shows that the "inserted" short melodic phrase has its own identity and individuality quite apart from the "piece" of music. Such an "insertion," often with a name of its own, is never performed by itself, but may appear in other compositions. PRESCRIBED TEMPO AND ABSOLUTE PITCH

A sonic event may retain its loudness, timbre, rhythmic pattern, and tonal pattern from one performance to another, but it may still sound different because it is performed at a different tempo and/or a different absolute pitch. "Tempo" refers to the speed of the sonic event (in terms of total duration or of the number of pulses per second); "absolute pitch" refers to how high or low the pitch of the first tone of a song is set, with all the following tones pitched higher or lower accordingly (in terms of number of cycles per second). Depending upon the kind of ritual, both tempo and absolute pitch may be prescribed with various degrees of specificity. In tempo, a sense of slowness is generally expected in state rituals, as reported by Lam, Provine, and Rawski. In contrast, Daoist rituals such as those reported by Rees and Li tend to have a faster tempo. Tempo is of course in part determined by the accompanying gestures and movements. In a funeral procession, for example, the tempo is more or less determined by a walking pace, but a performance confined to one location can exhibit greater flexibility in tempo. There is great variation among different rituals insofar as absolute pitch is concerned. In almost all Chinese music other than state rituals, the choice of absolute pitch is of little concern. Although musicians and audience have a general sense of how high and how low the general pitch-range of a song should be, the exact pitch of the first tone of a composition may vary from performer to performer, and from performance to performance, depending to a large extent upon the construction of the instruments used or the personal preference and vocal ability of the singer.

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound The situation is quite different for state rituals, where the choice of an absolute pitch is of critical importance: the efficacy of the ritual may hinge upon this factor, and consequently, as reported by Lam, the choice of absolute pitch may be exploited in power struggles among the different factions in the preparation of the ritual. In state rituals, bronze bells (zhong) and L-shaped stone chimes (qing) are important instruments (instruments not known to be used in other kinds of rituals or non-ritual music); the forging of the bells and the carving of the stone chimes are critical in producing the predetermined absolute pitches. Once the instruments are manufactured according to specification, the pitches they produce cannot change from one performance to another. In contrast, the pitches of string and wind instruments in the same ensemble (see Rawski, Table 7. I) can be varied relatively easily. Thus, the pitches of the bells and stone chimes are standards to which all other instruments must conform. In his essay in this book, Lam writes: "Zhang E's proposals to measure the huangzhong pitch with ether, to make the large special bell ( tezhong), and to enforce certain musical changes were attempts to attain the perfect ritual music, which would allow communication among and coordinate human beings, natural elements, and supernatural forces, and would demonstrate the authority and power of Shizong." The huangzhong pitch refers to the fundamental pitch on which all the other pitches in the bell set are calculated, and which is to be produced by the tezhong bell. All the other bells in the set (usually sixteen) are then built accordingly. Similarly, the pitches of the string and wind instruments in the ensemble must be adjusted accordingly. It is not difficult to see the superior status and authority of the huangzhong pitch over all other pitches, and the tezhong bell over all other instruments. According to Yang Yinliu (I 9 55: 3 26), a new huangzhong pitch was almost always set by a new dynasty, and sometimes by a new emperor. The symbolic meanings of these acts are clear. VERSE STRUCTURE: PHRASE LENGTHS

The verbal texts of sonic events are often composed in verse rather t:han in prose, and the verse structure embodies various rhythmic and phonic patterns. "Rhythmic pattern" refers to the number of syllables in a phrase, the number of phrases in a line, and the number oflines in a passage of text. These units are delineated by syntactic structure as well as phonic parallelisms and contrasts such as rhyming, alliteration, and patterns of linguistic tones. The pudu ritual reported by Boltz offers an excellent example of the structure of phrase lengths. In Table 8.I of her essay, Boltz outlines 78 components of the ritual sequence, including the total word count (that is, number of written characters) for each component and the length ofindi-

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vidual metrical units. By "metrical units," she refers to the verse structure of the text in terms of phrase and line lengths. For example, in component [ 2], the "metrical unit" is given as (4 X 7) + (3 X 9). This means that the text is divided into two sections. The first has four phrases, each consisting of seven syllables (written characters); the second has three phrases, each consisting of nine syllables. Thus, at a glance, one has a grasp of the structure and flow of the text. In terms of the longs and the shorts of phrases/lines/sections, such a structure projects a sense of"rhythm," one that is quite apart from the performance rhythm, which may or may not coincide with the verse rhythm. The varied verse structures in the different components of the pudu ritual may be contrasted with those of the state rituals. In Lam's example of six songs for the sacrifice to the progenitor of sericulture, each song has eight phrases, each phrase four syllables. In Rawski's example ofYuanping music, the verse structure of the song is more irregular: 5

+7

s+7 5+3+3 5+3+3

Both examples illustrate the couplet structure of the text, which is commonly found in elite as well as popular literature. VERSE STRUCTURE: PATTERNS OF RHYMING, LINGUISTIC TONES, AND OTHER PHONIC PATTERNS

As is well known, Chinese verse, be it classical poetry or popular song, exploits phonic elements such as rhyming, alliteration, and linguistic tones to delineate phrases and lines, which in turn produce parallelisms, contrasts, and symmetries in the verse structure? For example, the verse structure and rhyming scheme of Song I in Lam's example of six songs is as follows: Phrase I

Liner Line 2 Line 3 Line4

Phrase 2

____ Rr , ____ R2·, _ _ _ Rr, _ _ _ R2;

___ &, ___ ~; ___ &, ___ ~.

where each"_" refers to a syllable (written character), and RI, R2, refers to the rhyme scheme. Verses may also follow patterns oflinguistic tones. Poetic forms adhere to different patterns and are allowed different degrees of flexibility in fol-

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound lowing such patterns. In most cases, the ending syllables of phrases and lines must follow quite rigid patterns, whereas syllables in other positions are treated more flexibly. To use Lam's Song I as an example again, the last syllables of each phrase conform to specified tones: 8 Phrase r

Line

Phrasez

_ _ _ EV, _ _ _ _ _ _ EV, _ _ _ _ _ _ OB, _ _ _ _ _ _ OB, _ _ _

1

Line 2 Line 3 Line 4

EV; EV; EV; EV.

where EV refers to a syllable with "even" tone, and OB to a syllable with "oblique" tone. A comparison ofthe two patterns given above, one delineated by rhyming, the other by linguistic tones, reveals that the basic "rhythm" of the text as delineated by the two schemes is identical-four lines, each line consisting of two phrases, and each phrase containing four syllables: 4

+4

4+4 4+4 4+4 However, the subtle relationships between the first two lines and the last two lines differ in the two schemes. It is important to compare the verse structure embodied in the text discussed above with the tonal pattern in performance, as given in the musical notation (see Lam's essay in this volume). Each syllable is sung to a musical tone; the 32 syllables are thus sung to 32 musical tones. However, many of the musical tones are identical; for example, the first and fourth syllables of the first phrase are sung to the same pitch. Altogether, six pitches are used for this song (indeed by all six songs), as shown in Fig. 1.1. For ease of reference, we shall label those pitches, from bottom to t'ap, I, 2,3,5,6,8.9 Just as the last syllable of a phrase or line has to follow a specific rhyme or a specific linguistic tone, so too the musical tones sung to these syllables must use certain pitches, as follows: Phrase r

Line

1

Line

2

Line 3 Line 4

Phrase 2

_ _ _ .!_, _ _ _ 1; _ _ _ 3:_, _ _ _ .!; _ _ _ l, _ _ _ .!_; _ _ _ !:_, _ _ _ .!.·

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Fig.

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0

2

II

0

0

3

5

6

II

8

Musical scale used in the six songs (Lam)

Note that the pair of phrases in lines 2 and 4 have identical ending pitches, whereas the pair of phrases in lines I and 3 have the same ending pitches but in reverse order. In other words, the structure as defined by parallelism and contrast according to performative aspect (in this case, intonation) is different from that delineated by either the pattern of rhyming or the pattern oflinguistic tones. Thus, in performance, a complicated, multilayered structure is revealed. Several propositions can be drawn from the preceding discussion. First, in the study of music in Chinese ritual, no clear distinction can be made between musical and non-musical sonic events; specifically, there is no clear distinction between song and speech, or between percussion music and noise. All sonic events are potentially significant in the context of ritual. Second, all sonic events are assumed to have some degree of musicality, which is defined as the cumulative effect of the musical elements that they possess. Third, the question "What role does music play in the overall function and meaning of the ritual?" is more properly "What musical elements does a particular sonic event possess and what role do those musical elements play in the overall function and meaning of the ritual?"

Rigidity and Flexibility in Ritual Sound The musical elements proposed in this paper are structural patterns imposed upon sonic events. In one way or another, and to different degrees, the prescribed patterns restrict the structural freedom of the sonic expression; comparatively, everyday speech allows the speaker to be, at least theoretically, completely free in the choice not only of words and syntax but also of the performative aspects such as loudness, timbre, intonation, rhythm, and speed. By imposing prescribed patterns, the musical elements curtail and potentially eliminate the individuality and creativity of the performer. This is essentially the idea advanced by Maurice Bloch (I 97 4 ), who argues that ritual is an occasion where syntactic and other linguistic freedoms are reduced because ritual makes special uses of language-charac-

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound teristically stylized speech and singing (p. 56). Using the Merina circumcision ceremony as an example, he outlines "three fairly distinct uses of language": 1. Formal oratory. "It shares with political oratory such features as the use of a restricted archaic vocabulary, the use of only certain syntactic forms, usually the ones considered the most polite and impersonal, the use of [a] wealth of illustrations from a given traditional body of sources-proverbs, traditional history, etc., the use of a special style of delivery and finally the use of a rigid traditional structure for the whole speech" (p. 58). 2. Intoning. "This occurs at one stage in the ceremony and consists of the repeating again and again by the elders of a set formula in a chanting voice accompanied by whoops and other non-lexical shouts" (p. 59). 3. Singing. "This is really the dominant form in a Merina circumcision ceremony as indeed in so many other rituals in many other parts of the world .... Their texts are not created but have been learned previously and, as is the case in all songs, the rhythm, the phrasing, and the pitch are fixed" (p. 59).

Calling the above "formalized" speech-making, Bloch contrasts them with everyday speech, summarized in Table I. I (p. 6o ). Bloch writes: "The formalization of speech dramatically restricts what can be said so the speech acts are either all alike or all of a kind and thus if this mode of communication is adopted there is hardly any choice of what can be said. Although the restrictions are seen usually as restrictions of form rather than of content, they are a far more effective way of restricting content than would be possible if content were attacked directly" (p. 62 ). Bloch argues that formalization renders the language "impoverished" and deprives it of its "creativity potential" (p. 62). From this, Bloch postulates that "it is because the formalisation of language is a way whereby one speaker can coTABLE 1.1

Everyday VCrsus Formalized Speech Acts, According to Bloch (1974) Everyday speech acts

Choice of loudness Choice of intonation All syntactic forms available Complete vocabulary Flexibility of sequencing of speech acts Few illustrations from a fixed bodv of accepted parallels ' No stylistic rules consciously held to operate

Formalized speech acts

fixed loudness patterns Extremely limited choice of intonation Some syntactic forms excluded Partial vocabulary Fixity of sequencing of speech acts Illustrations only from certain limited sources, e.g., Scriptures, proverbs Stylistic rules consciously applied at all levels

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BELL YUNG erce the response of another that it can be seen as a form of social control" (p. 64). Bloch's views on the formalization of speech in ritual and its relationship to social control touch on one of the central questions raised in this volume. Like Bloch's table of contrasts between everyday speech and formalized speech, the musical elements proposed in this essay may be viewed as specific rules in the formalization of sonic events in order to limit the flexibility of these events. Bloch writes that "song is ... nothing but the end of the process of transformation from ordinary language which began with formalisation" (p. 69 ). Further, "From the point of view of ritual this transformation is, however, a most important stage since singing is so often and so prominently an integral part of religious action" (p. 70 ). This line of argument results in the thesis that singing in religious rituals underscores, legitimizes, and effects traditional authority. In the rituals discussed in the essays in this volume, music, whether singing or other kinds of sonic event, occupies center stage. Following Bloch's argument, one may observe that, both symbolically and in practice, the prescribed patterns associated with music demand that the ritual participants act in tonal and rhythmic synchronization, resulting in apparent unity. Music thus serves as a tool to control and diminish individuality and to lessen the ritual participants' "creativity potential." Furthermore, this demand for unity not only pertains to participants present at the same ritual but also applies to participants in the same kind of rituals held at different times. In other words, the music unites both in space and in time. The power of music to unite and the effective use of this power by rulers have long been recognized in China; the idea is embodied in the following statement, attributed to the philosopher Xunzi (313-238 B.c.): "Music unites that which is the same; rites distinguish that which is different; and through the combination of rites and music the human heart is governed" (trans. B. Watson 1963: 117). During the so-called Cultural Revolution in modern times, Chinese opera and its music were strictly controlled and fully exploited by the authorities to transform the social consciousness of the masses. Central to Bloch's argument is his assumption of"the almost total lack of individual creativity which is involved in singing a song" (p. 70 ). From the musicological perspective, such an assumption is clearly open to debate, because the imposition of patterns does not necessarily lead to the suppression of creativity. 10 There are many ways in which prescribed patterns can be subverted-without overtly destroying the identity of the patterns or noticeably changing the desired effect of the music. A bride singing her ritual lament may vary the melody and rhythm from one verse to

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound another. The changes are subtle, even microscopic: a pause that is a fraction of a second longer in one verse than in another, or the insertion of a barely noticeable tonal slide in an attack of a syllable. Even though we lack samples of the same lament sung by different women, or the same lament sung by the same woman at different times, one can be certain that no two performances are identical; each performance reflects the individuality of the singer as well as the uniqueness of the performance situation. Li's study of the funeral processional music from Taiwan ofters a more concrete example of the flexibility of music in a specific ritual environment. As Li reports, a funeral procession rigidly prescribes the kind of musical ensembles, the specific instruments, the repertory, and even the sources of funding. However, "since the repertories performed are quite limited, whereas performing time can be lengthy, redundancy and elaboration are inevitable. Responding to the contextual requirements, all the three ensembles discussed in this essay have their ways of prolonging and elaborating their music." Li provides detailed examples of these techniques; here it suffices to mention one of them. In the bayin ensemble, flexibility is achieved through what may be called "repetition with variation." Even though the "same" tune is repeated, it sounds slightly different because the musicians alter some pitches and rhythm, and add, delete, or in general change the ornamentations to the melody. These changes are not made randomly; they are judiciously chosen so that the identity of the tune is retained as required by the ritual, yet enough differences are instilled to satisfY the musical interests and creative impulse of the performers. Such flexibility, or "creativity," is of course common in musical performances in all cultures, but it is particularly prevalent and highly developed in many genres of Chinese music, including operas, storytelling, and instrumental music, as well as in ritual music. For example, the repertory of tunes, called qupai (literally "tune labels"), used in traditional Chinese opera is limited: in Peking opera, only about 30 qupai are repeatedly used and reused in the same play and hundreds of other plays. The reason the innumerable repetitions of such a small number of tunes do not bore the audience-and are not boring for the singers to perform-is that the "same" tune, sung in different operas to different texts, or the same text and tune sung by different singers, may sound different. Even the same singer performing the same text may introduce variations from one performance to another. So long as the tune still sounds the "same" in order to fulfill dramatic requirements, many kinds of changes may be instilled into the performance. Clearly the changes must be confined within certain limits because, beyond those limits, the tune may become either unrecognizable or too

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close to other tunes. Whether two versions of a tune are considered the same or different-in other words, what those limits are-is a learned behavior handed down and shared by people of the same musical culture. In my study of music in Cantonese opera (B. Yung 1981), I have shown that the identity of a tune depends not on the specific tonal pattern of the tune but on other musical elements such as rhythmic pattern and the ending pitches of melodic phrases (pp. 673 -74). In contrast, the identity of a tune in Western music may depend to a greater extent on its tonal pattern. In short, I propose that, whatever the limits are, they are likely to vary from one culture to another. That a tune may manifest itself in different guises and yet still be recognized as the same tune is so important in Chinese music that the term qupai has long been established and widely used to designate this musical practice in many kinds of music. Simply put, a specific qupai refers to a tune identified by a literary title (label); in terms of melody and rhythm, however, it may appear in many different guises. Performers have a wide range in which to maneuver in the execution of the tune; listeners learn to accept the various forms as the same tune through years of listening experience. Thus a paradoxical situation occurs for a particular genre of music (for example, Peking opera). On the one hand, only a small repertory of qupai was composed, developed, and retained through history; on the other hand, the performers have the freedom to manipulate this limited material and mold it into many different forms. Admittedly, theme with variations is a common phenomenon in many musical cultures. But it occupies such a central position in almost all kinds of Chinese music, and the room for variations often reaches unimaginable limits, that the qupai principle may justly be considered one of the most distinctive characteristics of Chinese music. The practice underscores the creativity exercised by performers and blurs the line between performers and composers. Even in one of the most rigidly codified forms of Chinese music-state sacrificial songs-creativity still appears. As Lam writes: Ming Dynasty State Sacrificial Songs are the musical and cultural manifestation of the pursuit of Proper Music and of the practice of state sacrifices in the Ming court. Their austere style and brevity arise from many musical and non-musical considerations. Ritual specifications and mandated theories of music restrained the manipu!arion of musical materials, resulting in many conventions and formulaic stylistic features in the songs. Nevertheless, creativity managed to function even within those boundaries. Unique melodic segments, as well as devices to maintain continuity and unity within the pieces, produced songs of individual character and ex-

The Nature of Chinese Ritual Sound pression. In a few cases, creativity even breaks the boundaries in subtle ways without openly confronting the genre's musical concinnity. Such creativity within bounds pits theoretical ideologies against musical practicalities, raising fundamental issues for an understanding of the songs. (Lam 1988: 466). That such creativity is possible within the confines of seemingly rigid control of prescribed structures pinpoints the very nature of music and its differences from speech. Speech acts involve words and their combination; any deviation from a prescribed pattern involves discrete changes. For example, the smallest deviation necessitates a different word or a different word order. In contrast, the musical elements, which are found in both "music" and in the performative aspects of speech, may undergo changes in non-discrete quantities. For example, "fixed" loudness patterns may undergo minute gradations, intonation may undergo subtle microtonal changes, or the tempo may slow down and speed up in degrees that may not be consciously perceived. One may argue that musical elements are distinguished from the linguistic content of speech by the very fact that rigidity and fixity can be subverted. This potential for subversion may be the critical factor that empowers music with what Bloch, quoting Austin, calls "illocutionary force" or "performative force" "not to report facts but to influence people" (Bloch 1974: 67;citingAustin 1962: 234). If the ritual participants have the potential to exert individuality and creativity through the performative aspects of music, thus subverting the prescribed patterns imposed upon them, one must then examine more closely Bloch's thesis linking what he calls formalized speech with traditional authority. Although Bloch's thesis is convincingly argued and supported by empirical data, music possesses both a restraining and a liberating force. Thus, as one examines the issue of authority and power in rituals, it is important to focus on the music and to place it within the context of other forces at play in a ritual environment. Furthermore, this approach is particularly important in the study of ritual of China given the qupai principle-the paradox of giving the performer limited musical resources yet allowing him or her room to exercise individual creativity.

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CHAPTER 2

Ritual and Musical Politics in the Court of Ming Shizong JOSEPHS. C. LAM

Scene nine of Mingfeng ji (The phoenix shall sing), a famous Ming dynasty opera, describes the I548 execution of Xia Yan (1482-I548), who was, less than a year previously, a powerful grand secretary (Mao I659: 3540 ). 1 Capturing a poignant moment in Chinese history, the scene stirs the audience's emotions with dramatic text and music and asks why Xia Yan had to suffer such a humiliating death. Why did the Jiajing emperor, Shizong (Zhu Houzong, I507-67; r. I521-67), have his grand secretary killed in a public ritual (Zhang Tingyu I739: 84.5198)? In Shizong's court of the I 530-40's, state ritual and music were symbols and processes used to demonstrate and challenge authority and power (Bloch I989; Kwang-chih Chang I983). As symbols embodied in ritual paraphernalia and performance of programmed activities, state ritual and music demonstrated the imperial and Confucian ideology of the court and reflected the authority and power of the ritual partners, namely Shizong and his supporters and opponents, who controlled ritual and musical matters.2 As realized in their interactions, state ritual and music were long-term processes that resolved ambiguities by arbitrary and political means (Bell I992; Kertzer I988). These symbols and processes can be studied by examining the I 5303 I institution and performance of the sericultural ceremonials (hereafter, ceremonials), which included a state sacrifice honoring the progenitor of sericulture and a number of ritual exercises to process silkworm and to reel silk threads. 3 The incident began with efforts to implement ritual ideas, but it quickly became a series of ritual and political struggles among Shizong, his supporters, and his opponents. To discuss the nature of those struggles, this essay describes the events of the incident, identifies its ritual and mu-

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sica! ambiguities, and analyzes their roles in generating confrontations over authority and power. I argue that the political nature of state ritual and music in the Ming court \vas generated and defined by interactions among specific ritual partners and contexts. The incident of the ceremonials began with a memorial by Xia Yan, then an intermediate official who had recently attracted imperial attention (Zhang Juzheng I57T I09.2b-4a). 4 Declaring that he was overwhelmed by the emperor's diligent observance of the rites, Xia Yan proposed on February I2, IS30, to institute the ceremonials. 5 He argued that institution and performance of the ceremonials would demonstrate the emperor's respect for Heaven and his care for the people, encourage desirable behavior on the part of commoners, establish legacies for future generations, and have an emotional and ideological impact on court citizens. Shizong was pleased with the proposal because it conveniently supported his desire to revise the system of state ritual established by the founder of the Ming. To win approval from court officials, the emperor immediately showed Xia Yan's proposal to Grand Secretary Zhang Cong ( I4 7 5I 53 9) and expressed, to the Ministry of Rites, his eagerness to emulate the ancient practice of governance through state ritual and music. He ordered his officials to implement the proposal. Sharing the same imperial and Confucian ideology as the emperor and Xia Yan, Zhang Cong and the officials of the Ministry of Rites could not fault either the proposal or the emperor's enthusiasm. They promptly submitted to the imperial command, researched the matter, and recommended that the empress and other court ladies perform the ceremonials on a site in the northern suburb of the capital. The Ministry of Revenue, however, objected to the chosen location. Citing Tang dynasty precedent for the ceremonials and showing concern for practical matters, such as the availability of water needed for the ritual exercises, the ministry proposed that the ceremonials be performed within the palace. Huo Tao (1487-I540), an official who had supported the emperor's ritual changes in the early I 5 2o's, also found the proposed site problematic. The empress and her entourage could not travel to the proposed site, perform the ceremonials, and return to the palace within a day, yet the court ladies were not allowed to stay overnight outside the palace. Unless the court ladies were present, the ceremonials would not become a meaningful demonstration of the difficulties of sericulture and an instructive lesson in female virtues. If they could not return to the palace by the end of the day, however, they would fail to observe court protocol and raise moral

Ritual and Musical Politics in Ming Shizong)s Court and social concerns. Huo Tao recommended the selection of an alternative site close to the palace. Huo Tao's arguments invited a strong rebuttal and personal attack from Shizong. Reprimanding the official as the first person to make a controversy out of the proposed ceremonials, the emperor argued that the distance one had to travel to perform a state ritual should not be a concern in its implementation and that state ritual and music were means of governance and should conform to ancient practices. Shizong's anger was not, however, aroused by Huo Tao's penetrating analysis of the issues. The emperor was more concerned to forestall future criticism of his plans to revise state ritual and was reminded of earlier confrontations over such matters. To assert his own will and to prepare the ground for his changes, the emperor advocated conformity to the ritual system of the Zhou dynasty, which would result in the empress performing the ceremonials in the northern suburb of the capital. He ordered his officials to discuss the issues further. To underscore his desire to have the ceremonials performed in the northern suburb, he condemned the Tang dynasty practice of performing the ritual inside the palace as heretical. Two days later, on February q, the emperor issued a long edict defending his position to fend off further criticism from his opponents (Zhang Juzheng rsn: I09-4a- sb). He declared that his intention to institute the ceremonials was not a result ofXia Yan's proposal but a reflection of his desire to use the ceremonials to encourage sericulture and to tallow an ancient and Confucian tradition of exercising governance through state ritual and music. He charged that only court citizens with improper desires would doubt his intentions and find his ritual changes a challenge to the legacy of the deceased Ming emperors. Mter such strong words, the officials conceded and devised a solution to shorten the distance between the palace and the proposed site in the northern suburb. They also presented a comprehensive plan for the ceremonials, specifYing details ranging from the geographical orientation of the altars to the use of bamboo hooks for the empress's performance of the silk-processing exercise. The use of bamboo hooks, instead of gold ones appropriate to the empress's status, emphasized the universal meaning of the ritual exercises and underscored the difficulties of female tasks. The officials, however, did not forget the moral and social problems caused by the empress's trip. They recommended that during her trip all requisite decorum and formalities be observed under the direction of palace attendants so that the solemn and strict standards of the inner court would be followed.

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The emperor accepted the officials' recommendations but added some touches of his own. Because the ceremonials were female (yin) ritual, the emperor ordered that they employ even numbers and that the altar compound be made smaller than its male counterpart, the altar compound for the agricultural ceremonials. Realizing that it was impossible to follow every detail of ancient practice, the emperor skipped the building of the palace for fasting but ordered the construction of the hall for donning the sacrificial costumes and the workshops for sericulture and for cocoon processing. Thus, the ceremonials approached realization, and responses from other quarters were heard. In a memorial dated February 22, Minister of War Li Chengxun requested the emperor to contemplate all the meanings and associations of the ceremonials and to translate ritual aspirations into governmental policies (Zhang Juzheng I 57T I 09. I oa- b). Accordingly, the emperor should remind himself of the commoners' difficulty in procuring food and clothing, of the barren years and famines, of destitute people who had no food and clothing, and of excessive punishments. The emperor should show his care for the people by reducing land taxes, promoting court officials who cared for the people, and dismissing those who were treacherous and had no integrity. To produce practical results, Li Chengxun recommended government loans of oxen and seeds, programs to farm unoccupied lands in altar compounds, and the planting of mulberry trees along government roads throughout the whole empire. The emperor sent Li Chengxun's memorial to the responsible offices for discussion of its applicability. Meanwhile, the construction of the altar compound in the northern suburb was under way. By March I, blueprints for the altars were ready, but construction was stalled by complications (Zhang Juzheng I57T IIO.Ia). Citing practices of the Zhou dynasty and suggesting supernatural considerations, the Directorate of Astronomy argued that the timing was inauspicious and requested suspension of the construction for a year. The emperor's reply made equal use of the supernatural, but was more forceful: "I have reported [the performance of the sacrifice] to the ancestors, and I dare not stop it [now]." Once again the officials had to yield to the emperor's reasoning, but they asked permission to simplify and economize by building a temporary altar compound with cheaper materials such as straw matting and bamboo. The emperor granted the request, responding as if he were the most considerate of sovereigns: "There are quite a number of bamboo and straw buildings, and even these are not constructed without expense. Consider the financial situation and build only one or two of them." Thus, two altars, the hall for donning the sacrificial costumes, and the silk-processing workshops were constructed.

Ritual and Musical Politics in Ming Shizong)s Court On March 8, the Ministry of Rites presented the throne the schedule of procedures for the ceremonials (Zhang Juzheng I57T rro.rb-4a). Other details were also addressed. Commoners whose residences blocked the way of the altar compound's east exit were resettled and compensated. Permits for the court ladies to enter the compound were made, and as many mulberry and cudrancia trees as possible were planted for later use. To provide music and dance for the ceremonials, the emperor ordered, on March 19, that the Ministry of Rites resolve the problem of insufficient palace musician-dancers (Zhang Juzheng I57T IIO.I2a-qa). The officials replied with an ingenious solution that illustrates not only the role of music and dance in the ceremonials but also how non-musical factors influenced their decisions. The officials noted that few details of ancient practices of the ceremonials were clearly recorded in the Classics. In the Da Tang Kaiyuan li (State ritual of the Tang Kaiyuan period) and other documents describing practices of the Tang and Song dynasties, the officials found the following facts: the ceremonials used imperial orchestras of 88 female musicians ( gongxuan) and dancers arrayed in eight rows ( bayi); the musician-in-chief was responsible for training the musicians and ensuring the use of proper pitch temperament. To compensate for the shortage of musicians and dancers and to demonstrate the female and thus lower status of the ceremonials, the officials recommended omission of the dance, and the use of only 3 6 musicians. Shizong agreed, commenting that "sacrificial dances were not the business of women." Responding to the emperor's request tor a special headdress and costume for the female musicians, the Ministry of Rites produced a design with explicit cosmological associations. Reasoning that musical communication to the deities was most effective when supported by a corresponding color, the ministry proposed to dress the musicians in black, a color that matched the north, a yin direction. To underscore the correspondence between the sacrifice to the progenitor of sericulture and the sacrifice to, the progenitor of agriculture, the female musicians' costume would be made similar to that of their male counterparts. The emperor accepted the officials' design. By April 3, as preparations for the ceremonials neared completion, officials of the Ministry of Rites prepared for rehearsals and sought imperial advice about last details, including names for the terrace for the exercise of picking mulberry leaves and instructions for the ladies to rehearse their ritual exercises (Zhang Juzheng 1577: rrr.p). On April 24, for the first time in the Ming dynasty, the empress, nee Zhang, performed the sericultural ceremonials (Zhang Juzheng I57T rrr.qa). On April 30, the emperor accepted the recommendations to implement Li Chengxun's pro-

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posals and ordered appropriate actions (Zhang Juzheng I 57T II 2. I aI b). In his role of a benevolent ruler, he instructed that the programs would be successful only if they were implemented with regard to natural human feelings and local customs. He warned against strict enforcement, harsh punishment, or abuses that might trouble the people. On May 24, the Ministry of Rites requested the emperor's permission to perform the ceremony of processing the silkworm cocoons and the finale of the sericultural exercises (Zhang Juzheng I 577: II 2. I 6b). This coneluded the performance of the ceremonials, but not its aftereffects. The day before the ritual finale, the political fallout emerged. On May 23, the emperor punished Deng Xian, a censor who had questioned the merits of the ceremonials and requested leniency for Huo Tao, who had been reprimanded and briefly imprisoned (Zhang Juzheng I57T II2.ISb-I6a). Deng Xian had pointed out that neither Xia Yan nor Huo Tao might be completely right or wrong in their arguments. Deng Xian impeached the emperor for awarding Xia Yan's flattering words while condemning Huo Tao's honest exhortations. Angrily, the emperor denounced Deng Xian as "echoing with madness and evil ideas" and banished him to the frontier. Deng Xian's impeachment was not unfounded. Xia Yan's career had skyrocketed since his proposal. By the fall of I 530, his involvement with ritual matters had grown so much that he assumed authority to recommend a music master to supervise state ritual music. That music master, Zhang E, of Gansu province, came to court on October 29. His entry made such an impact on Shizong's court that the main points of his musical memorial were quoted extensively in the Da Ming Shizong Shuhuangdi shilu (Veritable records of Shizong), an honor seldom given to music theorists (Zhang Juzheng I57T II7.9b-I3a). Zhang E worked diligently, composing new ritual songs, correcting musical mistakes, requesting the making of new musical instruments, and writing praises of the emperor's actions (Lam I988: I66-68; 297-98). He noticed, for example, that the music honoring Shizong's father was performed in a wrong mode. As a result, the musicians responsible were punished. More ritual-political ramifications appeared two months later. On November 20, a very laudatory message arrived at court, extolling Shizong as an ideal sovereign (Zhang Juzheng I577: II9.Ib). Gong Yao, the supporter-general of the princely establishment ( wangguo) of Ruichang, praised the emperor for achieving the ideal stage of studying diligently to build the foundation of his imperial power, emphasizing fundamentals of governance to improve his rulership, and respecting Heaven to protect the empire and his mandate. Gong Yao then requested implementation of

Ritual and Musical Politics in Ming Shizong)s Court

programs to strengthen education and observance of rituals and to make commoners' life easier with lower taxes and more lenient punishments. Gong Yao's memorial was sent to the appropriate offices for discussion. Except for his recommendation that the imperial clansmen build altars for ceremonials of agriculture and sericulture, his suggestions were to be implemented. The clansmen were not allowed to infringe on imperial monopolies. By the end of I530, the ceremonials had in most particulars been established, although a few issues still needed resolution. The crucial conflict-the empress's trip to the northern suburb-resurfaced as the date of the I 53 I ceremonials approached. Once again, officials tried to persuade the emperor to have the ceremonials performed inside the palace. To convince him, they cited the success of the previous year and pointed out that the altar compound was still incomplete. On February I9, I5JI, Li Shi, the minister of rites, and other officials pleaded that delegates officiate at the ceremonials, coaxing the emperor with the notion that once construction of the altar compound was completed, the proper actions would be discussed again (Zhang Juzheng I57T I22.Ia). The emperor was not so easily convinced, however, and suspected that the officials wished to suspend the ceremonials because unexpected wind and haze had arisen during the previous year's performance. He demanded an urgent discussion and report. The officials replied with citations from the Zhouli (Rites of Zhou) and argued that "complete conformity with ancient practices does not [mean] that the empress [must] go to the northern suburb [to perform the ceremonials] annually." The emperor rejected the officials' interpretation, using, once again, as his excuse the weight of his deified ancestors: "I have informed the ancestors that the empress's ceremonials had been codified as annual events." Less than a month later, however, the fate of the ceremonials took a dramatic turn. On March 22, the emperor had a sudden change of heart (Zhang Juzheng I577: I23-4a-b). On the morning ofthat day, the emperor informed Zhang Cong and Li Shi that he would discuss relocating the ceremonials. By late afternoon, the emperor met with the two officials in the Renshou Palace inside the Western Imperial Garden (Xiyuan) and informed them of his intention to build the altar of soil and grains in front of that palace and the altar of sericulture behind it. He then asked the officials to check if his plans were feasible. Zhang Cong and Li Shi immediately went to investigate the site. When they met with the emperor again later that day, but in a different palace building, they gave a favorable report, emphasizing that the site chosen by the emperor faced the right di-

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rection. Everyone was pleased with the new development, and the emperor rewarded the two with food and wine. Shortly afterward, as a further gesture of goodwill, the emperor asked an imperial commissioner to deliver more delicacies to the officials. When the two officials re-entered the emperor's chamber to express their gratitude, the emperor asked them to approach his couch. Looking at Li Shi, he said: "As for the altar compound in the northern suburb, you do not need to ask me; you can immediately send an official notice to the Ministry ofWork to have it demolished." Thus, Shizong's institution of the ceremonials had a happy ending. Thereafter, the ceremonials were performed annually within the palace until they were suspended in 1537 (Qin 1753: 126.29b-3oa). Compared to other ritual-political struggles in Shizong's court, the I 530-31 incident was a relatively simple and peaceful series of confrontations. Nevertheless, the incident underscores fundamental issues of state ritual and music and of the balance of authority and power between the emperor and his officials, and between male and female court citizens. The interactions of the emperor and his officials were dictated by the power structure and contextual elements of the Ming court. Nominally, Shizong had absolute power because he was the Son or'Heaven with the mandate to rule China (Hucker 1961: 38-66). In practice, his power was not absolute. He had to answer to the higher authority of supernatural forces, the deified ancestors, and the long tradition of governance through state ritual and music (R. Huang 1981: 117-21; Wechsler 1985). Both Heaven, who gave the mandate, and the deified ancestors, who bequeathed the empire, might send natural disasters to show their disapproval. Copiously documented in books and internalized as common knowledge among court citizens, conventions and historical models of governance through state ritual and music constituted traditional guidelines to what the emperor could and could not do. The guidelines were operative because state ritual and music were regular, effective, and legitimate means for the emperor to demonstrate his authority and power. He could not resort to coercive and punitive means frequently without losing the loyalty ofhis officials (Schwartz 1985: 67-134). As subordinates to the emperor, court officials had no direct power over their ruler. They only had indirect power, which they acquired by administering the daily operations of the empire and by citing the authority of supernatural forces, deified ancestors, and the traditional guidelines to approve or disapprove the emperor's actions. The officials' approval was crucial; without it, the emperor's actions appeared dictatorial and lacked legitimacy (Dardess 198 3 ).

Ritual and Musical Politics in Ming Shizong)s Court There were few absolute and indisputable standards for judging the accuracy and appropriateness of either the emperor's actions or the officials' approval. This made the balance of power between the emperor and his officials delicate. If a dictatorial emperor could ignore candid and constructive criticism, cunning officials might usurp much power by manipulating the sovereign. Shizong was a dictatorial ruler and had particular interests in ritual matters. State ritual and music thus became highly volatile processes in which court citizens vied for authority and power. Since the beginning of his reign, ritual matters had triggered a tense relationship among Shizong, his supporters, and his opponents. Shizong was not born an heir to the Ming throne but was chosen to inherit the empire from his cousin Wuzong (Zhu Houzhao, 1491-1521; r. 1505-21), who died without a male heir. When Shizong accepted the throne at age fourteen, he was the prince of Xing of the princedom of Anlu in Huguang, and had already developed a strong personality, learned the lessons of state ritual, and mastered the skills of court politics. He was mature enough to realize that he began his reign in a weak and awkward position and that he was in danger of being dominated by powerful officials. To advance his own political base and personal interests, he resorted to ritual matters. Even before he ascended the throne, Shizong clashed with court officials over ritual protocol. He insisted that he entered the court as the successor to the throne, not as heir apparent. The difference in title was significant because it denoted specific relationships between Shizong and his predecessor and his biological parents. According to Yang Tinghe (14591 529 ), the most powerful official of the transition period, Shizong should honor his uncle, the emperor Xiaozong (r. 1487-1505), the father of his cousin Wuzong as his imperial father (huangkao). Such a ritual relationship would legitimize Shizong as an imperial prince who inherited the throne from his father, creating a direct and continuous genealogical line between the two Ming emperors. However, Yang's view not only required Shizong to assume a new set of ritual and psychological relationships with Xiaozong but also forced the young emperor to address his own deceased father as an imperial uncle ( huangshu) and to greet his living mother as an imperial aunt (huang shumu), according to her the status of a court lady. Not surprisingly, Shizong objected to the arrangement vehemently. Known as the Great Rites Controversy (Daliyi), the struggle lasted three and a half years, developing into a series of political crises that divided the court between the emperor and his supporters on one side and his opponents on the other (Fisher 1990). By 1530, the crisis had passed, but the ritual and political tension never completely dissolved. Shizong still wanted to honor, as much as possible, his deceased father and living mother with

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physical and ritual means. When Xia Yan proposed the ceremonials, he tested that tension and gave Shizong an excuse to use state ritual to glorify his biological parents. In fact, after receiving Xia Yan's proposal, the emperor told his officials that he had learned to appreciate the difficulties and merits of sericulture from his mother and wanted to teach the empress his mother's virtues (Yu Ruji r62o: 6.26b-27a). It is significant that in addition to the performance of the ceremonials, the empress had to lead the court ladies to attend scheduled lectures on the Instructions for Women (Niixun), which was attributed to Shizong's mother and published in 1530 (Zhang Juzheng I57T II8.rb). With Xia Yan's proposal, Shizong began a series of drastic ritual changes that led to the worship of his biological father as an imperial ancestor. It is within these dynamic and complex contexts that the ceremonials occurred and their ambiguities surfaced. When efforts to define and appropriate those ambiguities began, ritualpolitical confrontations became inevitable. The incident of the ceremonials revealed many theoretical, practical, and contextual ambiguities in state ritual and music, five of which will be discussed here. First, Shizong's rights in regard to state ritual and music were ambiguous. Although classical descriptions declared that meritorious rulers could revise state ritual and music, the descriptions did not clearly specify when and how an emperor qualified as meritorious. 6 As ruler of the Ming empire, Shizong had, theoretically, the right to use state ritual and music as means of governance and adjust them to his needs and desires. However, as the eleventh ruler of the empire, Shizong was expected to adhere to the ritual and musical conventions of his ancestors, especially those established by the founder of the empire (Shen I s87: preface). Second, Shizong and his officials followed traditional theories of state ritual and music and aspired to emulate ancient practices considered ideal. Ambiguities arose, however, because the court citizens' notions of ancient times and practices were imprecise and flexible and pertinent information was not always available. Although the state ritual of the Zhou dynasty provided most of the so-called ancient models, practices as late as those of the Tang and Song dynasties could also be emulated. Such a flexible approach accommodated many fundamentally different historical models of state ritual and music, generating theoretical and practical inconsistencies. Further confusion was caused by the court citizens' limited command of details about ancient practices. This is unsurprising because state ritual and music were complex events and written descriptions could seldom record performative details comprehensively. When theoretical and historical in-

Ritual and Musical Politics in Ming Shizong)s Court

consistencies were compounded with a lack of information about performance practices, ritual and musical ambiguities became problems that could be solved only with arbitrary but disputable means. Third, due to the absence of definitive and objective answers, court citizens discussing state ritual and music could advance only what they psychologically and intellectually considered "right" (Pye I968: I2- 3 5 ). The reasons for considering a particular understanding of state ritual and music "right" were often complex and dubious to rivals at court. 7 For example, Shizong may have sincerely believed that the empress's performance of the ceremonials would promote sericulture and teach female virtues. His opponents may, however, have found the ceremonials an excuse to glorify his mother. To be true to themselves, the court citizens had to demand that the form and content of a ritual conform to what they argued was appropriate. Suffice it to say, the version they judged appropriate might not be what their opponents wanted. Such differences exposed and juxtaposed diverse motives and positions among the competing ritual partners, leading to further complications. Fourth, as the only state ritual at which a female officiated, the ceremonials embodied the ambiguous roles females played in the operation of the Chinese empire. As reflected in the respect accorded mothers and in the authority and power they exercised, Chinese females played many roles in Chinese society. Nevertheless, they were generally required to live within a clearly defined "private" realm: they should neither associate with persons not direct family members nor concern themselves with matters that occurred in the "public" realm outside individual homes and were the prerogative of males (Y. Wu 1988). Thus, no woman, even the highestranking and most respected one in the empire, namely the emperor's mother, was to be involved with the affairs of the empire. There were, of course, many exceptions (Yang Lien -sheng I 9 6 I). By offering a prescriptive explanation, however, the general requirements for seclusion imposed on Chinese females rendered an open and realistic understanding offemale roles impossible. For example, Shizong and his male officials could not acknowledge that females had permanent and legitimate roles in Ming governance. Furthermore, even if the emperor used the ceremonials as the highest acknowledgment and lesson for females, he would not find the results totally desirable. When performed publicly, the ceremonials not only projected how Chinese males wished to define the female roles but also drew females into the open, establishing and legitimizing their roles in the official and public realm of the Chinese empire. The double-edged nature of the ceremonials and the ambiguous roles of

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Chinese females left Shizong with few choices. After one performance in the northern suburb, he moved the ceremonials to a site within the palace. In 15 3 7, or seven years after the first performance, he suspended the state ritual. The short life of Shizong's ceremonials was hardly unusual. Throughout Chinese history, the ceremonials were performed only sporadically (Qin 1753: u6.7661-719). Although the ceremonials originated from an ancient tradition clearly described in the Zhouli, they were apparently performed only when deemed expedient by the Chinese emperors and his male officials. Suffice it to say, there is no easy answer to the question when and why the ceremonials became expedient. Fifth, state ritual and music had to be designed and performed with reference to a nebulous web of people, perspectives, time, place, materials, and other contextual elements, rendering the institution and performance of the ceremonials complex and open to unpredictable influences. As argued by Huo Tuo, the empress's and court ladies' travel to the northern suburb involved not only logistic difficulties but also protocol problems, a grave matter of moral concern and social control in imperial China. Resolutions of such difficulties entailed specific arrangements, consuming time, material, and human resources and generating opportunities for further complications. Even with detailed planning for all contingencies, the possibility of undesirable accidents (or forbidden activities) during the empress's travel to the northern suburb existed. Were, however, the ceremonials to be performed inside the palace, an unconventional solution, their theoretical accuracy and efficacy was at risk (Ahem 1979; Tambiah 1968). Given the political stakes of the ceremonials, such risks could not be taken lightly. Indeed, when in 15 30 Shizong emphasized theoretical and conventional conformity over practical requirements and possible dangers, not only was he being autocratic and idealistic, but he may also have been thinking of supernatural forces. Similarly, his officials' suggestion that the ceremonials be performed inside the palace may have been not only a result of their concern over the practical difficulties but also a male attempt to confine the empress and her court ladies within the palace. In their institution of the ceremonials, Shizong and his officials had to consider and balance numerous details whose interrelationships were always nebulous. These ambiguities involved the ceremonials as a whole, but there were others that concerned specific aspects, such as the altars, language, and music. Music will be discussed here. Citizens ofShizong's court subscribed to a traditional understanding that proper music cultivated the minds/hearts of people, pleased the deities, and coordinated diverse elements in the cosmos (DeWoskin 1982). To activate such a complete communication, Shi-

Ritual and Musical Politics in Ming Shizong's Court

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zong and his supporters strove to make state ritual music accurate in all aspects. A brief examination of the six songs for the sacrifice to the progenitor ofsericulture illustrates such beliefs (see Fig. 2.1). Any official in Shizong's court would have immediately grasped the distinctive and exclusive features and symbolic meanings of this music. The imperial orchestra, which included expensive bell chimes, stone chimes, and other imperial musical instruments arranged in distinctive patterns, reflected the power and wealth of the emperor. The unique musical style, especially the syllabic melodies sung slowly as sustained notes, deliberately emulated what was believed to be ancient and thus the most proper music (Tuo 134 5: 128.2981). As marked by initial, finals, and scales, the music used the huangzhong mode, which was theoretically appropriate for hymns to dei-

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ties. The sung text declared the intentions of the ritual music. The female musicians dressed in black underscored its female and yin associations. Still, there was much room for ambiguities in theory, performance, and reception, of which four are prominent and deserve discussion here. First, although all court citizens knew that appropriate ritual music had to use the "right" pitch temperament, there was no foolproof way to achieve that goal. Since the Han dynasty, various methods, such as catching the ether (Bodde r 9 59: I4- 3 5) or measuring with millet grains, led to conflicting results, and numerous changes in the tuning systems (Yang Yinliu r 9 53: 28r-33r). One of Zhang E's first tasks was to investigate the accuracy of the pitch measurements. He and his supporters were not satisfied with what Zhang found, but his findings were by no means definitive and objective. Second, there was no definitive answer to the issue whether state ritual music should employ pentatonic or heptatonic scales, and there were gaps between musical theory and practice. Mid-sixteenth-century court citizens had little technical data about the music of the Tang dynasty or earlier times. 8 Their arguments were more hypothetical than factual as they tried to decide whether the pentatonic scale predated the heptatonic scale and was thus a more authentic expression of ancient music. & preserved, the six songs for the empress's sacrifice to the progenitor of sericulture use pentatonic scales. Zhang E found pentatonic scales objectionable and promoted heptatonic scales. The music master's view did not match contemporary practices: none of the state sacrificial songs composed in the r 530's and 1540's uses a heptatonic scale (Lam 1988: 376). Third, ritual music had to be realized through performance, an activity dependent on the skills of the performers that involved precise coordination of concepts, sounds, bodily movements, manipulations of musical instruments, and specific performance circumstances. There were endless possibilities for variations, and for understanding such variations differently (Kapferer 1986; Schechner 1977). Shizong's employment offemale musicians for the ceremonials was based on historical precedent, but the practice was still open to many questions. Although female musicians regularly provided music for entertainment and other secular functions inside the Ming court, they did not, until the ceremonials, provide music for state sacrifices. Given their gender, training in entertainment music, inexperience with state sacrificial music, and the short period of time available for rehearsals, they would hardly have performed the songs of the ceremonials as professionally as their male counterparts, who performed state ritual music regularly. It was highly possible that their feminized sounds would elicit responses different from the usual ones.

Ritual and Musical Politics in Ming Shizong's Court

Fourth, there was no way to ensure uniformity in reception of state ritual music (J. B. Davis 1978: 4 7-79 ), even though it aurally reached all members of the audience at the same time. Confined within the altar compound and playing assigned roles, the ritual celebrants did not perform the music themselves, but they had to listen to it. Thus, they could only respond to the music in one or a combination of the following ways: (I) they listened and understood the songs as expected; ( 2) they focused on the sung text; ( 3) they focused on the musical sounds and structure; ( 4) they focused on associations evoked by the sounds, the text, or a combination of them; ( 5) they compared what they noticed of the musical performance with what they had anticipated; or ( 6) they engaged in a kind of mental activity that cannot be described verbally. The ritual partners' reactions and understanding had to be spontaneous and individual: they could not compare and discuss the music during the performance. Such a process of experiencing state ritual music left much room for ambiguities. Shizong, his supporters, and his opponents had no choice but to define and appropriate the ritual and musical ambiguities. Confrontations with fellow court citizens were inevitable because of several conditions. First, the ambiguities defied straightforward definitions and had no indisputable resolutions, only arbitrary, disputable, and political ones. The ambiguities reflected not only subjective and individualistic interpretations but also contradictions and inconsistencies accrued during the long history of Chinese state ritual and music. Thus, Shizong and his officials could only find disagreements, unless they opted to agree with each other or change the traditional knowledge of state ritual and music, options that were more desired than practical. Second, the court citizens had to resolve the ambiguities; otherwise performance of the ceremonials could not proceed. Third, the political tension in Shizong's court set a stage for misunderstandings: contrasting resolutions were misidentified with competing political interests and social-power status (Bell 1992: 182-223). Fourth, opportunistic court officials exploited the situation for personal gains. These four factors rendered it impossible to separate genuine and intellectual efforts to define and resolve the ambiguities from appropriation for personal and political gains: the contrasting definitions and resolutions juxtaposed the interests and power of the competing parties. An analysis of the crucial stages in the 1530-31 incident will underscore the political nature of state ritual and music. Regardless of Xia Yan's motives for proposing the ceremonials, his recommendation exposed the ambiguities over the extent of Shizong's power to change the Ming dynasty system of state ritual and music. By supporting the emperor's desire

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to overhaul the ritual system, Xia Yan helped the emperor exercise his imperial rights but refreshed bitter memories of the Great Rites Controversy. By earning rapid recognition and promotion, Xia Yan appeared opportunistic and aroused suspicion over his integrity. By promoting Xia Yan, Shizong appeared to reward those who supported him. When Zhang Cong sided with the emperor and agreed to Xia Yan's proposal, he submitted to the authority of the emperor and to the ideology of state ritual and music. When Zhang Cong chose the site in the northern suburb, he followed traditional teaching but detonated a conflict between theory and practice: the convention was to perform the ceremonials in the northern suburb, but implementation posed practical difficulties of traveling to the selected locale, which, moreover, had no access to water. Huo Tuo seized on the practical difficulties to criticize Zhang's plan. His arguments, however, did not resolve the issues; he simply emphasized practical matters of physical distance and protocol over theoretical prescriptions of ancient practices. He also inadvertently exposed the ambiguous roles females played in Ming governance and the extent to which Shizong was influenced by his biological mother. Although Huo Tao presented his arguments as an analysis of the problems, his intention was misunderstood, and his position misidentified. Huo Tao's arguments reminded Shizong and other officials of the bitter Great Rites Controversy and presented obstacles to the emperor's future plans to revise the ritual system. Above all, Huo Tao appeared to challenge the emperor's obligations and rights regarding state ritual and music. Other court ritual officials also questioned the emperor's actions. They evoked the authority of supernatural forces and of the Classics to persuade the emperor to change his mind, cornering him into a dilemma. Should he give in to the officials' wishes, he would submit himself to views that were no more valid than his own, forfeiting his plans for ritual revision and yielding control over ritual matters to the officials. Should he insist on his own views, he would appear despotic and risk alienating the officials. The emperor counteracted their arguments with the authority and power of his deified ancestors. Right after Huo Tuo's criticism, the emperor planned his strategy. He attacked the officials for theoretical inconsistency, contrasted it with his conventional but coherent understanding of the issues, exonerated Xia Yan of any implication of being opportunistic, and attacked his opponents as evil. By promoting a conventional and coherent set of interpretations, the emperor built himself a strong theoretical and legitimate base for exerting his imperial authority and power. By declaring Xia Yan free of opportun-

Ritual and Musical Politics in Ming Shizong's Court ism, the emperor fended off arguments that he had been misled. By attacking Huo Tao, the emperor found a scapegoat and sent a warning to wouldbe challengers of his views. The punishment of Deng Xian, who dared to impeach the emperor, only made the imperial warning louder and clearer. The building of the sericultural altar compound symbolized the emperor's authority and power by demonstrating his control of natural and human resources. Li Chengxun realized not only the significance of this symbolism but also the political potentials of the situation. His memorial in support of Shizong's actions was imbued with imperial and Confucian ideology and thus gained power; even the emperor had to take it seriously and send it to the responsible offices for discussion. In other words, Li Chengxun appropriated the situation to influence the emperor. The case of Gong Yao was similar. Gong Yao's position as a local official, and not a key member of the court, underscored the national and political repercussions of state ritual. Shizong's rejection of Gong Yao's request that similar altars be built in the princedoms was significant. It indicated that the emperor would not share his monopoly of state ritual and music with imperial clansmen. Following repeated failures to convince the emperor, the officials had to submit to the imperial commands and design the ceremonials accordingly. Shizong accepted the officials' designs as a victor who could afford to be less confrontational and more accommodating. He made few changes to the officials' designs and his offers to cut costs by skipping unessential buildings and using cheaper materials reflected the need to appease the officials. Further antagonizing of officials would have resulted in public and private criticism that would appear to challenge his victory. The officials accepted the emperor's conciliatory gestures, knowing that other chances and avenues to influence the sovereign would arise. They must have participated in the performance of the ceremonials on April 24, I 53 o, with mixed thoughts and emotions. Unlike commoners and lower officials who had no role in state ritual and who would see the ritual paraphernalia, the programmed activities, and the identities of the celebrants as clear symbols of imperial authority and power, those officials who supported the emperor and Xia Yan would probably understand the performance as a demonstration of their success and expression of their authority and power. Those who opposed the ceremonials would find the experience humiliating and might be planning their next move. To the emperor's opponents, and to everyone who did not believe in the ceremonials, the unexpected wind and haze of I 53 o signified the disapproval of the supernatural forces and deified ancestors.

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To the ears of these ritual partners, the female musicians' songs must have been cacophonous symbols of their defeat. As members of the audience witnessing the performance, they were silenced by their ritual roles and restricted to their proper places inside the altar compound. They became isolated individuals with no means to find support and to relieve their emotions: they could neither discuss their feelings with their comrades nor write down their thoughts during the performance. They had to, individually and helplessly, endure the sounds of their defeat. Did they ignore the music in defiance or use it to ignite their determination to challenge the emperor? If Zhang E's rise and fall in Shizong's court is indicative, their emotions led to political actions. When Zhang E came to court in October I530 at Xia Yan's recommendation, he was quick to exploit musical ambiguities to please the emperor, making a case for his career and challenging the musical establishment in the court. He observed that the music for Shizong's father was performed in the linzhong mode, which was inappropriate for an imperial father. The mistake was serious because it could be construed as a denial of the imperial status of Shizong's father. If intentional, the mistake constituted an open challenge to the emperor's desire to honor his father as an imperial ancestor. As must have been expected, Zhang E's actions led to the persecution of the responsible court musicians. Zhang E's proposals to measure the huangzhong pitch with ether, to make the large special bell ( tezhong), and to enforce certain musical changes were attempts to attain the perfect ritual music, which would allow communication among and coordinate human beings, natural elements, and supernatural forces, and would demonstrate the authority and power ofShizong (Lam I988: I66-68, 280-83). Zhang E's efforts were, however, more ideological than practical. Given the limitations in his theories and technological data, he did not and could not resolve the musical ambiguities concerning pitch temperament, musical instruments, performance practices, and other musical matters. Zhang E's solutions were only as valid or invalid as others. However, through his definition and appropriation of musical ambiguities, Zhang E gained the attention of the emperor and the court and firmly established his musical authority over other officials or musicians. Thus, for the ousted musicians, Zhang E's presence symbolized not only a particular understanding of music but also their defeat. For the political rivals ofXia Yan, Zhang E's musical efforts were both symbols of the emperor's imperial prerogatives and signs ofXia Yan's success. Such rivalry generated much resentment toward Zhang E, who became a casualty of court politics in I 53 6 and was banished from the court (Zhang Juzheng I 577: I 86.9b- IOb ), nominally for disrespect to Shizong.

Ritual and Musical Politics in Ming Shizong)s Court At least Zhang E, unlike Xia Yan, did not have to suffer the humiliation of a public execution. Zhang E's downfall, however, inspired no operatic restoration of his honor and condemnation of his enemies. Zhang E only challenged the authority and power of his fellow officials. Xia Yan's case was different. His proposal divided the court, revealing many theoretical and practical ambiguities of state ritual and music, and forced Shizong and his officials to demonstrate and challenge each other's authority and power. Using Xia Yan's proposal as a pretext for revising the Ming dynasty system of state ritual and music, the emperor scored his first victory in a series of ritual changes in the 1530's and 1540's. Shizong rewarded Xia Yan lavishly, granting him the unprecedented title of Superior Pillar of State (shang zhuguo). If Xia Yan's rise to the powerful position of grand secretary symbolized those ritual changes and his power, his fall in r 54 8 signified a new era in Shizong's court. By that time, Shizong's interest had shifted to Daoist rituals, and Yan Song ( q8o-r 565) became a new favorite and challenged Xia Yan's power. Xia Yan lost, and his public execution caused poignant grief among his fellow court citizens and those who believed Yan Song was evil. Even today, his execution stirs Chinese opera audiences. They know that the execution was not merely the ritual killing of a grand secretary but a tyrant's brutal demonstration of his authority and power. Xia Yan was a victim of court politics.

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CHAPTER 3

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity ROBERT C. PROVINE

For many centuries, Korea has stood in the shadow of her better-known (if not better-understood) neighbors, China and Japan. She has been variously on friendly and antagonistic terms with both, but has not (yet) enjoyed comparable global stature. In recent years, Korea has established diplomatic relations with China and now speaks to China as an equal and indeed finds herself in the position of exporting high technology, manufactured goods, and expertise to China in other than a tributary capacity. Korea's export industries now compete directly and effectively with those of Japan, placing a long historical rivalry on a productive and generally amiable footing. National pride runs high, and Koreans are justifiably reluctant to cede political or cultural superiority to any other nation. From the early twelfth century to the end of the nineteenth (that is, for part of the Koryo dynasty [918-1392] and nearly all the Chosen dynasty [1392- 1910 ]), however, the Korean royal court usually behaved, in the context of state sacrificial rites carried out by the king or his proxy, as a subordinate of the Chinese empire. Certain aspects of the rites performed by the emperor in China and the king in Korea clearly mark superior and inferior status. In performing state sacrificial rites, the Korean king knowingly acted as a "marquis" ( hou; i.e., head of a province) vis-a -vis the Chinese "ruler" (wang; i.e., emperor), rather than as an independent sovereign of comparable status. The Chinese may sometimes have wished for the Koreans' symbolic subservience within these rites to be better reflected in political reality (acceptance ofhegemony), but as we shall see, while the Koreans may have been content to carry out official sacrificial rites appropriate to a Chinese province, they were not necessarily prepared to give corresponding recognition to Chinese political authority. That is, they

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity were selective in acknowledging symbols built into the rites. Furthermore, the rites served as a focal point for internal Korean politics. Evidence for Korea's stance may be found in various aspects of the sacrificial rites (and indeed in other parts of Korean culture), but the particular emphasis here is on music and its symbols of subordination. Many of the details of state sacrificial rites and their music are already in print elsewhere (Provine 1986, 1988, 1989, 1992), and this essay considers only the evidence relevant to the particular issue of Korea's ritual stance toward China. Special attention is paid to the fifteenth century, that is, the early Chason period, since the sources from that time are excellent and their position clear, and also since most of the rest of the era between the early twelfth century and the end of the nineteenth is similar in principle. It is necessary to work from the Korean vantage point, since our concern is Korean theory and practice and Korea's perception of Chinese theory and practice, rather than actual Chinese practice, which in many cases was unknown in Korea. This study begins with an overview of primary sources for sacrificial rites and music, both the Chinese works known to fifteenth-century Korean researchers and the native Korean sources for their versions of the rites. Then an examination of the symbols of subordination in the sacrificial rites sets out a basic operative framework, and finally a historical account traces the Korean handling of those symbols in ritual statement, musical practice, and political reality.

Chinese Sources All the sources described here have been examined in some bibliographic detail earlier (Provine 1988), and only summary information is required here. Only those Chinese sources known to and used by the Koreans are relevant, since we are concerned with Korea's understanding and reconstruction of a Chinese ideal, rather than with the actual Chinese practice. The Korean understanding of Chinese sacrificial rites came mainly through the medium of books, as distinct from direct observation and/or instruction from the Chinese; furthermore, most of these books were centuries old rather than contemporary. Certain of the Confucian classics were foundation sources: for the study of the musical parts of rites, the most important was the Zhouli (Rites of the Zhou dynasty, ca. third century B.C.), with the commentary of Zheng Xuan (second century A.D.) (Provine 1988: 69). This work contains, in the Korean understanding of them, prescriptions of modes and of

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keys for particular rites and sections of rites, together with some useful terminology. One Tang dynasty ( 618-907) work figures prominently in Korean thinking about rites: the Tongdian (Encyclopaedic history of institutions) of 801 (Provine 1988: 71-75). 1 The Tongdian's main utility was that it contained an expanded version of an earlier Tang work on rites, the Kaiyuan li (Rites of the Kaiyuan period) of732. The Tongdian's detailed, stepby-step descriptions of the "Five Rites" (Chinese wuli /Korean orye) provided the models for Korean ceremonies and ritual manuals. The Koreans possessed copies of the Chinese standard histories, either received as gifts from China or obtained by Korean envoys. Since the histories of the Song dynasty (960-1279) (Songshi, 1345) and Yuan dynasty (1206-1368) (Yuanshi, 1370), for example, were consulted in the Chason court by 1417 at least (raejong 34.35a),2 it is apparent that their extensive information on rites and music was available to the Korean king and ministers. The most important single source for fifteenth-century Korean understanding of music in Chinese sacrificial rites was the Song theorist Chen Yang's large (2oo-chapter) Yueshu (Treatise on music) of 1103 (Pian 1967: 4-6; Provine 1988: 79-83). Chen Yang's work, which contains many diagrams and drawings, is exegetical, theoretical, and historical, heavily founded upon the classics (the first 9 5 chapters are commentaries on passages on music in the classics, and the classics are generously quoted elsewhere as well). 3 Significantly, this particular work is not a description of contemporary, early twelfth-century practices in China but an investigative and prescriptive account detailing Chen Yang's conception of an ideal musical system. In fact, Chen's work, poorly received when originally submitted to an emperor whose musical advisers were firmly at odds with the author (Pian 1967= 5-6), came to prominence only centuries later. Although the Yueshu was the main source for music in ritual for fifteenthcentury Koreans, they did not consider it reliable in every respect. When the Koreans disagreed with Chen Yang, however, they usually did not say so openly but simply cited another authority instead (Provine 1988: 81-83)· Works of the famous Neo-Confucian philosopher and commentator Zhu Xi were to become enormously influential later in Chason Korea, but in the early fifteenth -century research into Chinese state sacrificial rites, only one of his writings had any notable impact. 4 Written in 1194, the short Shaoxi zhouxian shidian yitu (Illustrated descriptions of the provincial sacrifices to Confucius in the Shaoxi period) contains drawings of ritual implements (but not musical instruments), and those illustrations were of

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity more use in Korea than the work's other information on the Sacrifice to Confucius (Provine I988: 87-90 ). It is worth noting that in consulting this particular work, the Koreans were looking at a book specifically intended for provincial, rather than imperial, use. The famous encyclopedia ofMa Duanlin, the *nxian tongkao (Comprehensive investigation of documents and institutions; estimates of the work's date range from I 224 to I 3 I 9) also figures prominently in Korean writing about music and rites (Provine I988: 95-96). Much of the work's information on music is simply lifted from Chen Yang (but without many of the illustrations). As a convenient compilation of many earlier writings, it served the Koreans well. None of the important sources consulted by fifteenth-century Koreans on the subject of state sacrificial rites came from the contemporary Ming dynasty (I368-I644). Only one Ming source was cited at the time, and that one only for minor purposes: the Hongwu lizhi (Ritual system of the Hongwu period; ca. I 3 8 I), which contains various edicts pertaining to rites (Provine I988: IOO-IOI ). The work includes information on sacrificial rites and drawings of altars and shrines, including specifications for provincial use; there are no drawings of musical instruments or charts of performing ensembles. To readers familiar with Chinese musical and ritual sources, the works mentioned above may seem a small and random selection. But these works, all of which survive today, happen to be the ones the Koreans possessed and considered to be authoritative on Chinese music and ritual. On occasion these sources contradict each other; in such cases the fifteenthcentury Koreans simply cited the work they found most congenial, conveniently ignoring the others without comment. Their attitude already hints at an independence of mind, which becomes increasingly evident in what follows. Early Choson is generally credited with being fully "Nco-Confucian" in philosophy and society, although in fact, as Martina Deuchler shows in a compelling new study (I992), the Neo-Confucianization of Korea was still in its preliminary stages in the early fifteenth century. These particular Chinese sources for music and rites show little evidence of a NcoConfucian slant. The works of Zhu Xi were known and used, but on the subject of music without any particular preference compared to other writings. Except for the Hongwu lizhi, nearly all the sources described above, including the Wenxian tongkao, relate to the Song dynasty and earlier. Fifteenth-century Koreans were not concerned to employ sources from the contemporary, recently established Ming dynasty, but instead gave their

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scholarly respect to the intellectual authority of the Song dynasty and the Confucian classics (Deuchler I992: I I 3 ). Their emphasis was on Song, not on Neo-Confucianism as such.

Korean Sources The essential Korean sources for state sacrificial rites in the fifteenth century are much more straightforward than their Chinese precursors. All are official publications, and all relate clearly to one another. They are examined in some detail in Provine I988. Most surviving information on the rites and music of Koryo comes from the I451 official history, Koryosa (History of the Koryo dynasty; see Provine I988: 45-48). This work resembles a short Chinese standard history and consists of a chronological section and numerous essays on specialized subjects, the latter reproducing with little commentary many documents from the Koryo period. Eleven chapters are devoted to rites and two to music. The absence of critical commentary in this retrospective compilation limits its utility. The main source for Chason court discussions on all types of rites and music is the sillok (annals; cf. Chinese shilu) of the kings of Chason from I392 on (Provine I988: 27-34). The sillok for King Sejong (r. I4I 8-50) is especially rich in such content, containing many memorials and deliberations about rites and music by king and ministers. Even draft ritual manuals for each version of a sacrificial rite were reproduced in the sillok according to the dates they were completed and discussed. Appended to the Sejong sillok is a work entitled Orye uiju (Five rites), which combines a I4 I 5 description of state sacrificial rites ( killye, "auspicious rites") with a I45I work on the remaining four rites (congratulatory, guest, military, and mourning; see Provine I 9 8 8: 34-3 8). The 14 I 5 work, from the reign ofSejong's father, T'aejong (1400-14I8), contains drawings of musical instruments explicated by authoritative quotations from Chinese sources, as well as layouts for performing ensembles (music and dance). In effect, it presents the starting point that was to be much modified during the cultural golden age of the Sejong period. King Sejong commissioned a substantial revision of all court rites, including the state sacrificial rites; the eventual products of this exercise, which continued after his death, were two works of I474, the Kukcho oryeui (Five rites of state) and Kukcho orye sorye (Illustrated rubrics for the Five Rites of State; Provine I988: 48- 54). These works are the direct successors of the Orye uiju. The Kukcho oryeui contains detailed performance

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity manuals for all rituals in the five categories, meticulously cross-referenced to each other and to the Kukcho orye sifrye, which supplies generally applicable rubrics and illustrations (such as shrine construction, ritual implements, musical instruments and ensembles, and musical notation). Together, these two works provide a coherent, thorough, and consistent picture of the ideal set of state rites to which the early Choson court aspired. A number of supplements were published later in the dynasty (Provine 1988: 54). Despite the excellence of the 1474 works in detailing ritual programs and equipment, their musical information was apparently felt to be inadequate. This failing was put right in a substantial musical treatise of 1493, the Akhak kwebifm (Guide to the study of music; Provine 1988: 54-6r ), which gives a thorough description of all musical aspects of court music and ceremony. This work remained the standard for the remainder of the dynasty and is still regularly consulted today. Many later writings on state rites and music in the Choson dynasty simply repeat those already mentioned, supplement them, or lament the current decline from the ideal standards of the fifteenth century. Only one end-of-dynasty work is worth mention here: the Chungbo Munhifn pigo (Expanded edition of the Korean Encyclopedia of Documents and Institutions; Provine 1988: 6r-64). This work is modeled on Ma Duanlin's *nxian tongkao and contains a rich collection of documents and excerpts from earlier writings, mostly from the Choson dynasty. A first version of the encyclopedia was completed in r 770, a revised and expanded version in 1790, and a final version in 1908. Commissioned and completed during the so-called Korean Empire of r897-I9ro, this work contains information on the modifications to state rites that took place as a result of Korea's change in status from kingdom to empire. 5 Basic Concepts and Ritual Procedure Confucianism is more a code of conduct than a religion. Fundamental to proper conduct is respect toward one's superiors, acceptance of one's position in the social hierarchy, and reverence toward one's ancestors. In keeping with its high regard for ancestors in particular and older persons in general, Confucianism has a great generic respect for the past. Scholarship in imperial China and royal Korea (especially from the beginning of the increasingly Confucian Chason dynasty) was largely a Confucian undertaking, and Confucian scholarship frequently referred to and relied on the achievements of the past. It moves forward by hindsight,

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looking to great thinkers of the past so that knowledge is cumulative, ideally attempting to recreate the mythical utopias of remote Chinese antiquity. New ideas are generally justified by supportive passages in appropriate classical texts or established later works of high scholarship. Retrieving the perceived ideal practices of antiquity is the goal; removing bad practices that have accumulated in the meantime is the method. In music and rites, for example, attempting to reconstruct ancient practices is usually thought preferable to creating new ones. Following Confucian scholarly method, Korean state sacrificial rites were modeled on Chinese precedent, based on research in the Chinese sources cited above. Sacrificial rites for the "spirits" of an individual's ancestors are wellestablished aspects of the Confucian code of conduct for individuals. In addition, a ruler was responsible for performing similar rites dedicated to more generic spirits (such as those of agriculture or heavenly phenomena) on behalf of his subjects. The state rites were far more majestic than the individual ones: they involved a large number of celebrants and had special features such as the inclusion of music and dance. Korean state rites were carried out on three scales: Great, Medium, and Small. Table 3. r lists only TABLE 3.1

Great and Medium State Sacrificial Rites in the Early ChosiJn Dynasty Great Rites

Spirits

Type

*(W6n'gu) *Sajik *Chongmyo and Y6ngny6ngj6n Ch'ilsa Kongsin

(Heaven) [not normally performed) Land and Grain (Primary) Royal ancestral shrine and (secondary) royal ancestral shrine Seven sacrifices Meritorious subjects

Heavenly Earthly Human

Medium Rites *P'ungunnoeu Sanch'6n S6nghwang Akhaedok *S6nnong *Son jam *Usa *S6kch6n Y6ktae sijo

Spirits Wind, clouds, thunder, and rain Mountains and streams Tutelary spirit Mountains, seas, and streams Agriculture Sericulture Elements and grain Confucius Dynastic founders

? Human Type Heavenly Earthly Earthly Earthly Human Human Human Human Human

*Rites that used aak/yayue. Akhaedok and Yiiktae sijo did not contain music, nor, for the most part, did any of the Small Rites (not listed here; see Provine 1989: 257-60). From the mid-fifteenth centurv, the Chongmyo rite used native Korean music, hyangak. Indention shows rites performed at the same shrine or altar.

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity TABLE 3.2

Basic Ceremonial Program Section

Name

Ensemble

Dance

Welcoming the spirits Offering of tribute Offering of sacrificial food First wine offering Middle wine offering Final wine offering Removing the vessels Ushering out the spirits

Yongsin Chonp'ye Chinch'an Ch'ohon Ahon Chonghon Ch'olbyondu Songsin

Courtyard Terrace Courtyard Terrace Courtyard Courtyard Terrace Courtyard

Civil Civil none Civil Military Military none none

the Great and Medium Rites, since the Small Rites generally lacked music. Similar, lesser rites were also carried out at regional levels, generally without music or dance. By carrying out state sacrificial rites and other acts, the ruler demonstrated exemplary behavior, which in turn had a beneficial effect on his subjects, making them tend toward proper behavior. Although his ritual conduct could not be witnessed directly by his subjects, like gravity it could still exercise a positive influence at a distance. Musical performance provides an excellent analogy: performance and its aural effect on a listener have no visible link in space. 6 A sacrificial rite, in a sense, is a collection of good behaviors: the officiant (ruler) carries out ritual actions in good order, the dancers execute orderly movements and are seen to do so (by the other participants), and the musical ensembles play orderly music and are heard to do so. If properly performed, all these actions positively affect, by action at a distance, the populace of the realm. The main ritual acts of the sacrificial rites were three offerings of wine before tablets of honored spirits, preceded by offerings offood and tribute (see Table 3.2). 7 Each of these acts constituted a distinct, named section of the ceremony. Surrounding the offering sections were introductory and concluding sections for welcoming and ushering out the spirits. The Korean sacrificial rites were structured in essentially the same way as the analogous Chinese ones, for which detailed descriptions of the ritual procedures are preserved in sources such as the Tongdian (ch. 109-21) and for which hymn texts are preserved in several standard Chinese dynastic histories (e.g., Songshi ch. 136-37, and Yuanshi ch. 69). The state sacrificial rites of the Choson period with music used two types of musical ensembles: one on the terrace of the shrine building (or near the front of the raised altar) and one in the courtyard of the shrine or

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altar. As shown in Table 3 .2, the courtyard ensemble performed for the introductory and concluding sections (in keys appropriate to the type of spirit served; Provine 1989: 276-84), and the various intermediary sections alternated between courtyard and terrace ensembles, the courtyard ensemble playing only in yang keys, the terrace ensemble only in yin keys. In addition, there were two groups of dancers: one "civil dance" ( wenwu/ munmu) group, which performed during the ritual sections up through the first wine offering, and the "military dance" ( wuwu/ mumu) group, which performed during the other two wine offerings (see Table 3.2). Three sections of the rite lacked dance.

Basic Status Symbols Perhaps the simplest and most visible demonstration of rank difference between an emperor's ("ruler's") troupe of performers and a marquis's troupe was the number of dancers. The emperor had 64 dancers, arranged eight by eight, the marquis only 48, arranged eight by six (Yueshu 165.3a, 17I.7b-9b; Sejong I28.24a; Kukcho orye sorye I.93a-94a; Akhak kwebom 2.4b-5a). Another clear demonstration of difference in status was the shape and size of the courtyard ensemble (Provine 1992 ): the emperor's ensemble should be enclosed on all four sides by sets of tuned bronze bells and stone chimes, whereas a marquis's ensemble merited only three such enclosing sides (Zhouli 23.p, commentary}. The emperor's ensemble was referred to as gongxian or gongjia (palace ensemble; Korean kunghyon or kungga): gong referred anciently to a dwelling, that is, an enclosed place for living, and the term was later borrowed to mean a palace (emperor's house; Karlgren 1957: 264). The marquis's ensemble was in the shape of a chariot, and hence its name xuanxian or xuanjia (chariot ensemble; Korean hOnhyiJn or honga). Broadly speaking, of course, one could expect the emperor's musical apparatus to be grander and more imposing than that of any marquis, and the main difference, for example, between the emperor's terrace ensemble ( dengge/ tungga) and that of a marquis was simply its size. In theory, only the "son of heaven," that is, an emperor, could carry out a sacrificial rite to Heaven, since only in his case was communicating with Heaven authorized as correct behavior in ancient sources. In effect, then, only the emperor of China could perform the rite, and no "marquis" of the empire (provincial governor or king of a vassal country), could presume to do so. None of the fifteenth-century Korean ritual manuals (such as the 1474 Kukcho oryeui)

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity

includes a Sacrifice to Heaven, although as we shall see later, such rites were nevertheless performed from time to time. This prohibition applied only to sacrifices to Heaven itself; it was not improper to sacrifice to certain "heavenly spirits," such as those of Wind, Clouds, Thunder, and Rain (P'ungunnoeu; Provine I989: 25I-53). With this background of sources, ritual structure, and the basic status symbols, it is possible to proceed to a historical account showing how the symbols were manipulated and describing the extent to which the ritual relationship between Korea and China corresponded to mundane reality.

Koryo Confucianism as a way of thought and as a model for governmental bureaucracy (following the Chinese system) had been influential in the Korean peninsula since at least the eighth century (Ki-baik Lee I984: 83 -84). Ever since the time of Confucius himself, Confucian writings had long recognized that music, along with ritual, held the potential for a beneficial, didactic effect on human conduct. As the Xiaojing (Classic of filiality) puts it, "For rectifying customs and cultivating the unrefined, there is nothing like music" (ch. I2, quoted in Pratt I976: 209n64). There remains, however, little evidence that Korea had a strong musical tradition associated with Confucian rituals prior to the importation of Chinese ritual music (yayue, Korean aak) in the early twelfth century, and that date provides a useful starting point for this historical account. In I I I 6, the Northern Song Chinese emperor Huizong presented the Koryo king Yejong with an extravagant and huge musical gift: a complete courtyard ensemble, a complete terrace ensemble, and equipment for ritual dancers, the whole being intended for performances of ritual music, yayue ( Koryosa 70. 5a- 9 b). The gift included expensive and finely crafted musical instruments such as sets of tuned bronze bells and stone chimes. In a pronouncement accompanying the gift (Koryosa 70.5ab ), the emperor flattered the Korean king as deserving to receive ritual music by paraphrasing the passage in the Xiaojing quoted above and noting that harmony existed between China and Korea. The emperor clearly expressed his political standing relative to Korea by "bestowing" ( ci, confer on an inferior) the musical instruments, and also, in true Confucian style, by citing historical precedent: in ancient times, feudal lords who excelled in honor and virtue were rewarded with music (Pratt I976: 209 ). In short, Korea was inferior in political stature but sufficiently worthy to be treated as a civilized Chinese feudal vassal, or, in more modern terms, as a province of

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the empire. Both the symbolism and power display are abundantly clear, and since Korea had in fact requested a gift of music from China (Song I992: 176-79), Huizong knew that he was handing out something that was highly desired. The gifts themselves are unmistakable in their symbolism. The Korean courtyard ensemble had the marquis's three enclosing sides of bells and chimes, not the emperor's four. Furthermore, the ensemble for Korea was considerably smaller than the emperor's, although still magnificent in scale: the emperor's courtyard ensemble required about 400 performers ( 370 instrumental players and 32 singers; Songshi I29·30I4-I5; Yang Yinliu I98I: 398-99), the Korean one a mere I90 performers (I78 instrumentalists and I2 singers) (Koryosa 70.2b-3b; Provine I992: 92-96). The terrace ensemble for Korea was similarly reduced in size. The Chinese emperor's ensemble consisted of 4 singers, 8 se zithers, IO qin zithers (of varying numbers of strings), 22 wind instruments, and several percussion instruments including a bell and a chime (Yang Yinliu I 9 8 I: 400; Songshi I 29.3 o I 3). The lesser, marquis's ensemble sent to Korea consisted of 2 singers, 4 se zithers, IO qin, and I4 wind instruments, plus the percussion (Koryosa 70.Ib-2b; Provine I986: 246-47). In dance as well, the status offered Korea was pointedly subordinate: the emperor's dancers numbered 64 ( Songshi I 29.3 o I 5) and the Korean group had only the marquis's 48 (Koryosa 70.3a). As explained by Keith Pratt (I976, I98I), the underlying motivation for the musical gifts was rather different from the official gesturing: the Song was under threat of invasion on the northeast by the Jurchen (Jin dynasty as of I I I 5), and Huizong was anxious to win the military assistance of the Koreans in pushing back the Jurchen advance. Koryo was perceived in the Chinese court, not without justification, as vacillating between the Song and the Jurchen. The background motivation may have been political, but the generous bribe itself was cultural. Koryo already felt it was culturally superior to the Jurchen (Rogers I96I: 56), and the presence of proper music in sacrificial rites would reinforce those feelings. Replying to the gift, the Korean king, on behalf of his subjects, expressed his deep, and no doubt culturally sincere, gratitude to Huizong for the instruments. It was not the first time that culture had been made an issue in China's relations with Korea: for example, the issue of Chinese books in Korea (as gifts from the emperor, as items purchased by Korean envoys to China, and as losses from China to be recovered if possible) had often been a subject of heated discussion at the emperor's court (Rogers I958: passim). It was

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity also not the first time that an emperor had lavished resources on Korea, over the objections of his ministers, who felt the money could be better spent (Rogers I958: I97). Korea was, however, astute enough not to be beguiled politically by the symbolism of the cultural bribe and become embroiled in an unwise alliance against the Jurchen. The Korean sources (mainly the Koryosa) present only the public face of Huizong's statements, the Korean official reply, and detailed descriptions of the instruments sent and their ensemble layout. 8 The outcome is clear: the inducement failed to ensnare the Koreans, the Northern Song capital fell to Jin invaders in I I 2 7, the Chinese emperor's musical instruments were destroyed (Songshi I29.3027), and Huizong's musical excesses and other extravagances fell into disrepute or oblivion in China. The Chinese standard history of the Song, Songshi, at least, makes no mention of the I I I 6 gift, which may have been seen by historians as too embarrassing to warrant historical preservation. 9 On the Korean side, a ritual music tradition still alive today began under these remarkable circumstances in I I I 6. Koryo was happy enough to possess the paraphernalia of high culture and to carry out the state sacrificial rites appropriate to an underling of the Chinese empire, but she was not prepared to fight in China's wars. The musical instruments and music received from China in the early twelfth century underwent modifications in the remaining years of the Koryo dynasty. Some of the changes were by way of mixing Korean music with the imported Chinese music (Yi I967), some a simple matter of deterioration, and still others the result of invasions. It is reported, for example, that when the Red Turbans, a powerful force of Chinese bandits, invaded the Koryo capital, Kaesong, in I36I, that nearly all the musical instruments were destroyed (Sejong 59.Ia). The first Ming emperor, Hongwu, sent a few musical instruments to Koryo in I 370 as replacements (Koryosa 42.9b ).

Early Choson CONTEXT

While Koryo had received music and instruments associated with active, if short-lived and untypical, Chinese practice from the Song emperor Huizong (Provine I 9 8 8: I 3 3-35 ), different circumstances occurred in the early fifteenth century under the young Choson dynasty (established I392). The new government was specifically built on a Confucian model to avoid problems faced in Koryo because of Buddhist power, and in keep-

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ing with Confucian tradition it was felt that complete reform of court ritual and music was a basic obligation of a new regime. The contemporary Ming had already carried out such a reform in China, and playing the cultural card as the Song had done, the Yongle emperor sent another gift of musical instruments to Korea in qo6 (Taejong r2.roab). This was a small gift, only fourteen yayue/ aak instruments including sets of bells and chimes, and they were soon put to use in state sacrificial rites ( T 1aejong r 2. 3 rab). A suitable note of gratitude was sent to the Chinese emperor ( T 1aejong I2.I6a). It may well have been the impetus of this gift of music that set the Koreans' research on musical reform in motion, and King T'aejong commissioned work on aakin 1409 and qrr (T1aejong 17.22a, 22.47ab). But it was T'aejong's son, King Sejong, who supervised the main reforms. This attempted reconstruction of ancient music was based mainly on research into ancient sources and Song scholarship, rather than on contemporary Ming practices. As already indicated, the Koreans' sources, in almost every case, were taken from pre-Ming dynasties, with particular bias for the Song. The reign of Sejong is often considered a golden age of Korean culture, and much of the cultural blossoming appears to have been precipitated by the monarch's personal efforts. Achievements in printing technology, publishing, music, visual arts, medicine, institutions, literature, and other areas were enormous and have been the subject of many modern studies and even fictional accounts. 10 Perhaps the most striking single legacy of Sejong, honored today with an annual national day of commemoration, is the Korean alphabet, Hangul, which was evidently his personal creation and designed to bring literacy to the population at large rather than limiting it to the educated ruling class. Some ofSejong's accomplishments, especially the alphabet, came only after considerable and acrimonious debate with ministers opposed to his aims, a theme to which we shall return later. Sejong himself was not a healthy man; in later life he increasingly took private solace in Buddhism, even though Confucianism remained the necessary public face. The Korean ruling class, who received a thorough Confucian education, felt that the seat of Confucian culture was not contemporary but ancient China (as believed by true Confucians in China as well), and that, for example, the correct interpretation of ancient music did not necessarily lie in the hands of those who currently held political power there. Ministers of the Korean government, chosen from this ruling class, did their best to persuade the king, also a member of their class, to their views. At the same

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity

time, as we shall see later, it was in the interests of the Korean ruling class to keep their king subservient to the Chinese emperor. This Korean frame of mind may have developed in part from the gradually increasing influence on Korean philosophical thought of Song Nco-Confucianism, with its emphasis on the correct reading of ancient texts. In part, too, it may have been simply a function of the limited sources available to them. Since envoys occasionally passed between Korea and China, contemporary musical sources might have been obtained from the Ming, u but they were not: Korea evidently intended to do her own research into the proper reconstruction of ancient music rather than accept guidance from Ming. 12 ENSEMBLES AND DANCE

The early Choson court appears to have accepted and reinstituted the subordinate status, in terms of state sacrificial rites, that had long been in effect under the Koryo. The courtyard ensemble, based upon prescriptions in Chen Yang's Yueshu ofii03, had the marquis's three sides of bells and chimes in strict adherence to the subordinate rank. Also, Chen showed that the emperor's ensemble should have rows of melody instruments with twelve members each; the Korean ensemble had only ten members in each row, as appropriate to a ruler oflesser status ( Yueshu I I 3. 7b and 2b; Sejong I28.24b; Kukcho orye siJrye 1.94ab ). For the emperor's terrace ensemble, Chen Yang prescribed 48 singers, I2 se zithers, I2 seven-string qin zithers, a single bell, and a single chime (Yueshu II3.2a). 13 In I4I5, during the initial stages of the Choson reform, the proposed Korean terrace ensemble had 24 singers, and 6 each of the zithers, plus the single bell and chime (Sejong 128.23b). Again, the Korean king's ensemble was inferior in size. It is worth recalling here that Korea's main source for musical information, Chen Yang's Yueshu, was a description not of actual practices in China but of a theoretical ideal. However much the Koreans may have wished to adhere to proper Chinese conceptions of size and constituent, they soon discovered a practical problem: unable to hear the gentle sounds . of the plucked zithers, the singers sang out of tune. Two strategies were adopted: first, for rehearsal, sets of tuned bells and chimes, which could be heard clearly, were added to the ensemble, and second, it was proposed that any singers caught singing out of tune should be flogged ( Sejong 47.I5ab, 26a). By the time of the Kukcho orye sorye ( 14 7 4 ), not only had the sets of bells and chimes become permanent fixtures in the terrace ensemble, but also eighteen wind instruments (which would have provided additional

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melodic support for the singers) and additional percussion had crept in (Kukcho orye sorye 1.92a). In short, whatever their philosophical and ritual desire to adhere to the Chinese precepts, the Koreans were willing to modify their ensemble to suit practical exigencies. Given that Chen Yang was describing a philosophical ideal rather than an actual working ensemble, he may have given no special consideration to practicality. Parenthetically, the ensemble bestowed by Huizong in II 16 had included melodic wind instruments, reflecting an awareness of practical matters. The civil and military dance groups were established in Chason according to marquis's status, following precisely the prescriptions of Chen Yang: 48 dancers instead of the emperor's 64 (Yueshu 171.8ab; Sejong 128.24a; Kukcho orye sorye 1.9pb; Akhak kwebOm 2.4b). SACRIFICE TO HEAVEN

Performances of a sacrificial rite addressed to Heaven, as already mentioned, could legitimately be held only by the Son of Heaven (the Chinese emperor). Nevertheless, Korean performances had been carried out on numerous occasions during the Koryo period (the rite is profusely documented in Koryosa 59.1b-27b ). Although the fallen dynasty was certainly not viewed in early Chason as a paragon of good behavior, the Choson court did discuss whether the Koryo practice should be continued, and indeed the rite was performed a number of times by Kings T'aejo (r. 139298), T'aejong ( J400-J4I8), Sejong (1418- 50), and Sejo (145 5-68), as documented in the Annals and summarized by Sohn Pow-key ( 1963: 2246). The ostensible reasons for carrying out the rite were special events like serious droughts, but as we shall see below, more complex matters ofidentity and power-mongering were involved. The Sacrifice to Heaven was not performed on a regular basis in Choson. A manual for the performance of the rite was compiled and submitted to the throne in J4II, and a round altar was constructed the next year ( T)aejong 21.12b, 24.8a), but T'aejong carried the sacrifice out on only a few occasions, sometimes delegating it to a senior minister. The chief impetus for performing the rite was severe drought; normally, prayers for rain in dry periods were given at two lesser altars, those of Wind, Clouds, Thunder, and Rain (P'ungunnoeu) and of Elements and Grain (Usa) (as prescribed by Sejong 130.19a-2oa, 13 1.13b-14b; and later by Kukcho oryeui 1.96a-98b, 2.26b-29b). Sejong encountered the drought problem on several occasions. A bad drought in 1419, shortly after Sejong's accession, motivated an important minister, Pyon Kyeryang (1369-1430), to ask Sejong to offer prayers for

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity

rain directly to Heaven. Sejong was reluctant, on the grounds that only the Son of Heaven had such a right, but eventually he was persuaded. Rain fell the next two days (Sejong 4.13a, 14-15a; Sohn 1963: 31-32), but the rite was not permanently instituted. The worst drought in twenty years occurred in 1425, and sacrifices to Heaven were carried out both in local areas and in the capital. Eventually there were three days of heavy rain in the capital (Sejong 29.4b-p), and celebrations were held (Sohn 1963: 3 3 ). Mter 1444, the Sacrifice to Heaven was not performed again until its revival by Sejo, who set up an official bureau for the purpose. Mter the death ofSejo, the rite was not again performed until 1897 (Sohn 1963: 46), and it does not appear in the standard ritual manuals such as the Kukcho oryeui of 1474 or musical treatises such as the Akhak kwebOm of I493· SACRIFICE TO ROYAL ANCESTORS

The Chason state sacrificial rites were Chinese in conception, Chinese in origin, and putatively Chinese in procedure and music; furthermore, many of the spirits honored in the rites were Chinese. The spirit of agriculture (Sonnong), for example, was that of the legendary Chinese emperor Xiannong (Provine 1989: 25 3 ). A few rites, however, were devoted entirely to local spirits: the Sacrifice to the Spirits of Mountains and Streams (Sanch'on), for example, honored Korean spirits (Provine 1989: 252). In some rites, Korean spirits were appended to the Chinese ones: for example, in the Sacrifice to Confucius (Sokchon), three Korean Confucianists were honored in addition to I 22 Chinese Confucian sages (Provine 1989: 255). In one particular rite, the Chineseness of the state sacrificial rites was the source of some disquiet. The Sacrifice to Royal Ancestors (performed at the shrine called Chongmyo) honored ancestors and former kings of the Chason royal line, not the Chinese imperial line. As King Sejong succinctly put it in 1430, "Aak [yayue] is fundamentally not Korean music. It is, in fact, Chinese music and what Chinese people ordinarily hear; so it is appropriate for performance in their sacrificial rites. When the people of our own nation are alive, they listen to Korean music [hyangak], but after they die, aak is performed [in sacrificial rites]. How can this be explained?" ( Sejong 49·3 rb- 32a). Despite Sejong's misgivings, aak continued to be used for sacrifices to the royal ancestors during his reign. Perhaps to ease his conscience, in 144 7 he had a hand in the composition of two large suites of music with texts extolling the military and civil exploits of his royal forebears ( Sejong II6.22a; notation in Sejong 138). His son Sejo later decided to dispense

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with aak in the Sacrifice to Royal Ancestors; he substituted revised versions of Sejong's two suites, while retaining the basic sectional structure of the rite as borrowed from China. The two ensembles used in this rite from Sejo's time onward had instrumentations distinct from the aak ensembles and are separately described in the sources (Kukcho orye sorye I.10F-6b; Akhak kwebom 2.5a-7a). The two dance groups, on the other hand, were even smaller than the marquis's allotment of 48 dancers: there were only 36, arranged 6 by 6 (Kukcho orye siirye I.I07a-8a; Akhak kwebom 2. 7ab ). The music arranged by Sejo is still performed in the sacrificial rite.

Later Choson During most of the remainder of the Chason dynasty, the fifteenthcentury standards for state sacrificial rites were maintained as ideals, even though such splendors were no longer possible. Written sources usually restate the standard ideals, before describing and lamenting the present unfortunate conditions. The courtyard ensemble, for example, shrank from I24 performers in 1493 to 21 by I785 (Provine I992: IO?-IO). All physical sense of three enclosing sides of bells and chimes was lost, and awareness of this particular symbolism of subordination to China may have been lost as well. From I897 to I9IO, Korea became briefly an "empire," and instructive modifications were made to state sacrificial rites. First, the "emperor" began performing a sacrificial rite to Heaven at a newly constructed Altar of Heaven (W6n'gudan) in 1897. 14 Given the economic and political shambles of the time, the musical ensembles could hardly rise to their former heights. Four sides of enclosing bells and chimes were simply not possible in the courtyard ensemble, but one description makes it clear that 64 dancers, the imperial number, were employed ( Chungbo Munhon pigo 94· I 8b- I9a). Corresponding symbolic changes were presumably made to the remaining state sacrificial rites. By I9IO, all the state sacrificial rites except for the Sacrifice to Confucius (using aak of Chinese origin; Recorded example I) and the Sacrifice to Royal Ancestors (using hyangak of Korean origin; Recorded example 2) had been abolished. 15 This remains the case today.

Korean Identity and Power Structures The preceding discussion raises a basic question: if the Koreans carried out state sacrificial rites that were subordinate to the Chinese emperor, if

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity

they also performed a sacrifice to Heaven, which should have been done only by the emperor, and if they were concerned about their ancestors having to listen to Chinese music after death, just what was the Koreans' sense of their own identity? Koreans have since early times had a strong sense of national cohesion, emphasized by the near geographical isolation of their peninsular country from the rest of mainland Asia. Further, they have a sense of racial homogeneity, a long historical segregation from China and Japan, and a language very distinct from Chinese (although not from Japanese). In the royal court, even when kings and ministers argued a case for allegiance to China, they still referred to Korea as a distinct entity, even if defined relative to China (as in Tongguk, "East Country"). At the political level, identity was a more complex matter. Confucianism, the guiding force of government and education in the Choson dynasty, is highly concerned with appearances and hierarchy. Since Confucianism is a Chinese philosophy and mode of conduct, it is only natural that the Chinese emperor was at the center of the political hierarchy for those who espoused the philosophy. The Korean ruling class, with its Confucian education, could be expected to look to China for authority-in a sense to be China-centered-even though they were administering an independent government in Korea and therefore of necessity had to be pardy Korea-centered as well. The questions of state sacrificial rites and their symbolism can fruitfully be examined from the standpoint of the dichotomy of China- and Korea-centered thinking, and the concomitant political implications, as has been done by Sohn Pow-key (1963). It should not be forgotten, however, that any sense of identity would not necessarily be the same for all Koreans, but rather could differ for king, ruling class, and general populace. To the ordinary man in the rice paddy, contemplation of the complexities of Korea's position as a player in the Confucian world order would likely have been limited. He would have been aware of language and geography, of being governed by an educated elite that shared his language and geography, and of the potential for invasion by other hostile political entities. Such thinking would be entirely Korea-centered, an orientation only pardy shared by king and ministers. From the broader, multifaceted perspective of the king, sacrificing direcdy to Heaven, for example, would place him in the powerful position of a Son of Heaven. This position was politically advantageous because it meant that he owed allegiance only to Heaven above and not to another more powerful (and foreign) temporal force. Having a representative of

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Korea speak directly to Heaven was Korea-centered thinking, as distinct from subordination to the Chinese emperor. Early Chos6n kings generally wanted to carry out the Sacrifice to Heaven as a symbol of personal strength, a statement of their independence from China that would place them in a position of greater authority over ministers from the Korean ruling class. On the other side, it would in principle have been in the self-interest of the ministers to keep the king weak. One symbolic way of achieving this was to prevent him from carrying out the Sacrifice to Heaven. If they could force the king to ritually act subservient to the Chinese emperor, he would be relatively impotent, and greater administrative power would reside in their hands. 16 In practice, however, the power dynamic between king and ministers was in a constant state of flux, as evidenced by numerous compromises over the Sacrifice to Heaven in the Annals of early Chos6n. For example, the king might wish to hold the rite and carry it out in person, but be persuaded to allow a minister to perform it by proxy. Also a few ministers, such as Py6n Kyeryang, were exceptionally Korea-centered in their thinking and strongly advocated, for example, having the king sacrifice to Heaven. The ministers, of course, were both the teachers of the king and the authors of the official codifications such as ritual manuals and musical treatises. It is hardly surprising, then, that the Sacrifice to Heaven does not appear in such compilations and that the musical symbols of subservience to the Chinese emperor are meticulously prescribed. One particular case history, that of King Sejong, evinces instances of this power dynamic at work. Sejong began his reign with China-centered tendencies and ended it strongly Korea-centered. Early in his reign, he was reluctant to flout the Chinese emperor's authority by carrying out a Sacrifice to Heaven, but later he became more willing to do so. His desire to have Korean music, rather than Chinese yayue, performed at the Sacrifice to Royal Ancestors was fervently Korea-centered, but he was opposed by senior ministers, who managed to prevent the replacement of yayue by native Korean music during his lifetime. His invention of the Korea-centered alphabet, which promised easy literacy to the masses, was a potential threat to the China-centered thinking of the educated ruling class intent on perpetuating its monopoly on learning; the Annals for the time contain numerous angry ministerial attacks on the idea of the alphabet. Sohn PowKey goes so far as to suggest that Sejong even gave up trying to perform the Sacrifice to Heaven in exchange for getting Korea-centered developments like the alphabet past reluctant ministers (Sohn 1963: 3 5-37 ). As we have seen, the symbols of subservience expressed in the sacrificial

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity rites and music have ramifications on different levels. At a deep level, the well-educated may well have felt that any expression of subservience was not to the particular reigning Chinese emperor or the ruling dynasty, but rather to a more abstract Confucian conception of world orderY Korea would be seeking her proper place in the world scheme, irrespective of contemporaneous politics in China. Certainly the Korean scholars' insistence on using sources from antiquity and from earlier Chinese dynasties, especially the Song, supports such an independence of thought from the contemporary Ming. Even in the particular matter of music, Korea would wish to find her own correct position in the world musical order, rather than having it dictated by the Ming. Conclusions The period I I I 6 to the present is a very large time span over which to trace the observance and influence of a number of symbols to be found in a ritual, and there have certainly been some exceptions and interruptions to the above general account in the long history of state sacrificial rites in Korea. Nevertheless, the general picture is clear: from I I I 6 to I 897 Korea performed its state sacrificial rites following the role model of a Chinese province, that is, in a position symbolizing subordination to the Chinese emperor. The simple fact that Korea, despite a distinct racial and linguistic character, admired and imitated aspects of Chinese culture already seems to suggest a subordinate basking in the warm sunshine of superior Chinese culture. In the case under consideration, the Confucian idea of the sacrificial rites was Chinese, the ritual programs themselves were Chinese, and in many cases the spirits honored were Chinese. As we have seen, China could be quick to try to gain political advantage by exploiting Korea's admiration, but the evidence is that, far from simply standing on the sidelines gawking at China's imperial majesty and leaping to obey her every wish, Korea repeatedly demonstrated an independence of worldly action remarkably inconsistent with her stance of spiritual subordination in the state sacrificial rites. Korea's acceptance of the cultural symbols in the sacrificial rites, in other words, was a separate issue from the political and military relationship. She owed China a cultural debt and sought a place in the Confucian world order, but she was willing to modifY what she received and was unwilling to go to war out of gratitude. Cultural thanks did not necessarily entail political subservience. Within Korea, of course, the special music and rites from the mother

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lode of culture could be symbolic in another way. Only a small minority of the already small ruling class witnessed and participated in the music and rites, and these ceremonies reinforced feelings of cultural and political superiority over other classes in Korea and over lesser nations. Furthermore, the rites and music provided an agent of power brokerage for relationships between the Korean king, who had reason to be strong and independent of China, and his ministers, who wished to keep him weak and subordinate to the Chinese emperor. We have looked at only four main symbols of status in the state sacrificial rites: the existence of a Sacrifice to Heaven (to be performed only by the highest earthly authority), the number of enclosing sides of bells and chimes in the courtyard ensemble (four at the imperial level, three for a marquis or province), the number of instruments and performers in the ensembles (the bigger, the more lofty), and the number of dancers ( 64 for the emperor, 48 for a marquis). In researching Chinese written sources, the Korean minister/scholars consistently and willingly referred to either specifications for "marquis" in ancient sources or provincial practices in more recent ones. Until 1897, there was little challenge to this symbol of Chinese superiority, and the published codifications of Korean music and rites establish the position beyond doubt. Korea felt that the seat of Confucian Chinese cultural authority lay in the remote past, together with high scholarship of comparatively recent but not contemporary times. In short, the contemporary ruling Chinese dynasty could not claim more cultural authority than could Korea herself. In the ritual and musical codifications of the fifteenth century, for example, Korean scholars looked to ancient sources and Song explanations, not to practices or writings of the Ming. Korea played the role more of an important member of the Confucian world order than of a province of the ruling Chinese government. However great her admiration for Chinese culture, Korea proved willing to modify what she borrowed. In the fifteenth century, the Chinese aakjyayue was replaced in the Sacrifice to Royal Ancestors by native Korean music, basically on the grounds that people who listened to Korean music when alive should not have to endure Chinese music when dead. When, in the early fifteenth century, it was found that the terrace ensemble prescribed by Chen Yang was unworkable in practice, the Koreans simply added appropriate musical instruments until it became viable. At the very end of the Choson dynasty, Korea became a short-lived empire, and as far as economically possible, appropriate symbols of empire appeared in her state sacrificial rites: a Sacrifice to Heaven, 64 dancers, and

State Sacrificial Music and Korean Identity

other minor modifications such as changes of terminology. Although the "empire" is now seen by Korean historians as almost a sad embarrassment (Ki-baik Lee I984: 30I-2), the two sacrificial rites that survive to the present (Royal Ancestors and Confucius) retain the imperial symbol of 64 dancers instituted in I897 rather than the 48 used for the preceding eight centuries. Modern Korea rides high on economic progress and nationalistic cultural pride. Koreans are anxious to be a source of invention and culture, rather than a net importer, and they point to great early achievements such as printing technology. It often seems they wish to have been the source of all good things in Japan, such as the tea ceremony. On the other hand, Koreans also take great pride in having preserved aspects of Chinese culture lost in China herself, the surviving Sacrifice to Confucius and its music being a prime example. It is worth noting once again that what has been preserved is perceived as coming from the distant past, from a great cultural heritage, rather than being merely something borrowed from the contemporary Chinese. The cultural debt is to China's past, and Korea is more willing to acknowledge that. It is easy enough to demonstrate that, apart from the physical musical instruments, little about Korean aak performing style is actually Chinese. But this fact is fiercely denied by many Koreans, who are proud of having preserved their import carefully. In Korean eyes, aak was Chinese to begin with, has been authentically Chinese ever since, and always will be purely Chinese; indeed Korean musicians are prepared to travel to China to demonstrate how Chinese ritual music ought to be performed. This music, whatever its stylistic origins, has always had the role of being Chinese, and perhaps the Western scholar serves little positive purpose in pressing the question of supporting evidence. Korean scholars rarely ask about the motivation of the Chinese emperors in making musical gifts to Korea, and in my experience they are upset at the suggestion that China, in I I I 6, might have been plying Korea with some political persuasion. Even though nearly nine centuries have elapsed and even though the bribe was unsuccessful, national pride makes it difficult for modern Koreans to accept such a thesis, despite the evidence and the absence of a better explanation. Some alterations to the performing forces of the aak ensembles have been made in recent years, but as yet no one has attempted to rebuild the magnificence of the twelfth- or fifteenth-century courtyard and terrace ensembles. If they do, I suspect we will find that Koreans remain remarkably sensitive to the symbols oflofty imperial and subordinate provincial status.

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CHAPTER4

Musical Assertion of Status Among the Naxi ofLijiang County, Yunnan HELEN REES

In this essay, I offer two snapshots of musical life in Lijiang county, Yunnan province, the first from the 1940's, the second from the early 1990's. I focus on a musical repertoire commonly known today as Lijiang Ancient Music (Lijiangguyue) or Naxi Ancient Music (Naxiguyue). An examination of this repertoire and the organizations and rituals associated with it reveals a wealth of conflicting interpretations of its social role and symbolic meaning. Below I describe the situation at these two different periods and attempt to account for the differences by reference to the larger social and political context in which the music exists.

The Naxi ofLijiang Lijiang county is located in northwestern Yunnan, 6oo kilometers and a twenty-hour bus ride from the provincial capital, Kunming (see Map 4.1). The county as a whole covers 7,425 square kilometers, with the Jinsha River forming its northern boundary. The altitude varies greatly, but the county seat, Dayan Town (Dayan zhen), and its surrounding plain lie at 2,400 meters. The population in 1987 was just over 3oo,ooo, of whom some so,ooo lived in Dayan Town, which functions as the political, cultural, and economic center ofLijiang county (Tang and Jin 1988: 7-u, 16). Several ethnic groups live in Lijiang,l of whom the most numerous are the Naxi. In recognition of their predominance, in 1961 the government designated the area the Lijiang Naxi autonomous county (Lijiang Naxizu zizhi xian). According to the 1982 census, they constitute 57 percent of the population. The other major groups are the Han (20 percent), Bai (II percent), and Lisu (8 percent), with a few thousand each ofPumi, Yi,

Musical Assertion of Status Among the Naxi

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Tibetans, and Miao and a few hundred Hui and Zhuang (Lijiang Naxizu zizhi xian gaikuang bianxiezu 1986: 30-83). In and around the county seat, the majority presence is indubitably that of the Naxi, as it has been for hundreds of years. 2 The Naxi speak a language usually classified by Chinese linguists as belonging to the Yi branch ofTibeto-Burman (Ramsey 1987: 2.65). They have been the subject of many investigations by Chinese and non-Chinese scholars, most of which have focused on the indigenous religious specialists known as dongba and their unusual scripts. 3 Both pictographic and phonetic systems exist; neither can be dated with certainty, although Song or pre-Song origins have been suggested for the pictographic, and Ming or early Qing for the phonetic (McKhann 1992: 8-9 ). Use of these two systems has been confined to the dongba, and the vast majority ofNaxi have no way of writing their own language; even the romanized system invented in the twentieth century has little currency. Apart from the internationally renowned dongba and their texts, the Naxi have impinged on other people's consciousness at least in part for the physical strength, capacity for hard work, and commercial acuity of the women: this was remarked before· 1949 by both Chinese and foreign observers (see, e.g., Goullart 19 5T 9495; and Siguret 1937: 45-46).

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Despite these distinctive characteristics, Naxi culture as a whole is highly syncretic. A small group wedged uncomfortably between the Tibetans to the north and Han Chinese and other groups to the south, they have borrowed extensively from several sources. In the case of religious practices, for example, elements from several different origins have been blended together. Three types of ritual practitioners considered indigenous to the Naxi operate in Lijiang: the well-known dongba, and the lesser-known sainii (shamans) and paq (diviners). 4 Charles McK.hann characterizes the different roles of these specialists thus: Many ... rituals seek to correct perceived imbalances in the state of the cosmos and in the relations of beings who dwell within it. Prior to the performance of such rituals, most notably those with a curing function, the source of imbalance must first be determined. Using a variety of methods, many of which (e.g., scapulamancy) appear to derive from neighboring cultures, this initial determination is the task of a diviner (paq). Mter divination has revealed the cause of the imbalance-usually the work of a malicious demon -one or more priests (dongba) are called in to perform the necessary corrective ritual ... in some instances they require the help of a shaman (sainii), whose particular talent lies in confronting the afflicting demon directly by journeying to that part of the cosmos where the demon dwells. ( 1992: 4) It is not just the diviners, however, who have borrowed from neighboring cultures; researchers have traced names of deities and certain rituals recorded in dongba texts to Tibetan Bon and Buddhist and Indian origins (McK.hann 1992: q-rs). In addition to these Naxi-speaking practitioners, before the Communist victory in 1949 Lijiang county also hosted monasteries of both Tibetan- and Chinese-style Buddhists, whose mainly Naxi members performed services, respectively, in the Tibetan and Chinese languages. Especially in and around Dayan Town, there were approximately ten families of Daoist priests, again Naxi, who worked exclusively in Chineselanguage scriptures, and there were a few Christian churches, manned by foreigners who translated the Scriptures into Naxi for their adherents' convenience (Li Jinchun 1986: 57-63; also confirmed by numerous informants). Lijiang officially came under direct Chinese rule (gaitu guiliu) in r 72 3, at a time when the still-vigorous Qing dynasty was expanding its de facto and de jure rule in the substantially non-Han southwest ( Guan I 7 4 3 : 46). 5 Contact had been established much earlier, however. According to a chronicle of Lijiang's history compiled in the mid-Qing dynasty (Guan 1743), the Naxi had arrived in Lijiang by the Song dynasty. They first ex-

Musical Assertion of Status Among the Naxi pressed allegiance to the Mongols, and later transferred their loyalty to succeeding Chinese dynasties. A passage from Joseph Rock's translation (194T 6o-62) ofGuan Xuexuan highlights the main events in this process. In ... I 252 the Mongols sent troops under Kublai Khan ... to attack Dali. He led his troops . . . to Lijiang. As the Mongols respected the customs of the people wherever they went, the people turned to allegiance in all sincerity. They then established the civil office of Chahanzhang Guanmin Guan [Naxi prefect] in Lijiang .... In . . . I 382 ... as Ade [the local ruler] was the first to submit to the [Ming) conquerors he was appointed magistrate and was given the surname Mu .... In ... I659 the territory of Yunnan was annexed to the Chinese Empire .... In I723 [four prominent local leaders] ... went to the provincial capital and applied for the appointment of Chinese officials. The ease with which the ruling class adopted some aspects ofHan Chinese culture is shown by the sophisticated classical Chinese poetry they composed. The earliest example in an anthology of poems by Naxi published recently by a major Yunnan publishing house is by Mu Tai, who ruled in the late fifteenth century (Zhao 1985: 1). Some sinicized habits trickled down to the ordinary people; for instance, shortly after the appointment of Chinese officials in 1723, the Lijiang Naxi began to abandon cremation in favor ofHan-style earth burial (Li Jinchun 1986: 34). Guan records the founding of schools in the early Qing dynasty ( 1743: 140-61 ), and presumably some loci.l boys were receiving a Han Chinese-style education by this point. Not surprisingly, the greatest degree of sinicization has always been among those living in and around Dayan Town. Local informants and accounts such as that of Peter Goullart (1957) confirm that by the end of the Qing dynasty (19I2), well-to-do Naxi men from this area routinely attended Chinese-language schools, participated in the state-sponsored semiannual Confucian sacrifices, took the imperial civil service examinations like their Han counterparts all over China, sometimes married Han Chinese wives, employed Daoist priests and Buddhist monks for religious services, and traveled on business not only all over Yunnan but even to places as far away as Shanghai and Hong Kong. Despite their sinicization, however, they continued to speak Naxi at home and to preserve many indigenous customs. Naxi women, for example, never suffered the affliction of bound feet, as did their Han Chinese sisters, and maintained an important role in Lijiang's commercial life. Given this high degree of sinicization, it should be no surprise that musical life in the county town came under heavy Chinese influence. The

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Naxi have a rich indigenous musical culture, well summarized by Kou Bangping ( 1986). Yet according to numerous local informants, in theRepublican era (1912-49), Dianju (Yunnan-style Han Chinese opera) had attained such popularity in Dayan Town that amateur Dianju groups, made up of ordinary Naxi townspeople, singing in Chinese and playing the appropriate Chinese instruments, were a ubiquitous feature of the musical scene. Beijing Opera also seems to have had some following at this time (Wang Zhiqiang 1986: 93-94). The other major musical import from the Han Chinese before 1949 was what is known today as Lijiang Ancient Music or Naxi Ancient Music. This repertoire and the associated religious organizations were part of a network of such groups throughout Yunnan. The generic name for the genre is "Dongjing music."

Dongjing Associations and Music in Yunnan Before 1949, almost every Han Chinese-dominated part ofYunnan could boast at least one Dongjing association (dongjinghui). 6 Composed in the main of (male) literati/ these were often socially rather exclusive clubs that held elaborate religious ceremonies in honor of a variety of Daoist, Buddhist, and Confucian deities. Despite their wide geographical range, these associations had certain features in common. The principal deity worshipped was Wenchang, patron of the literati and civil service candidates, and those based in county towns were frequently asked by the county government to provide the music for the Confucian sacrifices. Although the participants were seldom professional religious specialists, associations owned spectacular altar furnishings and multiple sets of scriptures. In some cases they conducted funeral rites, longevity ceremonies, and auspicious rites for new houses for their members, services that overlapped with those usually provided by such professionals as Daoist priests and Buddhist monks. In addition, although the participants were amateur musicians, the groups were particularly renowned for the beauty and complexity of the music that accompanied their ceremonies. Furthermore, although each county had its own distinct repertoire, many pieces were common to several geographically disparate groups. Although these groups were rapidly suppressed by the Communist government in 1949, with the loosening of political policies since 1978 there has been a spectacular renaissance in Dongjing associations in some cities and counties of Yunnan. During my visits to Yunnan in academic year 1991-92 and in summer 1993, I personally visited active associations or similarly derived groups in or near Baoshan City, Chuxiong City, Dali Old Town, Beijing Town (Lu-

Musical Assertion of Status Among the Naxi

feng county), Jianchuan county, Jianshui county, Kunming City, Lijiang county, Lufeng county, Luxi county, Mengzi county, Qujing City, Tonghai county, Weishan county, Wenshan county, Xiaguan (Dali City), and Yongsheng county. The Dongjing tradition is quintessentially Han Chinese, in terms of the deities worshipped, the classical language of the scriptures, the formal long gown and jacket (shanzi magua) attire typical of the Han literati, the musical instruments used, and the derivation and style of the music itself. However, at least two non-Han Chinese ethnic groups whose well-to-do members had attained a high degree of sinicization and success in Chinese educational and official life also formed Dongjing associations. One was the Bai, resident in Dali; the other, the Naxi ofLijiang. 8

Dongjing Music Among the Naxi By the end of the Qing dynasty, Lijiang county had at least five of the elite Dongjing groups. These were located in Dayan Town, the town of Gezi, and three rural townships: Baisha, Shuhe, and Lasha (see Map 4.2). Several more came into being during the Republican era. As in other parts of Yunnan, these associations were abolished soon after I 94 9. How the associations and the musical repertoire first came to Lijiang is not certain, although the two main stories circulating in oral lore both emphasize a non-local origin. One story holds that the Dongjing tradition was brought to Lijiang from Jianchuan county, a Bai enclave to the south of Lijiang (personal communication from He Huihan). According to the other version, the tradition was transmitted directly from the imperial Chinese capital during the Ming dynasty (Yang Zenglie I990-9I: II6). 9 Musically there is no doubt that although the users of the music happen to be Naxi rather than Han Chinese, the repertoire as well as the associations and ritual connected with it is of Han Chinese origin. Unlike indigenous Naxi folk music, all the tunes bear Chinese titles, there is a tradition of notation according to Chinese gongchepu (solrege ), and the instrumental music is heterophonic in the Chinese sizhu style whereas most Naxi instrumental music is monophonic. The instrumental ensemble at its fullest before 1949 included three sizes ofbowed lutes related to the Chinese huqin family, three different kinds of plucked lutes (pipa, sugudu, and sanxian ), two zithers ( qin and zheng), two transverse flutes, one reed pipe, one yunluo (tuned gong set), 10 one large gong, and a variety of drums, cymbals, and other percussion including the muyu (wooden fish), an instrument common in ritual musics all over China. Most of these instru-

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ments are identical or similar to those used by the Han Chinese, but are generally foreign to the Naxi.U Certain aspects of instrumental performance style, notably the slow, heavy vibrato in some of the wind and bowed instruments, are often attributed to the influence of indigenous Naxi folk music. The local forms of some instruments are also considered to give the music a Lijiang flavor. However, these features are superimposed on a firmly Han Chinese-derived musical base. The vocal performance forms (singing, chanting, and heightened speech) are also the same as those used in Han Dongjing and other ritual musics, and the words sung, chanted and spoken are Han Chinese. Moreover, the area of greatest currency of the Dongjing tradition appears to be the most sinicized areas ofLijiang-for the most part those immediately around Dayan Town and on main trade routes through the county.

Musical Assertion of Status Among the Naxi

In addition, although exhaustive research on the families of the Dongjing tunes played in Lijiang remains to be done, some initial findings confirm the picture described above. Most titles ofLijiang tunes may be found in other Yunnan Dongjing repertoires, although tunes with the same name vary greatly from area to area. The Lijiang piece "Shanpo yang" (Sheep on the hill), for instance, shares this title with pieces in many other counties; melodically one of the closest matches is that of Qujing City (Anon. n.d.: I). As are most associations outside Lijiang, the Qujing group is Han Chinese. Perhaps more tellingly, there is a close correlation between Lijiang's "Shanpo yang" and that of the classical eastern Chinese opera form Kunju ( Zhongyang yinyue xueyuan, Minzu yinyue yanjiusuo I 9 56: 6 3). Similarly, the Lijiang piece "Wannian huan" (Eternal joy) is melodically very close to the "Wannian huan" in the Daoist repertoire ofWudang shan in central China (Shi I98T I69 )_12 In addition, the scriptures used in Dongjing rituals are written in extremely abstruse classical Chinese; thus, Dongjing association culture related very much to the sinicized side of the life of the pre-I949 Naxi elite. Although the Dongjing repertoire has been energetically revived in Lijiang since I978, Lijiang is one of the minority of places that have not succeeded in reviving their ritual 13 or Dongjing associations (other such places include Kunming City and the county seat ofWenshan county). The following description of ritual practice before I949 derives entirely from interviews with elderly association members; consequently I use the past tense. Despite the Naxi ethnicity of the participants, the scriptures belonging to their organizations and the rituals they performed were typical of Dongjing associations throughout Yunnan (see, e.g., the accounts given in Wu Xueyuan I99o; and Rees I994: 57-I02). Minor discrepancies did exist among the different Lijiang associations, but overall scriptures, ritual practice, and musical repertoire were fairly uniform. To take as exemplary the group in Dayan Town, for whom the most detailed documentation exists, their admission procedures, ritual calendar, and repertoire of religious services were similar to those of the average Yunnan Dongjing association. The membership requirements were first and foremost to be male and second to be in possession ofboth daode (virtue) andgongming(social distinction); in practice, this restricted participation to the educated and usually wealthy social elite, and many entrants were the sons of participants. QualifYing applicants then made some form of payment, and their names were added to the official list of members. They celebrated twiceyearly festivals of the gods Wenchang and Guan Gong, participated in the semiannual county-level state sacrifice to Confucius, and performed fu-

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neral, new house, and personal request rites for members and their relatives. Their two main scriptures were the Dadong xianjing (Transcendent scripture of the great grotto), dedicated to Wen chang, and the Guansheng dijun jueshi zhenjing (Guandi enlightenment scripture), dedicated to Guan Gong. Both are found in variant versions among Dongjing associations throughout Yunnan. 14 An example of a major festival in Lijiang before 1949 was the threeday celebration ofWenchang's birthday. Not only did the ritual rigidly follow the order of the seven volumes of the Dadong xianjing, but the manner of performance of each section of text was fixed and each portion of text was rendered in the same performance mode every time. There were six distinct modes of aural performance, all analogous to their counterparts in Dongjing repertoires elsewhere. These are summarized below in descending order of musical complexity. r. Dadiao (accompanied songs): pieces in which the instrumental ensemble accompanies heterophonically the singing of passages of the scripture. The pieces have a fixed absolute pitch, and the singers follow the pitch set by the 'instruments. Five have mainly regular verses, with five or seven characters in each line; five have irregular lines and are considered more complex and difficult to learn. These last five are specific to certain sections of scripture and are used only once each, whereas the first five are used for many different sections of scripture. The singing voice is fairly open and relaxed, and the tunes are extremely melismatic: one syllable may endure for several beats and may be spread over several notes (Recorded example 3 ). 2. Xiaodiao (instrumental pieces): sixteen purely instrumental pieces played heterophonically by the ensemble. These pieces typically accompany physical actions (Recorded example 4). 3. Sections of fang JJong diao (movable foundation note): in a few sections of the scripture the lead singer sets the pitch and the other singers and a single flute follow him. Apart from the flute, only untuned percussion accompanies these sections. The singing style is similar to that of the accompanied songs. 4· Daji yue (percussion music): certain percussion patterns routinely punctuate accompanied songs and passages of chanting (song) (Recorded example 3 ). 5. SonJr (chanting): the chanting of passages of scripture was performed by all participants to simple melodic patterns with a narrow pitch range. Because the style is mostly syllabic and does not artificially extend the phrase lengths of the text (unlike the accompanied songs and movable foundation note singing), the listener perceives this form of chanting as halfway between singing and speech. The rhythm in particular is closer to ordinary speech than in dadiao. The constant instrumental accompaniment is the wooden fish, hit by the lead singer on each syllable (Recorded example 5 ). 6. Jiang (xuan) (explanation [of the mysteries]): one speaker uses a heightened speech style, exaggerating the contours of speech intonation, mostly to

Musical Assertion of Status Among the Naxi read commentaries on passages of text. The rhythm is free and is the closest to ordinary speech rhythm of all the verbal performance modes (Recorded example 6). To illustrate the mixing of modes of performance within the ordered sequence dictated by a text, I set out below the overall order of performance for the Liqing (Formal invocation) volume of the Dadong xianjing. The order was explained by He Yi'an, a leading member before 1949 of the Dayan Town Dongjing association. Opening texts Two prefaces (chanting with wooden fish accompaniment) Liturgy of opening the altar ( kaitan keyi) (chanting with wooden fish accompaniment) Purification incantations (chanting with wooden fish and other untuned percussion accompaniment) Opening invocation addressed to the spirit realm (yangqi song) (chanting with wooden fish and other untuned percussion accompaniment) Formal invocation addressed to deceased kin (liqing song) (chanting with wooden fish and other untuned percussion accompaniment) Pledge of faith ( baogao) (chanting with wooden fish and other untuned percussion accompaniment) Confession ( chanhui) (chanting with wooden fish and other untuned percussion accompaniment) Vow (fayuan) (chanting with wooden fish and other untuned percussion accompaniment) Closing pledge of faith ( dagao) (chanting with wooden fish and other untuned percussion accompaniment) 2. Scriptural reading Evocation of gods by name (chanting with wooden fish accompaniment) Five stanzas extolling the Dadong xianjing (sung to accompanied song "Eight Trigrams" [ "Bagua" ]) Five appellations ofWenchang (sung to accompanied song "Five Appellations of the God" [ "Wusheng shenghao"]) The Ten Offerings (shigongyang) (mixed modes) I.

The musical arrangement of the Ten Offerings was quite complex. First, incense was lit to the accompaniment of the instrumental piece "Sheep on the Hill." Then each offering was explained by a piece of scripture using heightened speech style. Each explanation was followed by a prescribed instrumental piece (different for each offering), and each instrumental piece was followed by a stanza sung every time to the same accompanied song, "Ten Offerings." A similarly detailed prescription of performance mode exists for each of the remaining six volumes of the Dadong xianjing, as well as for the other scriptures used by the Dongjing associations.

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As is apparent, the ritual activity of the Dongjing association involved a complex blend of several different musical forms, whose use depended on the requirements of the scripture being performed. The Dayan Town association also performed secular rituals, such as the ceremony of ten offerings to the soul of a deceased member during his three-day funeral (in this case, one extra instrumental piece, reserved especially for funerals, would be played). One surviving member described to me how sometimes in the evenings he would take a flute and go over to a friend's house to play favorite pieces for fun. Although the primary focus for association members was deity-centered liturgical rituals, they were by no means averse to using the music for secular ritual or entertainment. The formally constituted Dongjing associations were not the only groups in the Republican era to make use of this repertoire. In and around Dayan Town, and indeed in many other parts of Lijiang county, secular music groups played portions of the same repertoire mostly for informal entertainment of a kind analogous to the performance of Jiangnan sizhu tunes during the same period by the amateur musicians of Shanghai (Witzleben r 9 8 7). Unlike the Dongjing associations, these groups were open to any man who wished to join, and many were extremely informal (Yang Zenglie 1990-91: 120). Only a few even seem to have had recognized names-one elderly informant described his group as having no organization at all: friends would just get together informally to play for fun. So widespread among the ordinary people were some of the tunes that even Naxi children who otherwise spoke no Chinese could sing them accurately to Chinese solfege. A few of the secular groups occasionally played at a funeral, thus making this kind of secular ritual a subsidiary arena for their music. However, the secular groups performed only a much truncated version of the Dongjing repertoire. Since they did not perform liturgical rituals or use scriptures or texts, they had no need for some of the performance modes listed above-movable foundation note singing, chanting, and heightened speech were irrelevant and thus not used. Most groups lacked the full complement of percussion instruments, and percussion music was also generally omitted. Left were the instrumental pieces and some of the accompanied songs. However, the accompanied songs were played minus their words, and only those with regular verse patterns were included in the repertoires of these secular groups, probably because these were less text-bound, more tuneful, and easier to remember than those with irregular patterns. The maximum potential number of pieces available to these groups, therefore, was the sixteen instrumental pieces and five of the accompanied songs minus the words. Not all of these pieces, however, would

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necessarily be used by each group: one elderly musician who had played in an informal group from about 1930 to 1949 recollected that he and his friends had played only about seven of the instrumental pieces and three of the accompanied songs on a regular basis. After the arrival of Communist forces in Lijiang in the summer of 1949, the Dongjing associations had to cease ritual activities and surrender much of their corporate property, including many scriptures and musical instruments. Apart from the government-sponsored re-enactment of a small part of a ritual in summer 1992, no deity-centered rituals have been carried out since then. Many of my informants who played in secular groups in and near Dayan Town before 1949 reported that they were able to continue playing the instrumental pieces and wordless accompanied songs for private entertainment during the 19 so's and early 196o's, although they had to stop temporarily during the most vigorous political movements, taking up their instruments again only when normality was restored. Two government-approved scholarly projects allowed the recording of parts of the Dongjing repertoire in 1962 and 1963, but with the onset of the Cultural Revolution in 1966 all playing of this repertoire ceased. In 1978, following the fall of the Gang ofFour and the implementation of more liberal political and economic policies in China, some of the bolder enthusiasts started quietly reviving the repertoire, meeting in small groups in private homes to play for secular entertainment again. Gradually more and more people joined in, and by the time Lijiang county was opened to foreign visitors in July 198 5 (Tang and Jin 1988: 5 ), there were thriving groups playing instrumental pieces and wordless accompanied songs both in Dayan Town and in several other areas. In 1987-88, a total of nine relatively active groups was reported within Lijiang county: in Dayan Town, Shigu Town, the more rural areas ofBaihua, Baisha, Changshui, Dongyuan, Jinshan, and Lashi (all six are within a ten-mile radius ofDayan Town), and at Judian, in the far northwest of the county (Yang"Zenglie 1991: 36-37). Lijiang county has become an enormously popular tourist destination, despite its remoteness and inconvenient transport. This is no doubt partly because of the spectacular mountainous scenery and the well-preserved architecture of the old part of Dayan Town, but it is also because of the fame of the Naxi and the dongba pictographs. When tourists who stumbled upon the revived music groups were obviously impressed by the music, some of the Dayan Town players successfully petitioned the local government for permission to mount public concerts aimed at foreign tourists. According to the records of the Dayan Town group, now officially named

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Dayan guyuehui (Dayan Ancient Music Association), the first tourist concert took place on July 22, 1988. Since then, depending on the numbers of tourists in town, it has performed two or three times a week, to huge acclaim. The ensemble of the village ofBaihua, two miles to the southwest, also receives occasional visitors at its regular Sunday afternoon musical gatherings. The music and some of the musicians have now become so famous that they were featured in two television programs made while I was in Lijiang (1991-92) and appear in numerous tourist guides and travel articles (see, e.g., Booz 1987; Cummings et al. 1991; Li Li and Yin 1993; Paulzen 1991; Tang and Jin 1988). Especially in Dayan Town, the county government frequently calls on the ensemble to play for visiting dignitaries; in addition, in 1993 the group played in concerts in Kunrning and Beijing. Once again the music has become a lively part of the local scene, although the context and meaning of the performances have changed greatly from the 194o's.

Networks and Status Claims in the r 94 o )s In examining the status claims implicitly or explicitly made by practitioners of this music and its associated ritual and associations in the 194o's, I am viewing it as very much a form of social communication rather than as just musical communication. Given the vital role of ritual in the fully constituted Dongjing associations, it is also valuable to look at ritual with reference to the integral performative ingredients as well as to its wider social role. For this purpose I have found Stanley Tambiah's well-known definition invaluable, since it helps illuminate both the function of the Dongjing associations and the ways they effected this function. Ritual is a culturally constructed system of symbolic communication. It is constituted of patterned and ordered sequences of words and acts, often expressed in multiple media, whose content and arrangement are characterized in varying degree by formality (conventionality), stereotypy (rigidity), condensation (fusion), and redundancy (repetition). Ritual action in its constitutive features is performative in these three senses: in the Austinian sense of performative wherein saying something is also doing something as a conventional act; in the quite different sense of a staged performance that uses multiple media by which the participants experience the event intensively; and in the third sense of indexical values ... being attached to and inferred by actors during the performance. ( I98 I: I 19)

Tambiah further makes the useful statements that "ritual is not a 'free expression of emotions,' but a disciplined rehearsal of 'right attitudes'" and that "social communication, of which ritual is a special kind, portrays many

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features that have little to do with the transmission of new information and everything to do with interpersonal orchestration and with social integration and continuity" (1981: 126, 133). In light of these statements, I shall first examine the expressions of status found in and among the Dongjing associations and their wider context, looking carefully at how they achieve these expressions; I shall then consider the position of the informal secular music groups. Any one of the Dongjing associations of Lijiang county was embedded in a network of relationships, which may be summarized as follows: 1. Between that Dongjing association and non-members in the surrounding community; 2. Between that Dongjing association and the county government; 3. Between that Dongjing association and other Dongjing associations; 4· Between the members of that Dongjing association; 5. Between a Dongjing association and its gods.

Since Chinese society is generally hierarchical, these relationships were unlikely to be egalitarian, and in each case there was probably some expression of sociopolitical power relationships. Below I discuss each of these categories of relationships. First, a Dongjing association used music and ritual to express the relationship between itself and non-members in the surrounding community. A characteristic of those eligible for membership in an association was their cultural sinicization through education to a degree superior to that of the ordinary Naxi. As stressed above, all the aural performance modes in the Dongjing ritual were Han Chinese-derived; the texts they accompanied were also exclusively in Chinese. Most of the instruments had Han equivalents and were not otherwise used in indigenous Naxi music, and many were expensive compared with homemade Naxi peasant instruments. Furthermore, although some Dongjing tunes percolated down to the general population, who played them on whatever instruments they had to hand for secular entertainment, the ability to perform the entire repertoire with its complete complement of instruments, sung texts, and ritual component was peculiar to Dongjing association members. They thereby simultaneously affirmed their corporate identity and their superior sinicized status through use of the music and expensive musical instruments of the dominant Han culture, many of which were inaccessible to the average local Naxi. Corporate status was reinforced by their communal ownership of instruments and ritual paraphernalia; individuals were not permitted to borrow these between festivals for private use.

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Striking confirmation of the role of sinicization in marking socially and politically superior status, and the importance of Dongjing music for this purpose, is offered in an account of 194o's Lijiang by a longtime Russian resident. The New Year celebrations provided the old gentlemen of Lijiang with an opportunity to stage several concerts of sacred music in which they were adept. Madame Lee's husband was also a musician in his own right and heartily participated in these highbrow functions. . . . This musical tradition was one of the most cherished among the Naxi and was zealously transmitted from father to son. A well-to-do Naxi in the city could only be accepted as a real gentleman if he knew this ancient music or was a fully fledged Chinese scholar. (Goullart 19 ST 213) Second, musical repertoire was important in the articulation of the relationship between the Dongjing association in the county town and the county government. Twice a year in the Republican period the county government organized the state-sponsored Confucian sacrifices, and Dayan Town Dongjing association was always summoned to provide the music for it. The group performed as a corporate entity in response to these demands, but it had to play a very different kind of music: instead of its own, melismatic accompanied songs and instrumental pieces, which allowed some scope for improvisation, it had to perform the government-mandated syllabic pieces for the Confucian sacrifice, with no room for musical maneuver. There was a clear separation between the musical repertoire the group played for its own festivals and that which it performed at government request. J. H. Kwabena Nketia has suggested (personal communication) that the much more constricted style necessary for the Confucian sacrifice was symbolic of the power of the government over the people: 15 self-regulated activities allowed room for musical individuality through limited improvisation in sizhu fashion, but in a government-mandated context, there was complete musical control over the participants. 16 On the other hand, the invitation to participate was certainly an honor: an acknowledgment of the high cultural level of the Dongjing association members, which further buttressed their privileged position in the wider community. Third, the relationship between two or more Dongjing associations was frequently reflected in terms of musical style. Although the musical repertoire was practically uniform, stylistic differences among the groups were obvious to local ears. He Yi'an, the doyen of the Dayan Town association, commented on another organization active in the county town before 1949 that "they had an obvious Shuhe character to their playing." This was presumably a result of their having learned the tradition largely from

Musical Assertion of Status Among the Naxi the association at Shuhe, and to He the differences in nuance were obvious. Differences among associations as to the correct order of instrumental pieces to be played during the Ten Offerings and the number of beats in certain instrumental pieces also gave a regional flavor to the various groups. This obviously was another factor, possibly involuntary, that contributed to corporate identity (for similar minor differences in repertoire, arrangement, and performance in other group-defined musical settings, see A. Seeger 198]: 75-77; and Slobin 1992: 189 ). Where one group had taught the Dongjing music and ritual to a second group, a muzi (mother-son) relationship was created, with the newer association acknowledging its debt to the older one; local musicians pointed out that such groups showed the fewest musical discrepancies. Suggestions of superiority on the part of one or another association were generally made in terms of an ability to perform the full complement of scriptures; some could not perform the Guansheng dijun jueshi zhenjing, the scripture in honor of Guan Gong, and this inability marked them as less accomplished. Fourth, relationships within a single Dongjing association were clearly defined in musical terms. The two senior musico-ritual specialists in the association, chosen by general acclaim, were the shanzhang (chief officiant) and fu shanzhang (second officiant). Their high social status within their own Dongjing association was based on age, respectability and, most important, ritual and musical competence. Indeed, they often possessed impressive reputations among other associations, too. These two men held control over the aural aspects of the ritual proceedings. The chief officiant was responsible for the wooden fish and the small drum and clappers ( bangu and tishou), percussion instruments that set and controlled the speed of all aural performance modes except heightened speech. He also performed much of the heightened speech and set the pitch for movable foundation note sections. The second officiant played the tuned gong set (yunluo), which gave the most basic version of the melodic skeletons of the accompanied songs and instrumental pieces and acted as the visual cue for those who forgot parts of the melody. 17 Thus musical authority was vested in the men who held the highest positions in the corporate group. This appears to be a rare case of existential and sociopolitical power coming to rest in a single individual; my elderly informant He Yi'an commented that by the start of the sixth incantation (shenzhou) in the Dadong xianjingvolume Liqing, the chief officiant had "become a deity" (shen). Yet significantly the most important qualification for selection as chief officiant was ritual knowledge and musical ability. Fifth, it is significant that the relationship with the two main gods of

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the Lijiang associations, Wenchang and Guan Gong, both quintessentially Han Chinese deities, was maintained entirely in Han Chinese forms of communication. Not only was the language of the scriptures Chinese, but all the aural modes of performance addressed to the gods were Han Chinese in style. This reinforces the fact that the relationship between these two gods and their Naxi worshippers was the same as for Han Chinese Dongjing associations elsewhere in Yunnan; Wenchang and Guan Gong were associated with the sinicized side of a respectable Naxi gentleman's life. It appears to be common for communication with an imported god to be carried on in his own language and music; as noted above, Naxi monks in Lijiang's Tibetan and Chinese Buddhist monasteries performed ceremonies in Tibetan and Chinese, respectively, each with the appropriate music. Nketia reports similar cases in West Africa ( 1988: 58; n.d.: 3 ). In all the cases discussed above, the musical/aural component of the ritual helped articulate existing sociopolitical distinctions of identity, status, and power. Even though many former association members admit to not understanding much of the abstruse classical Chinese scripture, the performative force of the ritual as a whole persuaded participants and others of the validity of the sociopolitical status quo. This illustrates Tambiah's "first sense" in which ritual is performative: the speech/music/ ritual act of the Dongjing association conformed to established conventions and was subject to normative judgments of appropriateness. As for the other two senses of the performative nature ofritual-"staged performance" and of "indexical values" -it is necessary to consider the role of the non-musical "multiple media" that combine to produce the fused experience. The necessity of viewing these different elements as equal contributors to the total experience is perhaps most eloquently put by Nketia (1988: 53): "It seems essential in ... musical practice to consider not only the modes of communication that can be established through music itself, but also the ways of presenting music as an event that provides an integrated aural, kinesic, and visual experience that stimulates particular modes of response and interaction." The stimulation of particular modes of response and reaction is precisely what Tambiah hints is the aim of ritual: as performative act and social communication. He agrees with Nketia on the mutually reinforcing effects of aural, kinesic, and visual elements-the simultaneous use of different sensory channels that results in the single condensed experience. How did a Lijiang Dongjing association "stage" its multimedia "performance" to achieve maximum impact as performative act and social communication?

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To start with the association-outside community relationship, visual and kinesic aspects of the ritual helped support corporate cohesion and differentiation from the ordinary non-member Naxi. Thus all participants had to wear the formal gown and jacket of the Han Chinese literati rather than local Naxi attire and to move slowly and with decorum as befitted Chinese gentlemen. There were enforceable regulations to ensure that everyone adhered to these norms of behavior. Obeisances to the god and other members were also performed in the Han Chinese style. Within an association the distinct position of the chief officiant was also enhanced by visual elements and by spatial orientation. The chief officiant of the county town group wore a yellow jacket instead of the dark ones worn by other members, marking him out not only as different but as worthy of the imperial color. In addition, he, the second officiant, and two other senior members were the only people who sat facing the statue of the god in the temple: everybody else was arranged sideways to the image. At the end of the ritual, the senior members were entitled to receive the obeisances of the younger men. In all the Dongjing rituals I have witnessed in different parts ofYunnan, aural and kinesic elements combine to convey an impression of sober dignity appropriate to the Confucian tradition to which, despite the often Daoist or Buddhist affiliations of their scriptures, virtually every Dongjing association claims to belong. Musical tempi are usually slow to moderate, and movements are almost always slow, deliberate, and confined to those necessary to accomplish the ritual actions. It would probably be difficult for someone to move quickly in the floor-length formal gown and jacket. This is in marked contrast to a funeral I witnessed in a central Yunnanese town in spring 1992, conducted by the same Daoist priest who had a day previously acted as chief officiant of the local Dongjing association. As chief officiant at the Dongjing association ritual, his movements had been admirably slow and decorous; as chief officiant at the funeral, he led a string of two or three dozen worshippers racing round the courtyard-at times at breakneck speed. His kinesic contribution to the two rituals could not have been more different. The last of the senses in which Tambiah views ritual as performative is the indexical, in which values are attached to, and inferred by, the actors during the ritual. Some of the preceding observations on Lijiang's Dongjing associations may be recast in this form: the melding of musical authority and visual and spatial elements and the attribution of existential and social power to the chief officiant caused him to be contrasted indexically by his fellow members as-at least temporarily-superior to themselves.

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For outsiders, the combination of visually spectacular and costly altar trappings and musical instruments, complex Han Chinese scriptures and music, and the solemn garb and demeanor of the participants was intended to indicate superior social status. For the government, the kinesic element of the association's move to the Confucian temple to perform at state behest affirmed the control of the civil authority. These, however, are not the only indexical aspects to Dongjing ritual performance; the length of ritual can also tell us something about the relative importance of gods and men. Tambiah points out that in most societies, the longer the rite staged and "the grander the scale of the ritual's outlay and adornment, the more important ... the ceremony is deemed to be" (I98I: ISO). This is often confirmed in fieldwork (see, e.g., Tsao I 9 89: 2I ). Each of the two annual festivals in honor of Wenchang was spread over three days 18 and was held in the relatively spacious Wenchang or Guan Gong temple in Lijiang, which allowed for the full display of the spectacular ritual accessories. For almost the entire three days of the festival, the ritual was communal and deity-centered, with requests for blessings being made communally in very general terms as dictated by the scripture in use. The ceremony at which individuals presented private requests for the god's consideration was not only relatively short, lasting only about 4 5 minutes, but also employed none of the aurally complex modes of performance (accompanied songs, instrumental pieces, and movable foundation note singing). The difference in performance modes and length underlines the relative importance of man and god. The most common human-centered ritual carried out by the Dongjing association was the funeral service for deceased members and their families. The focal point of this was the performance of the scripture Ershisi xiaojing (Twenty-four exemplars of filial piety) and of the Ten Offerings to the deceased, similar but not identical to the Ten Offerings to Wenchang. Here the full range of aural modes of performance were employed-from accompanied songs to heightened speech. But the cramped quarters of the private house in which the ritual was performed and the short time it took-only a few hours out of one day-clearly marked it as indexically inferior to the god-centered rituals for the festivals of Wenchang and GuanGong. In rituals I have witnessed elsewhere in Yunnan, the superior power of the gods is reflected in various mutually reinforcing ways. Frequently the statue of the god is visually and/or spatially differentiated from the human worshippers. The Wenchang statues in the Wenchang temples at Weishan and Heijing, for instance, are much taller than human height and stand

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elevated above floor level in such a way that their already considerable height is accentuated. In addition, they hold a position of spatial superiority, backs to the wall and facing the main door of the temple, with the worshippers usually ranged in two rows, one to the right and one to the left, fanning out with the deity as the focal point to which the eye travels. Kinesically, in most of the ritual performances I saw, the end of each volume of scripture would be marked by the Dongjing association members' lining up in rows or pairs, and bowing to each other from the waist. Bowing or in some cases kowtowing to the deity is, however, not a reciprocal process: the god accepts the physical submission of humans without giving a similar sign in return. Also, the text of the scripture is in large measure addressed to or concerned with him, so that he is also the linguistic focus of the ritual, as he is of the aural dimensions as a whole. The aural elements are designed to enhance the text, or, to put it another way, to contribute suitably to the "staged performance" by helping create the desired atmosphere. By going to the god's temple, the worshippers enter his territory. Naxi participants in Dongjing ritual further entered his linguistic and cultural world. Lijiang's Dongjing associations, therefore, used a mixture of performative means to express their status claims, be it in the context of their relations with non-members, with the county government, with the gods, with other Dongjing associations, and among themselves. Ex-members are particularly informative about the ways they differentiated themselves from ordinary people and about their internal organization. By contrast, most of the ex-members of the pre-1949 secular groups that played some of the same music emphasize the non-differentiated, informal nature of their activities; they seldom make claims for status imparted or sought. Only one of my informants ever described a status-related phenomenon in his secular group during the late 1940's: the teacher fined boys he caught playing Dianju (Yunnan-style Chinese opera), since he felt the Dongjing music was more refined than the opera tunes and that aspirants to the refined music should not engage in less cultivated musical activities. Presumably this was a trickle-down effect from the reputation of the Dongjing associations.

Networks of the I 9 9 o )s Much has changed in Lijiang since the late 1940's. Soon after 1949 membership in the former social and political elite became a liability rather than an asset to be flaunted, and even in the 1990's stressing such politically contentious affiliations would be inappropriate. Consequently, overt

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recognition of the class relations implied by the categories of Dongjing association member and non-member would now be an inadvisable anachronism. The associations as religious organizations with corporate property disappeared soon after the Communist victory in 1949, the ritual was forbidden, and except for a few of the oldest surviving former members, the religious overtones of the repertoire are now largely lost. What is left is a number of groups who play parts of the repertoire, mostly accompanied songs and instrumental pieces, and mainly for secular entertainment, plus the odd funeral. 19 Is what now exists, therefore, merely the modern equivalent of the informal secular groups who played part of the Dongjing repertoire for recreational purposes before 1949, without much regard for social and political networking or claims of status? I would argue not. To be sure, the present social and political context invalidates much of what the repertoire once stood for, but new factors have politicized the music just as much as before. Chief among these are the Chinese government's nationalities policy and the economic reforms of the late 198o's and early 1990's. The Nationalist party's policy toward non-Han ethnic groups in China has been less extensively researched than the more obviously systematic Communist policy. The general consensus, however, seems to be that the Nationalist goal was broadly assimilationist, and also rather ineffective. Citing several contemporary sources, David Deal sums up the situation in the period 1912-49 as follows: Ethnic minority place-names were replaced with Chinese place-names ... minorities adopted Chinese surnames ... and Chinese officials in minority areas advocated the adoption of the Chinese language, wearing of Chinese dress, and intermarriage as a means of assimilation .... In r 9 2 8, the Ministry of the Interior sent a letter to the provincial governments of the southwestern provinces asking them to report on the efficacy of various methods used to "civilize" (kaihua) the tribes. Implicit in this concept of civilizing the aborigines is the idea that they must draw closer to the Chinese norm .... There was, in sum, stress on the unity of China's nationalities under the Nationalists, and a desire to make the minorities aware that the best course for them to follow was to become part of a great Chinese nationality, rather than to cultivate a sense of ethnic loyalty. ( r976: 32) June Dreyer, agreeing on the assimilationist intent of Nationalist policy, suggests that, "neither very good nor wholly bad, the Kuomintang's minorities policy might best be described as weak" ( 1976: 41 ). Obviously in such a climate, those members of the Naxi who aspired to participation in the broader political, economic, and social arena were well advised to acquire some Han Chinese-style education, making expertise in Hanlanguage and culture a pathway to advancement. They might retain the Naxi

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language and Naxi ways of life in the domestic sphere, but in the public domain, especially the urban public domain, the ability to conform to Han norms and expectations was an advantage for the Naxi man. Under the Communist government, although the desire to integrate minorities into the greater state underlies the nationalities policy (see, e.g., Deal 1976: 34-36; Dreyer 1976: 261; Hsieh 1986: 15), the overt aims are rather different. Although access to Han-style education and advancement in mainstream Chinese political life is probably greater now than at any period before 1949 for non-elite members of ethnic minorities, government policy documents stress tolerance for ethnic and cultural diversity. As of 1994, the application of a mixture of Stalinist principles of ethnicity (common language, common territory, common economic life, and common psychological dispositions), government researchers' findings, and the self-awareness of ethnic groups had led to the identification and classification of the 56 "nationalities" (minzu) by the Chinese government. Based on ancestry, every Chinese citizen is assigned to one of these groups, with the majority Han Chinese constituting over 9 3 percent of the total population. The ability to claim "national minority" (shaoshu minzu) status brings with it so many material and political advantages that after 1949 several hundred self-proclaimed ethnic groups vied for official recognition. Since Communist policy mandated representation for each ethnic group at all levels of the administration, the government was understandably keen to limit the number of recognized minorities (David Y. H. Wu 1990: 1-3). Consequently some unlikely groups ended up being lumped together as branches of the same minority (see Harrell 1990; McKhann 1992: 372-78). In 1949 the Common Program of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference stipulated the equality of all nationalities, regional autonomy in areas of minority concentration, freedom to preserve minority languages and customs, and government help for "the masses of the people of all national minorities to develop their political, economic, cultural, and educational construction work" (quoted in Moseley 1966: 168-69). In differing versions and to varying degrees, these guidelines have been included in all four constitutions promulgated since 1949 (those of 1954, 1975, 1978, and 1982), with the 1982 constitution devoting more space than ever before to national minority issues and affirming its opposition to Han chauvinism as well as to parochial nationalism (Hsieh 1986: 8-9). The practical results of Communist policy in the cultural arena have ineluded employing experts to invent writing systems for minority languages that did not have one, the publication of hundreds of books and articles attempting to define the characteristics of each of the recognized groups,

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the attempted standardization of some minority costumes, and the creation of state-run song and dance troupes specializing in the collection, arrangement, and performance of minority music and dance traditions. In all aspects of culture, the government intended to "'let the minority nationalities enjoy full autonomy and power of initiative' in the performing arts 'and be the real masters in their own house in culture"' (from an official speech in 1980, quoted in Mackerras 1984: 191). All this has resulted in encouragement to develop and display cultural traditions typical of each recognized national minority. The Lijiang Naxi Autonomous County Nationality Song and Dance Troupe (Lijiang Naxizu zizhi xian minzu gewutuan) adapts and performs songs and dances indigenous to the Naxi and other minority nationalities present in Lijiang county, and minority cultural heritages are frequently showcased in prominent national festivals (e.g., the All-China Minority Nationalities Performing Arts Festival of 1982, the Third China Arts Festival of 1992). This is reflected in recent changes in Lijiang's Dongjing music repertoire. Shorn of its religious associations, outside the scholarly context the music is now commonly called "Lijiang Ancient Music" or "Naxi Ancient Music." 20 It is referred to as Naxiguyue (Naxi Ancient Music) in a Chinese-language guidebook (Li Li and Yin 1993: 26), and Ancient Tune of Lijiang and Ancient Naxi Music in a Chinese-authored Englishlanguage guidebook (Tang and Jin 1988: 39 ). The Naxi ethnicity of the musicians is the only identification given to two photographs in a foreignauthored travel guide (Booz 1989: 138). Some of the Dongjing pieces are the major component in a recent commercial cassette entitled Naxi guyue (WS 92101). Although the Han Chinese origin of the pieces is usually acknowledged, there is strong emphasis on the addition of "Naxi national flavor" (e.g., Li Li and Yin 1993: 27; Naxizu jianshi bianxiezu 1984: 151; inlay notes to cassette Naxiguyue [WS 92101]). Perhaps most curiously, the Dongjing repertoire, formerly so representative of the sinicized side ofNaxi life, has recently been paired with the culture of the characteristically unassimilated indigenous dongba. According to one elderly former member of the Dayan Town Dongjing association, before 1949 most members in the county town would not have dreamed of hiring a dongba to perform a religious ceremony: they stuck to the socially more respectable and urban Daoist priests and Buddhist monks. Yet for the "Hundred Marvels of China" Exhibition (Zhonghua baijue bolanhui) held in the winter of 1991-92 in Canton, when the promoters invited Lijiang to provide a dongba art and culture exhibition, the Lijiang county government sent twenty or so mainly Naxi musicians too, traveling as the Dongba Culture Performance Troupe (Dongba wen-

Musical Assertion of Status Among the Naxi

hua yishu zhanyantuan). Despite the dongba mantle, the group's repertoire consisted almost exclusively ofDongjing pieces, and their mission, according to a government information sheet, was "to represent Lijiang, to represent the Naxi nationality." Clearly this new emphasis on Naxi-ness in Dongjing music is a function of two trends: the government-encouraged increase in ethnic cultural pride, which makes it positively desirable to emphasize ethnic possession of cultural heritages; and, not unrelated to this, the economic advantage to be gained from exploiting images of quaint ethnicity. Both commercial cassettes entitled Naxiguyue (WS 92ror and ZAX-9103) were issued by unabashedly market-oriented recording companies in economic development zones near Hong Kong. Since the inlay notes to both are partially bilingual (Chinese and English), presumably the companies felt the Naxi imagery would sell well both to Chinese and to interested foreigners. Local people in Lijiang are aware of the usefulness ofDongjing music to their county's development. A 1992 report by the Dayan Ancient Music Association states its main aims as the preservation and dissemination ofNaxi Ancient Music. The association hopes thereby "to help in the construction of socialist spirit and culture in Lijiang, and in the construction of material civilization; and [to help] improve the visibility of the renowned historical [Dayan] town, and to contribute to the vigorous development ofLijiang's economy." Several factors are at work in determining the direction of and recruitment into the Dayan Ancient Music Association. Before 1949 the members of the Dongjing association in Dayan Town came from the upper echelons of society; outside the county town the same was true to some extent of the older associations. Those established in the 1940's at Jinshan and Shigu, however, accepted almost anybody, since there was less of a pool to draw from. The pre-1949 secular groups welcomed any man with an enthusiasm for music; yet a distinguishing feature of both kinds of organization was their refusal to take monetary payments for their serVices; they often played at the funerals of deceased members, but accepted only hospitality from the bereaved family in return. In the 199o's the members of the now exclusively secular music groups are a mixture of pre-1949 participants and younger blood. In the rural groups I saw in action (Baihua, Baisha, and Jinshan), most musicians are ex-members of the former Dongjing associations, with only a few younger men who have learned the pieces in the past few years. They meet mainly to play through the instrumental pieces and most of the accompanied songs, sometimes singing the traditional words, and they occasionally turn out for funerals. However, they have no scriptures and no ritual parapher-

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nalia, and have essentially become groups of elderly men playing for their own secular entertainment. The situation in Dayan Town is rather different. Members of the Dongjing association in the county town were always greatly outnumbered by the dozens of socially less exalted participants in secular groups, and the current county town ensemble, reconstituted as the Dayan Ancient Music Association, includes only two members of the former Dongjing association. Almost all the other active players who learned the music before I949 (about seven men) were members of one or another secular music group. The remaining ten or so regular participants, mostly between I5 and 50 years of age, learned the repertoire only after I949, almost all of them since I978. Most of them do not come from the families who traditionally provided the Dongjing association members. For the Dayan Town group, therefore, there is practically no corporate memory of the Dongjing association protocols and ambiance. Why do people join these groups? In the rural areas I visited, most of the participants enjoyed the music and each other's company; the meetings are rather like an old people's leisure association with a few middle-aged participants. Young people in Baihua, Baisha, and Jinshan show little interest in learning the music and carrying on the tradition. Their elders often say that youngsters are too busy and cannot spare the time to learn a complex repertoire. In Dayan Town things are different: the group includes two teenagers (one a girl), four young men in their twenties and thirties, and two men in their forties. Some of these young people are related to older members, and all are enthusiastic, seldom missing a meeting. The county town ensemble certainly enjoys better conditions than the other groups: thanks to its public concerts, largely for foreign tourists, for which tickets cost five yuan (almost U.S. $I), each musician is paid five yuan for every concert played. Since by I 99 3 there were enough tourists to sustain a concert every other night except during the coldest part of the winter, a member who makes it to every concert can average about 70 yuan a month. This is a substantial addition to the members' income: some of the oldest musicians do not have a pension, and even the wealthiest members do not make in excess of 400 yuan per month at their regular jobs. Consequently there is a real incentive for members to attend every performance, and this helps maintain a high standard of instrumental technique and ensemble cohesion. Since the number of audience members exceeds the number of players, the group is also able to put money into a bank account to be used as needed to buy or repair musical instruments, costumes (they retain the traditional long gown and jackets formerly worn by Dongjing association

Musical Assertion of Status Among the Naxi

members), and furniture for the room in the Dayan Town Cultural Center in which they perform. Although most of the current musicians played together for entertainment before the unexpected windfall provided by the tourist concerts, the better conditions and financial incentives must promote regular attendance and the loyalty of younger members, who have increasing opportunities for financial gain in other fields. Yet their enthusiasm for the music and the social life certainly transcends purely economic factors: once a month the Dayan Town group meets in a member's house for a day of informal playing, socializing, and eating, and attendance is always almost 1oo percent. The emphases for contemporary groups, therefore, are rather different from those important for the associations of the 1940's. There no longer seems to be a special social cachet attached to membership; the various groups have cultivated largely friendly and egalitarian relations, occasionally exchanging personnel and loaning instruments and in 1991 joining in a music festival. The gods have long since exited the scene, except in the minds of some of the older men. Knowledgeable members are still greatly respected, but performance roles are less differentiated than they were in yesterday's Dongjing associations: people take turns playing the wooden fish and other controlling percussion. Probably the internal relations of present-day ensembles are similar to those found in secular groups in the 194o's. The relationship between groups and the county government, however, is still crucial, and a new relationship has been created: that between the musicians of Dayan Town (and to a lesser extent of Baihua Village, which also receives a few tourist groups) and the outside world. Government approval was essential to the revival of the music and critical to the Dayan Town ensemble's tourist-oriented enterprise. The county government and the Dayan Town group in particular have a symbiotic relationship: the government allows the musicians to entertain tourists and make money, and the Dayan Town group willingly performs at government behest for visiting official delegations, provided half the personnel for the troupe that went to Canton in the winter of 1991-92, and is acknowledged by most people to be of enormous financial and propaganda benefit to Lijiang county as a whole. "Traditional Naxi music" concerts are advertised all over Lijiang by private entrepreneurs and government-run agencies as part of the Lijiang Naxi experience, and government tourist guides steer their charges to these concerts. Once again, the relationship with the local government is critical to the ensembles' survival and continued through favors done by both sides. What has changed since the 194o's

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is the economic motivation and a tendency to stress Naxi qualities in the music. As for the relationship between the musicians and the wider world, this is an offshoot of the central government's policy of opening to the outside world. In the 1940's probably no one cared what outsiders thought about the Dongjing musical repertoire should they happen to hear it; now they care very much in Dayan Town, and to a lesser degree in Baihua, the two places tourists are likely to go. Whereas the government in sending musicians to Canton chose to emphasize the Naxi angle of the music, naming the troupe the Dongba Culture Performance Troupe, the Dayan Town ensemble prefers to emphasize what one might term "self-conscious authenticity." The musicians dress in the long gown and jacket typical of the Dongjing associations, retain only the traditional instruments, deliberately avoiding introduction of modern or Westernized elements, and perform in the Dayan Town Cultural Center, a picturesque mansion in the beautiful old part of town. They play an average of six or seven pieces each concert, with Xuan Ke, the English-speaking leader, giving an engaging spoken introduction to the older players, music, instruments, and history of the tradition. The effect is a romanticized picture of unchanging preservation of an antique tradition: while stressing the Naxi ethnicity of the musicians and the Naxi flavor of the music, Xuan Ke also emphasizes the angle of preservation in a remote place of an ancient tradition lost in the main part of China. Both he and the government paint pictures of the repertoire suitable for outside consumption; both take angles that would probably surprise musicians of the 194o's, but serve today's economic and advertising needs. When meeting for informal playing, however, the Dayan association dispenses with its formal long gowns and jackets and solemn demeanor; monthly meetings take place in members' houses, everyone dresses in regular clothes and plays through the repertoire in a convivial, relaxed manner, stopping at some point for a communal meal. The weekly meetings of the Baihua ensemble, monthly meetings of the Jinshan group, and occasional meetings of the Baisha group are conducted in similarly informal clothes and style. The ensemble at Shigu has even tried adding the Chinese shawm (suona) and Western guitar to its instruments (Yang Zenglie 1990-91: 34). Performances aimed at the external audience, the tourists, are thus formally staged and deliberately conservative, whereas those enjoyed by the internal audience, the musicians themselves, are more informal and may even be musically innovative. Local musicians continue to take pleasure in playing the Dongjing repertoire together, probably rather

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as the pre-I949 secular groups did, but the music has acquired a parallel role as "a culturally [and economically] significant self-representation before an external public" (E. Cohen I988: 38I). There is no obvious contradiction between the two roles; as the Dayan Town musicians demonstrate, they can even be pursued in tandem. One last question remains. Why has Lijiang failed to revive even one ritual Dongjing association, given the vitality of the musical repertoire today? Almost every other county and city that retains the music has also revived the ritual associations in some shape or form. No completely satisfactory answers have been devised. The most common suggestion, usually from people familiar with county governments in Yunnan, is that the Lijiang county administration is relatively conservative compared to that of other areas and is reluctant to allow too overt a religious revival. It is certainly true that whereas in places such as Weishan county and Dali religious activities are readily observable even within a mile or so of the government center, one never sees major activities in or around Dayan Town in Lijiang. Buddhist monasteries remain almost uninhabited, there are no Daoist priests, and the closest to Dayan Town that any of my informants had recendy seen a dongba ceremony was a muted affair in a village ten miles away. One Han Chinese friend suggested that perhaps the Naxi did not possess as strong a sense of tradition as the Han, and thus were less motivated to revive the religious aspects of these associations than were the exDongjing association members in Han Chinese areas. Probably the conservatism of the Lijiang county government does have something to do with the exclusively secular use of the Dongjing repertoire today, but practical problems may also be a factor. As far as I know, only one scripture remained in private hands after I949, and all the ritual paraphernalia and most of the musical instruments belonging to the Dongjing associations disappeared. Setting up a full-blown ritual association is an expensive operation, and the place in Lijiang county best able to spend that sort of money, Dayan Town, has an ensemble whose older members had with very few exceptions belonged only to secular music groups before I 949. Consequendy, there is a lack of expertise and probably motivation for such an undertaking. Conclusion

For a large proportion of the users of the Dongjing music repertoire before I949, the music was part of a set of performative conventions integral to the running of the Dongjing associations that served to articulate

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important social relationships with the gods, with less affluent and less respectable neighbors, with the county government, with other associations, and internally with other members. In the relationships with the wider social scene and the authorities, what was important was class status. Since before 1949 political and to a large extent economic advancement required a Han Chinese education not available to most residents of Lijiang, it should not be surprising that a major expression of this status came through proficiency in a complex cultural phenomenon borrowed from the Han Chinese. For the county government, the Dayan Town Dongjing association's participation in the Confucian sacrifice displayed cooperation between the authorities and local worthies; the relationship was mutually reinforcing. It should not be forgotten, however, that for the many men who sought only to enjoy some amateur music-making in informal surroundings with friends, no such complexity of sociopolitical meaning attached to their use of part of the Dongjing repertoire. The same seems to hold true for some contemporary village music groups. In the 199o's, networks of relationships are once again a feature of the now entirely secular Dongjing music scene in Lijiang. Most important and most discussed are those between the Dayan Town ensemble and the county government, and between the Dayan Town ensemble and the outside world. In fact these two relationships have contributed to a third: the Lijiang county government's presentation of Lijiang to the outside world has involved Dongjing music, in particular the members of the Dayan Ancient Music Association, in an affirmation, among other things, of Naxi status. The main factors in the articulation of this triangular relationship are no longer class status and sinicized superiority but an appreciation of Naxi ethnicity and the need for direct or indirect economic gain. Both musicians and government authorities have seized the initiative presented to them through the changed circumstances since 1980, and Dongjing music has become a "cultural symbol recycled and diffused in everyday social living to create new meanings and to reinforce new ... interests" (Siu 1989) unthought of in the 194o's.

CHAPTER 5

Chinese Bridal Laments: The Claims of a Dutiful Daughter RUBIES. WATSON

In the didactic literature of Confucian learning and in the scholarly literature of the China specialist, much attention has been given to constructing and deconstructing filial sons, good fathers, loyal brothers, obedient daughters-in -law, wise mothers, and virtuous widows. 1 In striking contrast, however, daughters and sisters, especilly sister-friends, have received far less attention. Should we conclude, therefore, that in Chinese society daughters and sisters are culturally invisible? In seeking to answer this question, I examine a series of marriage rites and the bridal laments that punctuate those rites. In China, as in many other societies, the rituals of marriage transform the unmarried into the married, boys into men, girls into women, and daughters into wives. Public rituals are occasions when old friendships and networks are destroyed or refashioned and new ones forged. In Hong Kong's New Territories, which is the locus of this study, elderly women from both the bride's and groom's villages preside over these transformations. It is their job to empty the bride-daughter and to reconstruct her as a fertile wife. The bride is not, however, a silent recipient of their ritual ministrations. Before her arrival in the groom's village, the bride actively participates in her own transformation, as she separates herself from the familiar world of her youth and, under protest, prepares to join a new family as wife and daughter-in-law. As she leaves her father's house and the community of sister-friends with whom she has lived since puberty, the bride sings laments that proclaim her devotion to family and friends and bemoans the fate that forces her to become an inattentive sister and neglectful daughter. Cantonese bridal laments, I argue, give substance and visibility to being a daughter and friend, but they do so at a time when daughters are

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expected to give up parents in favor of parents-in-law and friends in favor of husbands. It is indeed ironic that the roles of daughter and sister are defined and lauded just as the ability to fulfill those roles is dramatically compromised. In this paper, I consider two closely related questions: How does a daughter participate in her own marriage rites, and how do the laments she sings help us to understand daughters and sisters as morally defined categories? Since singing is the centerpiece of the bride-daughter's performance, it is important to consider the role that music plays in this process of cultural definition. I am not an ethnomusicologist, but nonetheless with collegial prodding and assistance I try to remember (I leave it to others to judge my success) that laments involve words and music. Their "songedness" obliges me to puzzle over the significance of the musicality of these communications. These laments are no longer part of New Territories weddings; the tradition ceased in the late 196o's. 2 Before that time, however, brides sang a series of laments (literally "crying songs," kuga) that punctuated their ritual journey from daughters to wives. Young women had an obligation to memorize large numbers of these songs, which they learned from older village women in local girls' houses (Cantonese: nui jai uk). There was, however, room for improvisation. In a recent article on poetry and song performances in the New Territories, Patrick Hase (I 990: 20) notes that brides were encouraged to adapt their songs to fit the circumstances of the individuals to whom they were addressed (cf. E. Johnson I988). Some improvisation or "composition-in-performance" (see Finnegan 1988: 88; Feld 1990 ), therefore, was possible-perhaps, even expected. This fits with what we know of many other lament and song traditions (see, e.g., Feld 1990 ), although the individuality and/or virtuosity of the performance is not emphasized in the bridal laments discussed here (see, e.g., Herzfeld 1993; E. Johnson 1988; Joseph 198o; Seremetakis 1991 ). When I first conducted research in the New Territories, in 1969, bridal lamenting had very nearly ceased, although one heard an occasional song. I did not, however, witness a complete lament sequence as outlined below. For the purposes of this essay, therefore, I rely upon three distinct sources of information: my own observations of marriage rites in the New Territories (in the villages of San Tin in 1969-70 and Ha Tsuen in 1977-78), descriptions by village women detailing how laments fit into these rites (collected during my fieldwork), and published material on New Territories laments (see Blake 1978; Chang Cheng-p'ing 1969; Hase 1990; E. Johnson 1988). The disappearance ofbridallaments has been the most

Chinese Bridal Laments

dramatic change in New Territories marriage rituals, although, as noted below, other changes have occurred as well. Of the published accounts available to me, Chang Cheng-p'ing's collection of crying songs has proved a particularly valuable resource. In 1969 Chang published a series of laments of interest to anyone concerned with China's oral literature and rural music, but for me this work has a special significance because Chang made his collection in and around the village ofHa Tsuen, where I have conducted research since 1977. The following description, therefore, is a composite and lacks specific firsthand data on the lamenter's performance style. Such material is imported into this analysis from informant testimony about "how it was" and from published accounts. This is, indeed, a limitation, but in my view there is still value in applying an anthropological analysis to Cantonese bridal laments. The following is by no means an exhaustive analysis of Chinese marriage ritual. Marriage among rural Cantonese is accomplished by the performance of a number of discrete rites and observances that take place over a three-day period. In this essay one set of marriage performances is examined in one particular ethnographic setting. I focus on the period in which the bride is secluded from her normal routine (seclusion usually begins three to six days before the bride's transfer to the groom's house) and on the first night and day of the three-day cycle of marriage rites themselves. Most of the firsthand data analyzed in this chapter was collected in 1977-78 in the single-lineage community ofHa Tsuen, in the northwest corner of Hong Kong's New Territories. All but a handful of males in Ha Tsuen are surnamed Teng and trace descent to a common ancestor who settled in this region during the twelfth century (seeR. Watson 1985). In 1977-78 Ha Tsuen had a population of approximately 2,500, all of whom were Cantonese speakers. For most villagers postmarital residence was virilocal/patrilocal. The Ha Tsuen Teng practiced surname exogamy, which meant that all wives came from outside this single-lineage village. These women arrived in Ha Tsuen as strangers, and their early years of marriage were spent accommodating to a new family and new community. The Teng found this completely natural: "Daughters," they said, "are born looking out; they belong to others." Patrilineal/patriarchical values dominated social life in Ha Tsuen. Women were economically dependent on the family estate, but they did not have shareholdings rights in that estate. In the 1970's few married women were employed in wage labor, and since the villagers gave up serious agriculture in the 196o's, most women were de-

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pendent on their husbands' or children's paychecks for household income. Nearly all daughters over I 5 years were employed, however, and their wages made important contributions to family incomes.

Bridal Laments: Point and Counterpoint In most descriptions of marriage rites, Confucianized images of harmony, controlled fertility, longevity, and hierarchy prevail (see, e.g., Freedman I979 ). In the laments described here, however, visions of alienation and death seem to crowd out and overwhelm these more conventional images. Fears of separation, pleas for understanding, cries against her own powerlessness, hatred of the groom and his family, and claims to daughterly loyalty and sisterly compassion are important themes. In the laments the bride communicates (sings) in a voice, a style, and a context far removed from ordinary speech and conversation. The act of singing within a ritual context places the bride, I argue, in a doubly removed and protected space from which she can express the "inexpressible" (cf. Abu-Lughod I986). Victor Turner's ( I969) work on liminality is directly relevant to this analysis. As the laments unfold, it is the liminal status of song and singer that provides the space within which the half-daughter-half-wife (i.e., the recluse bride in her sleeping loft, the umbrella-protected bride standing on the threshold of her father's house, the amulet-encased bride in her sedan chair) can comment upon, and so in a sense create, aspects of experience that remain outside the Confucianized, male discourse of the learned elite. In her laments, the bride sings of the fears, longing, and anger of those who must live on the periphery of two worlds but belong fully to neither. In China nearly all the writing and a great deal of the talking about filial piety (xiao) and loyalty ( zhong) have been done by and for men. These discursive forms are elaborate and highly structured. Some of this talk and writing was directed at women, and some women were proficient at interpreting and producing such texts, 3 although the vast majority of women in China, including the specific women with whom I am concerned, were illiterate and not actively engaged in the production or consumption of these learned constructions. It would be wrong to conclude, however, that ordinary women were ignorant of filial piety or loyalty as cultural values or that they did not strive in their own way to achieve these laudable qualities. In the Confucian scheme of things filial piety was thought to be necessary for a stable society; a well-ordered state, according to this view, de-

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pended on a well-ordered family. Duty, obligation, and deference to senior kin (especially senior male kin) constituted the very essence of Chinese filial piety. These qualities were learned in the family and were deemed to be the foundation for all other social relations. Among men, the quest for filial piety was difficult, but their journey was well marked. Generation after generation of Confucian scholars worked to guide men in proper behavioral forms ( li), and, of course, there was the ancestral cult itself. In an important sense, men performed filial piety as they acted out the rigid hierarchies of age and generation so central to the commemoration of the dead. Women's pursuit of filial piety was, by contrast, far more complicated. A son's devotion to his natal family and community was in principle, and often in practice, a lifetime commitment, whereas daughters were destined to serve two families and two communities. At marriage a woman was forced to transfer her loyalties, from her own parents to her husband and parents-in-law and from one woman's community to another. Thus, for a woman, constancy (a central feature of filial piety) was subversive. To be a "good daughter and wise mother" as Confucianism demanded, women had to travel a difficult and poorly demarcated road. Because men were fixed in place and time (by genealogy, household membership, ancestral altar, community affiliation, and grave) and women were not, one is forced to conclude that women and men could not practice the Chinese virtues of filial piety and loyalty in the same way. Their struggles were different and, perhaps not so well understood but no less important, unequally delineated. Of course, it may be argued, women were not expected to have any real appreciation of filial piety or loyalty, let alone be bothered by a quest for these qualities. Women were to be guided by the Confucian cult of feminine virtue. Their way was clear; what was demanded was attention to the Four Virtues: womanly virtue, womanly speech, womanly appearance, and womanly work (see Ko I992: 28-30). Their path to achieving these goals was marked by virginal purity before marriage, unswerving lifelong loyalty to husband and parents-in-law once married, self-sacrificing devotion to children (especially sons), and total chastity in widowhood (for discussion, see Carlitz I99I, 1994; Elvin I984; Mann I987, I99I ). But these demands, when viewed from the perspective of individual women, involved contradictory pressures. The cult of feminine virtue decreed that women live in a world in which the care of parents-in-law implied the neglect of parents, sons were privileged over daughters, and girlhood friendships had to be forsaken for new alliances. 4

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These pressures were dramatically expressed in Cantonese bridal laments. For the women described in this essay, virtue resided not in the literati celebration of chaste widows, the much-heralded suicides of insulted maidens, or the mannered appearances of cloistered wives, but in making one's way among the contending and contradictory loyalties that called to them. To acquit oneself well in the impossible quest to serve one family when you had two, to consider both brother and husband, to protect both daughter and son, to love both girlhood friend and husband's sister was what, as I read the laments, made Ha Tsuen women capable of filial behavior and loyalty. Enduring with fortitude and humanity was what mattered ( cf. Grima I992; Seremetakis I99I: 3-5 ). In an important sense, it was how one dealt with the process of struggle that gave women virtue, and it was in these struggles, I argue, that women refashioned virtue not only for themselves but also for others who stood at the margin. Ordinary women in the Pearl River Delta produced in oral and visual forms a language of virtue and emotion that related to but was not subsumed by the more formalized world of Confucianized learning. Although this world was in some respects separate from that of men, it was not strictly speaking a separatist world, for in their songs and stories women could speak to and for men just as men in their ancestral rites and sacrificial proclamations spoke to and for women. In a study of Berber wedding songs, Terri Joseph (I 9 8o: 42 5) stresses that only the unmarried girls who sang these songs have "the freedom to address the tribe ... or community ... as a whole." In Berber society this was a privilege unique to these normally most powerless of people. Joseph's insight is relevant to the Cantonese bride who, like her Berber counterpart, was allowed to speak to and for a sexually and generationally heterogeneous audience-a circumstance that in itself made her performance special and significant.

"H0men ys Expressive Culture Before considering the laments in detail, I must say something about the general cultural context within which these songs were learned, passed on, and sung. Although it may seem obvious to some, it is important to reiterate that women in rural Hong Kong as well as in other parts of China were never "just women." Nor were they simply the victims of an oppressive order, although they were greatly constrained by that order. As I note above, there is no doubt that women's access to resources of all kinds, including both temporal and spiritual ones, was far more restricted than was that of men (see, e.g., Ahern I975; Ebrey I991h; Ocko I99I; Seaman

Chinese Bridal Laments 198r; J. Watson 1980; R. Watson 1986, 1991). Nevertheless, ordinary women as well as their affluent counterparts were capable of wielding considerable influence, making important decisions, and creating their own cultural forms. In rural China women operated their own self-help networks (M. Wolf 1972; R. Watson 1981), headed families, earned wages on their own (Honig 1986; Sankar 1978, 1984; Stockard 1989; Tapley 1975), and protected the fertility of brides and the prosperity ofvillages. Beyond this, however, they created and nurtured richly elaborate expressive traditions in music, poetry, storytelling, and the visual arts (see, e.g., Blake 1978; Hase 1990; E. Johnson 1988; Silber 1994; Stockard 1989; Tapley 1975; Sai-shing Yung 1987). 5 In China, where the written word has been sacralized by adept and scholar alike, little attention has been paid to these forms. It is clear, however, that variational and counterpoint traditions existed in abundant variety. 6 We are only beginning to learn about women's involvement in the arts in Chinese society. In recent studies, Ko ( 1992) and Widmer ( 1989) have produced fascinating glimpses into the world of eighteenth-century literati salons involving networks of women writers, poets, essayists, and tutors. In rural China a women's writing system has been discovered in Hunan (see Chiang 1991; Silber 1994), and formal sisterhood associations in both Hunan and Guangdong (see Silber 1994; Stockard 1989; Tapley 1975). All these traditions involved the creation and transmission of expressive forms centered on women's experience. Cathy Silber, writing of sisterhoods in Hunan, notes that these arrangements were formalized and sustained by exchanges of sung or written (using the women's script) poetry produced on fans, cloth, and so-called Third Day books (volumes of poetry written by girlfriends and female kin presented to a bride on the third day after her wedding). What is clear is that Chinese women were not mute; nor were they slavish replicators of Confucian dogma. Neither, however, were they immune from the claims of that dogma. In writing about Cantonese bridal laments, it is tempting to simplify the elaborate ambiguities and contradictions that give them much of their power. A passage making claims to the status of a dutiful daughter may be followed by statements describing the impossibility of ever achieving that goal. Images of powerlessness are projected even as strong emotions and sharp criticisms are hurled at those to whom in ordinary life unquestioning obedience is owed. Bride-daughters take care to enhance the prosperity of their natal families, while they are being made over as fertile wives who will increase the property of strangers' families. It is not only as daughters but also as friends, potential daughters-in-law, and wives that brides lament.

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Through her mournful and often bitter songs, each bride at once disrupts and reunites the fragile communities of women that endure but yet with every bridal leave-taking are violated.

Making a Wife: Preparing and Lamenting In Ha Tsuen the marriage rites began three days before the bride's actual transfer to the groom's household. On each of these three nights, the bride retreated to a secluded part of her parent's house, usually the loft above the reception hall. During this period the bride was visited by her girlfriends, kinswomen, and mother's friends. In the loft the bride sang for her guests the wedding songs she had learned in the village girls' house (see below). The laments, which were unaccompanied, were sung solo. According to Patrick Hase (I990: 22), all the laments were sung to one single tune, were free verse in form, and flexible in length (Recorded example 7). The laments were sung in the presence of groups of women during the bride's seclusion and before a mixed audience once she emerged from seclusion. The bride directed most of her songs to specific individuals or groups of individuals (i.e., sister-friends, brothers, aunts, uncles, mother, father, grandmother, sisters-in-law, brothers' sons). She also sang to a general audience of wedding guests and gift givers (see Chang Cheng-p'ing I969: 58-59, 6 I). The songs were sung in a highly stylized manner, making use of arcane phrasing and localisms, and would have been extremely difficult for outsiders (by this I mean those who did not know the local subdialect) to understand. Some of the laments discussed in this essay were collected in Ha Tsuen during my stay in I977-78. Teng Lan, a young unmarried woman living in Ha Tsuen, helped me with my research, and she took primary responsibility for organizing a recording session one evening with her mother and her mother's friends. Ah Lan sat with these women as they sang and alternately described the lyrics. In 1978, most women over age 3 5 remembered one or two songs, and some women had a large repertoire of laments they had learned as girls. Mter the recording session, which was turned into a social event with sweets and fruit, Ah Lan told me how sad and beautiful she found the laments. The old women laughed and cried as they sang and heard others sing. "The songs were really important to them; they had not sung them for a long time," Ah Lan explained. I had suggested the taping of songs, but I had nothing to do with the format in which the taping was organized: My tape recorder was used, and I eavesdropped as mother and

Chinese Bridal Laments friends (all women between 48 and 65 years) gathered in Ah Lan's mother's house in an old section of the hamlet ofBao Wai to sing and remember. These women, like most other married women in Ha Tsuen, had learned their laments in the girls' houses of their natal villages. Until the 196o's girls' houses were to be found in most Cantonese villages in the New Territories. At the age of I o or I I, village girls joined their age mates in the girls' house, where they were chaperoned by an elderly widow. They spent their evenings and slept in these houses, although they continued to work for their families and take their meals with parents and siblings. It was in the girls' houses that most Cantonese women learned to embroider, sew, and sing the laments they would use at their own marriages and at the funerals of their parents and parents-in-law. Evenings, I was told, were often spent in telling stories or singing. The girls' house was a kind of school in the wifely arts; it was certainly one of the spiritual foci of local women's expressive culture-a place where girls created close bonds to each other and at the same time learned about the lives and responsibilities of daughters-in-law, wives, and mothers.? In Ha Tsuen most village women spent six to ten years in their local girls' house. Just before marriage, however, they returned to their natal household, where the marrying-out rites were performed. Studies of rural Chinese women in Guangdong and Hunan point to the tremendously important and highly emotive bonds that exist between unmarried girls. Young girls, at least in some areas, institutionalized their friendships to an extent that we are only beginning to understand. Like the young women discussed by Cathy Silber ( 1994 ), Janice Stockard ( 1989 ), and Marjorie Topley ( 1975 ), Ha Tsuen brides lamented the rending of ties not only to natal families but also to their sisters, whose companionship they had cultivated and enjoyed since childhood. In Ha Tsuen on the first of the three nights leading up to her wedding, the bride was secluded in her family's sleeping loft, and I was told she would sing a variation of this song to her sister-friends and kinswomen who sat with her (Chang Cheng-p'ing 1969: 36): Going to the loft, The spiders and cockroaches Follow me to my trap. Whenever the hateful people speak, I must listen.

In this song cockroaches and spiders set the scene. The derogatory reference to the groom and his family as "hateful people" is echoed in later

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songs. A Cantonese bridal lament published in the 192o's also contains harsh words for the groom's family and the same sense of futility we find in the previous song (cited in Blake 1978: 14): The King of Hell is protected, The family is destroyed, The earth is leveled, The nunnery is razed; Seven Sisters of the Great Hall, Kill the dead peopleAnd restore the light to me

In this song the reference to seven sisters alludes to a well-known story that dramatically captures the conflicts of loyalty between husband and friends that many women experience. According to Stockard (r989: 43), whoreports a Guangdong version of the seven sisters (stars) myth, "it is said that one of these [seven] sisters made a clandestine marriage with a cowherd occupying a planet on the other side of the Milky Way; and once a year the wife is permitted by her sisters, who were greatly incensed at her marriage, to cross the Milky Way to meet her husband." Most of the songs the bride-daughter sang during her retreat expressed sadness at having to be separated from friends and kin. Each song was a leave-taking, a separation. To her father's sister, the bride sang (Chang Cheng-p'ing 1969: 43-44): Oh,Aunt, Please feel sorry for your poor niece. I am so heartbroken that I cannot comb my hair. Because these bandits are making trouble, I am crying day and night. From now on I will fade and fall into pieces.

Similar laments were sung to mother's sisters and brothers' wives, and again the same derogatory terms were used for the groom's side. During her retreat the bride-to-be was surrounded by kinswomen and also by her sister-friends to whom she addressed a number of her songs. In a bridal lament collected among Hakka villagers in Hong Kong's New Territories, the bride contrasted her situation with that of her sisters (Blake 1978: 18): Sisters are possessed of compassion,

As high as the sky; I am possessed of feelings,

As low as the earth;

Chinese Bridal Laments Sisters are possessed of sympathy, As broad as the earth; I am possessed of feelings, As narrow as the well.

and (Blake I978: I9 ): Sisters turn to go home, There to see fathers and mothers; But I am dying in a land of shadows, About to see the King of Hell!

Although the songs convey a strong sense of separation and loss, they also express hopes that the bride will be able to perform the functions of a wife. Much attention was also given to proclaiming the bride's good wishes to the family and village she was soon to depart. On the morning after the bride's first night in the loft, she sang (Chang Cheng-p'ing I969: 37): Opening the mouthRed Clouds rise from the east, Red fish scales appear in the Eastern Sky. Opening the mouth to callThe grass at the corner of the field, May it blossom and bear seed, And cover the ground with red. Opening the mouthAnd call the grass at the corner of the field; May there be autumn rains And abundant crops.

In this song the bride's hope for fertility presumably covers both crops and women. The bride's reference to the grass that grows at the corners of the rice field was the first in a series of identifications that the bride made between herself and grass. The association between women, especially girls, and grass is not particularly surprising. Women and girls spent long hours in the hills behind the village gathering grass, which they dried and used for cooking fuel or sold to other villagers. These gathering excursions were occasions for escaping household routine and the confining walls of the village. Often young women went to the hills in groups and spent an agreeable afternoon away from the jurisdiction of older female guardians. Many village women fondly remember these forays as exciting adventures, although the expeditions also had a dark side. A number of stories in Ha Tsuen tell of girls being accosted or raped during these outings. A reading of the laments

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provides support for the view that a dichotomy is being proposed between unsocialized, unproductive sexuality on the one hand (grass) and the fertility that is produced and sanctioned by the social order on the other (rice). The bride's identification with grass occurs in a number of laments. In the second verse of a lament to father's sister, she sang (Chang Chengp'ing I969: 43-44): My father is very kind, But why does he trust the barbarians? I am suffering now Just like cut grass. And, in the first two lines of her farewell to her father, again the identification with cut grass is made (Chang Cheng-p'ing I969: 39): Today the tall grass is cut; I do not know ifl can bear this suffering alone.

& characterized in the laments, during her residence in her father's house the bride remained unproductive, incapable of bearing sons for her father's patriline. One of the primary tasks of the marriage ritual was, I submit, to convert this unproductive daughter, a blade ofwild grass, into a fertile wife. In southeastern China rice is the primary crop and a powerful symbol of fecundity. During the marriage rites, rice was an important component of the gifts that wife-givers and wife-takers exchanged. It was thrown at the bride as she departed her natal village, it was placed in a large basket beside the bridal bed, and of course it had a position of prominence in all ancestral offerings. Rice, Stuart Thompson has argued for Taiwan, is associated with bones, men, semen, and inherited land (I988). Grass, on the other hand, is wild, asocial, unproductive, and uncontrollable. In a sense the transformation from the domain of grass to the domain of ricefrom daughter to wife-was at the very heart of the marriage rites. There are many messages here, however. Just as the bride "worried" about her duty to be fertile, she also questioned her father's judgment in relinquishing her to "the barbarians" : My father is very kind, But why does he trust the barbarians? On the night before the bride was transferred to the groom's house, her friends and female kin spent the evening with her as they had on the previous two nights, although on this particular occasion there were more guests than before. On this night the bride and her guests were participants

Chinese Bridal Laments in an important ceremony. Soon after the arrival of her guests, the bride went to the bathing area of her household compound and washed in water infused with pomelo leaves (believed to have purifYing powers). After this bath, I was told, the bride could not go outside the house until she left with the groom's party the following day. Once she had bathed, she put on a pair of pajamas that, on the following day, she would wear under her wedding dress. At this point the bride went though the motions of eating a meal of steamed chicken, eggs, and rice noodles. She ate (or pretended to eat) alone; her guests could not eat until she finished. The key role that village matrons played in officiating at the transformation of daughters will be explored in another paper. For now, however, it is important to note that village matrons were extremely proud of their ritual knowledge in both red (marriage) and white (funeral) affairs. If asked about their role in the marriage ritual, women responded that they were protecting, guarding, and preserving the bride's and groom's families. It was the task of senior women to ensure that the rituals were performed correctly, that formal obligations were met, and that the principal actors were told exactly what to do. If the rites were performed to their satisfaction, the community was protected and the bride's fertility enhanced. In creating a wife, matrons publicly proclaimed their loyalty to a family system that they themselves had worked to preserve during years of marriage. In a sense the rites allowed senior women to lay claim to the family and to the community of families. Matrons thus presented themselves not as ineffectual homebodies or domesticated dependents, but as public figures in a world that included women as well as men. In the marriage rites four women in particular were central to the transformation of the bride. Two from the groom's village (called in Cantonese choi gaa ), bride-callers, and two from the bride's village (sunglJaa), bride-senders, acted as ritual specialists and as instructors of the bride. In I 9 7 8 there were only a handful of elderly women in Ha Tsuen who could play these roles. One of the requirements was, of course, ritual knowledge, tor it was these women, not Buddhist or Daoist priests, who choreographed the marriage rites. Aside from their ritual expertise, villagers told me that the bride-senders and callers had to have living children, preferably sons. They received gifts of money (villagers used the word laih si, gift) for their services. These matrons presented a view of marriage and the family dramatically different from that presented in the bride's laments: the bride emphasized abandonment, loss, separation; the matrons (even as the bride-senders stripped the bride of her previous associations) stressed marital fertility and family integration.

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Making a Wife: Severing Ties During the early morning of the first day of the marriage celebration, the bride's mother and the bride-senders prepared the items that would accompany the bride on her trip to the groom's house. Minimally these items included bedding, a teapot and cups, two rice bowls, two pairs of chopsticks, and a chamber pot. I was told by older women in Ha Tsuen that these items had to be treated carefully so that harmful influences were not imported into the groom's household with the bride. Both the bride and her personal effects had to be cleansed and purified. Just as the bride could not leave her chamber after bathing, the goods that accompanied her also had to be secluded and protected from harm. In the past, village women said that they had placed these items on a large rice sieve and passed them over a fire to rid them of dangerous influences. Pregnant women, people in mourning, and those born during inauspicious years (as determined by the local geomancer) were especially warned against contact with the bride or her possessions. Justus Doolittle, a nineteenth-century commentator on Chinese society, described a similar practice for Fujian-a rite called "sifting four eyes," which bears a striking resemblance to the ceremonial preparation of the trousseau in Ha Tsuen. "Sifting four eyes" involved taking each wedding garment in turn and placing it in a large bamboo sieve, which was then shaken over a charcoal fire. During the sifting, the women who performed the rite repeated lucky phrases such as the following incantation: "A thousand eyes, ten thousand eyes, we sift out; gold and silver, wealth and precious things, we sift in" (I865: 74). The last items to be sifted were ten pairs of chopsticks; according to Doolittle, in the Hokkien dialect "ten pairs of chopsticks" is a homonym of"still remaining," and this ceremony expressed the wish that although certain goods leave with the bride, the household's prosperity will not depart with her (I 86 5: 7 4 ). The lament cited earlier ("Opening the Mouth") and the ritual treatment of the trousseau guarded against many contingencies. They protected the bride's family against loss and the groom's family against harmful incursions; at the same time they proclaimed the bride's goodwill toward her natal family. Although the bride was at pains to show that she harbored nothing but good wishes toward her family, she understood that both she and her belongings had to be separated from that family. The distinctiveness of wife-givers and wife-takers and their apparent inability to merge or intermingle was marked here. The bride and her trousseau were expected to enter the groom's family unencumbered by ties to her natal family. She was like cut grass as she prepared to join her husband's house-

Chinese Bridal Laments

hold, where her transformation would be completed by women of her husband's village. The laments the bride sang during her seclusion highlight her predicament as she separated herself from family and friends but yet strove to express the sentiments of a dutiful daughter and a loyal friend. Women from her own village prepared the bride for removal to the groom's household. During the rites of separation, the bride was truly a woman in between. In one sense this was a transitory status, but at another, more fundamental level a married woman in rural China remained suspended between two families, belonging to neither completely. As a daughter of one family, she shared a common bond of flesh and bones; yet she had to leave that family to fulfill her role as the reproducer of new flesh and bones. As a wife and mother, her incorporation into her husband's family was incomplete; she could never be of that family in the same way that her husband and her own sons were. It was not surprising, therefore, that the marriage rites emphasized the hazards and dangers of the bride's journey. The groom's family was as keen as the wife-givers to safeguard the bride's passage and to protect against either exporting or importing harmful influences. Extreme care was taken with the sedan chair or car used to transport the bride during this dangerous journey. A geomancer decided on the vehicle's exact position before departure and on the timing of the rites that safeguarded it. Bride-callers from the groom's village circled the car, waving handfuls of burning spirit money, which, I was told, purged the car of ghosts and inauspicious influences that might be lurking there. Mter the bride-callers circled the car, the groom's father attached a red sash to the car, securing it to the hood and side windows. Among Cantonese, the color red is thought to have prophylactic properties. Here the red sash presumably served to protect the car during its journey. At a time appointed by the geomancer, the groom and the two bride-callers entered the car, which departed preceded by a van carrying musicians and flag carriers. The bridal car was followed by other cars filled with the groom's unmarried male friends. As soon as the party arrived at the bride's village, it was met by the bride's girlfriends, who took possession of the bridal dress the groom had brought with him in a small suitcase. The groom's party, accompanied by pipe music, proceeded to the bride's house. At the doorway a group of teenage girls blocked the way, demanding money before the groom's party was allowed to enter. Mter considerable giggling, teasing, and flirting, the young men handed over a packet of money and were invited inside the house. As soon as the groom entered, he gave the bride's mother a red packet of money, called ngai lai si (milk gift). In this way, I was told, the

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bride's mother was thanked for her efforts in raising the bride. "It shows respect," a groom from Ha Tsuen explained to me. The arrival of the groom's party at her parents' door was the cue for the bride to begin final preparations for departure. Aided by the bridesenders, she put on the red, embroidered wedding dress that the groom's party had delivered. After dressing, the rite of seung tao (putting up the hair) began. Saying "lucky words" (e.g., "May you have many sons"; "May your father's house be prosperous"), the bride-senders prepared the bride, affixing a small round mirror to the bride's wrist and combing the bride's hair in the fashion of a married woman (the contemporary bride goes to a professional hairdresser, although the rite of seung tao is still performed). At this point the bride entered the reception hall of her parents' house, where the groom's party awaited her. With the bride-senders at her side, she walked to the middle of the room, displaying her wedding dress and her dowry jewelry. There she stepped onto a rice sieve that had been placed on the floor, the same sieve used in the rite of "sifting the trousseau." While standing on the sieve, she was helped into a pair of new red slippers. Like the possessions that accompanied her, the bride too was "sifted" and cleansed-thereby ensuring that her parents' good fortune would not depart with her and that harm not be imported into the family she was about to join. At this point the bride sang a version of the following lament to her grandmother (Chang Cheng-p'ing 1969: 37): Upon hearing of your granddaughter's suffering, You come to my room with help. Please see if there is a brave one among the neighbors; He can go to the battlefield with soldiers. You have always helped your children and grandchildren; Now I am suftering; Yet, I do not dare to tell you. When I went to the loft, There was no protection, No one could help me. Jade [bride] can be broken down with stone [husband]. But I wish you happiness; I hope that you can plant more bamboo. When the bamboo reaches the rooftop, you will have shade; I hope you will have a pomegranate in the pot; I hope you will have many grandchildren to accompany you to the street; I hope you will have many great-grandchildren; And live in good health. During the night the laurel tree

Chinese Bridal Laments Will spread its fragrance, And all three generations will live together in peace. I am exhausted now; I cannot have your sympathy and help. Now I can only wish you happiness; I hope your happiness is as great as the Eastern Ocean; I hope you will live in peace forever; I wish you a long life as high as the Southern Mountain; I hope you will always be able to make your own bed.

And, to her mother the bride sang (Chang Cheng-p'ing 1969: 40 ): Everything on the earth comes from mother; The universe is so big; I wish you a happy life. The sun, the moon, and other stars will aid us; And our home village will be prosperous year after year. There are many years ahead of us; I hope you will take good care of yourself, Because you have to take care of grandmother, And make clothes for everyone. Your love for me is as big as the ocean, But my care for you is as small as a river. I should repay your kindness, But now I must fly far away from you. The grass on the roadside is suffering; I am suffering too with chains around me. The ghost horses are approaching me from all directions; I can only stand by the doorway with hatred in my heart. I will look back a hundred times to see Mother; I will exhaust my tears and swallow bitterness. These ants are going to eat me everyday; I can do nothing but sing a crying song. Some girls live near their parents, But I will live far away over the clouds. The flower in the water will flow in the stream to nowhere; I will be worried and upset; The sun rises in the cast with red clouds, But it must set in the west in the evening. From now on, we will be separated On the other side of the clouds. There will be no one to take pity on me.

Mter singing this lament, the bride prepared to leave her parent's house. The musicians (using pipes and gongs) began playing, and the bride left with the groom, while the bride-senders threw rice over the departing

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couple. As the bride exited her parents' house, the door was slammed behind her, and the bride-callers took charge. They unfurled umbrellas and held them over the bride as soon as she emerged from the house. While the bride's mother remained behind the closed doors, the bride's father stood by the car awaiting the arrival of his daughter and her groom. As the bride approached the car (in the past a sedan chair was used), she sang a lament to her father in which again she expressed her sadness at leaving her family and her good wishes for their continued prosperity (Chang Cheng-p'ing 1969: 39 ): Today the tall grass is cut; I do not know ifl can bear this suffering alone. You father are like a cypress; You have survived many sufferings. But this time your daughter will leave forever; You will feel heart-broken, Because your daughter cannot stay. I hope my brothers will take care of you; You have given me so much care, But now I cannot return. I wish you good fortune and a happy life.

The bride and groom entered the car, and the bride-senders instructed the bride's father to attach the red sash to the car. This action repeated the earlier action of the groom's father. When the sash was secured, Ha Tsuen women told me, the bride sang this song (Watson, New Territories archive, no. MD079): Father puts on the red [ribbon], I sit in the middle [i.e., I am wife, not concubine]. Daddy gets lots of money [ bridewealth], I bear a new boy.

As the car started up (with the bride safely inside), a boy, usually the bride's younger brother or young kinsman, kicked the closed door, and the car moved off. On the journey to the groom's house, the bridal party stopped at the halfWay point, and the bride threw away a white handkerchief she had used to catch her tears as she left her parents' home (it is de rigueur for Chinese brides to cry). The mirror she was wearing around her wrist was also reversed; instead of pointing outward it was now directed at the bride herself. Here, on the verge of plunging into a new and unknown existence, the bride sang the last of her laments (Watson, New Territories archive, no. MDo8o):

Chinese Bridal Laments The white cloth falls to the sweet potato planter; Just as he plants sweet potatoes, So I will bear sons and daughters.

According to the Ha Tsuen women who sang this lament for me, the song, the repositioning of the mirror, and the throwing away of the white cloth all had the effect of"bringing good luck to the groom's family." In China it is commonly believed that mirrors ward off (or deflect) evil. As for the cloth and the song, again the emphasis was on the distinctiveness of the bride's and groom's families as the bride symbolically rids herself of her past. Unencumbered by pre-existing obligations or the misfortune / bad luck of her native place, the bride could now join her husband's household. The bride had been purified by being emptied. From this point in the marriage rites, the bride no longer lamented. Elsewhere (R. Watson 1986) I have argued that women lost their personal names at marriage-once they became wives, they were known by kin terms and technonyms. It is indeed worth noting that, at marriage, the bride lost her voice as well as her name, at the halfway point between the household of her parents and husband, the bride, it would appear, ceased being a daughter. It was also at this juncture in the rites that the bride-callers, women from the groom's village, began the process of constructing a wife.

Conclusion As the bride sings her laments, she not only gives substance to the duties and obligations of daughters and friends but also to their special predicament: How can daughters be transformed into wives and mothers? The marriage rites arc, I believe, one of the few occasions in which young women publicly reflect upon being a daughter, a friend, and a wife. It is important to keep in mind, however, that this "speaking out" takes place within the special space that ritual and song create. Earlier I asked whether a woman can serve two families, or must she cease being a daughter in order to become a wife? In this regard the slammed door, the kicked car, the "sifted trousseau" (and, for that matter, the "sifted bride"), and the sense ofloss expressed in the laments are highly suggestive. Brides lament their powerlessness to stay at home as they proclaim their good wishes for those they leave behind; daughters cannot continue being daughters in the same way that sons remain sons. Compared to the well-trodden paths that guide their brothers, their route is both more complicated and ill defined. Should we interpret the bride's laments as an anguished protest against the inevitable separation from family and

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friends that every young woman must endure? Do these laments allow the bride to make claims to the status of dutiful daughter? The bride phrases her concerns in song-in a form of poetry set to music-that allows for complex, even contradictory, messages. She claims to be a good daughter but confesses her powerlessness to avoid the "ghost people" who make being a good daughter impossible. In a study of Bedouin poetry, Abu-Lughod (I 9 8 6) examines the relationship between a society's official ideology-in the case of the Bedouin, an ideology of honor and modesty-and the poetic expressions that violate that ideology. She is concerned with the way that certain sentiments can be expressed in one medium and not in another (I986: 234). As noted in the introduction to this volume, in Chinese society poetry and song have long provided media through which the unofficial (including especially private emotion and social criticism) is communicated. In her study of mourning laments among Greek women in Mani, Nadia Seremetakis (I99I: 222) argues that through their songs women created "an entire domain of autonomous female cognition and symbolization that was not a mirrored refraction of male representations." It is "through bone reading [exhumation] and laments," she writes, that "women rewrite biographic and clan history [and so] have the last word" (I99I: 224). Although I have gained important insights from Seremetakis 's discussion of Mani, her conclusions cannot be substantiated for the laments presented here. Although it is clear that Cantonese bridal laments give public expression to understandings of filial piety and loyalty that are not identical to those of men, the differences do not necessarily imply an autonomous female realm. Unlike the lament performances that Seremetakis describes, the Cantonese bride does not perform in a totally female environment. She addresses some of her songs to male kin, visitors, and gift givers, enlisting their sympathy, wishing them well, and emphasizing her dilemma. Furthermore, she does not so much create an oppositional concept of filial piety as refashion the more public Confucianized image. This refashioning is less a matter of redefinition than a change in emphasis; instead of stressing the result of striving, the bride focuses on the process of striving itself. This is nicely summarized in a song that the bride sings to elder brother (Chang Cheng-p'ing I969: 47): You can no longer expect me to place incense on our altar; You arc like a white flower growing in the garden, Please console mother and thank her for her great mercy. Here the bride espouses her dilemma: she cannot commemorate her natal family's ancestors or console her mother once she is married but must rely

Chinese Bridal Laments on her brother to do so. 8 In this song she reminds her brother of her changed circumstances and of his duties. In some sense this song and similar songs to elder brother highlight not only the problems of daughters but also the responsibilities of sons. In Ha Tsuen, the bride does not so much violate an official ideology by creating a counter one: rather, she personalizes this ideology by smuggling in emotions usually left unstated. In her laments she creates a forum for reflections on official representations of dutiful daughters and good wives. Her laments encompass many images as she begins her journey toward those most elusive of Confucian goals: the perfect daughter-in-law, the loyal wife, and the wise mother. At the same time, however, she ardently professes her wish to remain loyal to a natal family and a community of companions she knows she must leave. In the laments, the bride proclaims her hopes for her family's future prosperity while regretting her inability to serve them. She bemoans her plight and asks her audience to understand her situation, to sympathize, to join her lament. She is also critical, however, as she questions her father's judgment and points to the fact that she must endure separation and loneliness without "mercy or help." The anguished words of the laments highlight the burden of conflicted expectations that village women face. In the marriage rites they fashion themselves as daughters only to be refashioned as wives by their elders. Like her Bedouin counterpart, the Cantonese bride frames her words in ritual and song, thus saving herself from the condemnation that would surely follow if the same sentiments of betrayal, loss, and fear were expressed in ordinary speech. In her fascinating study of bridal laments in Romania, Gail Kligman (1988: 75) argues that Romanian weddings are concerned with the collective identity of women. From this viewpoint, both Romanian and Cantonese brides can be seen as participants in a dramatic spectacle about marriage (cf. Kligman 1988: 92) in which laments become the response not of one bride but of all brides to the challenge of being a daughter, a wite, and a woman. The laments as sung by the bride-daughter expose tensions between the about-to-be-married and the already-married, between young women and old women, between daughters and parents, sisters and brothers, daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law, husbands and wives, natal families and affinal ones, friends and strangers. The inevitable disloyalty of the bride-daughter and sister-friend is touchingly portrayed. The words of anguish are placed in the mouths of brides, but the laments summon forth the sentiments, conflicts, and problems that concern not only the bride but a much larger audience of young friends, kin, and well-wishers. There is more at stake here, however, than the production of a cultural spectacle for

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the edification, enjoyment, and solidarity of women or kin groups. To understand what gives laments their power to construct cultural categories, to define moral actions, and also to create the "spectacle of marriage," we must look to the music oflaments. Music in ritual (whether instrumental, song, or chant) is both a very simple and a very complex phenomenon. Music, as Maurice Bloch argues (I 97 4 ), may play a role in constructing an authoritative discourse, or like a mandala, music may focus and frame ritual performance (see, e.g., Tambiah I968, I98I; Jules-Rosette I975). As in the case of Cantonese marriage rites, music may form a space within which lamenter and audience create and reflect upon emotions, ideas, and sentiments produced out of the experiences of those who are marginalized (Abu-Lughod I986). Music may intensifY a sense of unity (A. Seeger I987), or as Kenneth George ( I993) argues in his discussion of music making and gender in Southeast Asia, it may serve as a medium through which differences are constructed. Thus far I have emphasized the role that laments play in creating a protected space from which the bride can express that which is normally unexpressed. The bride, however, does not sing in a vacuum. She has an audience to which her music and words are directed. It is in placing laments, performer, and audience together in the charged atmosphere of bridal leave-taking that we can comprehend, I believe, the power of the bride's music. To understand this process, Bruce Kapferer's observations on emotion and ritual performance arc helpful: "The media of performance, whether music, dance, drama, or a particular combination of these ... have certain structural properties which, when realized in performance, order in specific ways those engaged to the performance" (Kapferer I986: I92-93; see also I979, I983). It is the process by which individual experience is shared that is so important here. Through music the singer makes her songs into the audience's songs, creating through her performance a joint performance in which her specific separation is lived and relived by those who attend her. In thinking about the "ordering" of music in ritual, I am reminded of David Coplan's ( I987: 4 I 8) discussion of Lesotho migrant songs, whose potency, he argues, derives in part from the conflation of"individual and collective experience." The pathos and significance of a performance, Coplan maintains, stems from the fact that it is "at once deeply cultural, widely shared, and [yet] highly individual." The issue here is not so much that bride-daughters emphasize separation and loss in their laments, but rather that they sing these sentiments. In their laments the Greek women ofMani, Seremetakis (I99I: 5) argues,

Chinese Bridal Laments engage in a process of making and validating truth claims for their own experience of pain. In their public performance a process of sharing, of building "affective enclaves" takes place. Using Donald Brenneis's label, we might call this a process of conarration. 9 It is this conarration created by song in ritual that is so evident in Cantonese bridal laments, highlighting the daughter's dilemma. In a sense the laments the bride sings are not her own; they have been learned in the girls' house. Yet, she has made them hers by adding personal touches, by improvising and of course by singing them. In the laments she sings of herself, of her own mother, sisters, aunts, father in a well-rehearsed genre. But in her singing, she also gives expression to an individual experience that is momentarily externalized through public performance. Thus, the bride's songs create an opportunity for village women (and other listeners as well) to share a brief moment of reflection about the contradictions inherent in their own lives as daughters, friends, and wives. In this reflection they aurally create an understanding of filial piety and loyalty filled with the dilemmas of being a woman in a world where the instructing discourse ignores women and their particular struggles. The laments do not resolve these contradictions and conflicts; rather, they celebrate them, for it is in these struggles that ordinary women claim, define, and bestow virtue.

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CHAPTER 6

Processional Music in Traditional Taiwanese Funerals PING-HUI LI

Music is an essential part of traditional funeral processions in Taiwan. No matter how simple the procession, at least one Wmd and Percussion ( chuida, "blow and hit"; or guchui, "drums and pipes") 1 ensemble usually accompanies the coffin to its burial site. The sound of the Wind and Percussion ensemble, dominated by the piercing double-reed pipes, loud gongs, and drums, impresses the listener with its "noisiness" and stereotypic rhythms. 2 Closely associated with all types of ritual occasions (funerals, temple festivals, weddings, and so on), the music is distinguished by being highly conventional, functionally oriented, and often excessively redundant. Why is this music chosen for funeral processions? What do these musical characteristics tell us about the funeral ritual? Does the ritual in any way influence the music? In dealing with questions concerning music in ritual, I find Stanley Tambiah's "performative approach" particularly helpful in constructing an integrated, cross-disciplinary interpretation. Tambiah defines ritual as "a culturally constructed system of symbolic communication," whose "content and arrangement are characterized by formality (conventionality), stereotype (rigidity), condensation (fusion) and redundancy (repetition)" (1985: I28). Challenging Maurice Bloch's view (1974) on ritual and political authority, in which formalized modes of communication are deprived of propositional meaning, Tambiah proposes a frame of analysis in which ritual is comprehended in a double sense. On the one hand, an ontological constraint "leads to formalization and archaism through the performance of cosmological archetypes," and, on the other hand, "a social constraint ... allocates to persons in ranked positions and relations of 'power and solidarity' a differential access to and participation in a society's

Processional Music in Taiwanese Funerals

major rites, and a differential enjoyment of benefit" (I98 5: I 55- 56). The operation of these two constraints is illustrated in his analysis of ritual involution, defined as "a seeming overelaboration and overprolongation of ritual action woven out of a limited number of 'technical' devices and stylistic complex" ( I98 5: I 53). By examining the variants of ritual involution and viewing the variables as indexical features, Tambiah shows that important parts of ritual enactment have a symbolic meaning "associated with the cosmological plane of content, and at the same time those same parts are indexically related to participants in the ritual, creating, affirming, or legitimating their social positions and powers" (I 9 8 5: I 56). This is the duality of ritual, which accounts not only for cultural presuppositions and conventional understandings but also for the social and interpersonal context of ritual action. Moreover, it integrates the formal analysis of ritual actions with sociocultural considerations. Since Wind and Percussion music is one of the many media used in traditional Taiwanese funerals, music making is at the same time a ritualsocial action. And its meaning can also be comprehended in Tambiah's double sense. We can focus on the "musical involution," or the phenomenon of redundancy and over-prolongation in musical presentation, treating it as "an ideological and aesthetic social construction that is directly and recursively implicated in the expression, realization, and exercise of power" (Tambiah I98 5: I 55). At the level of symbolic meaning and representation of cosmology, this essay asks: Is there anything in the folk religious belief in which the funeral music is grounded? At the level of indexical meaning, it asks: How is the social hierarchy legitimized and realized through music? How is traditional authority, emphasizing harmonious familial and social relations, reinforced by the musical presentations? The data used in this paper were mainly gathered during fieldwork in Taipei (I987-88, summer I989), where I studied the double-reed pipe (suona) with the owner of Huaide Ritual Music Store, Mr. Chen Senlu, and assisted his Wind and Percussion ensemble in several funerals under his guidance. In addition to teaching me playing techniques, Chen also helped me to better understand traditional funeral customs, some of which have gradually disappeared in the modern city of Taipei.

Music in the Death Ritual of Taiwan Death ritual in Taiwan, like that performed throughout China, is premised on the assumption that the deceased continues to exist, though in a different form. Biological death does not sever social continuity. The

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social existence of the deceased is transformed in the funeral rites, as are the relations between the deceased and the living. These transformations, redefinitions, and reaffirmations are achieved through a lengthy ritual process (for further discussion of some of these points, see J. Watson and Rawski, 1988). A complete version of a Taiwanese funeral lasts seven weeks. Mter the encoffining, mourning families engage Daoist priests or Buddhist monks (or nuns) to come and "do the sevens" ( zuoqi or zuoxun ), in which scriptures are chanted every seventh day from the death until the seventh seven (the forty-ninth day). 3 The purpose of the "sevens" is to see the soul of the deceased through its journey in the underworld to its next rebirth. 4 They are held independently of the burial rites, which usually take place before the "sevens" are completed. The music performed during this period is by no means limited to Wind and Percussion. The chanting of Buddhist sutras, for instance, is normally accompanied by mallet strikes against a wooden box ( muyu, or "wooden fish") and the striking of a small bell (yinqing, "introductory chime"). Various types of string and flute music, such as those of nanguan (Southern pipes) 5 and shiyin (ten sounds) 6 may also be heard during sacrificial offerings, performances for entertainment, and processions. However, since the atmosphere of public fanfare is identified with the doublereed pipes, gongs, and drums, Wind and Percussion ensembles stand out as the most prominent marker of the occasion. Wind and Percussion music may be heard at various stages of mortuary and funerary rites. It may be performed asr. Religious music for the Daoist "sevens." The chanting of Taoist canons and other ritual actions are usually accompanied by Wind and Percussion music. 2. Music for operatic rituals. Taoist priests may add performances of operalike rituals to the regular ritual sequence, such as "A Horseback Ride Toward the Petition for Pardon" ("Fang shema") and "Mulian Saves His Mother" ("Mulian jiu mu"), whose themes mostly concern filial piety and rescuing the soul from suffering in hell. The Wind and Percussion repertories accompanying such performances are essentially from folk operatic traditions. 3. Entertainment music, which is performed either to "enliven the altar" or to provide entertainment for the deceased. 4· Processional music, which ushers the soul of the deceased while adding splendor to the procession.

The focus of this essay is the processional music.

Processional Music in Taiwanese Funerals

The Processional Ensembles Wind and Percussion music plays a key role in traditional funeral processions, although different types of ensembles may perform simultaneously on this occasion. An elaborate funeral procession may include such additional musical groups as String and Flute ensembles ( nanguan and shiyin are two typical examples) as well as a Western brass band. In modern practice, an electronic keyboard may accompany the singing of popular songs. In spite of the variety of choices, however, the sound of the doublereed pipes and percussion always remains the fundamental requirement. This is similar to what James Watson has noted in Cantonese funerals: "The piping always takes precedence because, at certain critical points in the ritual, the piper plays alone" (J. Watson r988a: 124). Normally a procession begins with a fanfare of Wind and Percussion music. Mter encircling the neighborhood for a few rounds playing loud music (or creating a cacophony, when several ensembles are playing together), as if announcing to the community the departure. of the deceased, the procession marches toward the burial site to the accompaniment of incessant piping and drumming. Before reaching the burial site, at certain points in the middle of the procession, most guests and performing troupes leave. It is not necessary, I was told, for every participant to attend the burial ceremony. Only the Wind and Percussion ensemble continues to the final destination, being responsible for accompanying the deceased and the close kin at the rite of burial. Customarily no music is required after burial. Among the different types of Wind and Percussion ensembles for the funeral procession, the Drum Pavilion (guting) is the minimal requirement and is provided by the bereaved family (presumably the sons). The Drum Pavilion consists of at least one double-reed pipe (suona), a big gong, a double-headed drum, and a pair of cymbals? Iconically, it can be identified with the pavilion-shaped structure, about seven feet tall and two and onehalf feet in diameter, in which the conductor's drum is placed. The structure, carried on a cart in the procession, has an opening at the back to allow the drummer to play while walking. In some cases both the pavilion-shaped structure and the musicians are transported by a pickup truck. However the ensemble moves, guting appears at the beginning of a procession and plays continuously until the burial. For larger processions, other types of ensembles play simultaneously with the guting, such as the Eight Sounds ( bayin) and Northern Pipes ( bei-

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guan). The core musical instruments of the bayin ensemble are the smallersized double-reed pipe, known in Minoan dialect as ai-a, and the small gong named the tongzhong (bronze bell). These two instruments can be joined by a variety of other instruments according to their availability, such as the two-string bowed lute ( kexian ), cymbals ( bo; also read ba ), and clappers (paiban). Traditionally, the married daughters of the deceased are required to provide the bayin ensemble for the funeral. Married nieces and granddaughters may also supply bayin ensembles, particularly in the absence of daughters. As Chen Senlu explained to me, "Bayin is also called the 'Daughter's Pipe' [nuerchui], because when daughters get married, their parents see them off with the dowry and bayin ensemble to accompany the wedding procession. And in funerals, it is the daughters' turn to supply bayin as a tribute to their parents." Both bayin and guting ensembles can be hired from ritual music stores (guchuidian ), which organize professional musicians into various performing groups for funerals and festive occasions (such as temple festivals). The beiguan ensemble consists of two or more double-reed pipes (suona), a single-headed drum (bangu), a woodblock (bangzi), a doubleheaded drum (tonggu), a big gong (daluo), a small gong (xiaoluo), a pair ofbig cymbals (dabo), and a pair of small cymbals (xiaobo). This ensemble is usually contributed by friends or relatives of the deceased. It is notrequired of the sons or daughters, although they may hire one if they wish. Unlike guting and bayin, beiguan is traditionally performed mostly by amateur music clubs. These music clubs, known as zidituan, are often affiliated with local patron gods and perform on various ritual occasions, such as the annual temple festival celebrating the god's birthday, as well as birthdays, weddings, and funerals of fellow members and their families. Since the decline of beiguan amateur activities in recent decades, many onetime amateur groups have begun charging fees, and nowadays more and more beiguan ensembles in funerals are hired professionals rather than amateur volunteers. Whatever the status of the musicians, the presence of beiguan ensemble in a funeral procession often indicates the participation of friends or relatives outside the immediate family. Each of these three ensembles is identified not only by a specific instrumentation and sponsor(s) but also by a music repertory. Performing for both festive occasions and funerals, each ensemble reserves certain tunes for funerals. For instance, in funeral processions the guting ensemble almost always plays the tune "Great Restraints" ("Da jie"); the bayin such titles as "The Mourning Bell" ("Sangzhong") and "The Northern Yuan-

Processional Music in Taiwanese Funerals

xiao" ("Bei yuanxiao"; literally "The Night of the Fifteenth of the First Lunar Month in the North"); and the beiguan "Three Hibiscus" ("San furong") and "Not Being the Road" ("Bushi lu"). Repertory other than the funeral tunes may be played at both funerals and festivals, but the funeral tunes are never performed during festive occasions. A funeral procession is typically arranged in the following order: a statue and/or persons who "open the road," paper lanterns, the Drum Pavilion ensemble, the geomancer, the inscriber of the ancestral tablet, a series of gifts contributed by relatives and friends such as wreaths and mourning scrolls, the picture of the deceased in a colorful pavilion, the rice measure (dou) inside a sedan, music ensembles (such as beiguan and bayin), monks and/or Daoist priests, the coffin, family members, relatives, and friends.

From Ghosts to Ancestors MUSIC TO SETTLE THE SOUL

Why is there a minimal requirement of aguting ensemble in a funeral procession? AccordiQg to my teacher, Mr. Chen, "The piping of the ensemble is like a tourist guide. It tells the soul of the deceased where to go." It is believed that the soul after death is "in limbo, homeless, wandering, in need of comforting and sustenance, unable to differentiate night from day" (Thompson 1988: 84). At this liminal stage, music functions to provide directions for the soul. Similar notions are visible in funerals performed throughout China. For instance, in Cantonese funerals the sound of the double-reed pipes and percussion instruments is important for the corpse during critical transitions, for it "attracts the spirit of the deceased, making certain that it does not wander away or get lost in the confusion following death" (J. Watson 1988a: 123). Indeed, during the period before burial the newly deceased is considered somewhat ghost-like and easily disoriented. This is seen not only in the need for music to "keep the soul and corpse together" but also in other aspects of ritual expressions. For instance, every morning and evening, family members provide food offerings in the form of ordinary daily meals, as well as a wash towel and basin for the soul to "have a wash." Traditionally women wail during the morning and evening offerings, known as "wake-up calls and sleep calls" (jiao qi jiao kun), for souls at this liminal phase are unable to differentiate day from night. These rituals to help souls pass the transitional period are never performed for gods and ancestors,

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who are said not to need such offerings because "they have homes of their own" (A. Wolfr974: 178). No matter how long the mortuary ritual lasts, the goal is for the soul eventually to achieve the status of an ancestor. The unstable nature of the soul may account for the necessity of the guting ensemble in funeral processions, but the combination of guting with oth~r Wind and Percussion ensembles, which parallels the musical arrangements in the inspection tours of gods, has further implications. MUSIC TO HONOR THE ANCESTOR

The guting ensemble for funeral processions is essentially identical to that for temple festivals, particularly those heard most frequently during the inspection tours of temple gods. An "inspection tour," in which the statue of a god travels in procession through the areas under his or her administration, usually takes place at the beginning of a temple festival. According to folk religious beliefs, a powerful god can rid an area of evil influences during the tour, bringing people peace and prosperity. To pay respects to the god, households and shops along the route usually set up an offering table before their door with candles, incense, flowers, fruits, and wine for the god. Against the wall outside the door is often hung a string of firecrackers, which is set off as an expression of welcome as the procession passes by. Except for the difference in repertory (the tune "Great Restraints" is reserved exclusively for funerals), the guting ensemble performs in the same way on both festive and funeral occasions. In temple festivals, the guting is always the first music ensemble in the procession, followed by other Wind and Percussion ensembles (typically beiguan), sacrificial offerings dedicated to the temple god (such as the "honorific pig"), statues of the temple god's subordinates, the god's statue in a palanquin, and devotees. The guting is hired by the host temple, the immediately following Wind and Percussion ensemble (typically beiguan) is formed by members of the amateur music club associated with the temple, and the remaining performing troupes are contributed by temples that are "friends" of the host. The host temple is distinguished by presenting the guting together with its own Wind and Percussion ensemble, and the other participating troupes exhibit the social network of the host temple. The similarity of these arrangements to those of funeral processions is no coincidence. The Wind and Percussion ensembles in temple festivals are dedicated to honoring the gods; the rationale is to treat the gods like traditional magistrates

Processional Music in Taiwanese Funerals

and to organize the religious procession along the lines of a magistrate's inspection tour. 8 Similarly, the various Wind and Percussion ensembles in a funeral procession honor the deceased by adding splendor to the processional display, since now, on the very last day of funeral, the deceased is about to be settled in his or her permanent home, finally approximating the status of ancestor. Stuart Thompson, comparing the simple daily food offerings with the pre-burial "farewell feast," sees a similar symbolic transformation in food prestations: The elaborateness of the latter [farewell feast J, together with the fact that the food offerings are whole and not readied for immediate consumption (meats are cooked but uncut; packets of biscuits, cans, bottles of drinks are unopened) implies greater distance between the deceased and the donors. Shengli, especially that of a pig's head and tail, is an honorific offering, an offering of respect, such as is made to gods. Instead of ordinary offerings of a type similar to what ghosts receive, the new ancestral spirit, which the returned ancestors are about to take into their fold, so to speak, is feted with extraordinary shengli. The transformation from ghost to ancestor is both marked and accomplished by the switch in food prestations. (Thompson 1988: 86)

Like the shift in food offerings, processional music for the "farewell trip" can also be contrasted with that performed in ordinary daily rituals. Instead of music in a private setting, processional music is for outdoor, public audience; it is meant to be a spectacular display. Besides performing music to settle the soul, the ensembles, closely parallel to those in the inspection tour of gods, also call into being and honor the new ancestral spirit. Historically, Wind and Percussion ensembles originated as military marching bands for high officials of the imperial courts. They perform not for ordinary persons in daily life but only on solemn religious and ceremonial occasions. This also points to the deceased's transition from ghost to (near- )ancestor. Processional ensembles do not perform during and after the burial rite, nor do they perform on the return trip from the grave. "It is not necessary to play. People usually don't do it," as my teacher reminded me one time when I tried to play a tune on our way back from a burial site. This is unlike the inspection tour of gods, in which the ensembles start playing on leaving the temple and continue till they return to the temple. On the return from a funeral procession, however, the eldest grandson of the deceased, as the representative of the heirs, holds the soul tablet in a rice measure (a symbol offertility) and has to put on new clothes. The pollution of death has been expelled, and the regenerative aspect is emphasized. At this point, the de-

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ceased, having attained the status of(near- )ancestor, has left his or her authority and power over the family to the younger generations.

What Defines an Ancestor The three types ofWind and Percussion ensembles together make possible a procession, parallel to that of a god's inspection tour, in which the near-ancestor status of the deceased is publicly announced. This is an example of good death: death at an advanced age, with descendants and friends, as well as adequate financial resources. Such deceased persons are treated with complete funeral rites, culminating with a full-scale procession to the burial site. They are ritually transformed into ancestors. The parts of the ancestral soul (or souls) are represented as residing in the ancestral tablet, in the grave, and in the underworld 9 and continue to interact with the living. Not everyone becomes an ancestor, however, nor is everyone treated with full funeral and post-funeral rites. Only those who fulfill certain conditions are eligible, among which the contribution to the family and the lineage in the form of male descendants is the most important. Examining the conditions on which the right to enjoy a seat in the ancestral hall is dependent, Emily Ahern (1973: 121) argues: An adult male who is a direct descendant of the lineage ancestors and who is married, sired male children, and handed down property to his sons is a paradigm of the person with the right to have his tablet placed in the hall. His sons are obliged to make a tablet for him as a parent and as a bequeather of property. He has contributed in the fullest measure to the lineage, giving it new life in the form of sons and enriching those sons with property.

Since in a patrilineal system the continuity of ancestor worship depends largely on male descendants, a male heir is considered so valuable that a childless man may have to adopt a son, who will be obliged to make a tablet for his "parent." Alternatively, he may arrange for someone in the lineage, such as a nephew, to worship his tablet in return for inheriting his property. Whoever the substitute, the important role of the filial son in the funeral procession is stressed by his attire, position in the procession, and by the presence ofthegutingensemble. Those who do not play these roles in their lifetime, in contrast, are not worshipped as ancestors after death. Among such persons are those who die young, away from home, or lack heirs to arrange their funeral. Maurice Freedman (1970: 165-66) has noted that those who die young do not qualify for ancestral status: "What the system excludes is the immediate

Processional Music in Taiwanese Funerals entry of the tablets of dead children, for they are not considered potential ancestors and have committed an unfilial act by the mere fact of dying young." Funeral rituals for such people are truncated, and customarily the three processional ensembles do not play at such funerals. As to the homeless, unidentified wanderers, their death is often regarded as a potential threat to the community, for it is believed that their souls might become wandering, hungry ghosts and harm the living. To avoid Sl}Ch a danger, community leaders may sponsor a collective burial, and a temple (known as Wanshangong miao, or "temple of all good men") may be constructed to worship these souls. However, no elaborate funeral procession involving the three types of ensembles is held for such an occasion. A full-scale procession following the lead ofguting ensemble is, then, a clear indication that the deceased is a parent who has contributed male heirs to the family. Full-scale processions may, however, differ in the degree of elaborateness. More than one bayin or beiguan ensemble as well as other performing troupes may be present, and ritual accessories such as spiritworld objects vary widely in cost. The degree of elaborateness, which is essentially related to expenditure, points to the several roles and values that music ensembles represent in the funeral ritual.

A Reflection of Ideal Familial and Social Relations MUSIC AS AN EXPRESSION OF FILIAL PIETY

The correct observance of mourning is an act of filial piety, and the cost of a parent's funeral is often seen as an expression of the son's filial devotion. Because of the association between filial devotion and the funeral, the bereaved son is expected to spare no expense. 10 One of the most obvious indicators of funeral expenditure is the size of the procession. If a guting ensemble represents the necessary element, those that follow the guting ensemble are regarded as evidence of a son's devotion. The more musicians hired, the longer the procession and the greater the expenditure. One funeral procession in which I participated, with numerous musical ensembles and performing troupes touring neighborhood streets, continued for more than an hour. In such cases, the music of any of these ensembles has to be repeated and elaborated to fill in the time. As noted earlier, the provision of aguting ensemble is considered an obligation of the deceased's sons and cannot be donated by relatives and friends. Even today, a guting ensemble is always included as a regular item in the service package offered by commercial funeral ritual stores, along

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with other ritual necessities such as sets of mourning attire, instruction in ritual proceedings, and so on. A sense of sharing, besides filial devotion, is implied in this custom. The son has been raised by the parent with family resources, which he inherits at the death of the parent. Thus at the funeral he demonstrates his filial devotion, or a sense of sharing, by generous expenditures, as displayed in the procession headed by guting ensemble. In this respect, the guting ensemble, in contrast to the bayin and bciguan, is comparable to the rice in Thompson's rice/pork dichotomy: it is a "substance shared," like male descendants and rice, not a "substance for exchange." 11 MUSIC AS A GIFT FOR EXCHANGE

Bayin and bciguan, on the other hand, represent the "substance for exchange." The transformation from ghost to ancestor would appear incomplete without these honorific offerings, and in this regard the wifetaking affines (in relation to the deceased) play an important role. The bayin ensemble, though referred to as the "daughter's pipe," is actually a gift from the family into which the daughter married. In fact, not only the bayin but many other contributions to funeral from daughters are often acknowledged as being from sons-in-law. The role of sons-in-law in funerals is described by Zhu Feng as follows, based on his study of extant manuals of traditional family rituals: 12 On the third seventh [the twenty-first day after death], the married-out daughters together sponsor a mourning ritual, also known as the "daughters' seventh." In the morning monks and priests hold the ceremony of"saving merits." In the afternoon the sons-in-law prepare abundant sacrificial offerings and display them in a procession. They all wear white gowns and sit in sedans, parading toward their father-inlaw's residence. On the table are placed the five shengli: a pig's head, two chickens, and two ducks. They follow the ritual proceedings directed by a ritual master [lisheng], and read eulogies as an end of the ritual. (Zhu 1960: II) The bayin ensemble, along with the pig, goat, and so on, is also an important gift item during traditional wedding exchanges. This is evident from the list of wedding gifts in many family ritual manuals, which give instructions on the literary names of these gifts (composed of four-syllable lines). For instance, bayin is written as bayin chcng dui (Eight Sounds make a team), and a pig as quan zhu chcng tau (a complete pig makes a head). Both the bayin ensemble and the pig are gifts from the groom's family to the bride's and are later returned to the groom's family. The pig is returned in part (only the head is sent back) as one of the gifts "to show respect to

Processional Music in Taiwanese Funerals

the groom's side" (Thompson I988: 97); the bayin ensemble is returned in whole to escort the bride to the groom's family. Therefore, just like the pig's head (the so-called daughter's head) in funeral offerings, the bayin ensemble in funeral processions can also be seen as a form of reciprocity between families, a balancing of exchanges between the wife-taking affine and the deceased (as wife-giver). Each daughter of the deceased usually hires a bayin ensemble to represent her family of marriage. This is unlike the guting ensemble, which is normally a shared contribution of sons. Reciprocity is much valued in Chinese society, for it is considered the proper way in which harmonious social relationships can be maintained, as expressed in the common saying "Gift goes and returns" ("li shang wanglai''; wanglai means "goes and comes"). In traditional terms, having a wanglai relationship with someone implies more than mere acquaintance. It should also involve regular exchanges of gifts, especially on the occasion oflife-cycle rituals such as weddings, birthdays, and funerals. Everyone belongs to a social circle whose members exchange favors at special events. The recipient of the gifts is supposed to keep a careful record of the names of the contributors and their gifts. This is important because in repaying favors, one can only return gifts of equal or higher value. To receive without return, or to receive and return less, is an impolite act subject to public criticism. In a funeral procession, the contributions from the deceased's social circle are exhibited in public. A large number of gifts is a sign of the deceased's generosity. If the bayin is a symbol of balanced reciprocity between affinal relatives, then the beiguan is represented as the favor that "goes and comes" between friends. At one time, beiguan music clubs were popular amateur organizations and existed in almost every community. Traditionally, participation in an amateur beiguan club entailed a financial contribution or annual dues, volunteer labor, and uncompensated performance in local religious festivities. As an expression of mutual concern, the group also performs at weddings, birthdays, or deaths of members or their immediately family. Some clubs maintain funds for gifts of money in addition to the musical performances. An amateur beiguan ensemble's presence in a funeral, therefore, honors the deceased as a respected contributor to the club and the community. As mentioned earlier, there are now professional beiguan ensembles, which can be hired by friends or relatives as a gift in an exchange relationship. It is clear that the attainment of ancestor status is defined by sons, represented by the presence of guting ensemble, and magnified by

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married-out daughters, relatives, and friends, represented by bayin and beiguan. Through the marriages of daughters, a link between families is created and a wider social network established. Through faithful exchanges with relatives and friends, one is assured of voluntary support at times of need. The bayin and beiguan ensembles, honoring the deceased as a kind parent-in-law and a faithful friend, underscore the social roles a person should play. The indexical message expressed through the procession is: the greater the number of musical ensembles or musicians performing in the procession, the more social resources the deceased and the deceased's family possesses. In an important sense one achieves ancestorhood by producing sons, by marrying daughters, and by sharing with friends. In death, one's life is summarized by the richness and diversity of processional music, offerings, and funeral attire. The funeral procession guides the soul, but it also celebrates the life of the deceased. Far from being a cacophony, the processional music bespeaks the harmony of the fully socialized person: procreator of sons, guardian of daughters, and maker ofloyal friends.

Ritual Indexicality and Musical Redundancy A5 we have seen, the elaborateness of a procession varies, in the number of participating ensembles and musicians, according to the sums expended on the funeral. The expenditure, in turn, reflects the status of the deceased in relation to his or her familial and social roles. The more elaborate the procession, the more successful the deceased and his family (so it is implied) in realizing traditional familial and social values. The differentiation in economic power is marked, and the authority of traditional values is reinforced through the uses of these different musical ensembles. Concomitant with the different sizes of the procession are the varying lengths of time the ensembles perform. Since the repertories performed in funeral processions are quite limited, while performing time can be lengthy, redundancy and elaboration are inevitable. Responding to the contextual requirements, all the three ensembles discussed in this essay have special ways to prolong and elaborate their music, as illustrated in the following. REPETITION WITH ORNAMENTATIONS IN 'BAYIN'

Bayin tunes are usually repeated in immediate succession as many times as necessary, with each repetition a little different in melody and ornamentation. Figure 6.1 compares two versions of the same melody from the bayin tune "Sangzhong" (The mourning bell) as heard in the same

Processional Music in Taiwanese Funerals

I

43

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performance (Recorded example 8). The upper staff (marked A) shows how the tune is presented in the beginning; the lower staff (AI) the first repetition. From the notation we see that the tune may be repeated in a different octave (such as measures I and 3 ), decorated with additional embellishments (such as measures 2 and 9 ), or interpreted with different ornamental notes (such as measures I 2 and 13 ). Certainguting and beiguan pieces are repeated in similar ways. 13 However, in addition to repetition in immediate succession, other devices for elaboration are used in guting and beiguan music, as discussed below. REPETITION WITH THE CHANGE OF 'GUAN' IN 'GUTING' MUSIC

Fanguan, or "turning the pipe," is a variation technique best understood as "changing the melodic mode," since it involves more than the transposition of key common in Western music. This technique is especially associated with the representative funeral piece ofguting music, "Da jie." To understand better how the change ofguan operates in performance, we shall first turn to the basics of melodic organization that underlie the music of the double-reed pipe suona. The melodic scale of suona tunes consists of seven degrees, roughly corresponding to those of the Western major scale, called siang, chhe,gong, huan, ho, su, and yi. (In the higher octave liu and wu, respectively, are substituted for ce and su.) This scale can be played in seven different guan, or "melodic modes." Each of the seven guan is named according to the position of a reference pitch, approximately F#, which is produced by covering all finger holes (including seven front holes and one thumb hole) of the suona. When the reference pitch is used as the first degree of the scale, xiang, the mode is called "Covering-xiang" (hipsiang). In this case, releas-

I44

PING-HUI LI

The seven front holes

The seven

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Fig. 6.2 Suona fingerings and scale degrees of the seven guan

ing the bottom hole produces chhe (the second degree), the first two holes at the bottom gong (the third degree), and so on. Similarly, when the reference pitch is used as the second degree of the scale, chhe, the mode is named "Covering-chhe," and the release of the bottom hole produces gong(the third degree), the first two holes huan (the fourth degree), and so on. Figure 6.2 illustrates the sevenguan and their respective fingerings. According to guting musicians, "Da jie" used to be played in all seven guan, but nowadays the more commonly used guan are Covering-gong, Covering-huan, and Covering-ho. The change inguan is not merely the transposition of the same melody into a different key, as is the case in Western music, for different guan may emphasize different scale degrees and melodic figures. Figure 6.3 shows an excerpt from the beginning section of the main tune in "Da jie," in the same performance of the same musician, first played in Covering-gong (the upper staff; Recorded example 9 ), and later repeated in Covering-huan (the lower staff; Recorded example Io). Judging from the notation in the first six measures, the two versions look dissimilar enough to be considered two independent melodies. Aside from the differences in ornamentation, the most significant change can be observed in the beginning notes in measures I, 3 and 5. The fifth degree in Covering-huan replaces either the third degree in Coveringgong (as in measures I and 3) or the melodic figure containing the scale degrees 3-5-3 (as in measure 5). Theguting musicians, however, identifY them as exactly the same tune. They attribute such differences to the process known as "reversing the notes" (do pali), which involves the replace-

Processional Music in Taiwanese Funerals Covering-gong

r.l;t.Qzsl3 Covering-huan

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mentor modification of certain scale degrees at critical points when playing in differentguan. A new guan may be chosen to begin a repetition at the end of the tune. It may also change in the middle of the tune, normally at the end of a section. 14 The musical choices regarding when to initiate and when to stop a change as well as how often to make one are usually decided by the drummer. At the proper point, the drummer gives a signal to end the section; this is immediately followed by the cue for the interlude "San tong" (The three tucks). A hallmark of guting repertory, "San tong" consists of freerhythmic, quasi-improvised melodies. It is always performed before any guting tune as an introduction and at the end as a concluding section. In the case ofguan variation in "Da jie," "San tong" also serves as a transition that introduces important notes to be expected in the new guan. Figure 6-4 is an example of"San tong" heard in the middle of the performance, when theguan is about to change (Recorded example rr). Like any "San tong" that opens a guting tune, the one heard in the middle of the performance is composed of two consecutive sections (marked as A and B in Figure 6.4). Section A begins with a slow tempo that accelerates gradually, only slowing down again toward the end. Section B, beginning with high, long notes and moving downward in free rhythm, leads directly to the main tune. What distinguishes this "San tong" is the transitional nature of Section B. Whereas in an opening "San tong" both sections are normally in the same guan, in this transitional "San tong" Section B moves away from the previous guan (Covering-gong) and presents important notes in the new guan (Covering-huan). Preparing for change is precisely the purpose of this interlude, as emphasized by Chen Senlu's comment on the role of the drummer at this transitional point: "The drummer is responsible for playing the drum rolls that bring out the notes of Coveringhuan."

r45

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The scale degrees of the first two phrases in Section B can be identified both as 5-4-I-2-7-I-4- 5-4-3 in Covering-gong and as 6-5-2-3I - 2- 5-6-5-4 in Covering-huan. Scale degrees 4 and 7, not often used (as compared to 3, 5, and 6) in Covering-gong, become degrees 5 and I in Covering-huan, two frequently used scale degrees in the new guan. Through this transitional phrase, the scales degrees are renamed and the roles of the notes redefined. Such a change is further reaffirmed in the two phrases that follow the initial transitional phrases. Playing the same tune in differentguan requires special musical knowledge, such as mastery of"reversing the notes," and close coordination between drummer and pipers. To musicians, it is considered proof of artistic competence. Although repetition is inevitable in the long route of a procession, variation provides an alternative to the routine performance, which not only fulfills the functional demands but also enhances musical interests. ELABORATION WITH INSERTION IN 'BEIGUAN' MUSIC

The processional music of the beiguan ensemble, consisting mainly of paizi suites of the beiguan repertory, is seldom repeated in immediate succession. However, between pieces of the same suite, various percussion patterns and the tune "Feng ru song" (Wind in the pines) may be performed with unlimited repetitions. Furthermore, there are different ways

Processional Music in Taiwanese Funerals

of inserting percussion patterns and formulaic melodies between phrases of a paizi tune. The player of the single-headed drum, who conducts the ensemble with drum signals and hand gestures, decides when to begin and end an insertion, what percussion patterns to play, how many times a pattern should be repeated, and so on. Two major types of insertion are found between phrases. One, known as gualang (hanging waves), involves the insertion of a specific percussion pattern whose accompanying formulaic melody hovers around the cadential note of the phrase immediately preceding the insertion. The formulaic melody varies according to the cadential note as well as personal preference. Moreover, since this pattern is usually repeated as many times as necessary during each insertion, the ornamentation of the formulaic melody may change with each repetition. But no matter how the melody varies, it always ends on a strong beat on the same cadential note with which it began. Figure 6. 5 (Recorded example rr) illustrates five insertions of gualang on two different cadential notes, one beginning on the sixth scale degree and the others on the fifth. These cadential notes are indicated by "x" under the degree numbers. The original short melody is considerably lengthened by these five insertions, each being repeated four to six times. The second type, known as chajie (inserting percussion patterns), allows more than one percussion patterns to be inserted between phrases. The variety of patterns available for this type of insertion range from the simple one-gong stroke to complex ones. 15 The conductor (player of the single-headed drum) is given considerable freedom in the selection and combination of patterns for insertion. As a means of artistic display, it farinsertio~ repeatedl

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EVELYN S. RAWSKI

bassadors. Each circle signifies one percussive beat. A paraphrase of the lyrics follows (Wan and Huang I 9 8 5: 6 I): Heaven favors our emperor; within the four seas, the era of peace and good fortune flourishes. From the new year originate the three yang spirits; the myriad states present themselves to bow at the sovereign's gates. All things celebrate felicity; riding the luan bird chariot, the taichang banners are erected. The times being in harmony bring transformation, the day lengthens, penetrating to the nine tongues and beyond mountains and sea.

Appendix 7.2: Heping Music Classified as zhonghe shaoyue, this piece (Fig. 7. 3) was performed on New Year's Day as the emperor stepped down from his throne in the Taihedian. Each circle signifies one percussive beat. A paraphrase of the lyrics follows (Wan and Huang I985: 6I-62): The sage receives superior and eminent persons; in the palace, music fills the vermilion court. Chinese and barbarians are in stability united; scholars and the masses delight in the Great Peace. The ritual vessel is full of imperial incense; good luck floats up, and auspicious clouds form. The shao music of the flutes delights in achieving nine parts; all congratulations, ten thousand, thousand years!

CHAPTER 8

Singing to the Spirits of the Dead: A Daoist Ritual of Salvation JUDITH MAGEE BOLTZ

The unfortunate likelihood of periodic famine, natural disasters, and military conflict ensures that every generation bears the burden oflosing many before their time. In this day and age we seem endlessly bombarded with reminders of untimely deaths. Recent discoveries, for example, of skeletal remains from mass burials in Siberia give fresh testimony to the horrors of the Stalinist era. More immediate images of death come to us regularly from print and electronic media. The parade of casualties from fire, floods, typhoons, earthquakes, and ethnic conflict all but leave us numb. The way in which untimely deaths are borne in mind provides a mirror into the souls of the survivors. How, in other words, we come to accept or deny tragic losses is shaped in large part by how we think about life and death. And how any society mourns and commemorates its own victims of untimely demise reflects the way it strives to achieve a sense of reconciliation. The injustice ofwrongful deaths is a memory that bears timeless recall. Thus institutions like the recently opened U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., for instance, serve as powerful reinforcements of the conviction that we dare not allow history to repeat itself. To deny the reality of such disasters is to admit to the dehumanizing oppression of a sense of moral outrage. Rituals as well as monuments help us to acknowledge, mourn, and accept fatalities. Many special commemorations have been devised over the centuries on behalf of those who otherwise might be forgotten. Honoring the grave of the unknown soldier, for example, helps us overcome visions of the mutilations of war, while recommitting our memory to the folly of senseless losses. Commemorative occasions of this sort allow for expressions of bereavement that might otherwise remain suppressed. They permit

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JUDITH MAGEE BOLTZ

a transfiguration of the image of death such that the remembrance of bodies crushed under tanks, for instance, can be transformed into memories of the victims as they were once among us. Such is the latent power of rituals enacted on behalf of the otherwise forgotten. A vast body of liturgy attests to the Chinese legacy of mourning tragic losses oflife. This essay focuses on a contemporary Daoist liturgy that provides the means for making peace with t~e spirits of the dead known as guhun, or desolate souls. Guhun are spirits who, due to the circumstances of their demise, remain unmourned, deprived of offerings, and thus forgotten. The term came to be especially applied to victims of a violent or premature death away from home, when the remains of the dead could not be restored to kin for proper burial and commemoration. In the liturgy under consideration here, guhun is often paired with the term zhipo, or stagnant souls. The hun-po dichotomy merely reflects the traditional Chinese perception that everyone has two types of souls, with the po restored to earth at death and the hun free to ascend. Simply put, zhipo are understood to be the force of life whose restoration to earth is obstructed, and guhun are envisioned as forlorn wanderers, abandoned when their physical host knows no keeper. Spirits of the dead left to fend for themselves are widely thought to have the power to torment the living. The Chinese, like the early Mesopotamians (Bottero 1992: 282-8 5 ), devised prayers and amulets as well as spells and exorcistic rites to overcome such threats. By Han times, it was generally believed that remains of the dead left to decay in the open induced drought (Groot 1892-1910: 3.919 ). A number of documents testify to the universal perception that death and fertility are interdependent (Bloch and Parry 1982). In the first year of the reign of the adolescent emperor Zhidi (r. 145-46) of the Later Han, for example, the Empress Dowager sought to revive parched grainfields by ordering officials to submit offerings and prayers for rain at mountains and waterways throughout the empire (HHS roB.438). She simultaneously decreed that all unattended corpses of soldiers and citizens killed in battle be properly buried. Ultimately, the "mother" of the empire declared that her own lack of virtue had led to the drought. Her attempts to make amends by confession, by offerings to the spirit realm, and by attending to the repose of the dead can be regarded as three of the most essential elements of Chinese mourning ritual. Later imperial decrees calling for burial of the victims of armed combat reflect anxiety over the potential for avenging ghosts. For instance, the mandates issued in 5 34 by the last ruler of the Northern Wei (ws r 1.290)

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation and in 614 by Emperor Yang of the Sui (ss 4.86) sought to placate the souls of those lost in battle. The founder of the Tang, Gaozu (r. 6I8-26), likewise expressed concern for guarding against wandering spirits, and as "father and mother" of all, decreed that no decomposing corpses remaining from the fall of the Sui be allowed to go unburied ( QTW 2.3a-b ). Twice in the year 995, Emperor Taizong (r. 976-97) of the Song commanded officials to inter the remains of all who had lost their lives through starvation, drowning, or slaughter during uprisings in the far western reaches of the empire (snz 222.8 59). He, too, spoke as the father and mother of all bones exposed in the wilderness with no one to look after them. On the second occasion, the emperor also called for offerings to be made as an expression of his profound grief. It was his intent in both cases to ward off drought, thought to have been provoked by the wailing oflingering spirits (Groot I892-I9IO: 3·9I7-I8). As we shall discover below, parental expressions of grief and compassion are a central feature of the liturgy addressed to guhun. The mourning service of primary interest to us here is that prescribed in the Lingbao pudu keyi, or Lingbao Liturgy on Universal Salvation. The text of this service is among those published by Ofuchi Ninji (I983: 39I404) from the collection of the Daoist Master Chen Rongsheng ofTainan, the twenty-first generation of a Zhangzhou (Fujian) lineage to be ordained. Obsequies on behalf ofguhun have long been included at the close of the Daoist fete known as jiao. The service has popularly come to be known as the ritual of pudu, or universal salvation. Much has been written about the history and staging of jiao, but the pudu service itself remains largely unexplored. 1 I have chosen to concentrate on the Lingbao Liturgy on Universal Salvation primarily because it is the only text of this sort available in published form to include comprehensive annotations indicating the manner of oral delivery required for each step of the ritual. The predominance of song and incantation in this liturgy reveals it to be a remarkably musical example of Daoist mourning ritual. Of interest here are precisely the performative aspects of this liturgy. I would like to examine, in other words, the relationship between what is said in the ritual and how it is said. This line of questioning is inspired in part by studies of Western liturgy (Jungmann I9 5 I- 5 s; Hardison I965: 3 5 -79; Hughes I982) and in part by analyses of Beijing and Cantonese opera (Pian I975; B. Yung I 9 89: I4 5-5 7). The close relation between Chinese operatic and ritual performances, though undebatable (Loon 1977), has yet to be investigated in depth. That operas and rituals have musical lineages in common is well recognized (Gan 1988). But what we lack are comprehensive studies

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JUDITH MAGEE BOLTZ

of the affinity between the repertoire of an operatic troupe and the ritual legacy of any given locale. Such research is bound to materialize, as our awareness of their interdependence increases (D. Johnson I989 ). In this preliminary study of a Daoist liturgical tradition, I can only hope to put forward a few questions that the ritual side of the coin provokes.

The Legacy of Chinese Rites of Salvation The Lingbao Liturgy on Universal Salvation is the product of a complex textual history. The preliminary homage to the bodhisattva Guanyin and the dharal)i recitations are among the more conspicuous reminders of its debt to a rich Buddhist heritage of rituals of salvation. Like its distant ancestor, the Lingbao ritual legacy codified by Lu Xiujing (406-77), this liturgy is an intriguing blend ofDaoist and Buddhist lore on the itineraries available in the afterlife (Zurcher I98o; Bokenkamp I983, I990: I253o). The tradition of dedicating a service to the welfare of the dead on the fifteenth of the seventh month is shared by Buddhist and Daoist clergy alike. The yulanpen (Avalambana?) plenary rituals of salvation celebrated on that date can be traced to the early Tantric formularies transmitted by Si~ananda ( 6 52-7 I o) and Amoghavajra ( 70 5-7 4). Codifiers of Daoist mourning ritual conventionally identify the Lingbao patriarch Ge Xuan (I 64-244) as their ultimate source of authority. As the examination of the Lingbao Liturgy below makes clear, incantations from the early Lingbao canon are integral units of contemporary performance practice. And like an analogous Hong Kong liturgy studied by Chen Yaoting (I987), the Lingbaa Liturgy performed in Tainan is heavily indebted to Lingbao ritual codes compiled during the Song. In this summary, I attempt to note those elements of the Tainan liturgy traceable to texts preserved in the Ming Daoist Canon (Daozang) of I445· I also collate the Tainan text with related Buddhist and Daoist liturgies to gain a better understanding of the force of the Lingbao performance. The text from the early Lingbao canon codified by Lu Xiujing (Ofuchi I974; Bokenkamp I983; Bell I988) of special pertinence is the Duren jing, or Scripture on Salvation (HY I). Many diverse ritual formularies evolved around the vision of deliverance conveyed in this scripture (Strickmann I978). Some derive directly from the protocols for conducting the so-called Huanglu, or Yellow Register, service codified by Du Guangting (850-933), the most eminent Daoist master of the late Tang (HY 507). His work served as the foundation, for example, of an anthology of Yellow Register protocols compiled by Jiang Shuyu (I I 62- I 22 3 ), a Daoist mas-

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation ter ofYongjia ( Zhejiang) who studied under Liu Yongguang (I I 34- I 206) at Mount Longhu (Jiangxi), seat of the Celestial Master patriarchy (HY 508). The Daoist Master Lii Yuansu (fl. II88-12o5) of Jiangyuan (Sichuan), working in the same region as Du Guangting, also acknowledges his debt to Du's writings. Concise ritual codes compiled by Li.i and a disciple named Lii Taigu reflect an effort to reform the increasingly elaborate ritual performances coming into prominence during the Song (HY uq; HY I2I6). Similarly, the Daoist Master Jin Yunzhong (fl. I223-25) compiled a critically annotated anthology of ritual (HY I2I 3) to encourage a return to the basics as established by Lu Xiujing and Du Guangting. An heir to formularies revealed at Maoshan in I I 20, Jin was particularly contemptuous of the practices pursued by the Tiantai school of Lingbao ritual, which he deemed excessive. The teachings of the leading codifier ofTiantai practice, Ning Benli (I IOI- 8 I), are edited in two of the largest compilations on Lingbao ritual in the Daoist Canon (HY 466; HY I2II). Two cognate anthologies of Lingbao ritual recorded in the Daoist Canon without attribution ( HY 2 I 9; HY 54 7) are equally important resources for Song liturgies of salvation (Boltz I987: 28-29, 4I-46, 49-51). Among later liturgies consulted in this study are three additional texts recorded in Ofuchi's ( I983) anthology of Chinese ritual. One is the Pushi jinzhang ke, or Liturgy of the Golden Petition of Universal Oblation (Ofuchi I983: 752-72), from the collection of a Zhengyi lineage practicing in the New Territories. A second liturgy, the Mengshan shishi, or Oblations of Mount Meng, putatively reflects the practice of a Sannai lineage on the island of Cheung Chau (Qfuchi I983: 786-8q). The proponents of this ritual trace their heritage to a lineage of Daoist masters surnamed Wei from Henan. But as Ofuchi (I983: 814) observes, a Buddhist liturgy by this title (Kamata I983: 84-87) originated at Mount Meng in central Sichuan. The Mengshan text itselfl have found to be largely derivative of the Yogadra mourning ritual codified by Zhuhong (I 53 5- I 6 I 5) in I 6o6 (Z. I34I; YYSY), the foundation of all later Yogacara liturgy including reeditions issued by Facang in I626 (Z. 1344), Jixian in 1675 (Z. 1345 ), and Ding'an in I693 (YY). The third liturgy published by Ofuchi ( I983: 883-900) is the Liturgy ofXiantian, or Anterior Heavens, as performed at the Ching Chung Koon, or Green Pine Abbey, located on Castle Peak in the New Territories. Mfiliates of this large temple complex adhere to the Longmen school of Quanzhen teachings, established in the name of the pre-eminent Quanzhen patriarch, Qiu Chuji (1148-I227). The Liturgy ofXiantian derives

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from an I862 printing and includes a copyist's colophon dating to I974, which traces the ritual to the Lingbao patriarch Ge Xuan. All three Hong Kong liturgies include components corresponding to the Lingbao Liturgy ofTainan. Its closest counterpart by far, however, is a I 9 3 3 transcript of the Liturgy of the Universal Oblation ofJinlu, or the Golden Register, as performed by a Zhengyi, or Celestial Master, fraternity in the northern Taiwanese city of Xinzhu (Saso I975: I4.3877-4049). Portions of the Lingbao Liturgy also find their match in an anthology of music representing the Quanzhen and Zhengyi liturgical legacies of Mount Wudang in Hubei (Shi I987). One vocal selection of particular interest, a lament popularly known as "Kulou ge," or "Skeleton Song," is recorded, moreover, in a number of unpublished manuscripts, including a nineteenth-century liturgy from Zhangzhou (Or. 12693B) and cognate texts collected by Kristofer Schipper during his discipleship under Master Chen Rongsheng (Schipper I966). The complex Yogacara ritual standardized by Zhuhong can ultimately be regarded as a late descendant of a single dharal).l putatively conveyed by Buddha to Ananda. The story of this magical incantation is told in a Chinese version of the Sutra of the Dhara1Jt for Rescuing Hungry Ghosts ascribed to Si~ananda (T. I3 14). Ananda is said to have been seated in meditation late one night when a frightful hungry ghost appeared before him and predicted his demise in three days time. Terrified by the prospect of being reborn a hungry ghost, Ananda asked how he might avoid such suffering. The emaciated phantom reportedly advised him to submit a bushelful of food and drink to every hungry ghost and all mendicants, and to present offerings on his behalf to the Three Treasures. In that way, he asserted, Ananda would be able to enjoy a longer life. Such offerings, he added, would also ensure his own release from suffering as a hungry ghost and rebirth in the heavens above. In despair at these seemingly impossible demands, Ananda turned to Buddha, who taught him the shishi fa, or the ritual of oblations. Ananda thereby learned how to set out offerings offood and drink, consecrating them with the recitation of a single dharal).I imbued with an extraordinary power of radiance. Another version of this sutra translated by Amoghavajra (T. I3I3) includes additional dharal).I to overcome the transgressions of hungry ghosts and their grotesque appearance and to open their throats so that they might eat their fill of offerings. Repeated recitations of these dharal).llead in every case to an invocation of the Tathagatha overseeing each respective transformation. These amplified instructions anticipate two ritual codes on feeding hungry ghosts, both of which are conveyed in the name of

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation Amoghavajra (T. 1315; T. IJI8). The two texts are similarly framed as Buddha's instructions to Ananda. They prescribe variant sequences of dharai)I and mudra for overseeing the deliverance of hungry ghosts. The sequence in the longer Yogacara formulary (T. 13 r8) follows a lengthy invocation calling on all Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and vajra-devas to accept offerings of incense, flowers, and lanterns. The transformations evoked thereafter range from smashing open the gateways of purgatory and calling forth the hungry ghosts to monitoring their repentance of transgressions, purification with sweet dew, opening of their throats, surrender to the Three Jewels, and finally, their awakening, followed by acceptance of the sanmaya precepts and oblations. The dharal)t of oblations is but a variant of the single incantation introduced in Sik~ananda's translation. Here the power of dharai)I and mudra combined is said to transform one offering into untold quantities offood. The force of a supplementary, untitled dharai)I is said to transmute the sweet dew flowing from the mudra into a veritable sea of milk. Closing instructions provide the dharai)I accompanying offerings to all in attendance and their dismissal. Once assured that ghostly beings dare not intrude, all participants are expected to join in a pledge seeking the longevity, good fortune, and contentment of the sponsors of the service. Thus, according to this formulary, was Ananda instructed on how to convey compassion by harnessing the divine power of Buddha. Adaptations and amplifications of the Yogacara ritual code transmitted by Amoghavajra arose from many quarters. Just how it may have influenced the codification of Lingbao liturgies or how Lingbao liturgies may have helped shape Yogacara ritual is an open question. The story of Ananda's visionary apparition echoes centuries of lore surrounding Mulian's legendary encounters with hungry ghosts (Teiser r988a: 124-50 ). But there is a revisionist version of this story in the hagiographic accounts that emerged around the Lingbao patriarch Ge Xuan. Unlike the horrific vision of Ananda, Ge is said to have been visited by a beneficent representative of the netherworld, a ghostly king, as he prepared to perform the rites of jilian, or oblatory transmutation, on the eve of the fifteenth of the tenth month of the year 214. The giant figure gowned in crimson who greeted him proceeded to praise Ge for delivering thousands of ghosts. Before taking his leave, the ghostly king reported that the Sovereign of the North had issued a decree assuring Ge a celestial post in recognition of his assiduous performance of the rituals of salvation. This episode is recorded in hagiographic anthologies compiled in the Yuan and Ming (HY 296, 23.5b-6a; HY 450, 12b). Both are derivative resources, drawn from diverse hagiographic writings of earlier periods. Just

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when this particular story arose cannot be determined with any certainty, but it appears to be linked in part to a compilation on rituals of penance ascribed to Ge Xuan. This link is suggested by the description of Ge's activities following his audience with the king of ghosts (HY 296, 23.6a-b). The vision reportedly led him not only to make his ritual codes available to the abbeys of Mount Gezao (Jiangxi) but also to compile a ten-juan guide on atonement for the lay community. The ]iuyou chan, or Penance of the Nine Shades, cited is in fact the only compilation recorded under Ge Xuan's name in the Ming Daoist Canon (HY 543). The text itself, however, is thought to have been produced by Li Hanguang (683-769), author of the preface (Ren and Zhong I99I: 393-94; Yoshioka I959: 393-99). That this renowned Shangqing patriarch was a contemporary of Amoghavajra and equally esteemed at court may be no small coincidence. Reference to the practice known as jilian or liandu (salvation through refinement, or transmutation) is perhaps the most telling feature of the episode in question. This highly symbolic ritual for envisioning the deliverance of the dead cannot be dated before the Song (Boltz I 9 8 3; Lagerwey I987: I92). But incongruent terminology is a common feature ofhagiographic lore, often reflecting the overeager emendations of editors. It would be futile to speculate further on the Tang or Song efforts to establish Ge Xuan as the father ofLingbao liturgy. We can do no better than to heed the advice of Zheng Sixiao (I 24 I- I 3 I 8 ), compiler of authoritative analyses of both Buddhist and Daoist legacies of soteriological ritual. In his definitive study of jilian practice, Zheng found no reason to try to determine whether rituals of salvation originated with the teachings associated with Ge Xuan or Ananda. What is important, he concluded, is that the rituals of liandu and shishi are both products of an earnest effort to secure the deliverance of inhabitants of the netherworld (HY 548, 3 .41a-b ). Zheng Sixiao's writings on the subject were to have a far-reaching influence. Derivative compilations include a manual on liandu compiled in I 55 8 by a Qingwei Daoist master named Liu Zhongren and a liturgy putatively derived from a Song publication that the renowned Zhengyi Daoist Master Lou Jinyuan (I688-I776) re-edited in I740 (Yoshioka I959: 503-96). Parts of both works are included in the Tainan liturgy.

Cast, Stage Directions, and Setting There are altogether five major singing roles assigned in the Lingbao Liturgy on Universal Salvation. The leading role is assumed by thegaogong [fashi], or [ritual master of] high merit, that is, the celebrant officiating at

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation the ritual. He has four assistants: (I) dujiang, or chief cantor, (2) fujiang, or assistant cantor, (3) yinban, or troupe leader, and (4) zhixiang, or incense keeper. Following a preliminary procession, the main performance is staged within a tan (literally, "altar"), that is, the sanctified space demarcated by images of the various deities overseeing the liturgy (Schipper I982: 125-35). When the liturgy requires the ensemble to face the likenesses of the Sanqing trinity of Celestial Worthies (YUANSHI TIANZUN, LINGBAO TIANZUN, and DAODE TIANZUN) set up at the far end of the tan, the celebrant takes the center position behind the table holding ritual implements and copies of the liturgy. He is flanked on the left by the chief cantor and on the right by the assistant cantor. The troupe leader takes up his post at the left side of the table, and the incense keeper positions himself at the right side ofthe table (Schipper I975: I7-18; Ofuchi I983: 2023 ). Representatives of the community sponsoring the affair, including the jiaozhu, or hosts of the fete, take their places well behind the celebrant and his assistants. An instrumental ensemble sits to their left. A minimum of four musicians is engaged to accompany the ritual performance on an assortment of drums, gongs, bamboo clappers, bells, and wind (reed and flue pipes) and string (bowed and plucked) instruments (Schipper 1975: I 5- I6; Ofuchi I983: 207-8). Coordination of the many facets of the ritual requires close collaboration between the chief cantor and the performer on the taigu, or grand drum (Ofuchi I983: 201). The chief cantor serves as overall conductor, cuing both vocalists and instrumentalists by beating on the hollowed-out wooden block known as the muyu, or wooden fish. The assistant cantor signals the beginning and end of various vocal units of the liturgy by striking a qing, or suspended chime. The troupe leader takes the head position in processions and dances. He also adds to the musical accompaniment by wielding a set of bo, or handcymbals. The incense keeper manipulates ling, or handbells, in addition to overseeing the offerings of incense. Another ritual accoutrement, the chaoban or chiban, that is, the tablet of authority, also serves a percussive function. When not held aloft by the celebrant or his assistants, the tablets are commonly used to tap off units of the ritual. Otherwise, they often serve to hold down pages of the liturgy, which is typically rendered in large script, ten characters to a column, so that it can be easily followed throughout the service (Ofuchi I98 3: 230 ). The Lingbao Liturgy is largely performed in one of three modes of oral delivery: ( r) bai, or recitation, with no accompaniment beyond an introductory strike of the gong; ( 2) nian, or incantation, also unaccompanied; and ( 3) chang, or song, with metered instrumental accompaniment.

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Any of the three styles of vocalization may be specified for the full range of prosody in the liturgy, whether rhymed or unrhymed, with or without lines of equal length. On occasion, one of four modified forms of recitation or incantation may be required: (I) kanbai or kannian, elongated recitation or incantation, rendered in a deliberately slow, drawn-out manner; ( 2) changbai, or singing recitation, rendered in a loud, shouting style; ( 3) weinian, or subdued incantation, rendered in a soft voice; and (4) minian, or secret incantation, rendered so quietly as to be inaudible ( Ofuchi I 9 8 3: 230-32). The celebrant is the only vocalist called upon to apply the last two forms of delivery. The other two, exaggerated styles of vocalization are prescribed for either the celebrant alone or the ensemble in chorus. All five vocalists participate in the recitations. Solo recitations, however, are largely the responsibility of the celebrant. The most common performative styles are full choruses by all five vocalists and antiphonal exchanges between the celebrant and his assistants, in both song and incantation. It has long been the custom to hold services dedicated to guhun during the night. A Lingbao ritual formulary reflecting the Tiantai school of practice during the Song prescribes such services for the night of either day two or day three of a five-day Jiao (HY 466, 2.22a-24b ). By the Ming, the imperial house sought to restrict the duration of both Buddhist and Daoist fetes to three days, and in response to a r 3 7 4 decree on the matter, a new guide was compiled with schedules for Jiao of one-day or three-days length. Both short and long programs according to these protocols specify offerings on behalf of guhun at the close of the Jiao, with the three-day ceremony featuring such offerings on the first and second nights as well (HY 467; Yoshioka I959: 40I-6). Contemporary practice varies, but nighttime is typically favored whether the pudu service is performed midway through or at the close of a Jiao (Li Xianzhang I968: 49-50; Saso I975: r.I6-I7)· Ofuchi Ninji, whose observations of ritual practice in Taiwan spanned the years 1970 to I976, notes that it had become the custom to shift the pudu service of the Lingbao Liturgy from the late evening to the morning of the last day of a Jiao. The decision to reschedule the service was reportedly made as a convenience to invited guests so that they might enjoy the culminating banquet at midday rather than late at night (Ofuchi I983: 39I). Like its Buddhist analogues (Groot I885; Kamata 1983), the Lingbao pudu ritual is performed before an enormous array of offerings. Once dedicated, this banquet tor the ghosts is consumed by their benefactors at the close of the service. There is an overtly competitive aspect to such conspicuous culinary displays, and contributors invariably strive to outdo one

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation another by the quantity or novelty of the dishes they prepare ( Ofuchi I 9 8 3: 39I). Beyond this aspect of the service, what any single participant gives and gets from the ritual is an individual matter and therefore difficult to measure. Anthropological studies indicate that the level of expectation and the degree of engagement in such performances have much to do with the sense of satisfaction they may convey (Jordan I986; Weller I987). In the summary below, I try to see how the semantic and performative aspects of the pudu ritual either work with or against each other in conveying a sense of mastery over the guhun on whose behalf it is staged. Taking up a study of the text permits a view of the service that remains generally inaccessible to the congregation at large. Given the very nature of the fete, even the most attentive and informed patrons would presumably find it difficult to block out all distractions. Much of what is said and sung during the course of the liturgy would obviously be lost in the commotion of the crowd. We must keep this riot of color, smell, and sound in mind as we take up the text itself in an attempt to understand how the celebrants strive to prevail over the specter of death. In the end, I think we will find that the force of this liturgy rests upon a deliberate collaboration of word and music.

Lingbao Liturgy on Universal Salvation In Table 8.I, I outline 78 components of the ritual sequence according to the three major types of oral delivery prescribed: singing, recitation, and incantation. The vocalist(s) responsible for each component, as well as any additional specifications concerning performance, is indicated by coded abbreviations. I also give a count of characters for each component and note the length of individual metrical units in parentheses. To distinguish the major sub-divisions of the pudu service, I draw on Western liturgical terminology to establish ten headings: (I) Introit [I- I 5], ( 2) Collect [I 626], (3) Invocation [27-44], (4) Ablution [45- 50], ( 5) Credo [51- 53], (6) Oblations [54-62], (7) Scripture [63], (8) Intervenient Chants and Hymns [64-67], (9) Homily [68], and (Io) Dismissal [69-78]. The headings and component numbers are incorporated in the summary that follows as well as in Table 8.I. My description of the ritual derives from Ofuchi's commentary, supplemented by reference to other field studies. Additional remarks generally reflect my collation of this text with sources in the Daoist Canon as well as with cognate Buddhist formularies and contemporary Daoist liturgies, as outlined above. This collation is by no means exhaustive, but I hope its

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Order of the Service (k) = kanbai/nian (prolonged style) (c) = changbai (singing recitation) ( w) = weinian (soft incantation) ( m) = minian (silent incantation) ** =full ensemble (with celebrant) * =chorus (without celebrant) / = antiphonal divisions

G = gaogong (celebrant) D = dujiang (chief cantor) F = fujiang(assistant cantor) Y = yinban (troupe leader) Z = zhixiang (incense keeper) R = resident clergy # =drumbeat

Recite (ba•)

Sing (chang)

Chant (nian)

INTROIT

[l]**"lncense"#

62 [2] G/D/F/G (4 X 7) + **(3 X 9)

55 [3] (m) "Bestowing Incense" G (8 X 5) [4] **"PurifYing the Altar" (8 X 4) + 15

[7] **"South Sea"# [8] G (12)/*(12)/ D (12)/*(12)/ F (12)/*(12)/ y (12)/*(12)/ z (12)/*(ll) [9] G/*(9 X 7) + **(3 X 12) [10] **(8 X 7)

[llb]*(3 X 9) [llc]*(3 X 9) [12] "Three Teachings" G (6) + **(3 X 7) + 6 + (3 X 7) D(6)+**(3X7)+ 6 + (3 X 7) F (6) + **(3 X 7) + 6 + (3 X 7) **(3 X ll)

[Sa] G (22#10) + *(3) + G (84#) + *(2) + G(43)

164

[lla] D(F) (8 X 5) + G(4 X 4)### + R(2 X 5) + G(4)/ F (D) (4)/Y (4)/ Z(4)

82

= 40 = 47

[Sb]*S + (3 X 3) [6]**"Fengdu" # (8 X 5)

14 40

[13](m)G(4 X 7) + (2 X 4)

36

=119

=119 = 99 = 56

27 27

=195

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation TABLE 8.1

Sing (chang)

(continued)

Recite (bail

[14]G(4X7)+6+ (3 X 5)#

49

[!Sb] G (2 X 3) + 6#

12

189

[!Sa] G (4 X 7)

Chant (nian)

28

COLLECT

fl6]G(41)

41 [17] (w) G (3 X !0)

[18] [D (2) + G (5)] x 4 + G(2)+ *(21 + (k) *(2)

30

34

[19] * *\2 X 7) + (4 X 7) + (4 X 7) + (2 X 7) + =104 (2 X 10)# [20] G (225) [21] F Memorial (ca. 150) [22] G (48 + 2) + *(4) [23] **(8 X 7) + (2 X 9)#

74

[25] G (56+ SO)# [26]**(8 X 7)#

= 225 ISO = 54

[24] (w)G(I9 + 7 + 24 + 18 + 18 + 64)#

=140

[28b] *(10 X II)

=110

[ 29] • *"Qinghua" (IOX5)+ (8 X 4) + 8 [30]G(4 X 5) X 3 [31] **"Fengdu" (see [6])

= 90 60 = 40

106

56 INVOCATION

[27] G (270) + **(3 X 6) [28a] [G (4) + D (4) + G (20) + *(2) + G (20)] X 10 [28c]*(26 + 27) x 2

[32] G/*(8 X 7) + 7#

288

500

=126

63 [33] G (36) + 50 [G (2) + *(4)] X 3 [34] [D (4) + G (4) + D (4) X 12 + G (57+ 61 + 71 + 73 + 83 + 61 + 75 + 59+ 59+ 73 +55)+ [*(2) + G (19) + **(9)] =1294 X 12 [35] **"Qinghua"(see[29]) = 90 [36] G (see [30]) = 60 [37] **"Golden-hued Radiance" (8 X 5) = 40

190

JUDITH MAGEE BOLTZ TABLE8.I

Sing (chang) [38) G/*(8 X 7) + 7#

(continued)

Recite (bai)

Chant (nian)

63 [39] [D (4) + G (4) + D (4)] X 3 + G ( 104 + 81 +81) + [*(2) + G (28)] X 3

392 (40]**"EnjoyingGreat Fortune" (8 X 5 )#

(41]G(58)

= 40

58 [42]**"Qinghua" (see [29]) = 90 (43) G (see [30]) = 60 (44)**(8 X 5)# = 40 ABLUTION

[45a] G (108) + *(2) + G(62)#

172

[46a)G(20)#

20

(47a) G (22)#

22

[48] G (58)

58

[45b] G/*"Salvation" (14 X 4) [46b] G/*"lnner Perfection" (16 X 4) (47b] G/*"Rebirth" (8 X 4)

56 64

32

[49]**"Qinghua" (see [29]) = 90 (50)**(see (44]) 40 CREDO

[51a)*(3 [Sib] [G (2) + *(5)] [52] "Taking Refuge" G (7) + **(43) + D (7) + **(45) + F (7) + **(49 + 14)

X

3

X

7)

21

21

=151 [53] (m) G (ll# + ll# + ll#)

33

OBLATIONS

[54]*"Six Offerings" ((7 X 7) + (4 X 7)) X 5 + (9 X 7) + ll + 7 =466 (55)**(8 X 7) + 7 = 63 [56a) G (53) [57] G(98)# (58) G/* (3 X 7) + *(13 X 7) [60)**"Weapons" (25 X 9) + 10 + (30 X 9) + 18 + (12 X 9)

53 98

=112

[56b) G (4 X 5)

= 20

(59)**(see (44))#

= 40

=631 [6la) G (62)#

(62a] G (25) + (c)*(2) + G (6) + (c)*(2) + G(60)#

62

95

[6lb) "Sweet Dew" G/*(6 X 5) + [37): (8 X 5)

70

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation TABLE8.I

[ 62b J "Opening Throats" G/* (10 X 5) + (10 X 5) + **(4 X 5)

(continued)

Recite (bai)

Sing (chang)

191

Chant (nian)

=120 SCRIPTURE

[63a] G (36) [63b] **"Sublimity" (12 X 5)

36

60

[ 63c] **Scripture on Rebirth 297 + (22 X 5) + 48 + (4 X 5) + 71

=546

INTERVENIENT CHANTS AND HYMNS

[64a] G (60)

=

60

[64b) **(12 X 4)# + (13 X 4) + (12 X 4) + (14 X 4) + (13 X 4) + =300 (10 X 4)# [65a] G (27)

27

[66a] G (19)

19

[67a] G (2) + *(4)#

[ 65b] "Sanctified Offerings" = 110 G/*(22 X 5) [ 66b] "Three Radiants" G/*(16 X 5) + =120 (8 X 5)

6

[67b] **"Wayfarer's Lament" (184 + 45) =229 HOMILY

[ 68a] G ( 122) + (k) Threefold Refuge [(3 X 4) + 5] x3 173 [68c] (k) Ten Precepts G(28 + 24 + 24 + 20 + 24 + 18 + 24 + 24 + 25 + 21) + *(10 X 5) 282

[68b](k)G(2 X 4)

8

DISMISSAL

[69] F Mandate (ca. 175) [70] G(93) [71] *(2) + G (ll3) [72] G/* (5 X 5) + 6+(10X5) [73] **"Seven Words" (8 X 7) [74] "Five Lads" G/*(5 X 25)#

175 93 ll5

81 56 =125 [75) **(4 X 5) + (5 X 6) +(3X4)+6

[76] **"Paper" (12 X 4)

48

[77] **[40]: (8 X 5) + (3 X 5)#

55 [78] G (6) + G/*(6 X 4)

30

68

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JUDITH MAGEE BOLTZ limitations do not prevent a recognition of where this liturgy begins to part with tradition. Ultimately, we will want to ask how the struggle between continuity and innovation in this liturgy contributes to its intended function as a ritual of salvation on behalf ofguhun. PRELIMINARIES

The opening of the service is signaled by the hanging of flags labeled pudu or guhun beneath the qixing deng, or seven-star lanterns, the votive lamps signifying the Big Dipper (Schipper 1974: 318). These lamps are lined up on a table placed between representations of the Sanqing trinity and the liturgy table. The hosts of the fete bow to the Sanqing trinity and submit offerings of incense. The celebrant, resplendent in a richly patterned scarlet vestment (Ofuchi I983: 2IO- I I; Lagerwey I987: 291-92), enters next and presents three offerings of incense. Then he gathers up additional sticks of incense, flowers, and a small banner bearing black and red insignia denoting the esoteric name of the presiding deity, that is, TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN, or the Celestial Worthy of Grand Unity Who Relieves Distress. It is also inscribed with a summons addressed to all desolate and stagnant spirits of the dead, male and female alike, who remain deprived of offerings. INTROIT

The opening hymn, [I] "Incense," voices the supplicants' devout intent for the manifestation ofTAIYI JIUKU [TIAN]ZUN. It is the counterpart to the hymn evoking the presence of all Buddhas, as recorded in the liturgies ofFacang (Z. I344, 447), Ding'an (YY, I86), and Mengshan (Kamata I983: 86-87). The drumbeat at the close of the refrain signals [2] a recitation recalling the scene of how everyone who listened to YUANSHI TIAN- · zuN's scriptural revelations came to be delivered. This antiphonal reading concludes with an invocation ofTAIYI JIUKU [TIAN]ZUN, recited in unison three times. The ensemble turns around and proceeds to the front of a papiermache likeness of Mount Putuo set up outside the tan (Ofuchi I 9 8 3: 392; Lagerwey I98T 59). The celebrant chants [3] "Bestowing Incense" while symbolically transporting himself into the celestial realm by stepping through a pattern known as buxu, or Pacing the Void ( Ofuchi r 9 8 3: 2 3 2). This incantation is derived from a component of the early Lingbao canon, the Scripture on Pacing the Void (HY I427, Ioa). By Du Guangting's time it had become a well-established part of mourning ritual (HY 507, 36.sa). The next incantation, [4] "Purifying the Altar," delivered by the full en-

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation semble, describes how echoing chimes still the cosmos, while clouds of incense banish noxious elements and at the same time evoke transcendent forces (cf. Shi I98T 22-23, 186-87; Gan I988: 103). The celebrant then [sa] presents three offerings of incense by way of invoking Guanyin, Maitreya, Mulian, Monkey Equal to Heaven, the king of the scorched-face ghosts, the tutelary deity known as tudigong, and various other spirits to draw out all guhun wanting in offerings. 2 Mter the celebrant reveals the date and time of the service, the chorus [ 5b] chants a refrain, announcing offerings of tea, incense, and wine. Everyone joins in chanting [ 6) "Smashing Purgatory," otherwise known as "Fengdu." This incantation describes how the radiance ofLingbao illuminates the netherworld, allowing the spirits of the dead to rise out of its darkness on clouds of incense. It is one of two incantations at the heart of the Scripture on the Incantation of Sweet Dew (HY 75, 2b), a copy of which is known to have been in the Song imperial library (Loon 1984: 84). Many Song liturgies include this chant (HY 466, 31.3a; HY 508, 33.17a-b, 6o.16b-17a, 69.12b, 114.6a; HY 547, 30.5a, 36.7a; HY I211, 44.30b-32a; HY 1213, 13.14a-b, 37.10b, 38.28b), as do later ritual formularies (TXSX, I4b; Saso 1975: I4.3895; Ofuchi 1983: 353, 756; Shi I98T I2I-22). With the closing hymn of this segment, [ 7] "South Sea," everyone pays homage to the bodhisattva Guanyin in her abode on Mount Putuo. This hymn corresponds to lyrics recorded to the qupai tune of "Meihua yin," or "Plum Blossom Introit," included in a manuscript copy of a Buddhist hymnal dating to the Qing (As 401b). Next the celebrant and chorus turn to face the tables laden with offerings and sing [ 8] an antiphonal greeting to the Sanqing trinity, TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN, and LEISHENG PUHUA TIANZUN (Celestial Worthy of the Universal Transformation ofThunder Noise). Celebrant and chorus then sing alternate lines of[9] a hymn describing how the omnipotence of the sacred names of the Sanqing trinity absolvesguhun of all their transgressions. The refrain sung in unison calls for the universal bestowal of oblations onguhun in the name ofTAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN. The full ensemble continues with a second [I o] hymn describing how the merciful Celestial Worthy orders the cessation of punishments in the netherworld. Such is the power he commands that the mere sound of his voice effects eternal deliverance from the "Sea of Bitterness." The procession turns back toward the tan. The celebrant dispatches either the chief cantor or assistant cantor to fetch a hand censer and carry it to the tan. The person to whom this responsibility falls raises the censer inside the tan as he [1 1a] recites an invitation for the celebrant to "ascend

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JUDITH MAGEE BOLTZ the precious throne." The celebrant delivers his response outside the tan, recalling how the revelations ofYUANSHI [TIANZUN] and Lord Lao led to the release ofguhun. Three drumbeats signal the resident Daoist master to reiterate the invitation to "ascend the precious throne" ( cf. Shi I 98T I07). Each of the four members of the ensemble remaining outside the tan recites a line of the response, acknowledging the formal opening of the tan. The assistants to the celebrant then circle the liturgy table as they [I I b] sing a refrain three times in the name ofTAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN, repeating the mandate to "ascend the precious throne." The celebrant then enters the tan and displays the diadem of the Five Sovereigns, counterpart to the diadem of the Five Dhyani Buddhas of Yogaciira ritual (Ofuchi I983: plates 4, 33). Thus greeted, the resident clergy and hosts of the jiao bow down with incense in hand three times and then enter the tan. The chorus [ rrc] sings a variant refrain three times, calling for the sacred diadem to be opened in the name of TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN. As they sing, the celebrant raises his tablet of authority and, using it as a brush, inscribes in midair the command: "Open Wide the Gateway of Sweet Dew." Next he takes up the bang, or placard, on which the Memorial (see [21]) is recorded (Ofuchi I983: 42I; Schipper I974: 313; Lagerwey I987: 6r, 63-64 ), and hangs it from the liturgy table. The celebrant then sings the first line of [I 2] "Three Teachings," and the chorus completes the story of the life of Lord Lao recounted in the first stanza. The chief cantor and assistant cantor take the lead for the stanzas in tribute to Confucius and Sakyamuni, respectively. All join in singing a refrain three times, calling on the three great masters to deliver guhun in the name of TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN. Everyone then takes his seat within the tan. The celebrant sets the diadem on the table, places five grains of rice on top of it, and [I 3] silently chants in homage to the Five Buddhas (cf. YYSY, r.6a-b; Ofuchi I983: Sor ). The musicians enter from the side at the close of this incantation. The celebrant then flicks the rice off the diadem and unfurls it (Ofuchi I983: pl. 33). Mter manipulating a series ofmudra, he positions the diadem on his head, thereby signifYing his identification with JIUKU TIANZUN (Dean I986: 20I; Lagerwey I98T 59). The celebrant then immediately sings a [I4] short offertory in the name ofTAIYI JIUKU [TIAN]ZUN (cf. YYSY, 1.49b; Saso I975: 14.4039-40; Ofuchi I983: 8o6). Next he [I 5a] recites a pledge offaith in the trinity representing the Three Treasures and prays for the release of guhun through a display of compassion. The [I 5b] refrain he sings next invites TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN to be seated on the "precious dias."

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation COLLECT

The celebrant cum JIUKU TIANZUN discloses in [I6] a recitation that he has been made aware of the purificatory effect of a single drop of consecrated water as manifested by a secret incantation. The chief cantor and assistant cantor bring in ritual implements as he [ I7] quietly chants three imitative dharal).l evoking the moon, sun, and stars of the Big Dipper, pressing the appropriate joint in his fingers for each (cf. HY 2I9, 23.7b8a). The celebrant then holds up a basin of consecrated water and sprinkles the seated assembly four times. The chief cantor [I 8] counts off each lustration in prelude to four lines of recitation by the celebrant describing the purification under way. The chorus joins him in proclaiming the cleansing of all quarters, calling forcefully in the end on TIANZUN. Everyone joins in singing [I9] a hymn composed of two distinct quatrains framed by a couplet at the opening and close (cf. Saso I975: 14.3884-86). The opening couplet on the dispersal of incense introduces a pledge of faith in the inimitable Dao. Its vision of the compassionate JIUKU [TIAN]ZUN overcoming the darkness of the netherworld through radiance echoes the imagery of the tribute to Cundi-Guanyin in Yogacara liturgy (YYSY, r. 7a). The second stanza envisioning deliverance ofguhun is followed by the declaration that transcendence cannot be achieved until all sentient beings attain the Dao. The bodhisattva-like vow expressed in this closing couplet recalls the story of how an eminent eighth-century interpreter of the Scripture on Salvation attained the Dao only after he had delivered his ancestors as well as the desolate spirits of the netherworld ( HY I03, 6.15b-16a). Here the vow is followed by a refrain, repeated twice, calling for the deliverance of all lost souls in the name of TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN.

With additional offerings of incense, the celebrant next [ 20] invites the presence of the "benevolent father" TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN, LEISHENG PUHUA TIANZUN, and the Celestial Worthies of the ten quarters, as well as the Zhengyi patriarch Zhang Daoling (fl. I42 c.E.) and Lingbao patriarch Ge Xuan, the buddhas of the ten quarters, Guanyin, keepers of purgatory, the chenghuang, or City God, and other canonized guardians of the host community (cf. Saso I975: I4.3886-94). The assistant cantor then reads [ 2I] an abridged version of the shu, or Memorial. This text discloses the time and place of the jiao, the names of sponsors and participants, and their intent to secure the deliverance ofguhun (cf. Ofuchi I983: 42I; Liu Zhiwan I967: 69-72; Schipper I974; Lagerwey I98T 6I-63). The celebrant [ 22] urges the spirits to hasten forward so that they

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might partake of the oblations. He pledges his trust in the benevolent power of the compassionate worthies of the Three Treasures to achieve a transformation of the sweet dew (the consecrated water) into offerings of food. The chorus joins in calling on the Celestial Worthies to oversee the deliverance of all lost souls. All unite to sing [23] a hymn describing the endless suffering ofguhun and zhipo left to roam under the light of the moon, shivering in the north wind: "With your head in Wu [Jiangsu] and your tailbone in Chu [Hubei], where is your homer With your po in Shu [Sichuan] and hun in Xiang [Hunan], your grievances never ceasing" (cf. Saso 1975: 14·3905-6; Ofuchi 1983: 753). The closing refrain calls for the deliverance ofguhun in the name ofTAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN. To expel demonic forces at large, the celebrant begins manipulating a series of mudra as he quietly chants [ 24] five dharal).1 and renders a sixth sotto voce (cf. YYSY, 1.28a-29b, 40b-41a; Z. 1341, 40ob-4o2a; Z. 1344, 450b-pa, 452b; Z. 1345, 474b-75a, 476b). At the same time, the local clergy seated at the rear of the tan blow on horns, thus contributing a background of apotropaic cacophony. Speaking audibly again, the celebrant next [ 2 5] recalls how YUANSHI TIANZUN and Lord Lao observed the suffering of hun and po imprisoned within the eternal darkness of purgatory without escape. It was then, he continues, that the Celestial Worthy, taking pity, divulged the liturgy of the Golden Slips and Lord Lao commiserated by doing penance. The celebrant announces [26] a hymn, which he joins in singing with his assistants. The first word varies according to the season of the performance: spring, autumn, summer, or winter. In an evocative style similar to the preceding hymn, the ensemble describes the dismal state ofguhun forced to endure pitch-black layers of clouds, ghosts wailing amid the incessant rainfall of the night. INVOCATION

The celebrant introduces the first of three summons with [ 2 7] an eloquent oration, remarking on manifestations of cyclical change and the pitiful state of hun and po with no one to look after them. Addressing them directly, he announces the service being conducted to ensure their deliverance. Promising to provide food and clothing for the starving and cold, the celebrant adds that one need only heed his commandments to be cleansed of transgressions and gain entry into the halls of the heavenly realm. He closes his initial address by commanding: "Obey the summons I bear and kindly come, guhun." Everyone joins in repeating a refrain three times, calling on young acolytes to serve as escorts in the name of TIANZUN.

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation Meanwhile the celebrant picks up the banner inscribed with the summons. The incense keeper hands him a stick of incense. Waving the banner, the celebrant alternates with the chief cantor in three recitations of [ 28a), the opening line of a series of ten invitations. The chorus [ 28b] chants a refrain at the close of each invitation. The last line, "With incense and flowers we issue this invitation," is repeated three times as the celebrant passes the stick of incense to the troupe leader, who then inserts it into one of a row of steamed buns lined up on the table. Twice, after recitation of the fourth and eighth units, slightly abbreviated versions of the text are repeated in [28c] song, together with expanded refrains. Thus, at the completion of the entire sequence often units and two repeats, sticks of incense stand in a total of twelve buns. The ten invitations are addressed to all male and female guhun deprived of offerings in the following categories: (I) murder victims of thieves and brigands, ( 2) drowning victims, ( 3) suicides by hanging or slitting of the throat, (4) deaths from stillborn deliveries and miscarriages, ( 5) those summoned by plaints submitted from the grave, ( 6) victims of bewitchment, (7) deaths from wrongful charges of enemies and rivals, ( 8) casualties due to toxic herbal remedies, (9) deaths from chronic illness and contagious diseases, and ( IO) fatalities in prison (cf. Saso I975: 14.3898-904; Ofuchi I983: 758-6o, 807-8, 893-94). Following the insertion of the twelfth stick of incense, everyone joins in [ 29] chanting a dedication to TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN known as the "Qinghua" appellation (cf. HY 548, 3.5a; TLJK, r.2a-b; Ofuchi I983: 703, 884; Shi I987: 72; Dean I988: 57). Next, the celebrant [3o] chants a repetiuve sequence of three quatrains, envisioning how guhun are bathed three times in water infused with incense. Each time he waves the banner above the sticks of incense, praying for the purification ofguhun through the power of the Three Treasures. The steamed buns holding the incense are then transferred to the hosts of the jiao to be presented with offerings of wine before the mountain abode ofGuanyin. As before, the bestowal of offerings at the foot of the likeness of Mount Putuo is followed by the chant [3I] "Smashing Purgatory." The celebrant and his assistants then deliver an antiphonal rendition of [ 3 2] a hymn that matches the seasonal chorale (see [26]), but closes with an image of banners leading theguhun into the celestial domain. The celebrant next [ 3 3] addresses offerings of incense to twelve categories ofguhun and zhipo in want of offerings. An abbreviated command, "Obey the summons I bear," is followed by a refrain identical to that of his initial summons. The [ 3 4] opening line of each invitation is repeated three times, but here the chief cantor leads off, alternating with the celebrant.

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In each instance, the celebrant closes with a prayer expressing his trust in the power of the Three Treasures to evoke the presence of all the guhun and zhipo summoned so that they might receive the offerings of sweet dew. The twelve invitations provide short narratives outlining the circumstances resulting in tragic deaths (cf. Saso 1975: 14.3908-26; Ofuchi 1983: 758-60, 807-8, 888-90; Z. 1341, 406a-b; YYSY, 2.10b-14b; Z. 1344, 457b- 58b; Z. 1345, 482a-83a; YY, 93-105): 1. Sons of public officials, young men with enfeoffinents, students without stipend, white-haired scholars, who, among the privileged few, concentrated on their studies for years but then, perhaps while awaiting recommendation or examination results, perished in tuin at mid-life, failing to fulfill their promise; 2. Tillers of the soil, fishermen, woodsmen, and others living off the land, who, because of an earthquake or landslide, the collapse of a wall or building, perished in an instant, forever separated from their native home; 3. Skilled craftsmen and clever artisans who ignored their families to devote their lives to various artful schemes and then abandoned their wives and children to take up residence away from home, with no intention of returning, such that they ended up freezing or starving to death in the wilderness or collapsed in a ditch; 4· Merchants who traveled by rivers and lakes, from inns to guardhouses, crossing mountains and waterways seeking to trade their goods in a lifelong pursuit of treasures; circling north and then south, encountering one hazard after another until they were either attacked and robbed or fell critically ill, such that they perished in barracks, unable to return to their native home; 5. Childless people with no heirs, widows and widowers, and children without guardians, who, after burying their kin, were left to beg, and for want of adequate food and clothing perished before their time and were deprived of proper burial, without anyone to provide offerings; 6. Monks and nuns who merely sought the pleasures of the Gateway of Emptiness (Buddhism) without any regard for the hardships of their parents and, lacking all gratitude for having been nurtured through infancy, would have neither father nor master, choosing instead to shave their heads and leave home, and once they took to the streets, recited the name of the B·uddha, demanding handouts from the multitudes, only to find their life span suddenly depleted and so ended up dead on the roadside or in the wilderness; 7. Brave citizens, gentry, officers and soldiers who, in upholding the mandate of their sovereign, went east and west into battle on behalf of their country and, defeated in a southern province or in a northern outpost, ended up with their remains strewn about, their bones exposed, or stuffed into a well or moat, with their grievances unresolved and without any blood relatives or relations through marriage to look after them; 8. Women who lost their lives in childbed or pregnant women whose bellies

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation were ripped open; whether the infants survived or whether mother and child both perished, all ended up in the Black Sea (purgatory); 9· Convicts condemned to death, whether by flogging or left to die in shackles, whether beheaded or hung, whether from being sent into exile or penal servitude, all were driven by a sense of arrogant ryranny to violate the law of the land, which means that, since they brought it on themselves, they have been absolutely forbidden from registering any grievances concerning the varieties of suffering and degradation endured; IO. Gamblers no better than pilfering rats and dogs who ganged together like thugs and violated people of good will and then were suddenly cut down and reduced to ashes in the netherworld, with ants stripping their flesh, leaving their bones exposed to sand or mud; once brash and boorish and now entirely wasted; I I. Seers, astrologers, and various other types of prognosticators who claimed infallibility in judging the fortunes and misfortunes of humankind as if good and bad luck were preordained, entirely the whim of fate and impervious to any human endeavors; in the end they had no more control over their destiny than they did that of others; I 2.. Prostitutes in brothels, taverns, and teahouses who constantly painted their nails and applied makeup day in and day out, idling away their time singing and making music; the wives of every man when they were alive, but ghosts without husbands at death.

The close of this recitation finds sticks of incense inserted in twelve steamed buns according to the same procedure as before. Likewise, everyone joins in [ 3 5] chanting the "Qinghua" appellation (see [ 29]). The celebrant similarly repeats the [ 36] threefold chant envisioning purification of guhun (see [30]) as he waves theguhun banner over the sticks of incense. Again, the buns bearing incense are transferred to the hosts of the jiao for delivery before the likeness of Mount Putuo. Homage before Guanyin's abode is followed this time by the incantation [37] "Golden-hued Radiance." This is the second of the two chants recorded in the Scripture ofthe Incantation on Sweet Dew (HY 75, 2a-b) included in this service (see [ 6]). Like its counterpart, "Smashing Purgatory" (see [31]), featured after the first presentation of buns, this chant evokes a vision of the netherworld infused with radiance and incense. More popularly known as the "Incantation on Sweet Dew," as the scripture is titled, this chant is included in a number of ritual anthologies, commonly following the chant of "Smashing Purgatory," but occasionally preceding it (HY 466, 31.3a-b, 6r.29b, 69.IIa; HY 508, 26.14a-b, 30.8b; HY 547, 30.5a; HY I2II, 38.6b, 44.32a-33a; HY 1213, 13.14b, 37.11a, 38.28b-29a, TXSX, 14b). It is also featured in variant contemporary liturgies (Saso 1975: 14.3973-74; Ofuchi 1983: no, 887).

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The [ 38] hymn that follows, sung antiphonally by celebrant and chorus, recalls the graphic accounts ofguhun in three earlier hymns ([23, 26, 3 2]). A version of this hymn in the Xinzhu liturgy is in fact prescribed as an alternative to the first such hymn ( [ 2 3 ]), to be sung on rainy nights (Saso 1975: 14.3906-8). Rather than the torrential nighttime rains projected as the backdrop of that version, the lyrics here seem to favor an arid setting, for guhun and zhipo are described nestled in the grass, with their eyes full of sand. In similar fashion to the remedies prescribed in like hymns, a presentation of sweet dew is proposed in closing to overcome the hunger and thirst suffered from being denied offerings season after season. A third, somewhat redundant, [ 39] set of invitations is formulated according to the same pattern as the two preceding series. Like the second sequence, the chief cantor leads off this recitation, alternating with the celebrant in three readings of the initial summons. The celebrant, as always, delivers the invitations and offers the closing prayer calling on the power of the Three Treasures to draw forth guhun and zhipo to accept offerings of sweet dew. And once again, his recitation accompanies the insertion of sticks of incense in twelve steamed buns. Three categories of spirits are addressed here, ranging from the once fortunate to the less fortunate and victims of natural or man-made disasters: r. Brilliant literati, members of the Daoist and Buddhist clergy in good standing, government officials posted throughout the empire, merchants who traveled far and wide, all loyal servants of the state cut down in cold blood, slain on the battlefield, forever kept from returning to their native home; 2. The wretched and tormented in villages and hamlets who, having sunken into a state of destitution, may have perished in childbed or died of dissipation in a monastery, may have thrown themselves into a river or down a well, may have been condemned to death for ignoring the law, may have slit their own throats or hung themselves, may have been killed and eaten by tigers and wolves or poisoned and gobbled up by snakes and rats; 3 . All casualties such as those struck down by lightning or victims of fires and floods, leaving hideous torsos in the hills and woods or ending up at the bottom of a ravine or gulley, in a fountain or spring, consigned as hungry ghosts to the purgatory ofFengdu, old and young, men and women, widows and widowers, childless and orphaned alike.

At the conclusion of this third summons, everyone joins in chanting "Enjoying Great Fortune." The vision it projects is that of release from the torture dens of purgatory as their chambers are purified and the cries of suffering within are vanquished. The celebrant then [4 r] addresses the guhun and zhipo as they approach the tan. He tells them to proceed [ 40]

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation slowly and quietly in pairs, with the lowly following the worthy and the elderly supported by the young. The [42] "Qinghua" appellation is repeated (see [29, 3 5]) and, for the third time, the celebrant waves theguhun banner above the sticks of incense while repeating [ 4 3] the threefold chant envisioning purification of the guhun as they submit to the power of the Three Treasures (see [30, 36]). As before, the twelve incense offerings are presented before Mount Putuo by the hosts of the jiao. Everyone then joins in chanting [44] an incantation derived from the ]iuku jing, or Scripture on Relieving Distress (HY 374, 2b; cf. TLJK, 1.3b). Like the Scripture ofthe Incantation on Sweet Dew, the source of the two chants marking the earlier offerings at Mount Putuo, this scripture is known to have been among the holdings of the Song imperial library (Loon 1984: 135). The vision evoked in this chant contrasts with the illumination of purgatory featured in the two preceding chants. It describes how those awakened by the revelations of the Celestial Master succeed in atoning for their transgressions by repeatedly chanting scripture (cf. Saso 1975: 14: 3932-33; Ofuchi 1983: 768). ABLUTION

The celebrant [ 4 sa] views the guhun gathered before him and finds that the bodies of some reek with a rancid odor, the skeletons of others are equally foul, and others are still only partially clothed, lacking cap or sash (cf. Saso 1975: 14.3943 ). He tells them that purified water as well as caps and gowns have been set out by the hosts of the jiao. Reading off the names of their benefactors, the celebrant states that these bestowals will enable the guhun to wash away their impurities and become properly attired for receiving teachings on attaining transcendence. The chorus and celebrant, speaking in succession, then instruct males to retire to the hall reserved for them and the females to do likewise, so that they may bathe and make themselves presentable. By way of announcing the next selection, the celebrant declares that it is the uniform resolve of each and everyone participating in the service to assist in their deliverance and rebirth. [ 4 5b] "Salvation" is the first of three chants rendered antiphonally by celebrant and chorus. The three chants are the third, fourth, and fifth of six incantations featured in a Lingbao liturgy of purification recorded in the anthology of ritual compiled by Jiang Shuyu (HY 508, 29.r6a-r9a). The liturgy is prescribed on behalf of a deceased and his or her ancestors, as well as guhun and zhipo. The metaphorical language of the chants reflects the complex legacy of liandu rimals. "Salvation" describes the radiant effect of refinement as it charts one's progress from purification

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to ascent into the heavenly realm (cf. Saso 1975: 14.3948-49; Ofuchi 1983: 768). The celebrant [46a] announces the next chant as testimony to the heartfelt sympathy of the entire assembly. The incantation [ 46b] "Inner Perfection" speaks of purging the stain of transgression and body alike (cf. Saso 1975: 14.3644-46; Ofuchi I983: 768). It closes with an allusion to the capping and sashing occurring behind the scene. The third and final chant of this sequence, also preceded by the celebrant's [ 4 7a] testimony on behalf of the gathering, is a concise reformulation of the two preceding chants. A remarkable variant in [ 4 7b] "Rebirth" and "Inner Perfection" sets these two chants apart from the renditions found in the liturgies of Jiang Shuyu and Xinzhu. Where these chants differ is in the consistent substitution of the first-person pronoun for all second-person pronouns. "May you be transformed" (HY soB, 29.18b; Saso 1975: !4·3940), for example, is delivered here as "May we be transformed." This shift in the frame of reference seems to indicate that we are to perceive these incantations being voiced by theguhun themselves. The celebrant signals the conclusion of the symbolic bathing ceremony by [4 8] pronouncing the complete purification of mind and body. Mter admiring their elegant attire, he reminds the guhun that the worthy and lowly are to position themselves accordingly. Penance, he adds, is required of everyone, however they may have conducted themselves in life. The celebrant concludes his address by declaring that they will be guided toward their deliverance and awakening through the compassion of the assembly. And for the fourth time, everyone joins in chanting [ 49] the "Qinghua" appellation. This tribute to TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN is followed by a repetition of [so] the chant derived from the Scripture on Relieving Distress (see [44]). The closing line serves as a reminder of how the repeated chanting of scripture cleanses the mind of all impurities. CREDO

The chorus and celebrant alternate in delivering confessions of faith modeled on the tri-sara1Ja, or triple-refuge formula (Zurcher 1980: I I 5 ). The chorus opens with [ sr a] a chant, announcing their surrender to the supreme worthy representing the treasure of the Dao. In echo of an earlier tribute [8], the celebrant [srb] recites a corresponding appellation, cuing the chorus to recite the name ofYUANSHI TIANZUN. Pledges are similarly articulated to the Celestial Worthies of Lingbao and Daode, representing the treasures of scripture and clergy, respectively (cf. Saso I 97 5: I4. 3 9 34). The succeeding hymn [52] "Taking Refuge" reinforces the recitation

A Daoist Ritual ofSalvation (cf. Saso 1975: 14.3936-38; YYSY, r.25b-28a). The celebrant sings the opening line of the first stanza, leading everyone to join in praise of YUANSHI TIANZUN. The sequence is completed with the chief cantor introducing the tribute to LINGBAO TIANZUN and the assistant cantor leading off the tribute to DAODE TIANZUN. A refrain calling for the advancement of guhun in the name of TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN is repeated twice at the close of the three stanzas. The celebrant renders [53] three silent dharal).1prefaced chants in final obeisance to the worthies of the Dao, scripture, and clergy (cf. Saso 1975: 14: 3934-35). Meanwhile his assistants bring in additional ritual accoutrements. OBLATIONS

The chorus sings [54] "Six Offerings" in accompaniment to the celebrant's manipulation ofmudra signifYing offerings of incense, flowers, lanterns, clay, fruit, and music. This hymn is a variant of an identically titled hymn in Zhuhong's liturgy (Z. 1341, 40p; YYSY, r.46a-47a). A stanza of eleven lines is repeated six times, with the only variation being the name of the offering. The first seven lines, sung in a deliberately slow tempo, describe how the offering specified emerges from the mudra. The refrain of four lines, sung at a rapid pace, commits the offerings to the Celestial Worthies of the Three Treasures. Both units share a comparable closing line: "We pray the Celestial (Benevolent) Worthies will accept [this offering]." All six offerings are named in the sixth repetition of the refrain. Everyone then sings [55] a hymn describing how the guhun emerge from the eternal darkness of purgatory, upon the infusion of radiance, incense, and song (cf. Saso 1975: 14·3927-28; Ofuchi 1983: 885). The closing line, repeated twice, hails the cooling effect of the bounteous offerings of sweet dew. As the refrain ends, the celebrant inverts a handbell, drops a few grains of rice inside, and recites [ 56a] a lengthy imitative dharal).1 (cf. YYSY, 1.47b). He then shakes out the rice and chants [56b] a quatrain anticipating the instant appeasement ofguhun provided with bounty from the celestial cuisine. The celebrant continues with [57] a discourse extolling the transtormative effect of a single morsel. Freedom from hunger and thirst, and ultimately the attainment of transcendence, he asserts, await those partaking of the offerings. Then he cautions the guhun against greed and tells them to repent and surrender to the inimitable Dao. The celebrant closes his address with the announcement of a "secret stanza." The [58] hymn that follows is taken up by the chorus after an initial antiphonal exchange with the celebrant (cf. Saso 1975: 14.3957-60). It speaks of the transfigurative effect of a divine display of compassion,

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whereby dry bones can be forged into transcendent beings. This "secret stanza" is the opening incantation in two sets of protocols on offerings in Jiang Shuyu's anthology of Yellow Register liturgies (HY 508, 26.12b13a, 30.IIa). Jiang identifies the source of this chant as the Yuqing jing, or Scripture ofJade Clarity. It can be found in an eclectic pre-Song compilation recorded in the Ming Daoist Canon under the title Taishang dadao yuqing jing (HY 1301, 2.26a; Ren and Zhong 1991: 1033-34). Other liturgies dating from the Song to the Ming also feature this incantation as the opening selection of sequences with additional units that find their correspondence in this service (HY 466, 31.2a-b; HY 467, 7a-b; HY 1213, 13.13b-14a, 37.10a-b, 38.28a-b; HY 1216, 5.23a). It is followed here by a repetition of [59] the chant derived from the Scripture on Relieving Distress(see [44, so]). The celebrant then joins the chorus in singing [ 6o] "Weapons" (cf. Saso 1975: 14.3975-88; Ofuchi 1983: 762-63, 8o8-9, 895-97), as various offerings of food are tossed into the crowd surrounding the tan (Lagerwey 1987= 52, 59). Counterparts to this narrative sequence are common in Yoga:cara formularies (YYSY, 2.15a-16b; Z. 1341, 407a-b; Z. 1344, 458b- 59a; Z. 1345, 483a-b; YY, 108-15 ). It is a highly graphic account of the various types of guhun arriving from throughout the countryside, old and young, wise and foolish alike, to accept morsels of sweet dew. As the title suggests, special concern is reserved for victims of armed conflict: "Foot soldiers and cavalry, their bodies torn asunder by swords, lances, bows, and arrows, left to die on the battlefield, trampled by horses and crushed by chariots, with blood oozing from their nostrils and mouths, dragged by wild boars and dogs, devoured by squabbling tigers and wolves." Another stanza singles out natives of China, male or female, who were kidnapped and taken to a foreign land as slaves and then, unbeknown to their kin, perished and became ghosts in an alien land. And finally, last to be described are boat passengers drowned in a sudden typhoon and stranded on a sandbar, with crows and magpies pecking at their torsos and heads, leaving their remains to be washed away for want of anyone to look after their burial (cf. Weller 1987= 102). The closing stanza recounts the steps taken to arrange the service, from the recording of names on the memorial to the preparation of flags and banners, as well as tea, fruit, paper money, and the various additional offerings. In the end, deliverance of the guhun from the burden of their transgressions and the punishments of purgatory is attributed to the power of gongde, literally "merit," but also signifYing services dedicated to the

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation welfare of the spirits of the dead (Schipper I982: I05 ). A refrain, repeated twice, describes how the guhun converged together like an accumulation of clouds, in the name ofTAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN. The celebrant [ 6 I a] vows to oversee the speedy awakening of the guhun and the deletion of their records of transgressions, as well as their progress to the transcendent realm (cf. Saso I975: I4.396o-6I). He then announces a "Secret Stanza on Sweet Dew" by way of apologizing for the small quantity of offerings made available. This [ 6Ib] "secret stanza" is rendered antiphonally by celebrant and chorus ( cf. Saso I 9 7 5: I4. 3 8 6 I62; Ofuchi I983: no, 887-88). The first six lines can be traced to the hymn in the scriptural reading that follows (see [ 6 3c]). The next eight lines correspond to "Golden-hued Radiance," otherwise known as the "Incantation on Sweet Dew," featured earlier (see [37]). The first unit appears under variant titles in Song liturgies (HY 466, 30.2b; HY 508, 30.3 b-4a; HY I2I6, 5 .3ob- 3 Ib ). The two units are prescribed in reverse sequence in variant protocols recorded in the comprehensive anthology of the Tiantai school ofLingbao practice (HY 466, 6r.29b, 69.IIa-b). The celebrant [ 62a] calls for the various provisions of the mortal realm to be transformed into the wondrous specialties of the cuisine of the clouds and for mundane incense offerings to be transformed into the rare delicacies of the Celestial Bureau. The chorus joins in reiterating his pledge. As the celebrant begins, "May ... ,"the chorus shouts "one contribution," and the celebrant adds: "become incalculable contributions." Similarly, he begins, "May ... ,"the chorus shouts "one dish," and the celebrant completes the thought with "become incalculable dishes." No one, he adds, is to be left cold and hungry. Then, addressing the guhun, the celebrant observes that due to the suffering they have endured, they will find everything they eat and drink turning into hot ashes, pus, and blood. To overcome this obstruction, he proposes the incantation of a "Secret Stanza for Opening Throats." The celebrant takes the lead in an antiphonal rendition of [ 62b] the "secret stanza," together with the chorus (cf. Saso I975: 14·3970-72; Ofuchi I983: 769-70, 894; Shi I987: I45-46). Like the preceding chant, this hymn consists of two components. The first unit of ten lines begins by recalling the tortuous heat of purgatory, the flaming throats of its inhabitants, and their perpetual state of hunger and thirst. It concludes with a description of the salutary effect of one, two, and then three sprinkles of the rain of sweet dew, or "water of compassion." The celebrant sprinkles consecrated water three times in coordination with this segment of the hymn. A verse in Zhuhong's liturgy similarly observes how one drop of

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cool water overcomes hunger and thirst (Z. 1341, 408b; YYSY, 2.2oa). The heritage of this portion of the "secret stanza," however, can be traced to an incantation recorded in ritual anthologies dating from the Song to Ming in the Daoist Canon (HY 466, 69.2Ib-22a; HY 467, ?b; HY so8, 30-3b4a, ua; HY 547, 36.9b-roa; HY r2r6, 5.24b-2sa). The second component, totaling twelve lines, centers on attaining a corporeal radiance equal to the light of the sun and moon. It also figures in liturgies compiled from the Song to early Ming (HY 467, 8b-9a; HY 508, 26.1 5b; HY 547, 36.19a; HY 1213, I3·I4b-rp; HY 1216, s.r9a-b). As Jiang Shuyu notes (HY 508, 26.15b), this chant is derived from the Scripture on the Nine Metamorphoses of the Three Radiants, a guide to contemplative practices compiled before the mid-seventh century (HY 39, 3a-b; Ren and Zhong 1991: 34-35)SCRIPTURE

The celebrant [ 63 a] introduces the reading of scripture by proclaiming all guhun and zhipo to be the beneficiaries of the benevolent power of the great Dao. The reading is preceded by the singing of the customary hymn of dedication entitled [ 63 b] "On the Sublimity of Revealing the Scripture." Ofuchi (1983: 704) records two of the many lyrics that have come to be transmitted under this title. The shorter, pentasyllabic selection is presumably the verse of choice here, for, as early as 891, Du Guangting is known to have designated it as the prelude appropriate to Lingbao scriptural readings (HY 507, 52.2b-p; HY 508, 21.4a). The scripture chanted by the full ensemble is the [ 6 3c] lf.Vndrous Scripture on Rebirth by Ritual Oblations as Spoken by the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Commencement of the Most High (HY 76). The date of the scripture has not been established (Ren and Zhong 1991: 57). It is one of three readings designated in the Zhengyi liturgy of Hong Kong ( Ofuchi 1983: 763-64). The two other required readings are the Scripture on Relieving Distress (HY 374; see [44, 50, 59]) and the Scripture of the Nine Shades on Release from Transgressions (HY 74), which was also known as early as the Northern Song (Boltz 1994: 7). Only the first of those two scriptures figures in the Xinzhu liturgy (Saso 1975: 14.4029-39). The Quanzhen liturgy of Hong Kong prescribes the reading of a notably early pentasyllabic composition transmitted as the Scripture on the Fivefold Cuisine (HY 762; Ren and Zhong 1991: 547-48). The Scripture on Rebirth by Ritual Oblations opens in the conventional manner, with an account ofYUANSHI TIANZUN delivering a sermon

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation before a gathering of various transcendent beings, guardian spirits, and other divinely appointed officers (Zurcher 1980: 99-106). The extraordinary radiance he manifested at that time is said to have permeated all realms. Among the sights revealed were the hungry ghosts and their compatriots in purgatory. Grotesque in appearance, with scorched faces and bodies bursting into flames, they ceaselessly called out their grievances. A perfected being named Daci dahui, or Great Compassion and Benevolence, weeping and sighing in agony, arose and bowed down before the Celestial Worthy. Speaking on behalf of all assembled, he reported their distress at the state of the multitudes within the lower realm. And he pleaded with the Celestial Worthy to show mercy and oversee their deliverance. After a long silence, the Celestial Worthy raised a fan of fivefold illumination, stirring up far-reaching reverberations. Then, addressing Great Compassion and Benevolence, he praised the assembly's display of mercy on behalf of the multitudes. He explained that those who had entered the eternal night of purgatory at death had not cultivated the way of perfection. Profound grief over their suffering led the Celestial Worthy to compose a hymn on their behalf. This hymn (the first six lines of which figure in [ 6u], "Secret Stanza on Sweet Dew") describes how beneficiaries of sanctified offerings gain release from suffering and ascend into the heavenly realm. It also promises that all within the heavenly realm will greet the acceptance of offerings by singing praises. In a closing benediction, the Celestial Worthy affirms that all guhun who eat their fill of the offerings provided will be granted rebirth, forever freed from their misery. He then reveals another, shorter, hymn, attesting to the good fortune to be enjoyed by everyone providing offerings. His words are met with silence, as the cries of purgatory fade away. Great Compassion and Benevolence, together with his companions, leaped with joy when they saw that all the spirits of the dead had been reborn. Bowing down in farewell, they vowed to uphold the teachings conveyed. INTERVENIENT CHANTS AND HYMNS

The celebrant [ 64a] reminds the guhun to ward off greed. He also reaffirms the heartfelt sympathy of everyone present as well as their intent to ensure deliverance of the guhun by submitting offerings on their behalf. The full ensemble then begins singing [ 64b] a sequence of six stanzas listing all the exotic varieties of incense, flowers, lanterns, wine, fruit, and rice bestowed on theguhun and zhipo (cf. Saso 1975: 14.3996-4001). As each

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stanza is sung, the celebrant hurls a representative sample of the offering named. The fundamentals of this sequence can be traced to the Scripture ofJade Clarity (HY r3or, 4·3 b-4a; see [58]). Variant versions of the sequence are found in the ritual anthologies compiled in the early thirteenth century by two advocates of a restoration ofDu Guangting's code of practice, namely, Lii Taigu (HY 12r6, 5.26b-28b) and Jin Yunzhong (HY r2r3, 37.rrb-r3a). Adhering to the same formulaic statement of presentation, the celebrant [65a] proposes an incantation to aid in the rebirth ofallguhun and zhipo in the transcendent realm. The chant he offers for their benefit is the [ 6 5b] "Incantation on Sanctified Offerings of Sweet Dew as Spoken by the Celestial Worthy of Great Compassion" (cf. Saso 1975: I4.4002-4). Rendered antiphonally by celebrant and chorus, it celebrates the audience on high granted upon attaining a state of perfected radiance. Like the preceding sixfold offertory, this chant derives from the Scripture ofJade Clarity (HY 1301, 5.6a-b). Variant versions figure in many liturgies dating from the Song to Ming (HY 466, 3I.3b-4a; HY 467, 9a-b; HY 508, 26.15a-b, 3o.rrb-12a; HY 514, 2oa-b; HY 547, 36.11a; HY 1213, 13.15b-16a, 37.13a-b, 38.30a-b; HY 1216, 5.28b-29a). More concisely yet, the celebrant [ 66a] calls for the [ 66b] "Incantation on Infusing the Spirit with the Three Radiants" to be presented on behalfofallguhun and zhipo (cf. Saso 1975: 14.4004-6). This chant, also performed in antiphonal fashion with the chorus, consists of two distinct units of sixteen and eight lines each. The first unit charts the emergence of the sun, moon, and stars, as well as the heavenly and mundane realms, from a single qi, or life force, borne of the wondrous Dao. This version of the quintessential lesson on cosmogony favored in Daoist writings can be traced to the early Scripture on the Nine Metamorphoses of the Tbree Radiants (HY 39, 2a; see [ 62b ]). The eight-line segment appended here enumerates the altruistic and personal benefits of providing oblations. The chant in its original form, without this enlargement, may be found in both Song and contemporary liturgies (HY 466, 3 r.6b-7a, 6r.3 ra-b, 69.23b-24a; HY 508, 26.16a, 30.12b; HY 547, 36.18a; HY 12I3, I3.r5a, 37.rra, 38.29b; HY 12r6, 5.31b-32a; Saso r975: I4-4005-6; Ofuchi 1983: 770). Immediately following the chant, the celebrant and chorus, speaking in succession [ 67a ], recite the name: XIAOYAO KUAILE TIANZUN, or Celestial Worthy of Bliss and Joy. This deity is associated with a sequence of five incantations in protocols for blessing oblations recorded by Jiang Shuyu

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation (HY so8, 26.J4b-I7a). The first three of those incantations are precisely the three earlier components of this service derived from the Scripture of jade Clarity (see [ 65b]) and the Scripture of the Three Radiants (see [ 62b, 66b]). Here, instead of two additional chants from the latter scripture, as prescribed by Jiang, the invocation of the Celestial Worthy ofBliss and Joy signals a lament. And like the name of the Celestial Worthy evoked, the lyrics of this selection recall the legacy ofZhuangzi. It is not, however, the chapter in Zhuangzi entitled "Xiaoyao you," or "Free and Easy Wandering," to which this lament owes its inspiration. It is the story ofZhuangzi's encounter with a skull in one of the so-called outer chapters of Zhuangzi, called "Zhile," or "Supreme Joy,'' that ultimately lies behind this lament, just as it prompted a number of remarkable literary exercises in kind (Owen 1986: 33-50 ). In this liturgy, the lament is identified as the [ 67b] "Xinglu tan,'' or "Wayfarer's Lament." The same lament appears in a nineteenth-century transcript of a Zhangzhou liturgy, where it is entitled "Kulou ge,'' or "Skeleton Song" (Or. 12693B). This is the title under which the lament is recorded in related liturgies and anthologies of Daoist hymnody (KS 84, 165, 317; CTG, 66-68). It is also popularly known as "Tan kulou,'' or "Lamenting a Skeleton" (Shi 1987: 131-34, 205-6). More often than not, the lament is found in Daoist liturgies ofTainan without a title (KS 92, 93, 226, 276, 277). The origins of the lament are somewhat of a mystery. The dharru:U-like incantation appearing at the end, as well as the wording of the lament itself, betrays a link with Buddhist liturgy. And indeed the lament can be found in a nineteenth-century manuscript copy ofYogacara liturgy derivative of Zhuhong's codification (As 401a) and in contemporary Buddhist liturgies collected in Taibei (BGK, 18b-19b; SK, 25b-27a). It is also included in the cognateliturgy of Mengshan ( Ofuchi 19 8 3: 8o8). But even more noteworthy is the variant in the Quanzhen liturgy from Ching Chung Koon in Hong Kong (Ofuchi 1983: 890). The lament in this liturgy not only lacks the dharat:J.I-like closing but also is preceded by an introduction drawing on the memory of the episode in the "Zhile" chapter of Zhuangzi. According to the remembrance recorded here, Zhuangzi reportedly composed this lament as he casually took his ease on the skull he had come across in his journey to the kingdom ofChu. The didactic tone of the lament attributed to him seems to suggest a link with the legacy of the solo ballad known as daoqing that evolved around this theme. 3 In any case, it is not this version of the "Skeleton Song" that has come to be the more widely performed,

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but rather the lament sung by the celebrant and chorus in the name of the Celestial Worthy of Bliss and Joy: Yesterday into the wilderness as I wandered afar A very large skull suddenly came into view In amongst a thicket of thorns and brambles, On a mound covered with grass and trees. In a gust of cold, howling wind, A single stem oflotus petals is bowed in grief. Skull, oh, skull, You rest by the riverside, dripping of water, Amidst a cleansing breeze; The verdant grass, your mat, The moon, your lantern; Chilled through and through, And not one of your brethren coming 'round. Skull, oh, skull, You lie alongside the roadway, my lord, But who are you, you who perished so long ago? The rain beats down and the wind blows, Frigid as snow, making my insides ache, And tears from my eyes rush down. Skull, oh, skull, I look at you and cannot but close my eyes. Alas, how long were you among the living? The golden crow [sun], like an arrow, The jade rabbit [moon], like a weaver's shuttle; A hundred years, brightening and darkening, naught but a fraction of a moment. I must not linger, but hasten to seek your release from the robberdemons of the Sea of Bitterness. Tonight this disciple will make preparations for an Assembly of the Netherworld, And once the precious incense is ignited within the golden censer, We will issue a far-reaching summons to desolate spirits To come before the altar, That you might be relieved of the obstacles of suffering, Steeped in the benefits of blessings, And to the Western Region make haste. HOMILY

The celebrant begins [ 68a] a lengthy oration by proclaiming that the blessings of sweet dew and the hymns and incantations performed derive from the secret instructions of the Sandong, or Three Caverns, that is, the

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation Daoist Canon. His opening statement echoes the language of a similar address recorded in the early thirteenth-century anthology of Lii Taigu (HY I2I6, 5.32a) immediately following the chant of the "Three Radiants" (see [66b]). All those listening, the celebrant continues, will be relieved of the burden of their transgressions. Those who heed his teachings, he asserts, moreover, will attain the Dao and achieve perfection. Observing that all guhun and zhipo have eaten their fill and been relieved of their grievances, the celebrant declares them capable of surrendering to the Dao, the scripture, and the clergy. He therefore announces that he will introduce them to the Threefold Refuge and Ten Precepts as testimony to the inimitable Dao (cf. Saso I975: I4.4007-II). In a deliberately slow fashion, the celebrant articulates the Threefold Refuge, adding pledges on behalf of the guhun that they will be spared rebirth in purgatory, as hungry ghosts, and in the form of animals. He then addresses the guhun directly [ 68b ], in an exaggerated style of incantation, to command their acceptance of the Ten Precepts (cf. Saso I975: I4-40I2-I4). Like the Threefold Refuge, the Ten Precepts [68c] are delivered in a slow, deliberate manner. The recitation of each precept is followed by a refrain, pronounced by the chorus in an equally forceful voice. Ten times they order theguhun to comply ( cf. Saso I975: I4.40I4): r. It is forbidden to come and go at odd hours, to collide with people of good will, to invade their homes, to create havoc as possessing spirits, upsetting the hun and po of your victims; 2. It is forbidden to entice alien demons and ghosts to extort food and drink, to throw sand or cast stones, thereby terrorizing the living; 3. It is forbidden to introduce pestilence into this realm, infecting wellmeaning citizens and making them ill, causing their relatives to fret; 4· It is forbidden to obstruct landholders, to hinder their sowing and reaping of harvest, or to take up residence in their trees, flowers, and fruit; 5. It is forbidden to create commotion anywhere, to set fire to peoples' homes, shops, and inns, to damage or cause loss of property, thereby destroying a family's estate; 6. It is forbidden to harm anyone's domestic animals, thereby leading to recompense in later incarnations and forever deprived of human form; 7. It is forbidden to compel any deviant element, crows or magpies, foxes, curs, or rodents to haunt and terrify the living; 8. It is forbidden to let cattle or horses loose, or to disturb travelers, thereby provoking disaster or injury to meet your own selfish demands; 9· It is forbidden to stir up trouble on anyone's behalf or to get involved in village gossip, thereby causing quarrels among kin to the point of provoking criminal offenses;

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ro. It is forbidden to take revenge for old grievances, thereby eternally obliterating retributive responses and bringing a halt to transmigration.

This series of commandments corresponds to the Ten Precepts for Ghosts and Spirits in the revision of Lingbao ritual codes compiled circa I22I-23 by Jin Yunzhong (HY I2I3, 44.IIb-12b). Similar injunctions addressed to the spirit realm, specifYing unacceptable forms of conduct as well as the punishments entailed, can be found in compilations by Yuan Miaozong (fl. 1086- I I I6) and Deng Yougong (I 2I0-79) reflecting Tianxin ritual practices popular in the south (Boltz 198]: 33-35). Jin Yunzhong traces the systematic formulation ofTen Precepts to the ]iaojie guishen yi, or Protocols for Teaching Precepts to Ghosts and Spirits, compiled by a Daoist master named Chen Cheng and published in IIOI (HY I213, 44.I8a-b). DISMISSAL

The assistant cantor, signaling the conclusion of the service, reads a document known as the [ 69] die of pudu, or guhun, that is, the Mandate of Universal Salvation, or Desolate Spirits (Ofuchi I983: 420-21). Like the Memorial (see [21]), it specifies the time, place, and intent of the service and names its sponsors. In addition, the Mandate also lists the scriptural reading and the provisions made available during the course of the liturgy performed on behalf of all lost souls in want of offerings. It is submitted directly to theguhun and zhipo benefiting from the service. As one of the items burned at the close of the ritual, the Mandate is perceived to be an affidavit that its bearers convey upon ascent as proof of their deliverance (Lagerwey I987: 184-87). The celebrant [ 70] exhorts the guhun to abide by the Threefold Refuge and the Ten Precepts that he has made known to them. He also advises the living to devote themselves to applying his teachings so that they, too, may ultimately know the bliss and joy of ascending on high. Prompted by the chorus, reciting [7r]: "Humbly, we pray," the celebrant continues: "that misfortunes be not provoked and that good fortune multiplies; that blessings be extended to one's heirs and ancestors alike; that all among the living be awakened to the Dao." Then the celebrant addresses the guhun once again to inform them that the service is over. He sends them off, urging each and every one to follow the clouds into the heavenly domain without delay. Everyone then rises as the celebrant and chorus engage in singing [ 72] an antiphonal farewell. The four stanzas of this hymn reiterate their pledges

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation of faith in the Dao, scripture, clergy, and the Sanqing trinity. Each is dedicated in dosing to the escort of guhun into the transcendent realm. Corresponding hymns of three or four stanzas, which feature identical responses, are found in Song ritual anthologies (HY 466, 95.2Ia-22a, 97.16b-I7b, I07.7a-Ba, II7.IBa-b, 17B.sb-6b; HY SOB, 2B.5b-6b, 30.4b-5b; HY I2I6, 3·I9a). The full ensemble then sings a hymn entitled [ 73] "Seven Words." Like variant lyrics transmitted under this title (Ofuchi I9B3: 635, 707), this composition expresses concern for the welfare of the spirits of the dead. It closely parallels the earlier hymn describing the misery of guhun chilled by the north wind as they roam under the light of the moon (see [23]). Much of the same imagery is incorporated here, including the line: "With your po in Shu and hun in Xiang, your grievances never ceasing." The description of white bones strewn across abandoned graves also evokes memories of the "Wayfarer's Lament," or "Skeleton Song" (see [ 67b ]). The dosing lines, like that of these counterparts, center on the benefits of the mourning service. Here the hosts of the jiao are singled out and the power of the gongde they sponsored is credited with providing access to the joys of the heavenly realm. The celebrant and chorus follow up with an antiphonal hymn entitled [74] "Lads of the Five Regions." The five stanzas of this hymn call on acolytes from the east, south, west, north, and center to serve as escorts for the guhun on their journey into the transcendent realm (cf. Saso I975: 14.392B). A corresponding sequence may be found in Jiang Shuyu's anthology of Yellow Register liturgies (HY soB, 2B.Iob-IIa; Liu Zhiwan I 9 6 7: I 4 r). It is succeeded here by [ 7 5] a chant, bidding the guhun heading in all directions to depart as agreeably as they came. Rice and salt are then sprinkled two or three times to purify the area, and the placard is removed from the liturgy table. An incantation entitled [ 76] "Transforming Paper" is sung next, as the Mandate is set afire. This apotropaic song is derived from the Scripture on Salvation of the early Lingbao canon ( HY I, r.Iob; Lagerwey 19B7: 212). An abridged version figures in liturgies edited by Jiang Shuyu (HY soB, 26.6b, 29.IOa-b). Finally, the papier-mache likeness of Mount Putuo is set ablaze as everyone joins once again in song. The [ 77] hymn offered in conclusion is an amplified version of "Enjoying Great Fortune" (see [40]). Its vision of release from purgatory is supplemented by a short refrain dedicated to the speedy conduct of all guhun into the transcendent realm. A benediction follows, delivered by celebrant and chorus. This [7B] antiphonal recitation

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serves both as an announcement of the culmination of the service and as a prayer beseeching the diminishment of adversity and bestowal of good fortune. Everyone is invited in closing to bow down in acknowledgment of the inimitable Dao.

Recapitulation Just as we can only imagine the feast marking the close of this pudu service, so must we engage in a vicarious appreciation of the banquet of words delivered in song, recitation, and chant. The shortcomings of pursuing a study of such a text out of context are manifold. To do justice to this liturgical tradition would require a much more comprehensive account of the text and its variants than I have undertaken here. We must, moreover, heed Edward Schieffelin's admonition that "the work of a performance, what it does, and how it does it, can never be discovered only by examining the text, or the script, or the symbolic meanings embodied in the ritual alone" (I 98 5: 722 ). The context he seeks to establish in his study of healing rituals in Papua New Guinea is the relation between performer and other participants that emerges during the course of a seance. In rituals as musically grounded as the Lingbao Liturgy, it is also essential to examine the collaboration between word and music. Within the confines of the text itself, however, we can only examine the word as music. With few exceptions, field studies of Daoist liturgy thus far have paid little attention to its textual heritage. 4 To privilege the text here may perhaps help to redress this imbalance. By exploring the interplay between the semantic and performative aspects of this liturgy, I hope to encourage more text-bound studies of ritual practice. Ultimately, of course, only when field studies and textual studies join forces can we even hope to begin untangling the intricate links between ritual and operatic performance in China. 5 The music of either performative tradition, I would submit, means nothing without the text, just as the text means very little without the music. In attempting to gain some understanding of how this particular performance achieves its intended effect, I have proposed that we consider the question of whether there is any discernible relation between what is said and how it is said. In other words, can the three major types of oral delivery prescribed in the Lingbao Liturgy be identified with specific forms of communication? It is difficult, first of all, to evaluate the relative proportion of each. As charted in Table 8. I, song, recitation, and chant would appear to be fairly evenly represented throughout the service. But just how much time each unit occupies would clearly vary from one performance to the

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation next. Thus, an accurate measure of the duration of the components of the ritual, as demonstrated, for example, in Liu Chun-jo's ( I978) detailed study of Buddhist chant, can only be determined by recording and analyzing a complete performance. Nonetheless, I think we can get a general idea as to the relative weight of the three styles of oral delivery in the Lingbao Liturgy by tabulating the total word count. According to my reading of the text, the entire liturgy adds up to approximately I I ,340 words. The exact length of the recitations of the Memorial [ 2 I] and Mandate [ 69] cannot be determined since the data they provide on time, place, and sponsors differ for each performance. The units sung and chanted can by contrast be more precisely totaled. The sum of words in the 3o units of song comes to 3,748. The 36 units of recitation add up to approximately 5,637 words. And the 3 3 units of chant total 2,4 55 words. Thus, by word count alone, song, recitation, and chant take up approximately 32, 48, and 20 percent of the text, respectively. The seemingly small proportion of chants is overridden in part by their very density. Frequency alone gives a clear indication of their importance to the liturgy. Chants appear to serve primarily as transitional markers in the Lingbao Liturgy. By that, I mean that the chants seem by and large to be delivered as accompaniment to or in anticipation of ritual effects. Occasionally, they simply serve as reinforcements of the celebrant's ministrations. The celebrant has a performing role in all but three chants, either as soloist or together with his assistants in antiphonal and unison renditions. The celebrant's solo incantations accompany the various transformative movements in which he engages to convey an illusion of mastery over the spirit realm. Unlike many similar ritual procedures, his chants cannot be characterized as a form of heightened communication. 6 They are subdued rather than intensified articulations, even sometimes to the point of inaudibility. The celebrant silently chants as he choreographs himself into the astral realm [3]. He also renders a mute chant as he prepares to take on the identity of the presiding deity [I 3]. Somewhat more audible chants signal his purification of the assembly [ I7] and exorcism of any demonic forces lingering in the area [ 24]. The first serves as an interlude for the celebrant's assistants to fetch the basin of water used in sprinkling the assembly. Similarly, a silent reiteration of faith in the Three Treasures [53] provides the opportunity for them to bring in accoutrements essential to the succeeding series of oblations. On three occasions, following his invitations to three categories ofguhun, the celebrant repeats the same chant [30, 36, 43] as he waves his

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banner over the sticks of incense. The redundancy would appear to reinforce the intended transformative effect of this activity, namely, the fumigation ofguhun through an appeal to the power of the Three Treasures? Another solo chant accompanies the celebrant's scattering of rice [56b]. In this case, he voices his expectation that the guhun will find themselves immediately satiated by morsels of the celestial cuisine, as he envisions food materializing from the grains of rice. Six times the celebrant joins with the chorus in performing antiphonal chants, which anticipate the perfection and ascent oftheguhun [45b, 46b, 47b, 61b, 65b, 66b]. The highly esoteric language ofthese chants clearly reflects their ancestry in Song liturgy. Somewhat less eclectic are the three chants rendered by the chorus without the celebrant. All serve as adjuncts to his recitations. In two cases, they provide refrains to offerings of incense, once in front of Mount Putuo [ 5b] and again after each of the first series of ten invitations issued to guhun [ 2 8b]. The third chant is performed in combination with the celebrant's recitation of the pledge of faith in the Three Treasures [ 5 Ia]. Altogether fourteen units of incantation are assigned to the full ensemble. The majority anticipate the various transformative effects of the liturgy. Four times they chant the "Qinghua" appellation in evoking the authority ofJIUKU TIANZUN [ 29, 3 5, 42, 49]. The celebrant's three series of invitations to guhun are reinforced by this incantation. It also serves as an endorsement of the celebrant's address to the newly purified guhun, pronouncing them suitable candidates for deliverance. Nine incantations rendered by the celebrant and his assistants offer visionary testimony to the force of the ritual. All but one can be verified in Song formularies. Celebrant and chorus join in chant as they envision their surroundings purged of aberrant beings [ 4]. Three times they project an image of the purgatorial confines of Fengdu overcome by divine radiance, twice by chanting "Fengdu" as offerings are submitted at Mount Putuo [ 6, 3 I], and once by chanting its counterpart, "Golden-hued Radiance," before the same site [3 7]. The final presentation of incense buns in front of Mount Putuo is preceded by a chant foreshadowing the scriptural reading [40]. The offering itself is accompanied by a chant noting the cleansing effect of repeated incantation of scripture [ 44]. Twice again this very same chant is heard, at the close of the ritual bathing [so] and as a prelude to submitting oblations [59]. In all three instances, it appears to reinforce the celebrant's mandate for a universal commitment to penance. The opportunity for atonement is perceived to be manifested upon

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation disclosure of the scripture. This incantation, also rendered by the full ensemble, overshadows all others, both in length and in substance [63c]. It provides the full narrative of the revelations of the Celestial Worthy, as anticipated by the thrice-repeated incantation. The story told, moreover, may be regarded as the foundation of the liturgy. It is a variant of the original Lingbao narrative at the heart of the Scripture on Salvation, to which the celebrant frequently alludes in his recitations. Central to this telling of the story of deliverance are the promises of benefits to those giving as well as those receiving offerings. The final chant, and the last to be delivered by the full ensemble [ 7 5], appears to have no direct ancestor in Song liturgies, although correspondences to the second couplet can be found in the massive corpus of the Tiantai school of Lingbao ritual practice (HY 466, 61.30a, 69.22a). The valediction, "Fare thee well" (haoqu), echoes the Ming code of 1374 (HY 467, I6a). But the closing charge has no match (cf. Saso 1975: 14-4046). What sets it apart from all other incantations in this liturgy is its use oflocal dialect. In adopting a vernacular form of speech, celebrant and chorus divulge a sense of shared identity with the lost souls in their midst. Only those who speak a common language, after all, would understand the final blessing: "May one and all be led away and born again." 8 By addressing guhun in a familiar tongue, their benefactors embrace them within the fold even as they send them off. Although incantations may be viewed as supportive of ritual action, recitations would seem to serve overall as cues to the progress of the service. They are with few exceptions the responsibility of the celebrant. Only two components fall entirely outside his responsibility, the Memorial [21] and Mandate [ 69 ], both of which are read by the assistant cantor. These documentary forms simply report the proceedings. The role of the celebrant, as the embodiment of JIUKU TIANZUN, is not to comment on but to direct the service. He participates in antiphonal recitations with his assistants only three times, twice in the opening formalities before he assumes the identity of the presiding deity [2, II a] and in the closing benediction [ 78], having shed that identity. The second antiphonal recitation is introduced by the initial invitation to "ascend the precious throne," issued by either chief or assistant cantor. This formal supplication, the Memorial, and Mandate, are the only solo recitations assigned to the celebrant's assistants, who otherwise are cast in supporting roles to the celebrant's solo recitations. Four times the chief cantor either provides the lead to or reiterates the opening of the celebrant's recitation with a two- or four-word phrase.

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In one instance, he counts the number of purifications by water [I 8]. On the other occasions he reinforces the three series of invitations directed to various categories ofguhun [28a, 34, 39]. All four assistants contribute choral reinforcements throughout the service by: (I) repeating two or three words of the celebrant's speech at intervals [5a]; (2) providing the formulaic introduction to a prayer [28a, 34, 39, 45a, ?I]; (3) completing his closing invocations [I8, 22, 33, 5Ib, 67a]; (4) inserting the required words "one dish" [62a]; and (5) repeatedly commanding obedience to the Ten Precepts [68c]. Only twice is the chorus joined by the celebrant, for the refrain to his opening address to guhun [ 27] and for the refrain at the close of each of the series of twelve invitations [ 34]. The celebrant's recitations range from brief announcements of chants [46a, 47a, 65a, 66a] to lengthy invocations of deities [5a, 20] andguhun [28a, 34, 39], to sermons disclosing the intent of the ritual [27], and to the confessions of faith and commandments to be upheld [ 68a, c]. He speaks in the lyrical style of a rhapsody in expressing his sympathy for guhun and zhipo with no one to look after them [ 2 7]. Twice he recites rhyming quatrains, once in recalling the deliverance ofguhun under the aegis of YUANSHI TIANZUN and Lord Lao [ua], and again as he pledges his faith in the Celestial Worthies of the Three Treasures to show equal compassion [I5a]. The story of the beneficence ofYUANSHI TIANZUN and Lord Lao he retells at greater length, once he delivers the series of demonifuge dharat:~-1 amid a blare of horns [ 2 5]. In other recitations, the celebrant describes how purification is achieved through a transformation of mundane substances into supernal matter. Thus, for example, he consecrates the water to purify the assembly [I6] and dedicates offerings of food [57, 62a]. Similarly, he pledges his faith in the power of the Celestial Worthies to oversee the metamorphosis of sweet dew, that is, consecrated water, into offerings of food [22]. And in one instance [56a], he recites rather than chants the dh~-inspired spell in rendering mortal grains of rice into heavenly fare. Time and again, the celebrant appeals directly to the guhun. He lists all varieties of desolate spirits in three invitations, pleading with them to come forth and accept the offerings provided [ 28a, 34, 39]. These three overlapping invocations reveal the liturgy's debt to centuries of ritual formulations. Early examples of such enumerations of the unknown dead are found in ritual communications issued by Du Guangting ( HY 507, 3 5. I a6b, 36.ra-8a, 39.1a-7a). Echoes of his attempt to specify the circumstances behind unfortunate deaths take various forms in Song ritual an-

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation thologies. Such speculations figure, for example, in the copy of a Mandate recorded in the exhaustive anthology of the Tiantai school of Lingbao ritual (HY 466, 6o.2p-b). Far more extensive listings figure in variant liturgical formularies in the same work (HY 466, 6r.7a-8a, 65 .3a- sa). Two series of talismans, moreover, identify 24 and 3 6 categories of guhun casualties, respectively, to be summoned in rituals of salvation (HY 466, 266.Ia- I7a). All classifications of this sort may be regarded as descendants ofZhuangzi's inquiries seeking to know the cause of death that left a skull untended. These ritual formulations, moreover, have a pictorial counterpart in the shuilu paintings that came to be featured in temples hosting plenary fetes under that rubric as early as the Song. An especially notable example of such paintings dating to the Ming survives in the Baoning Monastery outside Datong in Shaanxi province (Shen Baichang and Hu 1985; see Fig. 8. I). 9 Verbal and graphic portrayals alike project a sort of virtual reality of the society that produced them. And like the social strata they depict, such pictures in word and paint change with time and place. The inventories ofguhun in liturgies are without a doubt among the components most subject to variation. The second series of invitations in the Lingbao Liturgy differs radically from the other two in its censorious tone. Rather than merely list the guhun summoned, the celebrant incorporates lessons in morality. Although six categories are presented as victims of circumstances, the remaining six are condemned for their behavior. Artisans, merchants, and mendicant monks and nuns are singled out for deserting their families. Prisoners, gamblers, and prostitutes are taken to task for their dishonorable conduct. With these examples, the celebrant would appear to be addressing the living as much as the guhun. The succeeding recitations directed to guhun provide instruction. The celebrant tells them how to approach the tan [ 4 I], how to bathe and dress [4p], and how to present themselves in an orderly fashion [48]. As their "benevolent father," he repeatedly commands them to repent and warns them against gluttony [48, 57, 64a]. He guides them on their journey toward deliverance, periodically evoking the power of the Three Treasures or the Great Dao along the way [ 22, 34, 39, 6 p]. The celebrant also regularly assures the guhun that the full assembly is compassionately committed to their salvation [45a, 48, 64a]. He reminds them as well that their destiny ultimately rests in his hands, for he is the one to see that their records of wrongdoing are expunged [ 6 I a]. And it is he who introduces them to the scripture to be recited by way of repentance [ 6 p]. The guhun, in other

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Fig. 8 .r Among the wall paintings at Baoning Monastery is this depiction ofguhun seeking revenge from the perpetrators

of the unjust charges that led to their demise (Shen Baichang and Hu 1985 : pl. r66)

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation words, are expected to regard him not only as a benevolent father but also as their teacher. The celebrant delivers his concluding lessons to the spirits of the dead and living alike [ 68a,68c, 70]. Everyone is made to understand, on the one hand, that only those who surrender themselves to the Three Treasures can attain a state of perfection. The Ten Precepts he recites, on the other hand, are obviously formulated for the guhun alone. Conspicuously absent from this service is the usual set of commandments for the living, which are found in every other liturgy, including those that record the Ten Precepts. The precepts alone provide an outstanding catalogue of the range of mishaps popularly ascribed to disembodied spirits of the dead. It is an inventory that owes its heritage to generations of accounts concerning spirit possession, haunted houses, and other apparently inexplicable, untoward events, stories that Du Guangting himself recorded in abundance ( HY 590; Liu Zhiwan I974: 35-44). The Ten Precepts are in short a codification within which the mGtivating force for every pudu service lies hidden. As the celebrant's closing recitations reveal [?I, 78], what is at stake here is the welfare of the living as much as that of the dead. Just as the chants and recitations work in tandem to convey a vision of delivering spirits of the dead, so also do the songs contribute to that vision. Unlike the body of chants and recitations, however, the role songs play in this liturgy is somewhat more diverse. That diversity is presumably not unrelated to the variety of prosody represented in song. In addition to the tetrasyllabic, pentasyllabic, and heptasyllabic verse forms favored by chant, this repertoire of song includes a number of compositions in irregular meter. Nearly half of the songs, like the incantations, are delivered by the full ensemble. The celebrant sings only two solos, as he assumes the identity of JIUKUTIANZUN [14, ISh]. The chorus sings without the celebrant on four occasions. In three cases, they contribute refrains [IIb, IIC, 28c], just as they did in chant. Only once do they sing a complete song, the "Six Offerings" derived from Yogacara liturgy but dedicated here to the Celestial Worthies [54]. A lengthy, repetitive sequence of six stanzas, this song is actually an accompaniment to the celebrant's manipulations. He is himself simultaneously engaged in some form of vocalization, although the text of the spell delivered at this time is regrettably missing from the Lingbao Liturgy (Ofuchi I983: 399). Four additional hymns also serve as offertories. The opening hymn of the service [I], dedicated to TAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN, is sung by the full ensemble, together with the hosts of the jiao. As noted, both it and the sec-

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JUDITH MAGEE BOLTZ ond hymn, an offertory sung by the full ensemble in honor of Guanyin [ 7], can be traced to Yogacara liturgy. The succeeding antiphonal hymn, addressed to the Celestial Worthies [8], also accompanies offerings. And finally, the full ensemble dedicates a hymn listing six varieties of oblations to the guhun [ 64 ]. Hymns marking other formalities of the service include "Taking Refuge" [52], the antiphonal conclusion to the confession of faith, and "Sublimity" [ 63 b], the prelude to the scriptural reading. Two types of narrative hymns are also featured in this pudu service. One tells stories derived from a well-established tradition of hagiography and scripture. The lives of Lord Lao, Confucius, and Buddha, for example, are recounted in the "Three Teachings" [ 12]. This antiphonal performance, like many other hymns in the early portion of the liturgy, closes with a refqin in the name ofTAIYI JIUKU TIANZUN. Such is the case with an antiphonal hymn describing how guhun are delivered from their transgressions through the power invested in the sacred names of the Sanqing trinity [9]. The succeeding hymn, sung by the full ensemble, similarly pays tribute to the Celestial Worthy's merciful termination of the tortures suffered in purgatory [I o]. The full ensemble also narrates the story of the allcompassionate JIUKU TIANZUN's irradiation of the netherworld in the composite hymn projecting a vision of deliverance [I 9]. A comparable scene is recalled in yet another hymn sung by the full ensemble, which takes account of the combined effect of radiance, incense, and song [55]. A considerably more esoterically worded portrayal is conveyed in the antiphonal hymn of pre-Song origin, whereby transcendents are envisioned emerging from dry bones in response to a divine show of compassion [58]. And finally, the composite hymn "Opening Throats" [ 62b] projects a gruesomely graphic portrait of the captives of purgatory. This selection, delivered in part antiphonally and in part by the full ensemble, also appeals to the effect of compassion. Here the force of the "water of compassion" is evoked as the celebrant sprinkles consecrated water. A second type of narrative rendered in song centers on visions of the dead as they are encountered in this world. Altogether seven compositions take up this theme. Five are rhyming heptasyllabic verses of eight lines [ 2 3, 26, 3 2, 3 8, 73]. These hymns to the dead, as noted above, feature very much the same imagery in evoking the cold, dark, and wet surroundings guhun are thought to endure. They are perceived as hungry ghosts who, deprived of offerings, are wont to wail through the night. Each song closes on a hopeful note, with a proposal to end their suffering through ritual oblations.

A Daoist Ritual of Salvation Both "Weapons" [ 6o] and the "Wayfarer's Lament" [ 67b] are considerably more complex formulations on this theme. It is difficult to know just how these highly evocative pieces are received. Since "Weapons" is sung as various treats are cast into the crowd, it seems likely that it may in part offer some sort of comic relief. We can imagine that the mutilated corpses and skeletal remains so vividly described are perceived by the singers as materializing before their eyes. Unwittingly or not, the seemingly depraved mob scrambling for treats is perhaps cast as the guhun themselves. But if indeed these horrific visions of the dead have been transferred onto the living by song, they would appear to be just as effectively subdued by song. However the core of this long narrative sequence may be delivered or received, the closing stanza imparts an unmistakable air of solemnity as the purpose and provisions of the service are reviewed. The "Wayfarer's Lament," or "Skeleton Song," appears to contain no such ambiguity. But, like any lament, its effect cannot readily be evaluated. If the power of the word is any measure, I think most would agree that this is a soulful composition. Whether the tune itself can be considered soulful is more debatable. 10 Nonetheless, the lyrics of this decidedly vernacular Iament do stand out as the only emotional expression of grief in the service.u Here song truly gives voice to the unspeakable. 12 The indignities suffered by the abandoned skull are not simply described. They bring tears. In singing "and tears from my eyes rush down," some vocalists no doubt would evoke the same in their audience. Even so, we must keep in mind that weeping in ritual settings is known to be provoked as much by convention as by the emotion of the moment (Kapferer 1979 ). The remedy in any case is clear. As in all songs concerned with the presence of the unknown dead, their transcendence is understood to be wrought by supplying the ritual offerings so long denied. The five hymns of farewell sung at the close of the service [ 72, 73, 7 4, 76, 77] reinforce the perception of having achieved precisely that goal. What in the end can the Lingbao Liturgy on Universal Salvation be said to accomplish? If ritual has any meaning, and I think it does, how are we to understand the force of this pudu service? I have no concrete answers. Certain aspects of the liturgy, however, do suggest questions that I would like to raise in closing. Rituals have long been devised to overcome fear of the unknown dead (Douglas 1966: 6-8). Since ritual, in some cases at least, serves to define and regulate social relations and is thus most likely to be applied when equilibrium appears threatened (Wuthnow 1987: 97-120), we might ask

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if there is any special reason the guhun seem so threatening. Is there perhaps something at work here beyond the universal perception of the unknown dead being a hindrance to fertility or renewal oflife? I think an answer to this question may rest in the "Wayfarer's Lament." Unlike Zhuangzi's inquiry, the lament does not speculate how the skull came to rest where it did. Instead, the mourner singing the lament wants to know "Who are you, you who perished so long ago?" What this line seems to convey is an unbearable pain in not being able to determine the identity of the dead. The mourner can address him only as "skull," by way of a refrain, where laments traditionally provide the names of the dead (Alexiou 1974: 136, 145-46; Kim 1989: 257- 58). This need to have a name, an identity for the unknown dead, suggests the urge to establish kinship. Just as Stephen Owen (1986: 34) sees the truth ofthe parable in Zhuangzi as an effort to establish family ties with the unknown dead, so might we consider the intended effect of the pudu service itself. The line in the lament, "And not one of your brethren coming 'round," seems to say it all. The underlying message would appear to be something on the order of, "Since you have no family to look after you, let me be your brother, your keeper." How many times does the service, after all, remind us that guhun have no keeper? And doesn't the celebrant cum JIUKU TIANZUN take on the role of father, embracing in the process the entire assembly as kin? If we have learned anything from this liturgy, it is the incorrectness of the idea that "'kinship' itself is not emphasized in Taoism" (Weller I98T 99). The need to make the unknown knowable and one of our own aside, is the urge to establish kinship the entire story behind the pudu service? The liturgy does indeed show an interest in dispelling the terror of the unknown dead, in humanizing them, in adopting them, and finally, in dismissing them from sight. But is something beyond the problem of the unknown dead at issue here? The answer to this question lies perhaps in the performance of "Weapons." As I have suggested, the lyrics of this, the longest song of the liturgy, seem to compel us to face our own death mask. What is being subdued in the course of this service, I would suggest, is the specter of death as well as the image of the dead. And how is that done? It is accomplished, it would seem, by the banquet of words delivered in song, recitation, and chant. And it is this musical collaboration that transports us beyond our fear of the unknown dead and our fear of death. 13 It is through song and chant that our eyes are opened to a vision of transcendence. The ritual is that vision. Vision is ritual. 14 It is a vision that enables us to live with our thoughts of death, the deaths of

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others, our own death. Just as such services are performed on behalf of the spirits of the dead, so do they serve to bring repose to the living. In commemorating the dead, we are reminded of our own mortality. What we perhaps find the hardest to bear is the thought that we, too, could just as easily be forgotten. So we honor the spirits of the unknown dead for memory's sake, ours and theirs. In that way we establish our bond with them and with humanity. To meet such deaths with silence is to deny that bond and to deny our humanity. The great tragedy that remains, however, is that deaths all too often continue to be unmourned, to be denied, and to be forgotten with time, on Chinese soil no less than any other.

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CHAPTER 9

Ritual Opera and the Bonds of Authority: Transformation and Transcendence ELLEN R. JUDD

The smiling, rotund figure of the Cloth-Bag Luohan loosens the red cloth bag around his waist and eighteen luohan magically emerge in play. 1 Drums and gongs resound throughout the acrobatic performance directed by the Cloth-Bag Luohan with his whisk, until at last he tires and falls asleep on stage. The eighteen luohan, until now apparently acting without knowledge of his directing presence, carry him aloft and off the stage. The world is, indeed, a place of enchantment-full of the unexpected and sensuous, and mysteriously connected with a cosmic order that remains invisible but interconnected with the mundane. This vivid and enjoyable scene is an explicit internal commentary on the ritual opera in which it is embedded. We mortals are more and other than we know ourselves to be, and we play out our lives in dramas beyond our understanding. But in capturing this cosmic play on stage, we can tangibly if transiently join in the play through which the cosmos and ourselves are continuously created anew. The nature of the cosmos is presented in the pageantry of the next scene, in which the entities of the Western Heaven parade on stage to the strains of a suona and the beat of percussion. The Jade Emperor takes his place on the elevated throne with Guanyin, the Goddess of Mercy, by his side and lesser figures arranged by rank in a colorful tableau facing outward. The hierarchy of the cosmos-imitating or imitated by the hierarchy of this world-is rendered visible on stage, and the mystery of its operations is revealed. The luohan Guizhi has lapsed into fond memory of the mortal world and is to be sentenced before this court to the punishment of rebirth. He is to become the long-awaited son of a virtuous man, Fu Xiang. He arrives

Ritual Opera and the Bonds ofAuthority at this destination through transmutation, first into a snail, which Fu Xiang picks up from the ground and tenderly nurtures, but which is later dropped on the ground by Fu Xiang's wife, Liu Qingti, and dies. The snail is buried by Fu Xiang's manservant, who, after the intervention of a Daoist master, is ordered to dig it up. He digs up a turnip, which is then broken. Part of it is sent offstage to Liu Qingti, who will conceive a son after eating it. The remaining slices of turnip are distributed to women watching the opera seeking to conceive sons. The resulting son of Fu Xiang and Liu Qingti, Fu Luobo (Turnip Fu), becomes a model son and an exemplar of filial piety (xiao). Although not the son of this couple in conventional terms, he achieves moral perfection and transcendence of the mortal world through extremes of devotion to his allotted station in life. 2 These scenes mark the hinge between the preface to and the main narrative of The Story of Mulian (Mulian zhuan), the drama at the core of popular ritual opera in rural south China. The prefatory plays (Qjan Mulian), the story proper (Mulian zhuan), and the various interpolated plays (Hua Mulian) all provide variations on the themes of a practical cosmography of a universe in which nothing is quite what it seems and the possibility of transformation is a key to the mysteries oflife and death.

Mulian Opera The earliest known form of the Mulian story is to be found in the Tang dynasty Dunhuang transformation text Mulian Saves His Mother (trans. in Mair 1983). It is conventionally attributed to Indian sources, although none has been successfully traced, and it is widely believed to be an indigenous account of Buddhist devotion, couched in Chinese terms emphasizing the centrality of filial piety or obedience (xiao) in the construction of the moral self and the ordered cosmos. The original story is one of the journeys of Mulian (Sanskrit-Mahamaudgalyayana), the follower of the Buddha most adept at magic and at drama, to save his mother from the torments of the deepest hell to which she has been sent for renouncing the tenets of Buddhism. Mulian transcends mortal life to become a luohan and as such is able to travel to heaven and to hell in search of his mother, but even with heavenly assistance he is unable to save her until the Buddha answers his pleas by instituting the yulanpen feast for hungry ghosts (including Mulian's mother) on the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month. Mulian continues his efforts, and his merit eventually obtains her reincarnation, first as a dog and then as a woman. Ultimately, she is received into heaven together with Mulian. 3

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The nature and use of Tang dynasty bianwen (transformation texts) and bianxiang (transformation pictures) are still in dispute, but it is probable that they were used as an artistic aid to Buddhist proselytizing. 4 If so, they are transformational in the dual senses of representing religious transformations and of embodying artistic transformations themselves. Buddhism spread widely throughout medieval China, and with it the story of Mulian and the practice of holding the yulanpen festival for hungry ghosts (Teiser r988a). There is at least one recorded instance in a Song dynasty text of a performance of Mulian opera lasting several days. The definitive historical text is a 120-play version of the Mulian story compiled by Zheng Zhizhen in the Ming dynasty. For more recent historical periods, there are more ample historical records and recollections available, and the recent revival of scholarly interest in Mulian opera within China is producing an abundance of new material, primarily on the historical aspects of the spread of the Mulian story in connection with the history of Chinese local opera forms (see Hunan sheng r985; Li eta!. r989a, b; Liu Huichun 1988; Wang Xiaoyi r988; Xue r988; and Zhongguo Mulianxi guoji yantanhui 1989 ). Mulian opera lends itself to such research because of its prominent place in the repertoire of numerous local opera forms, especially in the south. This recent research demonstrates that Mulian opera was widely performed in connection with both Buddhist and Daoist religious observations in the twentieth century up to the eve of Liberation in r 94 9. In the early r 9 5o's Mulian opera came under official disapproval and ought not to have been openly performed. This history and the continuing official disapproval make it politically sensitive to address the question of its persistence since the 1950's, although it is known to have been unofficially performed since that time. During the 198o's there was a widespread revival of local ritual in the countryside, an atmosphere of relative openness in schola,.rly circles, and a renewed and officially favored interest in Chinese popular culture. These developments were encouraged, in the field of opera research within China, by the evident international interest on the part of sinologists, anthropologists, and drama scholars. In the wake of an international conference on Mulian opera held at Berkeley in 1987 (see D. Johnson 1989), it became possible to stage revivals of Mulian opera under official approval but for restricted (primarily scholarly) audiences. The revival has meant the acknowledged reappearance on stage of ox-headed ghosts and snakebodied demons ( niuguisheshen ), some of the magical transformations so strongly repudiated by the native son of rural Hunan who initiated the

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Cultural Revolution and led it to a thorough rejection of traditional popular opera. The Mulian opera to be discussed here is that which survives in historical records and-because of the importance of actual performanceMulian opera as it has been recently revived on the local opera stage. The major official performances to date have been in Anhui in 1988, Hunan in 1989, Fujian in 1991, and Sichuan in 1993. The largest and most ambitious performance was a chenhe gaoqiang form of the opera presented in Hunan over ten days in late October 1989. This performance was staged and recorded with support from UNESCO and was intended to be performed on the riverbank of the old county seat of Qianyang, where it would be viewed by thousands of local people. The events ofJune 1989 prevented the holding of the event as planned (and has limited the discussion and performance of Mulian opera ever since), but it was ultimately performed on schedule for a selected academic audience vvithin a walled compound in the nearby city of Huaihua. 5 The specific references in this paper are to this chenhe gaoqiang performance. 6 Chenhe gaoqiang is a contemporary local opera variant in the yiyang qiang tradition, found along the common borders of Hunan, Sichuan, Guizhou, and Hubei, but concentrated in the small space of four counties in western Hunan. By 1989 this form of opera was on the verge of extinction as performers moved, under market pressures, into more popular (and less costly) song and dance performances or out of the theater altogether. Nevertheless, the combined resources of six extant or recently dissolved troupes were sufficient to mount a performance in 1989 that the artists hoped might revive this art form. The history of chenhe gaoqiang is intimately tied to the history of Mulian opera in the region. Mulian opera was the centerpiece of the chenhe gaoqiang repertoire, and performing the Mulian cycle was the mark of a successful troupe.

Transcendence Performed Mulian opera was invariably performed for the gods and embedded within a ritual context. In the terms ofWestern anthropology and sinology, it is a form of ritual opera (see D. Johnson 1989 ), but it would not have been described in quite such terms by the participants. They understood and practiced it as a transformational performance that included both ritual and drama (see Dean 1993 ). Within this field, Mulian opera was a particular marked form of transformational drama. Both the ritual context and the operatic performance worked to effect the creation and the

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transcendence of the mortal world by means of performative transformation in this world, whether in the form of ritual or in the form of drama charged with transformative power. Through Mulian opera the social order is generated on a cosmic scale and objectified in performance. Within the play of artistic transformations, critical questions of suffering and morality and of power and gender are addressed. Mulian opera especially focuses on questions of death and the regeneration of life, and as Bloch and Parry (r982a) have observed in cross-cultural context, these are linked with the legitimation of authority in a stratified society. In Mulian opera the resolution of the existential crises of life and death is linked with the generation of a social order saturated with relations of power-in the play of the gods (such as Mulian himself), in the play of courts and armies, and in the play of the intimate domestic worlds where the politics of gender are inescapable. The magic of transformation effects a transcendence of mortal limitations that permits the creation and control of the cosmos, and that in turn imbues the ordinary mortal world with transcendent meaning and power, as represented in the artistic transformations of the dramatic performance. The cycle of transformation- transcendence- transformation is partially realized through the exorcism of dangerous "hungry ghosts," but the work of Mulian opera extends far beyond this immediate purpose. Mulian opera has been performed for centuries within a popular religious context fusing elements of virtually every religious tradition within China, including Confucianism and shamanism. The predominant ritual frame, however, takes the form of popular Buddhism, popular Daoism, or a fusion of these two; the last is characteristic of the chenhe gaoqiang variant. Mulian opera is invariably performed within a major ritual context, although it has been flexibly adapted to accommodate all religious traditions present in an area. The story around which Mulian opera is organized is Buddhist in origin, and the earliest performance ofMulian opera in western Hunan occurred within a Buddhist context. Buddhism entered the region in the Tang dynasty and thrived there during the Song. The yulanpen festival of salvation was widely observed in the area, and within recorded local history, Mulian opera has been performed within the celebrations culminating on the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month, the Feast of Hungry Ghosts. Mulian opera was also performed in a Confucian ritual context as part of the major ceremonies marking revision of lineage genealogies, either at thirty-year (small revision) or sixty-year (large revision) intervals. In these rituals, conducted at ancestral halls, representatives of each branch of the lineage would swear to uphold the laws of the lin-

Ritual Opera and the Bonds ofAuthority eage, including adherence to the Confucian values vividly presented in the largely syncretic Mulian opera. Rituals such as these underlined the importance of Mulian opera to both the public world structured by lineages and the linked domestic world of households and gender relations. Popular religion in the area, however, is deeply Daoist, and by the end of the Qing and beginning of the Republican era, Mulian opera had come to be performed predominantly within a Daoist ritual context. The transposition into a Daoist context, common in the history of Mulian opera in south China, is reflected within the opera itself in many ways (as in the presiding presence of the Jade Emperor and the frequent appearance of Daoist masters within the narrative) and is especially evident in the ritual context and framing of Mulian opera performances. In the modern history of this area, the performance of Mulian opera is closely associated with the communal Daoist Ritual of Cosmic Renewal (luotiandajiao), which should be held at three- to five-year intervals and extends through 49 days from early summer (chuxia) to about the date of Guanyin's birthday, on the nineteenth of the sixth lunar month. During this period Mulian opera is not performed, but the ritual context for it is established, and the surplus of the funds collected and not fully expended for the ritual is used to cover the costs of performing Mulian opera later that same year, following the fall harvest or, in the case of financial constraints, in the following year (Li Huaisun et al. 1989b; Hunan sheng 1985; Li 1993). The ritual frame for the Mulian performance is also created through rituals conducted before, during, and at the conclusion of the Mulian opera performance. These are traditionally carried out or presided over by the actor who serves as religious leader ( baotaishi or zhangtaishi) of each troupe. The troupes have a distinct religious character expressed as adherence to a syncretic Confucian-Buddhist-Daoist Religion of the Pear Garden (Liyuan jiao).? In the case of chenhe gaoqiang, this implies a strong Daoist element, and the rituals were, in 1989, performed by non-actor Daoist priests joined by various actors (Li Huaisun et al. 1989b; Hunan sheng 1985).8 A performance of Mulian opera is preceded and marked off by the Daoist Ritual of Opening the Stage ( kaitaixi), which precedes a wide range of opera. This ritual can take place in any temple or on the opera stage, and Buddhist monks may be involved, but it is a Daoist ritual performed by either a Daoist priest or the zhangtaishi of the opera troupe. The ritual has several stages. Briefly, the first of these takes place before dawn and invokes ritual protection for the opera troupe. The various trunks containing the troupe's costumes and props are carried on stage by the actors and receive

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the protection of the ritual and of the blood of the cock sacrificed during it. The next stage is the ritual calling of ghosts, who are then confined within a pot for the duration of the opera cycle and released outside the community after its conclusion. This stage of the ritual has elements similar to those of the first stage, including again the sacrifice of a cock. This is followed by a sequence in which a character (played by an actor located in the audience) assumes the role of the leader of the ghosts, here called the Hanlin, and is pursued, caught, beaten, and again confined outside the town until after the Mulian performance has ended (see Li et al. 1989b; see also Li 1993 ). The conclusion of the Mulian opera performance is the ritual dispatching of the Hanlin by boat and the floating of hundreds of lights from the riverbank. The culminating effect of this multistage ritual is the creation of a marked space of safety in which actors on stage can imitate ghosts and spirits and members of the audience can interact with them without risk to either actors or audience. In effect, the most terrifying of the supernatural entities into which the actors transform themselves are removed from the field of play. What happens in Mulian opera partakes of the mystery of transcendence-but it is clearly the work of men and not of ghosts.

The Senses of Opera Chenhe gaoqiang Mulian opera shares the usual defining features of Chinese opera. It is a multiplex dramatic form combining instrumental and sung music, spoken dialogue, dance, and choreographed fighting and acrobatics. There is also a narrative structure to Chinese drama, but the narratives are derived from classical elements of popular culture or history and are known to the audience in advance. The narrative is an essential ingredient, but the performance is the central element and the point of emphasis in almost all variants of Chinese opera. All the performers, both actors and musicians, were traditionally men, with male actors playing the roles of female character types (dan), although in recent years female actors have come to play dan roles. Popular opera, including Mulian opera, shares these features and accentuates aspects of the emphasis on performance more strongly than do elite forms, such as Beijing opera or kunqu. Since the audience at a largescale open-air performance not only congregates near the stage but also spreads out as far as the performance can be perceived and comes and goes at will, the opera troupe performs a full-dimensional enactment, including the complexities of the narrative and the intricacies of the chenhe gaoqiang

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musical form, but it does not assume that all the living audience can or will hear either the spoken or the sung word. 9 The narrative and the themes are essential to the performance as either opera or ritual but are assumed as well as enacted. The practical requirements of reaching a large outdoor audience may accentuate certain elements of Mulian opera performance, but the heightened sensory impact that these produce is an important and intrinsic part of the transformative power of Mulian opera. The musical impact of Mulian opera, at least in its chenhe gaoqiang form, is created primarily by a driving and almost continuous use of very loud percussion, supplemented with the use of firecrackers at ritually marked moments. The musical accompaniment of chenhe gaoqiang consists of an extensive set of percussion instruments and the double-reed suona. The musicians accompanying the opera from the back of the stage consist of as many as six men performing on percussion instruments (drums and gongs), and one suona player, distinguished from the other, drably attired musicians by a green silk jacket. The musicians are led by the drum master (gushi), who in the 1989 performance was a descendant of a line of folk musicians and had accompanied Mulian opera when young. 10 The extensive use of the suona, especially its use as a solo instrument to substitute for a sung aria, is one of the distinctive features of chenhe gaoqiang, but despite its penetrating sound even it can be overpowered by the percussion. 11 The costumes of Mulian opera, as colorful and elaborate as those of any Chinese opera, are further accentuated by the frequent appearance of costumed actors portraying ghosts, spirits, animals, and gods. The hungry ghosts are especially terrifying, and their graphic depiction-larger than life, with nooses around their necks, bloated red tongues hanging from their mouths, and strands of paper in their disheveled hair-is a vivid reminder of the dreadful fate they represent and of the danger their desire to return to life poses to any vulnerable mortal, whom they may drive to suicide. The richness of the costumes also serves to underline the numerous bodily transformations in the play-in the course of retribution and reincarnation, in the play of disguise through which the goddess Guanyin and other otherworldly entities appear in this world, and in the mundane portrayal of human deception. The performance onstage employs a variety of special effects, such as fireworks, in the worldly scenes and still more extreme effects in the scenes that take place as Liu Qingti's sufferings render the terror ofhell immediate and personal. Within the heightened preoccupation with death and the renewal of life at the heart of the operatic narrative and the ritual signifi-

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cance of the entire cycle, one of the most powerful effects comes with the dramatically intensified and prolonged suffering and despair of a wronged wife driven to suicide. She hangs herself on stage, with the assistance of a hungry ghost, and dangles, suspended by a hidden body harness, from a beam extending over the audience. That scene from one of the interpolated plays in the cycle, Geng shi shang diao (Woman Geng hangs), is an extreme instance, but it is otherwise typical of the effect of the interpolated plays in the cycle. They depart from the fantastic story of Mulian and place the themes of Mulian operawrongful suffering, betrayal, obedience, suffering, and death-in a mundane context in which the import of the more abstract filial obedience of the mythic Mulian can be immediately felt. The fate of the good and pious Woman Geng, whose husband is deceived into thinking her unfaithful and driving her to suicide, is powerful and firmly rooted in offstage reality. Resonance with deeply felt existential concerns of the most terrifying character is a pervasive characteristic of Mulian opera. 12 Every play in the cycle-including the prefatory and interpolated plays-is centrally concerned with death and with the construction of a self centered upon a preoccupation with death. The cycle contains numerous repetitions and variations on the themes of anticipation of death (always viewed with dread), grief for the dead, ritual observances for the dead, charitable acts of providing for the burial of paupers (a reminder to a humble audience of the possibility of not receiving burial), the fearful experiences of the dead in the afterworld and their persistent longing tor the mortal world, and the torments awaiting them in the depths of hell. There is hardly an aspect of the entire cycle that does not resonate with and magnify the fears and griefs of the audience. The dramatizations play strongly on bodily representations of pain and suffering, always in their most extreme form and with extended artistic elaboration and repetition. The formidable power of Mulian opera derives substantially from this sensual quality of embodied pain and terror. , The audience-especially the male portion of the audience-does not remain outside the drama or in a state of passive observation, and significant portions of the dramatic action take place offstage and among the audience members. Women were partly but not wholly removed by their restriction to specially designated areas, which, before the Republican era (1912-49), were separated from the rest of the audience by bamboo screens (Hunan sheng 198 5: 56- 57). For both men and women, the boundaries between on- and offstage are highly permeable in Mulian opera. Most obviously, to attend the opera is to participate in the encompass-

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ing ritual. This is marked clearly by the audience's observance of a vegetarian diet from the beginning of the cycle until the point at which Liu Qingti holds a feast to mark her departure from vegetarianism and, by implication, from Buddhism. The audience also eats meat at this point in the cycle and joins in the feast, which goes on simultaneously on- and offstage. This is a larger-scale sharing similar in character to that of the magical turnip earlier in the cycle. In both cases commensality marks the implication of the audience in the action of the drama, including its most mysterious and morally significant moments. The multiplex formal characteristics of Mulian opera as opera serve to identifY it as a recognized and familiar artistic genre marked off from ordinary life. But members of the audience are not excluded from Mulian opera or limited to being an audience. They are spectators most of the time, but even as spectators they are participants in a soul-touching ritual event, from the first capture of dangerous ghosts to their final release at the conclusion of the event. Within the safe space created by these ritual demarcations and within the conventionally defined fictional frame of an opera performance, the audience can move into and out of the action on stage, and the action on stage can move offstage and into the audience area or even into the streets. The particular frames of both opera and ritual enable a participation of the audience that is tangible, active, and sensual-but also safe and only ambiguously connected with the everyday world. The audience is itself engaged in acts of imitation or transformation that create the magic of the event. The actors also occupy a highly charged and ambiguous situation, portraying otherworldly and magical figures, including the most powerful ones known to the participants, but at the same time being mere actors. They are both important ritual figures, as marked by the additional quality of some as Daoist or quasi-Daoist (Pear Garden) priests, and ordinary mortals. The actor playing the role of Mulian is in a still more markedly ambiguous position, since he is understood to have acquired through imitation some of the extraordinary power of the character he portrays. Direct contact with this embodiment of Mulian is supposed to be especially desirable, although he also remains fully an actor, and playing this role signifies the peak of professional accomplishment within chenhe gaoqiang.

Transformation Within the space of artistic effect and heightened sensuousness generated by the operatic performance, the magic of transformation takes place.

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The ritual/operatic adepts transform themselves into imitations of the rulers and subjects of other worlds, entities that give every appearance of being themselves collectively imagined imitations of the mundane world. But this is neither a circular nor a pointless process-with each imitation something different is created, and in the process of creating supposed imitations, the substance of the imitated (both in the mundane and in the other worlds) is itself created (see Taussig 1993 ). 13 The lead actor embodies and imitates the otherworldly luohan Guizhi, who, throughout the cycle and even after his transcendence of the mortal world to become Mulian, imitates the exemplary filial obedience of the supposedly ordinary mortal Fu Luobo. The essence of Fu Luobo is presented as otherworldly in origin, but the central narrative of his journey to the Western Heaven and to the Avici hell to rescue his mother, Liu Qingti, is incomprehensible except as the observance of filial obedience, that is, as behavior appropriate to the mortal Fu Luobo. That Mulian should be so exemplary in fulfilling this role demonstrates the unity of the cosmic order underlying the morality of hierarchical authority and obedience. Mulian and Fu Luobo create each other and, in the process, the cosmic order in which both are located. This cosmic order is saturated with relations of hierarchical power. Mulian is condemned to rebirth as Fu Luobo by the highest authority of the cosmos for infraction of the rule against longing for the world. As Fu Luobo, his most outstanding characteristics are obedience to the tenets of Buddhism (in Mulian opera, effectively equivalent to the moral order in general) and filial obedience both to his father, Fu Xiang, who demanded that his family follow Buddhist ideals, and to his mother, Liu Qingti, despite her spurning of her husband's and her son's entreaties to follow a good Buddhist life. Fu Luobo forsakes all else in life (including his betrothed and the possibility of providing his parents '"ith descendants) 14 and resists all temptations (even the most compelling, as devised and embodied by Guanyin in disguise) to search for and save the soul of his mother after her death. Because Fu Luobo is so exemplary in his filial obedience, he is able to transcend mortal limitations and journey to other worlds, without dying, and is able to perform magical feats that almost allow him to save his mother. The ultimate salvation of his mother nevertheless remains beyond his direct power and can be granted only by the highest cosmic authority, who is moved to do so by Fu Luobo/Mulian's exemplary obedience. Obedience (xiao) is at the moral core ofMulian opera. It is powerfully formulated in primarily domestic terms, in the obedience of a child to his/

Ritual Opera and the Bonds ofAuthority her parents, and of women to men-that is, in the terms through which it. is initially learned and most deeply and immediately felt. Hierarchy is necessarily and pervasively present, but Mulian opera is thoroughly subaltern. The problem of creating the moral self in Mulian opera is rarely that of exercising authority in a moral fashion, but overwhelmingly the problem of living a profound obedience to authority, whether right (as embodied in Fu Xiang) or wrong (as centrally embodied in the person ofLiu Qingti). The narrative and embellishments of the story of Mulian embody the formation and realization ofFu Luobo / Mulian as an exemplar of obedience. The power of Mulian to concentrate this moral imperative is magnified by his role as a refracting lens through which participants in Mulian ritual opera see obedience in all its facets. Obedience within the mundane world is most realistically portrayed in the interpolated plays added to the central narrative. None of these is connected with the story ofMulian itself, but each amplifies-to excess-the anguish of living a life of filial obedience on the part of ordinary mortals. In Mifeng tou (Head of bees) a son unjustly accused of making advances toward his stepmother follows his father's demand that he commit suicide and drowns himself, to the subsequent grief of his father, who learns the truth too late. In Geng shi shang diao, a wife wrongly suspected of infidelity by her husband, takes a heartrending departure from her children and also obeys the order to commit suicide. In Kuang Guoqingguo zhong (The loyalty ofKuang Guoqing), a loyal official subdues a foreign military threat but is slandered at court as a traitor; he receives an imperial instruction to kill himself, declines the opportunity to resist, and obediently ingests poison and dies. The thematic unity of these unconnected narratives is obvious and strongly emphasized. The obedience of sons to parents, of women to fathers/husbands/sons, and of officials to rulers is a unified whole in the conception of the cosmos built around the precept of obedience. Mulian concentrates these various aspects of obedience and raises them to a higher level in his embodiment of the same value as transcending the ordinary borders between this and other worlds. Through Mulian, the arbitrary qualities of this mortal life are rendered visible as imitating the ordering principle of the cosmos and are thereby rendered effective in ordering the mundane world. The role of cosmic power is not incidental. Every instance of dramatically lauded obedience in Mulian opera is, in one way or another, obedience to an authority that is wrong and whose mistakes are the source of terror and death. This embodiment of obedience carried to excess, together with the very serious play of clown characters underlining these

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wrongs, places the ultimate moral quality of authority in question (see Judd 1994). It is less clear that the quality of obedience is placed in question. Those who obey are without exception virtuous. Those who resistas most dramatically exemplified by Liu Qingti-are not. Liu Qingti de· nies that she is immoral, resists death and departure from the world, and resolutely resists all the torments to which the demons of the underworld subject her. But her final salvation is first in the form of a dog wagging its tail and then as an unresisting woman being received into heaven by virtue of her son's obedience. The proper construction of the moral and gendered self is as one who knows the nature of the cosmos and is able to -act-m submission to it.

The Terror of Death Through dramas such as Mulian opera, the people of south China created cosmographies, imitations of the cosmos through which they could acquire tangible and reliable guides for journeys in this and other worlds (see Ahern 198 1a; Bourdieu 1968). It would be difficult to exaggerate the importance of dramatic vehicles in the creation of knowledge by and for the ordinary people of rural China. The role of drama in the construction of the culture of southern China has been demonstrated in the work of Ward (1965, 1976, 1979), and was eloquently expressed by a leader of the rural reconstruction movement in north China earlier in the twentieth century: According to our experience in Ding county, the knowledge of Chinese peasants, especially that about human behavior, comes mostly from the stage. There is hardly a view of human affairs or recollection of history that does not derive strength from drama. Seen from a certain position, we could say that drama aids learning from books, but up to the present day in China's villages, drama is simply the peasants' only education. (Xiong 1936) This knowledge contains elements of various beliefs, ethics, and philosophies current in Chinese society, and it can in large part be understood and seen as significant on a cognitive level. Nevertheless, a cognitive approach, however illuminating, may not give adequate weight to the sensuous, emotive force of drama such as Mulian opera, particularly when we recognize the symbolic power achieved by a fusion of the political and the existential dimensions (A. Cohen 1979, 1981), especially as manifested in the symbolism surrounding death. Mulian opera draws attention to the importance of sensuous, transformational mechanisms for heightening the immediacy and force of death

Ritual Opera and the Bonds ofAuthority or-more accurately-the fear and terror of death. Nothing (not even the theme of obedience) pervades Mulian opera more thoroughly than the threat and nearness of death. This implies much more than a descriptive statement that every play performed in the Mulian opera cycle has a narrative structured around the immanence of death. Each and every play draws upon the multiple artistic resources of Chinese drama to exaggerate the terror of death, and the scope and length of the cycle enables the full extent of these resources to be utilized. The Buddhist elements of Mulian opera do not result in a welcoming of death as a release from the mundane world. Although certain figures, principally Mulian and Guanyin, are able to move between worlds without experiencing death, for the ordinary person, the transition is made through death. Characters in Mulian opera approach death with vivid and prolonged expressions of dread. The pain of departure from this world is shown through Mulian opera as continuing even into the afterworld as the deceased strive to cling to the world and all that they had loved in it. The destinations of the deceased are various, and some are briefly shown as destined to enjoy the rewards of merit acquired in a virtuous life. But the dramatic weight of Mulian opera is reserved for those with dreadful fates. Liu Qingti's extreme torments are a terrifying embodiment of pain and the ultimate threat of final disintegration. The hungry ghosts of mortal failures are frightening examples of a possible fate as well as a threat to the livingeach desperately wishes to return to the world and can do so only by driving a living person to suicide. The portrayal of these elements of anticipated, terrifying death are presented without subtlety and with the full force of the actors' skill, the driving force of percussion, the pulsating sound of screams and wails, and the costumed enactment of approaching torment and loss. No death in Mulian opera is portrayed as inevitable, natural, or even accidental. All result from decisions taken by persons in authority-either in this world or in some other world that intersects with this one. And the decisions are commonly wrong. 15 Wrongful death inflicted by authority is at the heart of death in Mulian opera and is one of the sources of its terror. If death is an existential universal, the experience and anticipation of it are not. Death, as made visible in Mulian opera, is the result of actions taken by human agents or by human-like agents. Here the creative power of imitation is strikingly evident. One might view the representation of death as beginning with a vision of the world as powerfully and hierarchically structured. This is very much in line with the portrayal of worldly power in Liang zhuan (The story of Liang), the opening play of the 1989 chenhe gaoqiang performance. This

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tale of an emperor of the Northern and Southern Dynasties period and of his earthly acts of power is mingled with the acts of power of higher authorities, which very much resemble imperial authority. Indeed, the emperor is eventually received into this higher court. It does not require interpretive dexterity to find the grandeur, power, and violence of the earthly court imitated in the celestial court. But the translation to that level allows earthly power to transcend its possible limitations and to become absolute. In contrast to mechanisms of naturalization that are more familiar means of conferring power in contemporary North American culture, transcendence accomplishes this task in Mulian opera. 16 As the cycle moves to the story ofMulian proper, a figure of the celestial world (Guizhi I Fu Luobo I Mulian) imitates a mere mortal. But in this transformation, there is also the creation of something new. Fu Luobo is so exemplary in his observance of the mundane values of filial obedience that he creates out of them the potential to transcend mortality. He is able to pass the boundary between life here and life hereafter without dying. After his transformation into Mulian, he is able to move the highest celestial authority to initiate the yulanpen festival for hungry ghosts. All these acts of imitation or transformation are linked to exceptional efficacy, as_ if the transformation itself generated power, but none can accomplish the ultimate salvation from the terror of death. The power to do this remains emphatically removed from mortal grasp-Mulian's magical feats and all the help he receives from Guanyin remain inadequate to the task. He is only able to succeed by excesses of filial obedience, which finally move celestial authority to choose to take action and bring mercy into the world. The explication of the cosmos embedded within and made real in the artistic transformations of Mulian opera is the revelation of the absolute quality of celestial power, which can and does manifest itself in the mundane world, and the imperative of submission to this power. As Bloch and Parry have provocatively observed, mortuary beliefs and practices, are associated with the legitimation of authority in stratified societies: "Where there is no transcendental authority to be created the dead can be left alone" (1982a: 42). The dead are far from being left alone in Chinese culture-they are instead the stuff of which nightmares are made. 17

The Drama ofTransformation That these nightmares are a product of human history is one of the possibilities generated and commented upon within the performance of Mulian opera. The scene described in the opening paragraph of this essay

Ritual Opera and the Bonds ofAuthority can be interpreted as an artistic imitation of the transcendent mystery of life. It can also be interpreted as a lightly veiled imitation of the act of artistic transformation itself-the figure of the Cloth-bag Luohan is both the Cloth-bag Luohan and the actor portraying that role. This duality of meaning underlies the importance ascribed to this pivotal scene. Mulian opera is far from a realistic art form; it is, perhaps, further from realism than the Chinese stage in general and its conscious artifice, convention, and elaboration of specialized performance arts. Mulian opera is distinguished by a combination of formal features. First, Mulian opera makes full use of the artistic repertoire and conventions of secular Chinese theater. 18 The ritual and transcendent messages of cosmic order, death, and the regeneration oflife are efficaciously embodied in conventional dramatic narrative, and the entire range of operatic performance features is utilized. Even if most of the audience cannot hear the complexities of the music or the sung or spoken words, they know that these are being performed and that they are present at an opera. Second, Mulian opera transgresses the boundaries between the linked performative genres of ritual and of opera (to phrase the matter in ritual terms) or between the frames of ritual and opera (to phrase the same set of formal features in more theatrical terms).l 9 The theatrical performance of the opera interrupts and encroaches upon the encompassing ritual marking off the inclusive performance. Moments of ritual, in turn, interrupt the performance of the opera. The result is a blurring of the distinction between the two. The dominant mode of connection between the ritual and operatic elements of the event is a definite shifting of frames, which is marked by the contrasting formal features of the two genres. Third, Mulian opera plays reflexively with its own play of transformation. This is elaborated in scenes such as that of the Cloth-bag Luohan, and it occurs frequently in the important clown scenes scattered through the cycle. 20 The fragmentation and the largely unscripted commentary of the clowns destroy whatever realistic or transcendent image may have been created within the performance of the core narrative, and bring the attention of the audience back from transcendence to the work of transformation present before them in the form of opera. 21 Fourth, the audience is repeatedly involved in both the opera and the ritual during the course of the event, thereby joining in the work of transformation accomplished through Mulian opera. There are numerous meanings present within this encompassing cycle, just as there are within the complex fabric of Chinese belief and ritualneither is preoccupied with the exclusionary practices found in systems that

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posit definitive and unique truth. Many meanings may be simultaneously present, and present at a variety of levels of transparency or obscurity, in the eyes ofvarious beholders (see also Dean I993). Mulian opera's long and complex history has allowed it to accumulate a multiplicity of meanings for a diversity of audiences (cf. Ahern I98Ia; Duara I988; J. L. Watson I 9 8 5). Some of these may be hidden in response to the hierarchical politics of both everyday life and the performance of Mulian opera (see Scott I990 ). Others may be more subtly and pervasively present in an evocatory sense as meanings present on the surface of the drama but significant only insofar as they evoke meanings beyond the frame of the opera itself (see Humphrey I 994 ). This second type of meaning seems especially worth attention and emphasis in a discussion of Mulian opera within the context of music, authority, and power. Embedded within-lying on the surface, not buried beneath-the very play of opera on stage, the magic of transformation as human creativity is made visible. This is most apparent in the art of the transformations on stage, but the structure of ruptured boundaries and miraculous transformations suggests-not in words but in the substance of artistic form-that transformation may be the vehicle through which worlds are created offstage as well as onstage. The portrayal of the fantastic mysteries of transcendence serves as the vehicle for revealing the everyday magic of human transformation.

The Gender of Terror The histories enacted and created through Mulian opera implicate gender in all the relations of power portrayed in the cycle. Gender is explicitly hierarchized in Chinese culture, with women accommodated within the public structures of male hierarchy through their prescribed obedience to related men-as daughters to fathers, as wives to husbands, and as widows to sons. The marginality of actual women in the performance of Mulian opera before the contemporary period has not prevented the portrayal of gender as central to the drama of life, death, and power. Women were hidden behind screens in limited sections of the audience, and the roles of women were performed by men-but women and gender are at the heart of the drama. The representation of gender in Mulian opera is probably best viewed as a male imitation and a transformative creation of women as imagined in the male experience, but this does not make it less interesting. The central narrative-Mulian's exploits to save his mother-reveals and elaborates upon a thematic core of gendered violence and terror. Liu

Ritual Opera and the Bonds ofAuthority Qingti's progression through the depths of the underworld is marked at every stage by horrifying physical ordeals, inflicted directly or indirectly by the male underlings who are her wardens. She is a sensuous woman, yearning to live and enjoy the pleasures of the flesh (such as eating meat), and intensely reluctant to depart from this world. Her experience after death is a series of terrifYing torments, vividly rendered on stage: a vulture eats out her eyes, snakes with poisonous red tongues attack her, she is beaten mercilessly, she starves and freezes for lack of food and clothing, and she experiences the ultimate terror, decomposition. Through all these torments, she continues to resist her fate. The performative climax of Mullan opera, ideally performed on the day of the Feast ofHungry Ghosts, is located within the story ofLiu Qingti's travels through the underworld. Mulian's efforts on her behalf have disturbed the established order and released some ghosts from the underworld. Various (male) ghosts are mobilized to capture the escaping ghosts, among whom is Liu Qingti, and an actual Daoist presides over ceremonies performed onstage to effect the recapture of the ghosts. The Daoist priest ensures the efficacy of the three-pronged pitchforks to be used in the recapture of the escaped ghosts. The real-and sharp-pitchforks are thrown across the stage to pin Liu Qingti physically to a wooden pillar. Three pitchforks land dangerously close to her body-one of them near her head. The performance can be deadly-one of the requirements is that an actual coffin be prepared in advance and rest before the stage for actual use of the actor playing Liu Qingti. 22 Even when Liu Qingti, whose resistance is finally broken by this realistic ordeal, is rescued and reincarnated as a dog, one of the notable scenes is that ofLiu Qingti-as-dog being beaten on stage. 23 This is consistent with repeated scenes throughout the cycle. Pain, suffering, and death do not simply appear-they are intentionally and emphatically inflicted upon people (usually but not always women) by human or anthropomorphized agents (usually but not always men). The cruelty is exaggerated and terrifYing and is portrayed as generated in accordance with the hierarchy of the ordered cosmos. Women may torture other women-for example, the jealous emperor's wife in Liang zhuan, who gouges out the eyes and cuts out the tongue of a serving woman before ordering her death. And men may be cruel to other men. But there are no enactments of extreme violence in which the victim is male. Women are the victims throughout in accounts of hell and commonly in the domestic tragedies of the interpolated plays. Life, as portrayed in Mulian opera, is pervaded with variations of cruelty, and there is a distinctly gendered basis to it.

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The result is a gendered quality to the dread with which death-and life-is anticipated. The creation of gender as shaped by the violence of cosmic order places violence and terror at the core of the construction of the gendered self. The terror conveyed to women in the audience may well be heightened. Men may vicariously participate in the dramatization of violence against women, but there are implications of the intrinsic link between gender and terror that are potentially troubling for men as well. Bloch and Parry's ( r 9 8 2a) argument on the construction of gender in relation to mortuary ritual is directly pertinent to Mulian opera in numerous respects. Although wide variation and a complex structure are created by the permutations in the intermeshing plays of the Mulian cycle, the core narrative portrays a clear contrast between a sensuous woman and the terrors of death on the one hand and an abstemious man able to overcome death for both himself and others on the other. It is possible, and probably valid, to interpret this as a creative effort to separate sexuality and fertility and to associate women with a negatively charged sexuality (and death) and men with a positively charged fertility (and the transcendence of death and the regeneration oflife) (see also Martin 1988; J. L. Watson and Rawski 1988). There is a further dimension to the gendered contrasts in Mulian opera. Liu Qingti's sensuousness is consistently connected with a longing for the things of this world, including social relations. Her decision to eat meat is taken, at least in part, in the belief that this will prolong her life. The decision is influenced by her brother, and she marks the end of her vegetarianism with a feast. Despite the split with her son caused by her renunciation of Buddhism, she longs to be reunited with him. Liu Qingti is actively embedded in and committed to a social life in a morally imperfect world. Her son, in contrast, is not part of this world in the ordinary mortal sense, is absolutely resistant to any worldly temptations, and is strangely unconnected with this world in any sense except filial obedience. The form his obedience takes is distinctly aberrant within the Chinese cultural context-he fails to wed his betrothed or to provide his parents with descendants and is so extreme in his pursuit of filial obedience as a moral imperative that he departs the world altogether. This contrast is combined with peculiar forms of self-generating life (from a dead snail and a buried turnip) unique to Mulian and with his exceptional acts of transcending death and of opening a path for salvation for the most unfortunate of the dead, the hungry ghosts. The magical quality ofMulian is one of profound detachment from the world, and the world ofMulian-as distinct from the world ofMulian opera-can be seen as "a

Ritual Opera and the Bonds ofAuthority

world in which one might keep to oneself' (Levi-Strauss 1969: 497). Such a world, a world without senses, attachments, or social relations-as represented by a world without gender or sexuality-is summoned into being in Mulian opera and throws into relief the actual world lived in by the participants in the opera and in the ritual.

A Nightmare on the Brain of the Living Mulian opera draws upon the existential concerns of life, death, gendered being, and sexuality and does so in a manner deeply grounded in the lived and imagined histories of the participants. Mulian opera not only reflects on timeless concerns-it provides or creates elements of a cosmography that permit knowledgeable being and action in a dangerous and unpredictable world. This world is one in which all experienced and all imagined social relations are saturated with relations of power. This is most obvious in the multiple instances of wrongful death at the hands of higher authority, and these can readily be interpreted within the terms of conventional discourse on political relations. Within Mulian opera, as within Chinese culture in general, political relations are directly linked with primary relations, and, although many of these are ties between related men (father and son, elder brother and younger brother), some of the most significant in the actual lives of ordinary people are relations between men and women. The salience of these relations is underlined in the Mulian opera cycle by the domestic tragedies in both the core narrative and the various interpolated plays. The social relations enacted in Mulian opera are ones of hierarchical power of a distinctly gendered nature. To escape hierarchy, in this view of the cosmos, would also be to escape the distinction of gender and social relations altogether. The thematic intensity of Mulian opera can be seen as created by the relentless, driving revelation of this inescapable tragedy at the heart of imaginable social life. The origins of the tragedy are not traced but lie implicitly in the social order of the cosmos, a cosmos created and re-created by recognizable human and anthropomorphized agents. This is the quality of lived history within which the participants in Mulian opera appear trapped. As I have argued more extensively elsewhere (Judd 1994), this view of the cosmos is presented in an open and fragmented dramatic form that permits and even actively generates a questioning of the moral character of this social order. Higher authorities are repeatedly portrayed as wrongfully inflicting pain, death, and suffering beyond death. And there is nothing in

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Mulian opera that legitimates the moral authority of those who have the power to wreak this havoc upon human lives. In this sense Mulian opera has a distinctively subversive quality. Providing a tangible and participatory vehicle for questioning authority is one dimension of the creative work of Mulian ritual opera performance. Even as Mulian ritual opera creates a vision of the ordered cosmos that is emphatically not based on moral legitimacy, it shows this order to be extremely efficacious through violence. Morality is stripped from the cosmic order, which is revealed to be based on terror. This is the source of the extraordinary emphasis in Mulian opera on the intensely and selectively sensual dimension of the performance. Violence, cruelty, death, pain beyond the grave, and the threat of no continued existence are the ultimate basis of a cosmic order dependent on terror rather than morality. The consequent ethic of obedience is internalized within the self in relation to the deepest concerns of individual and social life on the basis of a cognitive understanding of the cosmos as violent, and on a translation of this understanding to immediate and anticipated physical and mental terror. Chinese opera is a richly sensual and multiplex artistic form, and it is a cultural resource for cosmography. Here it is exceptionally effective in conveying the emotive and transformational power of the cosmography found in the story of Mulian, because of the richness and force of the sensual impact of Chinese opera as a generic dramatic form. The particular in tensity and force of the performative elaboration of Mulian opera as a distinct type of Chinese opera-in music, in costume, in special effects, in tangibly incorporating the audience into the performance-amplifies this effect and makes Mulian opera an exceptionally powerful transformational vehicle. The sequence of transformations in Mulian opera creates a cosmos of terror and explicates the place of a mundane morality of filial 9bedience in relation to it. Resistance to the cosmic order-as demonstrated again and again upon the body ofLiu Qingti-is futile and antithetical to order. Recognition of the power of order may enable a person to act in appropriate submission, but adherence to the morality of filial obedience is no guarantee of protection or salvation. Nevertheless, a miraculous power can be tapped through the magic of artistic transformation, and that can reveal the means through which mercy may enter the world.

Notes

For complete author names, titles, and publication data on the works cited here in short form, see the Works Cited, pp. 263-8 5.

Chapter r 1. A clear indication is the dearth of musical writings in non-musical journals, the scarcity of references to music scholarship in the social sciences, and the general lack of interest in musical panels in broadly focused scholarly conferences such as the annual meetings of the Association for Asian Studies. 2. For various models of musical study that define the scope, see Merriam I 964; C. Seeger I970; and Rice I987. 3. As reported in the essay by Provine in this volume, the number and kinds of musical instruments used in sacrificial rituals in Choson Korea were critical in the ritual. 4· This is a modification and expansion of a list proposed by Bell Yung in his study of the music of Cantonese opera ( 1989: I 51). 5. As pointed out by some authors, the categorization system may have little to do with considerations of musical timbre and more with cosmology. As Needham and Robinson wrote: "Music and instruments were part of the calendrical system and the seasons as well as the welfare of the state" (quoted in Kartomi 1990: 40). 6. A well-known example in Western music is the technique known as Sprechstimme used in Arnold Schonberg's composition Pierrot Lunaire. 7. For an excellent example of phonic analysis of verse, see Mei and Kao I 9 68. 8. According to classical literary theory, all written characters fall into one of four tonal categories: ping (even), shang (rising), qu (going), ru (entering). Each one is distinguished by a certain pitch level and contour (although the specific pitch level and contour vary from one dialect to another). In addition, the four categories are further grouped into ping (even) and ze (oblique) where ze includes the three categories of shang, qu, and ru. In classical poetry as well as opera, storytelling, and

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Notes to Pages 25-36 other popular narrative forms, the opposition of ping and ze is widely exploited to provide parallelism, contrast, and symmetry in the verse structure. 9. The labeling of these pitches by numerals follows the notational system called "cipher notation" or "number notation," in which I, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 are used to label the pitches of a seven-pitch scale. "8" is used here to represent the higher octave equivalent of I. In this particular song, only five of the seven pitches are used, plus the higher octave equivalent. IO. Bloch himself admits that "of course not all song completely rules out creativity; there are songs where a degree of innovation is possible, for example, in the Eskimo song contests. There is also the possibility of putting more or less 'expression' in a song" (p. 70 ). Musicologists will argue that innovation is possible, and often inevitable, in any musical event, particularly for the performance of orally transmitted songs.

Chapter 2 I. Translations of court offices and official titles follow Hucker r 98 5. For general biographical data on Ming dynasty personages mentioned in this essay, see Goodrich and Fang 1976. 2. Chinese state ritual and music (state sacrifices and music in particular) were large-scale events that involved many people and spanned months (Lam I988; Wechsler 198 5 ). As such, Chinese state ritual and music can be analyzed as expressions of authority and power on many levels, ranging from an offering of incense to court debates on the meanings of a state ritual. In this discussion, I focus on the interactions among ritual partners, namely, the persons who controlled ritual and musical matters in court and who may or may not have physically participated in the ceremonial and programmed activities of state rituals, such as the offering of sacrificial victims on altars. Ritual partners always outnumbered the celebrants who officiated in the ceremonial and programmed activities. The power relationships among ritual partners, celebrants, staff, and audience are beyond the purview of this discussion. 3· The I530-31 institution of the ceremonials was part of a much larger and more complex web of events related to Shizong's efforts to revise state rituals in the mid -sixteenth century. To present the institution of the ceremonials as a case study of ritual, music, and politics, this essay will examine only those events that directly affected the developments of the ceremonials. 4· Da Ming Shizong Shuhuangdi shilu (Veritable records of Emperor Shizong) (Zhang Juzheng I 577) is the most comprehensive source for data on the sericultural ceremonials of I 53 o and I 53 I. Summaries of similar data are also available in Tan r653; Zhang Tingyii I739; and Xia r87o. In this discussion, all citations of source materials are to the Da Ming Shizong Shuhuangdi shilu and appear at the first reference to the materials. 5. I have reconstructed an approximate chronology of the incident following dates marked in the daily entries in Zhang Juzheng I 577. These dates are problematic. Many entries in the court document conflated descriptions of related events into one day, events, moreover, that could not have taken place on the same day.

Notes to Pages 44 -65 For example, the entry dated Feb. I 2, I 53 o, reports not only Xi a Yan's proposal but reactions to the proposal that must have happened after the proposal. Unless specified, this discussion presumes that such activities happened soon after the date of the entry in which they are described. Thus, the reactions to Xia Yan's proposal happened soon after Feb. I 2, I 5 30, but before the date of the next relevant entry, which is Feb. I4, I530. 6. The concept can be found in many discussions of state rituals. For a representative description, see "Yueli pian," in Yueji (Record of music; see Liu De). 7. Given the amount of information about their ritual activities, and the intensity and stakes of their discussions, one has to assume that most court citizens were sincere and earnest in their arguments. Sincerity and earnestness are also attributes promoted by the founder of the Ming empire and aspired to by his descendants (Lam I988: 95-I04). 8. This is an inference from the kinds of musical documents preserved in imperial libraries. See Yang Shiqi I44 I. Even with the abundance of archaeological evidence now available, which was not known to Ming persons, many features of ancient music are still unknown.

Chapter 3 I am grateful to the many people who offered comments and suggestions on this paper at various stages, especially to Victor Mair, Margaret Sarkissian, Jean Provine, and John Duncan. I. The Koreans were, broadly speaking, quite content with using Chinese encyclopaedias as authoritative sources, although these works seem to have enjoyed a lesser reputation in China. 2. A copy of the Yuanshi was given to Korea in I403, and a newer copy of the Songshi was received in I454 ( Chungbo Munhlin pigo 242.r3b, qa). Important works such as the histories were usually reprinted in Korea and distributed to key institutions. 3. The reader is cautioned against the r 876 "collated" edition of this work, which is unreliable in every possible respect. Strange as it might seem to many scholars (see Mote I987), the edition now widely available in the Siku quanshu, though not perfect, is much to be preferred. 4. Another, posthumously published work of Zhu Xi, Yili jingzhuan tongjie (ca. I 2 20), was the source of melodies used by the Koreans in some of their court ritual music (Provine I988: 90-92). It was not, however, important for the state sacrificial rites. 5. More potentially useful sources from this period survive, but I have not yet had the opportunity to examine them closely. 6. In this connection, it is worth remembering that the consummate sense of the learned man is his hearing (DeWoskin I982: 32-39 ). 7. Further details may be found in Provine I 989. 8. Note that the Koryiisa is a retrospective work of the fifteenth century, that is, of the dynasty succeeding Koryo. Its purpose was not necessarily to praise Koryo, but the compilers placed no between-the-lines interpretation of the Chinese musical

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Notes to Pages 6 5 -76 gifts. The texts describing the layout of both the courtyard and terrace ensembles (Koryiisa 70. I b- 3a), indeed, are nearly word -for-word identical to those describing the emperor's ensemble in the Songshi (I29-30I3-I5); only the numbers of enclosing sides and instruments are altered. 9. This is only one of several instances of the ignoring of embassies between Song and Koryo in this period in Chinese sources (Rogers I96I: 62). A large gift of musical instruments for banquet music in I I I4 is mentioned very briefly in Songshi 487.I4049, but described in detail in Koryiisa 70.28a-29b. Io. See, e.g., the bibliography Sejong saophoe I983, the studies in Sejonghak I986; the biography Hong I97I, the lionization in Kim-Renaud I992, and the novel Park I98o. For a volume devoted entirely to music during Sejong's reign, see ChangSahun I982. I I. It was not always easy for Koreans to obtain books from China; see Rogers I958. I2. Musicians had come from China to teach music in Korea in I370 (Koryiisa 42.I7a), which was a fairly recent memory. Still, there were substantial differences between Korean and Ming Chinese ritual music: technically speaking, Ming opted for a pentatonic modal system for ritual music; Korea for a heptatonic system like that used in Northern Song. There were also differences of instrumentation. I 3. In fact, both the Siku quanshu edition and the collated edition of I 876 show 44 singers, I I se, and I I qin, but this appears to be a reiterated printing error. 14· Only a single pavilion from the original altar compound survives today, in the shadow of the Westin-Choson Hotel. The altar itselfwas demolished in I9I3 by the Japanese to make way for a hotel during their occupation of Korea in the first half of the century. 1 5. I have not yet had the opportunity to study this development in detail, but the sources exist. I6. The institution of investiture, hated by Korean kings but in some ways advantageous to the ministers, was another means by which the king could be kept in a position subordinate to China and thus also weak in Korea (RogeiS I96I: 52 and passim; Sohn I963: 14-I5). If the Chinese emperor was in the superior position of being able to invest the Korean king with his office, then the Korean king's subordination implied that he should not sacrifice to Heaven, the prerogative of only the highest earthly power. I7. I am grateful to John Duncan for suggesting this point.

Chapter4 The major fieldwork on which this essay is based was carried out during academic year I99I-92 and supported financially by the President's Fellowship in Chinese Studies of the UniversityofPittsburgh. Follow-up fieldwork in the summerofi993 was subsidized by a summer travel grant from the China Council of the University of Pittsburgh. I am grateful to the governments ofYunnan province, Lijiang prefecture, and Lijiang county for giving permission for my fieldwork; to the Lijiang prefectural archives and Lijiang county library for allowing me access to archival

Notes to Pages 76-8 I materials; to my work unit, the Yunnan Art Institute, for organizing my stay in Yunnan; to the instructors assigned to me in Lijiang, He Zhong, Xuan Ke, and Yang Zenglie, for their expert advice; to my academic advisers in Kunming for constructive criticism; and above all to the musicians ofLijiang, who always took a gracious interest in my research and spared no efforts to help me. This essay has benefited greatly from the input of the three editors of this book, and also ofJudith Boltz, Piet van der Loon, and J. H. Kwabena Nketia. Romanization in most instances is Hanyu pinyin; deviations are either for people, places, and terms already well known in another form (e.g., Hong Kong), or explained as they occur. Non-pinyin romanizations in quotations from other authors are converted silently into Hanyu pinyin. I. Over 9 3 percent of China's population belongs to the majority ethnic group known as the Han Chinese. However, the population of Yunnan province (somewhat over 30 million) is only about two-thirds Han. The non-Han belong to a number of distinct ethnic groups that the Chinese government refers to as "national minorities" (shaoshu minzu). Over twenty government-recognized ethnic groups are represented in Yunnan, ten of them in Lijiang county. 2. Chinese ethnographers recognize two main branches of the Naxi: that centered around Lijiang and that of Yongning. The Yongning branch, commonly known as the Mosuo, have for years sought classification as a separate ethnic group. Despite many obvious distinctive characteristics, the government has consistently refused to grant this (McKhann I992: 3 72-78). In this essay I deal specifically with the branch living in Lijiang. 3· For summaries of work done, see Jackson I989 and McKhann I992. 4· I follow McKhann in using Naxi pinyin to transliterate sainii and paq, but retain regular Hanyu pinyin for dongba instead of using Naxi pinyin dobbaq since this is the most familiar form. 5. For detailed accounts of Qing policy at this time, see Lee I979; and Smith I970. 6. The term comes from the major scripture used, the Dadong xianjing. This is abbreviated to Dongjing, with hui (association) added. 7· Before I949, in most places no women were admitted to associations. The major exception to this was an all-female association in Tonghai county, founded in the late Republican era (Zhang Jiaxun I987: I 30-3 I). 8. The Bai and Naxi Dongjing associations are the best documented among the non-Han ethnic groups. Huang Lin (1990: r6) also lists the Yi and'Zhuang of Mengzi county and the Mongols ofTonghai county as having had such associations. For general information on the associations and their music, see Wu Xueyuan I990. On the Han and Bai associations of Dali, see Dali shi Xiaguan wenhuaguan 1990. 9· Although one might expect such literatus groups to have preserved historical records, on three occasions within one century they lost large portions of their scriptures, altar trappings, and documents: first during the Moslem Uprising of r8s673, during which informants said the county town was sacked; then immediately after the Communist victory in I949 when religious activities were curtailed; and more recently, in the chaos of the Cultural Revolution ( I966-76).

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Notes to Pages 8z -96 IO. The yunluo consists of a wooden frame within which ten small tuned gongs are suspended. They are struck with a single mallet. I I. Of these instruments, only the sugudu, a bell, and one kind of small cymbals are foreign to Han Chinese musics (the bell and cymbals are said to be of Nepalese and Tibetan origin; the sugudu is peculiar to the Naxi); the huqin, pipa, and reed pipe are distinctive Lijiang variants of instruments distributed widely among the Han Chinese and other ethnic groups; the other instruments are identical to their standard Han Chinese counterparts. The now-defunct funeral music known as Baisha xiyue, also apparently restricted to the area immediately around Dayan Town, was the only indigenous Naxi music to use some of the same presumably Han-derived instruments as the Dongjing repertoire; its origin, too, is commonly attributed to outside influence, in this case Mongolian (He I98 5: 70 ). I 2. For more detailed evidence for the Han Chinese origin ofLijiang's Dongjing music, see Rees I994: 207-27. I 3. Apart from one government-sponsored re-enactment of part of a ritual performance in summer I992, which appears to have been an isolated instance largely for scholarly and documentary purposes. I4. These scriptures are also common in other parts of China. The Dadong xianjing and related texts appear in both the Daoist Canon (Daozang) and the Repertory of Texts from the Daoist Canon (Daozang jiyao); the Guansheng dijun jueshi zhenjing appears in the Repertory of Texts from the Daoist Canon. For an extensive discussion of the Dadong xianjing and related texts, see Robinet ( I98 3 ). For detailed information on the Lijiang versions of these scriptures, see Rees I994: ISI-64. I 5. A power, moreover, that the government of the day has exercised strictly several times this century over the Dongjing associations. According to He Yi'an, former member of the Dayan Town association, in I9I2 the county town association was temporarily prohibited from performing rituals following complaints from discontented local citizens that they were contravening the anti-superstition policy of the infant republic, and in I949, the new Communist government banned the associations throughout Lijiang county. There is no doubt that government power was real and that the Dongjing associations existed at the authorities' pleasure. I6. For the extent and nature of improvisation allowable in Lijiang's Dongjing repertoire, see Rees I994: 22I-27. For a comparison with the eastern Chinese sizhu genre Jiangnan sizhu, see Witzleben I987; and Thrasher I993· I 7. The tuned gong set was readily visible to most musicians. Those who forgot part of a melody could watch which gong the second officiant was about to hit and thus find the right note. I 8. In the case of associations that retain the ritual component, they sometimes still are-I attended one such three-day celebration in Weishan county in March I992. Frequently, however, ceremonies are compressed into fewer days than was traditionally the case. I9. However, at contemporary funerals, music groups merely provide background music while the guests gather, pay their respects to the dead, and eat, and sometimes as the coffin is carried out; they no longer perform any scriptures at such events as the Dongjing associations did before 1 9 49.

Notes to Pages 98 -r27 20. The term Naxiguyue (Naxi Ancient Music) is sometimes applied specifically to the Dongjing repertoire, and it sometimes includes the now-defunct genre Baisha xiyue (e.g., on the commercial cassette Naxiguyue [ZAX-9103 ]).

Chapter 5 I am grateful for the assistance ofLiu Tik-sang and Hu Chia-yu in the translation of the laments discussed in this essay. I. See, e.g., Ebrey 1981, 1984, 1991a; Elvin 1984; Ko 1992; Mann 1987, 1991; Waltner 1981; M. Wolfi971; M. Yang I945· 2. People in Ha Tsuen account for this by explaining that laments were learned in the girls' houses and that girls' houses are no longer required because village families now have spacious, modern houses. Therefore, according to this logic, the laments died with the girls' house (cf. Seremetakis 1991: 217-21). Joseph (1980: 42 3) reports that in Berber society women who have no songs are pitied-they lack the core qualities women should have. In fact, in the 1970's young and old women alike expressed sorrow at the loss of their bridal laments. 3· See, e.g., Carlitz 1991, 1994; Ebrey 1984, 1991a; Elvin 1984; Mann 1987, 1991. 4· Silber (see 1994: 4, II) argues that girlhood alliances continued after marriage. Contrary to the images evoked in the laments, there is clear evidence that most women in the New Territories retained contacts (sometimes close contacts) with their natal families (see, e.g., Judd 1989; Stockard 1989; R. Watson 1981, 1994). However, the practice of patrilocal residence did create a set of problems for women that revolve around issues of familial loyalty. Although the laments described here should not be read as direct reflections of social practices, they do provide a kind of"performed discussion" in which the dilemmas of being both a good daughter and wife are explored. 5. For a discussion of expressive women's culture among China's elite in late imperial period, see, e.g., Ko 1992, 1994; Ropp 1993. 6. For a discussion of counterpoint traditions, see Scott 198 5, 1990. For arecent, general discussion of counter-hegemony, resistance, protest, accommodation, and gender, see MacLeod 1992. 7· The relation of girls' houses, delayed transfer marriage, marriage resistance, and formal sisterhood associations has not been explored. However, it should be noted that at least in some areas of the Pearl River Delta, so-called old aunt houses were also part of the village scene. In these houses unmarried older women (often marriage resisters) lived out their lives (see Stockard 1989; Topley 1975 ). 8. To her mother the bride sang (Chang Cheng-p'ing 1969: 40 ): But my care for you is small as a river; I should repay your kindness. and to her father she sang (Chang Cheng-p'ing 1969: 39 ): I hope my brother will take care of you ... But I cannot return.

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Notes to Pages I29 -43 9· Feld (1990: 252) refers to Kaluli women lamenters who together "coarticulate personal and collective biography and memory."

Chapter6 I. "Wind" here refers mainly to the double-reed pipes (suona) of various sizes. Other wind instruments such as the vertical flute (xiao) and traverse flute ( di) belong to the Silk and Bamboo ( sizhu) ensemble, another important form of Chinese instrumental music. 2. The description of wedding and funeral music in Taiwan sheng tongzhi (vol. I, chap. 2, p. 4 7 ), for instance, includes such comments as "musicians are lacking in cultivated musical taste .... Since their instruments are gongs, drums, and the like, their music is noisy and irritates the ears. The music has never changed since antiquity." 3. Nowadays the "sevens" can be and are often compressed. One way to shorten the "sevens" is to hold the second "seven" the sixth day after the first one, the third "seven" the fifth day after the second, the fourth "seven" the fourth day after the third, and so on. Sometimes three or five sevens are considered sufficient. 4· The soul of each deceased individual is said to be judged every seven days by one of the courts of the different IGngs of the Underworld (Yan wang) based on the merits each individual accumulated during life. To increase the amount of merit, the mourning family has religious professionals chant sutras and perform a series of rituals on behalf of the deceased. 5. The core instruments of nanguan are the pipa (the four-string plucked lute), sanxian (the three-string plucked lute), erxian (the two-string bowed lute), and dongxiao (the vertical flute). 6. The ensemble does not necessarily consist of ten instruments. However, it usually includes kexian (the two-string bowed lute), dizi (the horizontal flute), xiao (the vertical flute), sanxian (the three-string plucked lute), and percussion instruments such as cymbals and small gongs. 7. According to Chen Senlu, traditionally at least four double-reed pipes were required in the Drum Pavilion ensemble. Nowadays, for economic reasons, one piper is considered acceptable. 8. See Ahern (1981: 2-3) for a description of the gods as bureaucratic officials and pictures of a god and of a magistrate carried in procession. 9· For a discussion on the concept of multiple souls, see, e.g., Harrell 1979; and M. Cohen 1988: 181-82. 10. Susan Naquin (1988: 49) observes a similar attitude in funerals in north China. II. Thompson 1988:92-93. 12. Zhu's sources include jiali dacheng and jiali huitong (date unknown), manuscripts offamily rituals dated from the Tongzhi reign (1862-74) of the Qing dynasty, and interviews conducted before 1960. I 3. For instance, the funeral tunc "Da jie" of the guting repertory and the interludes of beiguan are performed with immediate repetitions. Many guting pieces, such as "Taizi you" (The journey of the prince) and "Fu lu shou" (Luck, wealth,

Notes to Pages 145-65 and longevity), are not repeated in immediate succession. "Da jie" is an exception in this respect. 14. The tune "Da jie" is conventionally divided into five sections ending with the same cadcntial formula. The division, while serving as a memory aid, marks the starting points for variation. However, in some cases the change of guan is made before a section ends. This can happen when, for example, the piper is unable to finish a section due to a memory lapse, which makes the drummer decide to change immediately, leaving the preceding section incomplete. I 5. For a detailed discussion on the choices of percussion patterns for insertion between phrases in beiguan music, see Ping-Hui Li 1991: 74-92.

Chapter7 I. For recent analyses stressing the ways in which the Mongols and Khitan adopted only parts of Han Chinese models, see Endicott-West 1989; and Franke 1978. 2. The terse account of the accession ritual in the Veritable Records (Yongzheng 13/9/yihai day) has been supplemented by the materials in DQHS, juan 292; and DQTL, 1759 ed.,juan 19. 3. On the usc of inner-court ministers during the Yongzheng reign, see Bartlett 1991, chaps. 2, 3· 4· The term lifu was used to designate chaofu, the highest of three grades of court dress, for the emperor, empress, and empress dowager. Second-ranking dress, jifu (auspicious dress), was worn for ceremonial occasions oflesser importance; the ordinary court dress was changfu (routine or ordinary dress). See Rawski 1988: 252n62. 5. Da Ming huidian, juan 4 5. The full obeisance in the Ming, five bows and three kowtows, was expanded in the Qing to the three kneelings and nine kowtows described in this chapter. 6. The term "mounting the ultimate" (dengji) appears in the Veritable Records to describe the accession rites of the Yongzheng emperor ( DQSL, juan r, Kangxi 61/rr/19); the Tongzhi emperor (DQSL, juan 6, Xianfeng II/Io/8); the Guangxu emperor (DQSL, juan 3, Guangxu rjrj2o) and the Xuantong emperor (DQSL, juan 2, Guangxu 34/11/9). On the Ming rites, see Da Ming huidian, ch. 45· 7. Despite the claims to authenticity embodied in the instruments used to play yayue, there was great historical variation in the instruments themselves. A recent study by Terese Tse Bartholomew and Mitchell Clark ( 1991/92) indicates, for example, that early qing, or stone chimes, were actually made of stone, whereas those of later date were made of jade; also the number of chimes that constituted a set in the bianqingranged from 19 during the Han to 24 in the Ming to 16 in the Qing. 8. This issue will be addressed in my forthcoming monograph on the Qing imperial family. 9· Charles Hucker (1985: 598) assigns the creation of this bureau to 1729 but the 1742 date is cited by Wan and Huang ( 198 5) as well as Zhang Deyi ( 1981: 66). 10. The two officials appointed to supervise the revision of the Lulu zhengyiwere

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a career official, Zhang Zhao, and Yinlu, the uncle of the Qianlong emperor; so even the task of setting up the musical system, which was monopolized by Confucians during the Ming dynasty, was in the Qing subject to Manchu direction. On the revision, see Wan and Huang I 9 8 5: I 3 . I I. For discussion of the distinctions between singsong, chanting, recitative, and song, see Y. R. Chao I956.

ChapterS In revising this essay for publication, I have benefited not only from participation in the conference at Pittsburgh but also from the advice of the editors of this volume. Access to materials in the British Library and private collections of Professors Piet van der Loon and Kristofer M. Schipper I owe to the opportunity afforded me as a I985-86 recipient of a research grant from the Joint Committee on Chinese Studies of the American Council of Learned Societies and the Social Science Research Council, with funds provided by the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. Citations from the microfilm copy of the suqu (popular ballad) collection at Academia Sinica in Taiwan reflect the benefit of a fellowship in I987- 88 as a member of the Chinese Popular Culture Project at the University of California, also funded by ACLS and SSRC, together with the University of California, Berkeley. I am also grateful to Professor Tanaka Issei of the University of Tokyo for providing me with a copy of pertinent texts collected in Singapore. r. For detailed accounts of jiao in Taiwan, with historical surveys, see Li Xianzhang I968 and Liu Zhiwan I967, I974· For Western-language studies of rituals performed in Taiwan, see, e.g., Schipper 1974, 1975, I982, 1985; Saso I972, 1975: val. 1; Lagerwey 1987; Weller 1987, and Jordan 1986. See Tanaka I981: 94-99; I985: 227-302, 609-720; and 1989 for accounts of jiao in various communities ofHong Kong. Ofuchi Ninji 1983 includes documents and discussions of jiao in both Taiwan and Hong Kong. Accounts of jiao and related rituals in Fujian can be found in Dean I986, 1988, and 1989. A study ofjiao by the Daoist Master Tian Chengyang (I 990) dismisses regional variants and argues for adhering to a uniform program of liturgy as codified in the Huanglu keyi edited by Lou Jinyuan and published during the Qianlong era. Pang I 9 77 outlines the pudu ritual as performed in Honolulu. Lagerwey I987: 58-59 provides a brief summary of the pudu service at the close of a three-day jiao, as conducted by Chen Rongsheng in I98o. For a comparative study of the ritual based on an analysis of liturgies from Taiwan, Hong Kong, Suzhou, and Shanghai, see Chen Yaoting 1987, which praises the Hong Kong liturgy for its historical reliability while registering considerable concern over its reflection of class contradictions indicative of its Southern Song origins. 2. Liu Zhiwan 1967: 145 observes that images ofGuanyin and her attendants typically grace the upper level of the likeness of her abode, Mount Putuo, whereas figures from the Xiyou ji, or Journey to the Hht (such as Monkey Equal to Heaven) surround the lower level. He claims not to have found such imagery at jiao staged outside Taibei, due to their association with funeral processions. It is important to note that the integration of Daoist and Buddhist images in ritual performances is

Notes to Pages 209-23 not a one-sided affair. Buddhist clergy were criticized for incorporating representations of Daoist deities in their rituals as early as the Song. In a decree of I I I 2, the emperor Huizong condemned monks and nuns for featuring Daoist images in the plenary fete for feeding hungry ghosts, known at that time as the liturgy of Shuilu (Water and Land). He also regarded sponsors of these fetes as equally culpable if they knowingly allowed such displays (XZT, 91.2342). 3· As noted in D. Johnson I989: xii, I am engaged in a study of the complex operatic repertoire centering on the story of Zhuangzi and his wife in relation to the daoqing legacy. 4· Mention should be made of a limited musicological study by Tsao. Pen-yeh (I989: 48, I04-II), based on Daoist rituals performed at the Hong Kong Yuen Yuen Institute. It lists nineteen "scriptures" [sic] and includes a brief summary of a pudu service according to a copy of Quanzhen liturgy apparently identical to that published in Ofuchi (I983: 883-900), but provides no background on the textual history of the liturgies used. I am grateful to Helen Rees for supplying me with a pertinent selection of pages from this publication. 5. A study of the Tamil bow song tradition by Stuart Blackburn (I 9 8 8) may be counted among exemplary publications giving equal weight to text and performance practice. 6. Tambiah ( I979: I37-41') finds that the spells, mode of recitation, and physical manipulations ofTrobriand rites contribute to a sense of heightened communication. But unlike the generally unintelligible incantations of the celebrant in the Lingbao Liturgy, Trobriand ritual language, as Tambiah notes in an earlier study of the magical power of the sacred word (I 968: I 88 ), is not qualitatively different from ordinary language. 7. For the way in which ritual language exploits redundancy, see Tambiah I 979. 8. I am indebted to Piet van der Loon (pers. comm., Mar. II, I994) for recommending a refinement on Ofuchi 's (I 9 8 3: 404) translation of this passage, which renders an adapted character as "joins hands." The word in question (and a variant graph), pronounced ts'ua in Zhangzhou dialect, may be found in a critical edition of a Southern Min shadow play, where it is glossed as "to lead, to cause" (Loon I979= 92, x, xxx). 9. A remarkable contemporary vision of wrongfully condemned guhun, corresponding to plate I66 in Shen Baichang and Hu (I985), reproduced here (Fig. 8.I), is conveyed in the controversial short story entitled "Warning," by Liu Binyan, as translated by Madelyn Ross, with Perry Link: "Innumerable apparitions haunted him, attacking him one by one. They clutched at him and tore him to pieces, screaming of their unjust deaths ... because he had informed against them, betrayed them, or framed them . . . because of the forced confessions that he had planned and personally obtained ... everyone from graying revolutionary veterans to young men and women in their prime, and even babies in their swaddling clothes. These unjustly persecuted spirits, smeared in blood, their hair in wild disarray, flew at him in droves before his wide-open eyes" ( I983: n). IO. I have heard two versions. A solo rendition of a Buddhist version taped by Professor van der Loon sounds mournful to my ears. The choral rendition taped

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NotestoPages223-28 from a pudu ritual by Professor Schipper seems less convincing, in part because of background noise and a rapid tempo. Variant transcriptions can be found in Shi I987: IJI-34, 205-6. I I. In his study of variant modes of expressing acceptance and denial of death in British society, Cannadine (I98I: 242) issues a well-advised warning against generalizing about an emotion like grief in any given society at any given time. I2. I have found that Donald Hall (I993: 6) describes the power of poetry in much the same language: "In narrative poems, the poetry adds the secret (unsayable) room of feeling and tone to the sayable story. . . . Poems embody feeling . . . the poem exists to say the unsayable." I am grateful to William G. Boltz for calling my attention to this essay by his former colleague in the University of Michigan Society of Fellows and to Copper Canyon Press for providing complimentary copies of the pamphlet at the Bumbershoot Festival over the Labor Day weekend of I994· I 3. Anthony Seeger's observations on the effect of music bear repeating: "Music transcends time, space, and existential levels of reality. It effects humans, spirits, and those hard-to-imagine beings in between" (I987: 7). q. What Richard Schechner (I993: 26I-63) terms "dream" in his determination of the ultimate source of ritual would appear to correspond to what we know to be the visionary experience of Daoist ritual.

Chapter9 I am pleased to acknowledge the support of a Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada Research Grant administered by the University of Manitoba in I989, and a Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada Research Grant for I992-95. I gratefully acknowledge the helpful comments of Terence Russell and of the participants in the I 99 3 University of Pittsburgh conference "Music in Chinese Ritual: Expressions of Authority and Power," where this paper was originally presented. I remain solely responsible for the views expressed in this paper. I. A luohan, or arhat, is a Buddhist entity who has achieved Enlightenment and equanimity and who, in popular Buddhism, has magical powers. These qualities are conveyed in the scene described through the luohan's smile and through the magical play he directs with his whisk. The cloth-bag of this Chinese monk who became a luohan is also a particular symbol of his magical power. 2. Mulian's connection with a turnip is extensively elaborated in Mulian opera but was originally based on a misinterpretation of his Sanskrit name (Victor Mair, oral comments at the I993 Pittsburgh conference; see also Mair I983: 224-25). 3. There is an extensive and valuable scholarly literature related to Mulian opera in premodern China and in Taiwan; see, in particular, Ahern I98Ib; Grant I989; D. Johnson I989; D. Johnson et al. I985; Mair I986-87, I989; Seaman I98I; and Teiser I986, I988a, b. 4· The bianwen are early texts presenting stories, such as Mulian jiu mu (Mulian saves his mother), and they are widely thought to have been used as the basis for performances of a proselytizing nature. The bianxiang associated with them

Notes to Pages 229-40 may have been used as illustrations presented as part of such performances. In line with this interpretation, several bianxiang did appear on stage during this chenhe gaoqiang performance. See Mair I989; Ch'en I968; Overmyer I99o; and Wu Hung I992. 5. I address the context of performing Mulian opera in I 9 89 at greater length in Judd I994· 6. The discussion that follows depends primarily on my fieldnotes on this I989 performance. I have also referred to the lengthy printed text (Li Huaisun et al. I989a) upon which the performance was loosely based, discussions with others present at the performance, and the secondary material cited elsewhere. The paper is less directly dependent on published materials regarding Mulian opera in other forms and on interviews in Fujian and Sichuan and the performance of Mulian opera staged in Mianyang, Sichuan, in I 99 3. 7. The Pear Garden refers to the most famous drama school in Tang dynasty China, a site of ritually correct performance. 8. Li Huaisun I993 argues that the Religion of the Pear Garden and the theatrical rituals presented below as Daoist contain strong shamanistic elements. 9. Performances of Mulian opera were also-and importantly-for the gods and for deceased ancestors. IO. In the Fujian puxian opera variant, the music ofMulian opera is distinct from the music performed for other puxian opera. Knowledge of this music is passed orally from agushi to a selected student. Despite the important role ofthegushi in the I989 chenhe gaoqiang performance, it is not clear whether this is also true for chenhe gaoqiang Mulian opera. I I. For a detailed discussion of the intricacies of the music of chenhe gaoqiang Mulian opera, see Wu Zongze I 9 89. On the exceptional importance of percussion, see Needham I967. I2. At the officially sanctioned performance of Mulian opera in chuanju and a mix of other Sichuan operatic styles in September I993, one of the keynote speeches for the event underlined official concern in contemporary China with the element of terror in Mulian opera. This speech acknowledged the profoundly important role of terror in Mulian opera but sought to disassociate contemporary performance from such terror (as being inappropriate for life in present-day China). The performance went to exceptional-but only partially effective-lengths to mute and aesthetisize the terror of the opera. In I994 the actors who performed the officially sponsored puxian opera variant of Mulian opera in Fujian in I99I mentioned terror as one reason they could not openly perform Mulian opera. I 3. The conception of this article has been influenced throughout by Taussig I993· See also Benjamin I986. I4. The imperative to provide one's ancestors with descendants is the most important obligation of a filial son. I 5. There are exceptions to this pattern, as in the death of Fu Xiang. Although he is, through death, received into a higher state of existence, he is as reluctant as the wrongfully dying to depart the mortal world. I 6. "The wonder of mimesis lies in the copy drawing on the character and power

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Notes to Pages 240-43 of the original, to the point whereby the representation may even assume that character and that power. In an older language, this is 'sympathetic magic'" (Taussig 1993: xiii). 17. "Men make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please; they do not make it under circumstances chosen by themselves, but under circumstances encountered, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brain of the living" (Marx 1963: 15). 18. There is no absolute barrier between secular and ritual theater in China, although there is a repertoire of domestic, historical, and military plays that are largely secular-if often performed in temples for the gods-and another repertoire of plays, such as those at the core ofMulian opera, that are distinctly more than secular. Even if the distinction is not a rigid one, it is significant and useful. 19. For a somewhat different set of variations on the movement between ritual and theater, see Schechner 1988. See also Goffman 1974. 20. Some of the important clown roles were performed by the zhangtaishiin the 1989 chenhegaoqiangperformance. 2 r. For a more extensive description and discussion of this aspect of Mulian opera, see Judd 1994. See also Babcock 1984. 22. Whether the coffin has ever been used is not clear. A written history of the chenhe gaoqiang Mulian opera says that it never has been, but that it becomes the property of the actor playing the role of Liu Qingti, which constitutes a significant bonus (Li Huaisun 1989b: 27-28). Discussion at the time of the 1989 performance indicated that it may sometimes have been used, although no specifics were provided. As actually performed in 1989, real and sharp pitchforks were thrown some distance across stage and into the pillar against which Liu Qingti was standing. There was danger in the performance, although the zhangtaishi, who threw the pitchforks (he said that nobody else was willing to play this role, and he added it to the others he played) was definitely erring on the safe side and embedded the pitchforks many inches away from Liu Qingti. 23. This incident was omitted in the 1989 performance, but it was commented during the event that it is one of the more memorable elements of Mulian opera.

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Wwks Cited Naxiguyue (Classical Naxi music). Zhuhai tequ yinxiang chubanshe ZAX-9103. N.d. (1990?). Record. Naxiguyue (Classical Naxi music). Bai tian'e yinxiang chubanshe WS 92101. N.d. (1992). Record. Naxizu jianshi bianxiezu. 1984. Naxizu jianshi (A brief history of the Naxi). Kunming: Yunnan renmin chubanshe. Needham, Rodney. 1967. "Percussion and Transition." Man 2: 6o6-J4. Nketia, J. H. Kwabena. I 9 55. Funeral Dirges ofthe Akan People. Reprinted-Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1974. - - - . I 98 8. "The Intensity Factor in Mrican Music." Journal ofFolklore Research 25, nos. 1-2: 53-86. - - - . 1989. "Musical Interaction in Ritual Events." Concilium: Revue internationale de theologie 19 89, no. 2: 1 14- 24. - - - . n.d. "Mrican Gods and Music." Typescript. Ocko, Jonathan. 1991. "Women, Property, and Law in the People's Republic of China." In R. S. Watson and Ebrey 1991: 313-46. Ofuchi Ninjii974. "On Ku Ling-pao ching." Acta Asiatica 27= 34-56. Ofuchi Ninji1983. Chugokujin no shukyogirei (Religious liturgies of the Chinese). Tokyo: Fukutake shoten. Or. (Oriental and India Office Collections, British Library) 12693B. Jinlu zhongpu zhenji keyi. 19th c. ms. Overmyer, DanielL. 1990. "Buddhism in the Trenches: Attitudes Toward Popular Religion in Chinese Scriptures Found at Tun-huang." Harvard Journal ofAsiatic Studies so: 197-220. Owen, Stephen. 1985. Traditional Chinese Poetry and Poetics: Omen ofthe World. Madison: University ofWisconsin Press. - - - . 1986. Remembrances: The Experience ofthe Past in Classical Chinese Literature. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Pang, Duane. 1977. "The P'u-Tu Ritual." In Buddhist and Taoist Studies I, ed. Michael Saso and David W. Chappell, pp. 95-122. Asian Studies at Hawaii, no. 18. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Park Chongwha. 1980. King Sejong: A Novel. Trans. Ahn Junghyo. New York: Larchwood Publications. Paulzen, Herbert. 1991. "De; man die niet kan liegen." Bres 148: 38-48. Pian, Rulan Chao. 1967. Sonq Dynasty Musical Sources and Their Interpretation. Harvard-Yenching Institute Monograph Series, 16. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. - - - . I 97 5. "Aria Structural Patterns in the Peking Opera." In Chinese and Japanese Music-Dramas, ed. J. I. Crump and William P. Maim, pp. 65-97. Michigan Papers in Chinese Studies, no. 19. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, Center for Chinese Studies. Powers, Martin. 1991. Art and Political Expression in Early China. New Haven: Yale University Press. Pratt, Keith L. 1976. "Music as a Factor in Sung-Kory6 Diplomatic Relations, 1069-II26." T'oung Pao 62, nos. 4-5: 199-218.

2

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2

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Wlrks Cited - - - . r98I. "Sung Hui Tsung's Musical Diplomacy and the Korean Response." Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 44, no. 3: 509- 2I. Provine, Robert C. I986. "Vocal and Instrumental Music in Sacrificial Rites Performed at the Korean Royal Court: A Case History." In Actes du XIII' Congres de la Societe Internationale de Musicologie, Strasbourg, 29 aout-3 septembre 1982: La musique et le rite sacre et profane. Ed. Marc Honegger et a!. 2 vols. Strasbourg: Association des publications pres les Universites de Strasbourg. I: 245-49· - - - . 1988. Essays on Sino-Korean Musicology: Early Sources for Korean Ritual Music. Traditional Korean Music, 2 ( ed. by the Korean National Commission for UNESCO). Seoul: Iljisa. - - - . 1989. "State Sacrificial Rites and Ritual Music in Early Chason." Kugagwon nonmunjip (Journal of the Korean Traditional Performing Arts Centre) I: 239-307. - - - . 1992. "The Korean Courtyard Ensemble for Ritual Music (Aak)." Yearbook for Traditional Music 24: 9 I - II 7. Pye, Lucian W. I968. The Spirit of Chinese Politics. New ed. I992. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Qi Feng. 198I. "Jiaotaidian ershiwubao" (The 25 seals in the Jiaotai hall). Zijincheng6: 6-8. Qin Huitian. I753· Wuli tongkao (Comprehensive study of the five categories of rites). Reprinted-Taibei: ShanS\\'l.l yinshuguan, I98 5. Q1W. Quan Tang wen. Camp. Xu Song (r78r-r848). Beijing: Zhonghua, 1983. Reprinted-I987. Ramsey, S. 1987. The Languages of China. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Rawski, Evelyn S. I988. "The Imperial Way of Death: Ming and Ch'ing Emperors and Death Ritual." In J. L. Watson and Rawski I988: 228- 53· Berkeley: University of California Press. - - - . 1991. "Ch'ing Imperial Marriage and Problems of Rulership." In R. S. Watson and Ebrey 1991: 170-203. Rt:es, Helen. 1994· "A Musical Chameleon: A Chinese Repertoire in Naxi Territory." Ph.D. diss., University of Pittsburgh. Ren Jiyu and Zhong Zhaopeng, eds. 1991. Daozang tiyao (A conspectus of the Daoist Canon). Beijing: Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. Rice, Timothy. 1987. "Towards the Remodeling ofEthnomusicology." Ethnomusicology 3 r, no. 3: 469-88. Robinet, Isabelle. 1983. "Le Ta-tung Chen-Ching. Son authenticite et sa place dans les textes du Shang-ch'ing chin g." Melanges chinois et buddhiques 21: 394-433· Rock, Joseph F. 1947. The Ancient Na-khi Kingdom of Southwest China, vol.r. Harvard-Yenching Institute Monograph Series, no.8. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard-Yenching Institute. Rogers, Michael C. 1958. "Sung-Koryo Relations: Some Inhibiting Factors." Oriens1r,nos. 1-2:194-202. - - - . 1961. "The Regularization of Koryo-Chin Relations (n16-rrp)." Central Asiatic Journal6, no. r: sr-84.

Works Cited Ropp, Paul. I992. "A Confucian View of Women in the Ch'ing Period: Literati Laments for Women in the Ch'ing shih tuo." Chinese Studies ( Hanxue yanjiu) Io, no. 2: 399-435· - - - . I993· "Love, Literacy, and Laments: Themes ofWomen Writers in Late Imperial China." Women's History Review 2, no. I: I07-41. Roseman, Marina. I 9 9 3. Healing Sounds from the Malaysian Rainforest. Berkeley: University of California Press. Rouget, Gilbert. 1980. La musique et la transe: Esquisse d'une theorie generate des re!ations de la musique et de la possession. Paris: Gallimard. Trans.- Music and Trance: A Theory of the Relation Between Music and Possession. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 19 8 5. Sankar, Andrea. I978. "Female Domestic Service in Hong Kong." In Female Servants and Economic Development, ed. Louise Tilly eta!., pp. 5I - 62. Ann Arbor: Michigan Occasional Papers in Women Studies, no. I. - - - . I984. "Spinster Sisterhoods: Jing Yih-Sifu, Spinster-Domestic-Nun." In Lives: Chinese Working Women, ed. Mary Sheridan and Janet Salaff, pp. 64-95. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Saso, Michael. I972. Taoism and the Rite of Cosmic Renewal. Pullman: Washington State University Press. - - - . 1975. Zhuang Lin xu Daozang(Supplementary Daoist Canon ofZhuang and Lin). 25 vols. Taibei: Chengwen. Schechner, Richard. 1977. Essays on Performance Theory, 1970-76. New York: Drama Book Specialists. - - - . I988. Performance Theory. Rev. ed. New York: Routledge. - - - . I993· Ihe Future of Ritual: Writings on Culture and Performance. London: Routledge. Schechner, Richard, and Willa Appel. 1990. eds. By Means of Performance: Intercultural Studies of1heatre and Ritual. Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press. Schieffelin, Edward L. I98 5. "Performance and the Cultural Construction of Reality." American Ethnologist 12: 707-24. Schipper, Kristofer M. I966. "Taiwan zhi Daojiao wenxian" (Daoist texts of Taiwan). Taiwan wenxian I7, no. 3: I73-92. - - - . I974· "The Written Memorial in Taoist Ceremonies." In Religions and Ritual in Chinese Society, ed. Arthur P. Wolf, pp. 309-24. Stanford: Stanford University Press. - - - . I 97 5. Le fen teng: rituel taofste. Publications de !'Ecole Fran, 8 I Lashi tllm, 87 Laughter, I 14, 1 2I Laws, 97, I 99; lineage, 2 3 o-2 3 1 Leaders, musical, I02. See also Conductors; Musicians; Ritual specialists Legacies, 36f, I82, 259n3 Li ill (rites), 9, 1 II Li Chengxun '$j}(fV), 38,39-40, 51 Li Hanguang '$-2;:7\:;, I84 Li Shi '$(f.J, 4If Liandu ~N, I84, 20I Liang zhuan ~1$, 239, 243 Libu zhigao illfflt'&:~, 44 Life cycle, 14 I LifU illn~ (ritual clothing), I 52, I69, 257n4 LiJi ill' ~c, I 6 I Lijiang HIT county, 6, 76-I 04 passim, 253llll1-2,254nii,254llll15-16 Lijiangguyue if1Ii!l~, 76

Lijiang Naxizu zizhixian minzugewutuan Ru*PliN~ 13 m'.lli:U~~111, 98 Liminality, IIO, I2I, I32, I35, 150, 17I,260n13 Lin Weifu;f.f{It7:;::, I8I, I86, 193, 203-8 passim, 213, 217, 2I9 Lineages, 69, I09, 138, 159, 23of; Daoist master, 179-80, r8I, 184; Lingbao liturgy, 184; musical, I 6 3, 179, 233; ritual, 180-84, 2I8f Ling~, 185 Lingbao IIW, 193, I95, 202 Lingbao canon, I 9 2, 2 I 3

Lingbao lingjiao jidu jinshu II W~]{ ~ 1J!\IN:3E~, I8r, 186, 193, 199,

204ff, 208, 213,217, 219

LingbaoLitu'lJy, r85f, 201, 2o6, 209, 2I4f, 217, 219, 221

Lingbao Litu'lfy ofTainan, I 8 2 Lingbao Litu'lJY on Universal Salvation, I79, I84,223

Lingbao pudu II W~ N, 209 Lingbao pudu keyi S.W~ Nf:41i, I79 Lingbao shejiao pudu keyi llW~ ~ ~

Nf:3J.fi, 209 Lingbao wuliang duren shangjing dafa IHf~::i:NAJ:.*~*$, I81, 195

Lingbao wuliang duren shangpin miaojing liW~::i:NAJ:.JhW)*~' r8o, 213

Lingbao yujian SW .:IS. iii, 181, 193, 199,206,208 Linguistics, 1, 18, 23-26 passim, 30, 95; phonemic features, 20; phonetICs, 77 Linzhong ;f.fji, 52 Liqing iii mt1, 8 5, 9 1 Liqing song ill' mt1 ~' 8 5 "Li shang wanglai" iii fiiT tl: I4 I Lirheng ill§:., qo

*'

Lishi zhenxian tidao tongjian Iff i!!: ~ fw

Jm.i1Hmiii, 183£ Lisu people, 76 Literacy, 66, 77, IIO Literati, 9, 46, 8of, 93, 112f, 172, 198,200,253n9 Literature, I, 5, 9, 15, 24, 40, 42, 55, 57, 59, 62, 64, 66, 70, 74, 79, I09f, 112f, 259n9 Liturgies, 179,208, 2I2, 217ff, 221, 224, 258m; abridged, 213; ancestry of, 217; Buddhist, r8r, 209; Chinese, 17 8; Christian, 3 ; contemporary, I99, 2o8; Daoist, ro, 178f, I85, I87, 209, 2I4; Ding'an, 192; Facang, I92; Hong Kong, I79, I82; Jewish, 3; Lingbao, I83f, 20I, 2I4f, 2I9,22I,223,259n6;Mengshan, I92, 209; ofthe Golden Slips, 196; origins, 258m; Quanzhen, 206, 209, 259n4; reliability of, 258m;

Index-Glossary Shuilu, 259n2; Song, IBI, I93, 2r6f; Tainan, I79, I84; Western, I79, I87; Xianzhu, 2oo; Xinzhu, 202, 206; Yellow Register, 204, 2I3; Yogacara, IBI, 209, 22If; Zhangzhou, 209; Zhengyi, 2o6; Zhuhong,2o3,205f Litu1JJy of the Golden Petition of Universal Oblation, I 8 I Litut;qy of the Universal Oblation of ]inlu, I82 Litu1JJy ofXiantian, I 8 I-82 Liu 1\, 143 Liu De ~J 1*\, 2 5 m6 Liu Qingti ~UW~, 227, 233-39 passim, 242ff, 246, 262n22 Liu Yongguang if ffl]\:;, I 8 I Liushizhong qu 1\ 'fi HE, 3 5 Liyuan jiao fij ~ ~, 2 3 I Loans, 38 Longevity, IIO, 182,244 Longhu ~.dE, IBI Longmen ~r~, IBI Longzong Ill*, I 52 Lord Lao, I94, I96, 218, 222 Lou Jinyuan .lli:tl[, I 84, 258m Loudness, I7ff, 22, 26, 3I, 233 "Loyalty of Kuang Guoqing, The:' 2 3 7 Lu 1$, 162 Lii R1 (Prince), I 52 LiiTaigu §::ttl, IBI, 208, 2II Lii Yuansu §5[;"*, 18I Lu Xiujing ~11$~, I So Lubu ~rf, 153, I64 Luck, I2If, I24f, I6I, I74, I99, 207, 2I2, 2I4 "Luck, Wealth, and Longevity:' 25657nr3 Lufeng if~$, 8o-8I Luluzhengyi~§iE~, I62, 25758mo Lulu zhengyi houbian ~ § lE ~ 13HI, I62 Luotiandajiao 7( ~" 2 3 I Luxi ?1! [l§, 8 I

+

m

*

Lyrics, 47, Io8, II4, 17of, 193, 200, 206,209,2I3,223f Ma Daoyi ,lj!frll[~, I8I, 2o4ff, 208, 2II, 213 MaDuanlin,li!frilffii#, 57,59 Magic, I, 226tf, 230, 235f, 240, 262ni6 Magistrates, I 3 6f Mahamaudgalyayana, 227. See also Mulian Manchus, I50-74passim, 258n1o Mandates, 39f, 42, 159, 16I, 194, I98,2I3,215,217,219;of Heaven, 151, 153f, I6I, I69 Mani, 126, 128 Manuals, ritual, 58-59, 62, 68f, 72, 140,164,184, I86,2o6,256n12 Mao Jin =!§tf, 35 Mao Zedong, 6, 228-29 Maoshan ~Lll, IBI Marches, I9 Marketing, of ritual music, 99, roif Marquis, 54, 62, 64, 68, 70, 74 Marriage, 6, 8, Io, 16, 79, 96, I0729passim, 134, I42, 244, 255n4, 255n7; imperial, I5J, I68 Meaning, 2 I 3, 24 2; of performance, 104, 128, 141, 154,215, 24rf; of ritual, 4-I I passim, 23, 26, 38, 76, 88f, II9, II4, I31, 149,154, I57, I59, I92,2I~230,245,25on2;of sound in ritual, 16f, 26, 47, 92, 136, I42, I49; symbolic, 136f, I4I, I 54, I 59 Media, and ritual performance, 88, 92,98, I01, 126, I77 "Meihua yin" fijt fE 51 (Plum blossom introit), I 9 3 Melody, 4, I5, 19-22passim, 28ff, 47, 68, 83f, 91, 142-48 passim, 17of, 25In4, 254n17 Memorials, 36-41 passim, 51, 58, 153ff, I 57, 194f, 204,212,215, 217

3o 3

3 04

Index-Glossary Memorization, 86, Io8 Memory, 4, so, Ioo, I I4f, I 28f, I 77f, 209, 2I3, 225f, 238, 245, 252ni2, 256n9,257ni4 Men, 6, 8, 42-48 passim, So, 83, 86, 90-93 passim, 97, 99f, Io4, IO?-I4 passim, II8, I2I, I38ff, ISI, IS?, I6I, I98-2oipassim, 226f, 232f, 237, 242-45 passim, 259n9 Mengshan, I92,209 Mengshan shishi ~ !li Dffi (Oblations of Mount Meng}, I 8 I Mengzi ~ ~' 8I, 253n8 Merchants, 98, I98, 200, 2I9 Merit, 35, 44,204,227, 239, 256n4 Miao i31i people, 77 Mifeng tou ~~!ij (Head of bees), 237 Military campaigns, 64, 69, 78f, I sof, I64,I98,200,204,237 Millet, 48 Min, Southern, 259n8 Mind, 46, I6I, 202 Mingfeng ji ~~II, ~c, 3 6 Ming huidian tml]f $, 44 Ming Music Office (Jiaofangsi), I64 Mingshi EIJ.I ~' 3 5 Ming tongjian tm~ti, 250n4 Mingzhong,gu~fia, I53 Minian *~' I86, I88-9I Ministers, I 52, I 57, I6o, I65, I72, 252ni6,257n3 Ministry of Revenue, 3 6 Ministry ofRites, 36, 39, 40f, Ipf Ministry of the Interior, 9 6 MinistryofWar, 38 Ministry of Work, 42 Minning !it*, I 58 Minorities, 6, 96-99, 25301, 253n8. See also individual minorities by name

*

Minzu~~,97

Modes of music in rimals, 47, 51, 55, I43 Modifications: of ensembles, 68, 73, 75; of music, 48, 62, 65f, 96, I44-

47 passim, I7o, I72, 257-58nioi; ofrimals, 36f, 39, 48, so, 58ff, 65, 73f, I5If, I57-6opassim, I69ff, I72, I83f, 232, 250n3, 257n5 Monasteries, 78, 92, I03, 200, 2I9 Mongols, 79, ISO, 253n8, 257ni Monkey Equal to Heaven, I 9 3 Monks,79,92,98,I35, I4o, I98, 2I9,23I,259n2,260ni Monotony, I 7, 2of Monuments, commemoration, I 77 Morality, 46, Io8, I28, I6I, 2I9, 225, 227, 230, 236ff, 240, 244ff Motivation, 45, 49, 64, 75,Io2f, 22I Mountains, 6o, 69, I23, I74; Gezao M13, I84; Longhu, I8I; Pumo ~ we, I92f, I97, I99, 20I, 2I3, 2I6; Wudang, I82 Mourning, I2o, I54, I58f, I69, I77ff, 244 "Mourning Bell, The;'I34, I42f Mu*,79 MuTai*~,79

Mulian § ~' I83, 227, 229f, 234-40 passim, 243f, 246, 26on2 Mulianjiu mu §~J.!ll(-@ (Mulian saves his mother), I32, 227, 26on4 Mulian opera, IO-II, I6, 228-46, 260n2,26Ini0,26IOOS-6, 26I009-I2,262ni8,262n2I-23 Mulianzhuan §~{$, 227 Multiethnicity, I 57 Mumu:j: :It:\;., 62 Munnu:j: ;.tlt:\;, 62 Music, I, 4-8 passim, II-3Ipassim, 40, 47f, 8I-86 passim, 9I, I02, 109, I 14, II 8, 128-3 5 passim, I42-4 7 passim, I58, 161-7Ipassim, I86, 203,2I4,2I8,233,241,24~

25In8,254ni9,256-25700I3-I4, 260DI3;and formalization, sf, 19, 26, 30; as entertainment, 6, I3, 23, 48, 85-89 passim, 96, 1oof, I27, I32, I65, 254ni9; banquet, I64f, 252n9; continuity of, I6f, 47f, 70,

Index-Glossary S5,S7,I33, I42, I93,256n2;courr, 59, I64ff; Daoist, S3; drumming, I33, I45i expression in, 250nio; functions of, 5ff, II, I4, 22, 26, 2S, 3I, 39, 46f, s5f, Io2-3, IoS, I2S37 passim, I49f, I6I, I66, I69, I7I, 223f; funeral, 254nii, 256n2; instrumental, I 5, 29, S I, S4-9 I passim, 94, 96, 99, I2S, I7I, 232, 256m; interludes, 145, 256-57m3; liturgical, 3, Io, S5; quality of, So, I02, II4, I33, I42, I74i responses to, 49, S7, 92, II4, 255n2, 256n2; sacrificial, I 64f, I 70; titles, I 5; 30, SI, S3; types of, I5ff, I36, I65, I69; variations, 4S, S3f, 9I, 94, II5, I35, I42ff, I47, 257ni4; vocal, I5, 25, 46, S2, I66, I7I, IS2; wedding, 256n2; Western, 9, I3f, 30, I02, I43f, 249n6; Wind and Percussion, I 30-49 passim. See also specific types

of music by name and subjects relating to music Musical instruments, 7, I4-20 passim, 23, 29, 40, 47f, 52, 57ff, 62-6S

passim, 74f, So-S2 passim, S4-S9 passim, 94, IOO-I03passim, I23, I32ff, I63, I66, 249n3, 249n5, 252nn8-9,252ni3,254nni0-II, 256n6, 257n7; bamboo, I63; bells, 5, 23, 47, 52, 62ff, 66, 70, 74, 132, I34, I 53, 162f, I67, IS5, 203, 254nrr; bowed, Sof, IS5; box, wooden, I63; categories of, 19, I62f, I63; chimes, 23, 47, 62ff, 66, 70, 74, I32, I63, IS5, 257n7; clappers, 9I, I34, I67, IS5; cymbals, IS, SI, I33f, 254m I, 256n6; drums, I6, SI, 9I, I3o-34passim, I47, I 53, I63, I67, IS5,226,233,256n2; earth, I63; erhu, I5i fixed-pitch, I62; flutes, SI, S4f, I32, I63, I66, I74, 256m, 256n5, 256n6; gongs, I6, IS, SI, 9I, I23, I30, I32ff, I4S, IS5,226,233,254ni0,254ni7,

256n2, 256n6; gourd, I63; horns, 7, I5, IS, I96, 2IS; lithophones, I63; lutes, bowed, two string, I34, 256nn5-6; lutes, plucked, SI, 256nn5-6; metal, I63; Ming, I7o; organs, mouth, I 6 3; percussion, I7If, 256n6; pipes, 7f, I5, I2I, I23, I3o, I32, IS5, 254nii; pipes, double-reed, 7, I5, IS, I30-35 passim, I43, 256m, 256n7; pipes, pan, I 6 3; pipes, single-reed, S I; plaques, stone, I63; plucked, IS5; qin, 9f, 64, SI; Qing dynasty, I63, I65; shawm, Chinese, Io2; silk, I63; skin, I63; stone, I9, 23, 62f, I62f, 257n7; strings, I9, 23, 64, I32, IS5; tiger, wooden, I63; winds, I9, 23, 64, S2, I3o, IS5, 256ni; wood, I63; woodblocks, I6, I34i wooden fish, SI, S4f, 9I, IOI, I32, IS5; zithers, 9, 64, SI, I 6 3 . See also specific instruments by

name Musicality, degree of, I 5, 26 Musical notation, 4, 9, I4, I9ff, 25, 59, I43-4S, I72ff, ISS-9I Musical pieces, I6, 2I, S3, S5f, 9of, 94, 96, I02. See also Composition Musical practice, 30, 4S, 55,92 Musical sound, I 3-3 I passim, 49, S I. See also Sounds Musical space, S5, S7, I02, I46 Musical style, S If, S4, 9of, I02, I I4, I44f, I70, I96 Music Bureau (Yuebu), I65, 257n9 Musicians, 6, I4, 29, 3S, 40, 4Sf, 52, 75, So, S7f, 9of, 9S-Ioipassim, I2I, I23, I34, I42-47 passim, I 53, I65f, I70, I72, 232f, 252nii, 254ni7; amateur, So, Ss, Io4, I34, I36; clergy, I96; conductors, I47i court, 52, I65, I70i drum masters, 233; drummers, I33, I45ff, IS5, 257m4; eunuchs, I65; female, I65; folk, 2 33; leaders, 2 3 3; master, 39f,

3o 5

306

Index-Glossary 48, 9of, 233; number of, 74, I37, I42,I64, I85,233,256n7;pipe~, I46, 257m4; professionals of ritual music, So, 98, Ioo, I 34, I4 I; ritual actions of, I94; singers, 64, 68, 84, 86, I28,I84,223,252ni3,256n9 Music Office (Heshengsi), I 53, I65 Music system, Qing, I7I. See also

Yayue Music theorists, 40 Music theory, 48 Muyu *ffi,l,, 8I, I32, I85 Muzi-ff.J:r,9I Myths, 6o, 69, II6, I 56, I82f, I95·

See also individual mythological figures by name Names, 39, 86, 96, I09, I25, I4of, I43, I46, I5I, I65f, I92f, 204, 224,26on2 Nanfu J¥j}ff(CourtTheatrical Office), I65 Nanguan J¥j1f, I32f

Nanmian ji huangdi wei l¥i 00 RP £

W

ill, I53 Nationalism, 7, 54, 7I, 75, 97 Narratives, 2I7, 222ff, 227, 232f, 239, 24I, 244ff; Mulian, 227f, 23 I, 236f, 240,242-43,250n8 Nationalities, 96-99 passim. See also Minorities Naxi *Pi5 (people), 6, 76-Io4, 253n2 Naxiguyue *Pi51'!l~, 76, 98f, 255n2o. SeealsoLijiangguyue Neidachen P'J::kg!, I53 Neiting pg ~(Inner court), I64 Neiwu.fu pg ~ H1 (Imperial Household Department), I65 Nee-Confucianism, 56f Networks, social, I04, I07, II3, I36, I4If, 255n4 New Territories, Io7ff, us, I8I, 255n4 New Year, I74 Ngai lai sit WHIJ~, I2I

~, I85 Ning Benli .;2f>::lr, I8I

Nian

Niuguisheshen 4 *!frtjjilf! (ox-headed ghosts, snake-bodied demons), 228 Nketia,J.H.Kwabena,2,4-5,90,92 Nobles, I nff, I 57 Noise, sf, 8, I6f, 2I, 26, I3o "Northern Yuanxiao, The," I 34f Notation, ritual, 56. See also Musical notation "Not Being the Road," I 35 Notes, musical, 47, 84, 94, I43-48 passim, 254m7 Niinchui ft.%l!X (Daughter's pipe), I34 Nunneries, I I 6 Nuns, I32, I98, 2I9, 259n2 Nurgaci, Isof, I56, I6o, I64 Nurturance, 22 7 Niixun ::tl::i/11 (Instructions for Women), 44 Obedience, I07, II3, I96f, 2I8, 227, 234-46 passim Obeisances, I52-6Ipassim, I67, I69, 203 Obligations, so, Io8, III, II9, I25, I38ff, I54, I59, I69f, I72, I98, 26Ini4 Octaves, I43, 250n9 Offerings, 6If, 85, u8, I32, I35f, I40ff, I66, I7I, I78f, I82-2I2 passim, 2I s-2 3 passim, 2 son2 Office of Palace Ceremonial, I 6 5 Office of Sacred Music, I 6 5 Officials, I, 5, 7, II, 36-53passim, 65, 79, 96, I37, I53f, I56f, I 59, I6I, I72, I78f, 200, 237, 258nio; death of, I98; high-ranking, Qing, I67f; Korean, s6, 68, 7If, 74; military, I 53, I 56f Officiants, ritual, I, Io, I8f, 49, 6I, 78, 9I, 93, 254ni7 Ofuchi Ninji, I79, I8I, I86f, 206, 258ni,259n4,259n8

Index-Glossary Ogodei, 151 "On the Sublimity of Revealing the Scripture;' 206 "Opening the mouth;' 1 20 "Opening the road;' 13 5 "Opening Throats;' I 9 I, 2 2 2 Opera, I5f, 20, 28f, 228f, 23It1~ 237, 249n8; Beijing, 29f, 8o, I79, 232; Cantonese, 30, 179, 249n4; Chinese, 53, 8o, 83, 95, 2I4, 229, 232, 246; functions of~ 23 7; Mulian, ro-r I, I6,228-46,26onn2-3,26rnns-6, 26rn9-r2,262nr8,262n2r-23; puxian) 26rnro; ritual, 132, 226f, 229 Oration, 27, 210 Order, r69f, 202, 236; cosmic, 156, 226f, 237f, 241-246 passim Order, social, 4-II passim, 23, 36, 42f, 45-46, 54, 59, 6If, 70-75 passim, 84, 89-93passim, IOI, I07-I2 passim, 117f, 13of, I 53, r6I, 230, 245; and continuity, 89, r 31-3 2, r6I;guhun, 20If; imperial, r68t~ 17 I; spirits, 207 Organizations, 76, 8o, 83, 85f, 89Iorpassim, I04, I34, 136, I4I Origins, 70, 75, 77f, 8r, 98, 148 Ornamentation, musical, 29, 142, I44, I47, 149 Ortai, I 52 Oryet .li/fi!, s6 Orye uijut- .li/fi!'fiht: (Five Rites), 58

Overtures, musical, 3 Ownership, 87, 89, 99, 109, 121

Paiban ts1'&, I 34 Pain, 224, 239, 234, 243, 245f

Paixiao 111'!11, I63 Paizi Jl!f!-T, 146f Palaces, 36ff, 4If, 46, 62, 152, 154, 158f, 164, I67f, 174 Paq) 78, 253n4 Parallelism, q6ff, 162, I67, 2I3 Paraphernalia, 51, 99-roo, 103, 12of,

I85, 195, 203, 231, 253n9; amulets, r ro, 178; bag, 226; bamboo screens, 234; banners, 121, 192, 197, 199, 201, 204, 216; basin of water, 215; baskets, rr8; beds, 123; body harness, 234; bridal bed, r r8; candles, 1 36; censer, 193, 2ro; chopsticks, r 2o; clay, 203; clothbag, 26onr; coffin, 8, 130, 135, 152, 154, I58f, r6r, 243, 254ni9, 262n22; congratulatory memorial, r 67; crowns, r 54; diadem of the Five Dhyani, 194; diadem of the Five Sovereigns, 194; discarding of ritual, r 24f; fans, r r 3; firecrackers, r6, 136, 233; flags, 167, 174, 192, 204; flowers, 192, 197, 203; fruit, 203f; hooks, 37; implements, I85; incense, 85, 126, 136, I68, I74, 185, 192-2o3passim, 2I6, 222, 250n2; lamps, 135, 192, 203; mandate, 2 I 3; memorial, 204; mirror, I22, 124f; money, II9, 121, 124, 141, 204, 233; paper, 233; picture of deceased, I 3 5; pitchforks, 24 3, 262n22; placard, 194, 2 r 3; plaques, 5; pomelo leaves, 1 19; pot to confine ghosts, 232; regalia, 9, 153, 164, 167, 172; rice, 194, 213; ritual, 16, 35, 51, 56, 59, 6rf, 65, So, 87, 89, 94,99-100, 103,110, 121f, 124, 135, 139, 153f, 159ff; salt, 213; sandalwood, 153; screens, I 58, 242; scrolls, mourning, 1 3 5; seals, imperial, 153f, 159, 169; steamed buns, 197; summons, 192; tables, 136, 140, 153, r8s, 192ff, I97, 213; tablets, 6 I, I 3 5, I 3 7ff, I 58, I 6of, r 8 5, 194; tea, 204; trunks, 231; turnips, 227; umbrella, IIO, 123; vessel, 174; whips, 16, 153, 167; whisk, 226, 26onr; wreaths, funeral, 1 3 5; writing implements, r 53 Parry, Jonathan, 230, 240, 244 Participants, in rituals, 4-5, 28, 31,

3 07

308

Index-Glossary 49, 6of, 74, 8o, 90-96 passim, IOI, I07f, 118, I2I, I27-4Ipassim, I49, I53f, I 58, I83-87passim, I95, 20I, 229-38 passim, 243-46 passim, 250n2 Partners, ritual, 25on2 Patriarchs, I79, I8Iff, I84, I95 Patrilineality, I09, 118, I38 Patrilocality, 109, 25 5n4 Pauses, 29 Pearl River Delta, 112, 255n7 Penance, I96, 202 Percussion, 6, I7ff, 26, 64, 68, 8I, 84, 86, 9I, IOI, I30, I33, I35, I85,226,233,239,256n6;drumbeats, I92, I94i functions of, I72; patterns, I46ff, 257ni5 Perfection, 207, 2II, 2I6, 22I, 227 Performance, 2, 4f, 7f, 10, I5, 25, 27, 31, 35, 40f, 44ff, 48, Sif, 54, 58, 6I, 63, 69, 78, 82f, 88, 93, 98ff, I02, Io8f, II2, I29f, I48, I 56, I85, 223,229,231, 24I, 243; analyses of, 214f; and continuity, 22f, 30, 68; and flexibility, I5, I9-3 I passim, 44, 84f, 88, 90, IOI, I08, II4, 147; and formality, 86ff, 9 5, IOif, I04, I 3o; Daoist and Buddhist, 2 5859n2; frequency of, 68, 88, Iooff, I I4, I 34i function of, 88, IOiff, I28f, 230, 254n13, 255n4, 260n4; Lingbao, I79; Mulian, 228, 231; opera, 229, 24I; popular song and dance, 229; qualities, 232-39 passim, 244, 246; quality of, 93, I I4, I27, 158, 223; scale of, I66, 23o; secular, 15, 48, 85, 87, 89, 95, IOI, Io3; specifications, I87; variations in practice, I66, I8I, I86, 2I4f; zhontJhe shaoyue, I 6 3 Performance practice, 7f, 10, 16, 18f, 22, 26, 45, 48ff, 52, 68f, 9I, I02f, I33f, I42f, I 56, I62, 197, 209-IO, 226, 228, 26In4, 261n7; consis-

tency of, I68, 26Inio; continuity of, I79, I86, 228, 256n7; gender, 242; modification of, 256n7; musicians, 257m4; opera, 262n22; study of, 259n5; variations in, 93f, 132 Performance style, I, 4-6, 8, Io, I5f, 18f, 2I, 24, 29, 44, 75, 82-92passim, IOif, 109, II4, I32, I36, I42, I46f, I79, I85f, 192-2o8passim, 2II, 22I, 24I; changes in, performers, 229; communal, 231; ensemble, 22If; lyrical, 218; operatic, 261n12; oral delivery, I79, I87; reverence, 167; solo, II4, I33, I86, 215ff, 22I, 233; variations in, 90, 93f, I02, 142 Performative aspects of ritual, 8 8f, 92f, 95, I2I, I30, I 57, I79, 2I4, 226, 232-42passim Performers, 3f, 7ff, I I, I8ff, 26, 29ff, 39, 48f, 57, 62ff, 68, 70, 74, IOO, I 28, 229, 23 If; prostitutes as, I99i quality of, I46; roles of, 235f Phrases, musical, 2If, 25f, 30, I47f Phrasing, 4, 24, 27 Ping 249n8, 25on8 Pipa !E'@:, 8I, 254m I, 256n5 Pitch, 16, 2of, 25-30 passim, 29f, 39, 48, 52, 84, 9I, I43f, 162, I70, 249n8; absolute, I?, 20, 22f, 84; labeling of, 25onn8-9; level of, 20, 249n8 Plays, 148, 239, 259n8, 26on1, 262n18; interpolated, 234, 237, 243, 245 Pledges, I83, I94, 202, 2I6 Po (Jll, I96, 211, 2I3. See also Soul Poetry, I, 9f, 19, 24, 79, Io8, II3, I26,249n8,260n12 Politics, 54f, 65f, 70-76 passim, 87, 90, 92,97, I04, I50, I55,238,242, 245; court, 35-53passim, 7I-72, I5I, I56, I59;gender,23o;Korean, 55, ?I; models, Han Chinese, 150;

zr:,

Index-Glossary of music, sf, 40, 49, 96; of ritual, s-IO passim, 3 s-54 passim, 62.-6 5 passim, So, 95f, rsr, 2.2.8 Pollution, ritual, I 2.0, I 3 7 Position, in ritual, 8, 39, 52, 57f, 62., 65,70,93,95, I2I, 124,133, I35f, 138, I52-6Ipassim, r68, 192ft~ 226; audience, 204; clergy, I96; ensembles, I85, I92, I94, 252n8; ghosts, 2ooff; imperial, I 56, I 59, I67, I72.; musical instruments, 47, 62, 70, 74, I 53, 254ni7; musicians, I7o, I93, 2oo, 233; offerings, I97, I99, 2I6; participants, I94; spirits, 200 Possession, spirit, 3, 197, 2II, 2.2.I Power, I, s-IIpassim, 23, 3I, 35f, 40-53 passim, 64, 66, 68, 72, 74, 89-95 passim, 98, 110, II2f, I28, I30f, I38, I 50, I 57, 230, 239f, 242, 246; and imitation, 239, 26I262ni6; benevolent, I96; boundaries of, 236; celebrant, 2I9; Celestial Worthies, 2 I 8; characters, opera, 235; cosmic, 237, 240; Dao, 206, 2I9; deity, I36, I93; economic, 142; emotive, 246; expression of, 13 I, 250n2;gongde, 2I3; government, 254n15; hierarchical, 236, 245; imperial, 40, 42f, 45, 47, 52, I 57, I69, 240, 252ni6; limitations of, 42, 44f, 50, 53f, 62, 240; magical, 26oni; Mulian, 234, 237; names of Sanqing trinity, 222; naturalization, 240; of merit, 204; of music, 28, 128, I93; of performance, 234; of poetry, 26on12; of ritual commemoration, I78; of spirits of the dead, I78; ofwords, 223, 259n6; purifYing, 119f;rituals,sf, I83,222;social and cosmic orders, 246; sounds, I93; symbolic, 238; Three Treasures, 197f, 201, 2I6, 2I9; transformative, 230, 233, 246

Powerlessness, I 2 5f Practitioners, types of, 78 Praise, 40, I 8 3 Prayer, 68, 94, I66, I7I, I78, 194, I97f, 200, 2I2, 2I4, 2I8 Predestination, 199 Prescriptions: ancestor commemoration, 2oi; clothing, 257n4; death ritual, 20 I; imperial processions, I64; in music, I7, 47, 55, 68, 72, 74, 85, 90, I33; in ritual, 42, so, 55, 68, 8s, 90, 92f, I33, I39, I5I, I 54, I57f, I6If, I64, I69f, I83, I86, 200, 206, 209, 256n7; mourning, I 7 8; time of day, I 8 6; treatment of the dead, I79; vocal style, I86 Priests, 8, 11, 78, I4o; Buddhist, I65, I79; Daoist, 77ff, 93, 98,103, II9, I32, I35, I79, 23I, 235, 243; quasi-Daoist (Pear Garden), 2 3 5 ; Tibetan-Buddhist, I 6 5 Processions, I, 7f, I6, I8, 2If, 29, I2I, I32, I85, I93; funeral, 13049 passim, 2 58n2; imperial, I 53, I64, I68; size of, I39, I49; wedding, I34 Prohibitions, 46, 62.f, 96f, 120, 13 sf, I39, I 58, 160, 164f, I69f, 2IIf: 236,2541115 Propaganda, 97ff, Ioif, 26Ini2 Proselytization, 228, 26on4 Prosperity, II3, I22ff, I27, I36 Prostitutes, I99, 2I9 Protection, 40, II9, I2If, I28, 23If, 246 Provine, Robert C., 6-7, I9, 22, 249n3 Public aspects, of ritual music, I st: 35, 45, 5I, 97f, I03, 107, 1I9, I25f, 129, 132, I37f, I4I, I54, I57, I64, I68, 23I, 242 Pudui!{f)!t, IO, I6, 23f, 179, I86f, I92, 2I2, 2I4, 22If, 224, 258ni, 259n4,260niO

309

3I o

Index-Glossary Pudu keyi 1),f l!rf4fti, 209 Pulse, I7-22 passim Pumi 1),f* people, 76 P'ungunnoeu:t. 11.~1Hru, 6o, 68 Punishments, 38, 4off, 5If, 95, I93, I96-2oo passim, 204, 2I2, 226, 236f, 243; executions, 35, 53, I99, 234 Purgatory, I96, I99-207 passim, 2I I, 2I3,2I6,222 Purification, II9f, I22, I25, I36f, I93, I96f, 20If, 2I6, 2I8 "Purifying the Altar," I88, I92 Pushi jinzhang ke 1lf 1if!i ~:~H4 (Liturgy of the Golden Petition ofUniversal Oblation), I 8 I Pyon Kyeryang:t. I'*R, 68, 72 Qi~,

208 Qianlong ~lli:, I 52, I6o, I69, I7I, 258ni,258nio QianMulian iW§ ~' 227 Qianqing ~$"Palace, I 52, I 55, I 58, I68 Qin ~' 163, 252ni3 Qin Huitian •:@H3, 42,46 Qing~, 23, I85, 257n7 "Qinghua" fir., 189-90, I97, I99, 20If, 2I6 Qingwei $"~, I84 Qinzhengmi&, 151 Qiu Chuji fi:~~mt, I8I Qixing deng -t; £m, I 9 2 Qu:t;;, 249n8 Quan Tang wen ~m:X:, I79 Quanzhen ~!li, I8I, I82 Quan zhu cheng tou ~ ~ fflG lili, I 40 Qujing Hb~, 8I, 83 Qupai ItHJlil!, 29ff, I93

Rank, 45, 50, I 59, I7If, 257n4; social, 62, 67, I3of, I53, I 58, 226f, 236f; subordinate, 64, 67, 70ff Reading, I5, I95, 2I7

Rebirth, 207, 211f, 227, 233, 243; as hungry ghost, I82, 2oi "Rebirth," I90, 202 Reciprocity, 95, I4I, I 57 Recitation, 15, I82, I85-203passim, 2I I-I8 passim, 22I, 224 Recordings, of ritual music, 87, 98f, 114, 208f, 2I5, 255n2o, 25926onio Refrains, repetition of, I94 Regeneration, I32, I37f, I49, 230, 233, 24I, 244 Register, musical, I48 Regulations, ritual, I64, I70, I72 Rehearsals, 39, 48, 88, 99, I29 Religion, 10f, 28, 59, 96, 253n9; Confucian-Buddhist-Daoist Religion of the Pear Garden, 23 I, 26In8; popular, 23of; state, 6, I6, I6I, I69; specialists in, 77, 8o, 231, 256n4 Renshou 1=3 (palace), 4I Repentance, ofguhun, 203 Repertoire, 2, 29f, 76, 8o-87 passim, 90, 96-Io4passim, I14, 132, 134ff, 142, I45f, I48, I 59,221, 228; artistic, 24I; chenhegooqiang, 229; Chinese opera and ritual music, I79; Dongjing, 254nii, 254ni6, 255n2o;guting, 256-57m; operatic, 259n3; plays, 262m8; zhonghe shaoyue, I70 Repertory ofTexts from the Dooist Canon, 254ni4 Repetition, I7, 2I, 27, 29, 84f, 88, 13of, I39, I42-49passim, I58, I92, 2I6 Representation, and ritual music, 99, 126f, I39 Reproduction, 118, I2of, I24f, I38, I42, I97-200 passim, 227; childlessness, I98, 200, 236, 244 Republican era, 6, 8of, 86, 90, 23 I, 234, 253n7 Reputation, sof, 9I, 95, 99, I84

Index-Glossary Resistance, 2, 238,243, 246, 255n6 Respect, 36, 40, 45, 52, 59, 79, 9I, IOI, I22, I36f, I40f Retribution, 233 Revenge, 2I2, 220 Rhyme, I8,24, I86,2I8,222 Rhythm, I,4, I5-3opassim, 84f,9I, I30,I45 Rightness, 45, 48, 88, 92, 237, 239, 26In7 Rites/rituals, 74, 83, I8I, 208; accession, I6, 43, I50-74 passim, 257n2, 257n6; access to, I3of, 228; alternation, I97; analyses of, 2I4; ancestor worship, 5, 44, I 39; audibility of, I86f, 24I; authenticity, 75, Io2; blending of traditions, I79; betrothal, 236; Buddhist, I65, I86; burial, I32, I39, I77f, I98, 204, 227, 234; categories of, 58-59, I66; censorship of, 40; change, 2, 36f, 44, 51, 53; Chinese, 55f, 65f, 68f, I33, I39, I 59; circumcision, 27; citations, I 56; classification of, I 66; codifiers of, I 79-84 passim; commands, I94, I96f, 2II, 2I9; commemoration, lack of, I78; commemoration of the dead, 6o, III, I26f, 137, 142, 154, 177f, 20I, 225, 234; communication, I, 5, Io, 24I; cognitive aspects of, 49, I26, 238, 246; commensality, 235; Confucian, 5f, Sf; congratulatory, 58, I64, I7I; consistency, I93; content, 4f, I3I; context, I66, 2I4, 229ff, 235, 242; continuity, 6, 37, 46,68,70,I08,I38,I4I,I5I,I54, I 57, I64, I72, I92, 204; corrective, 77f; court, 5-9 passim, I6, I 63, I68, I72; Daoist, Io, I5f, 20, 22, 53,98, I3~I65,I8~23I,259n4, 26onr4; death, I-4 passim, 7f, I of, I6, I8, 21f, 29, 58, 69, 74, 79f, 83f, 86, 93-99passim, II5, I30-49 passim, Ip, I54, I56, I58, I65,

I69, I79, I92, I98,240,244, 256nn3-4; definition, If, 88, I3of, 224; deliverance, I83f; design, p; dharani, I83; diagrams, 56; discontinuity of, 6f, 69f, So, 87, Io8, I58, 254ni9; duration of, 94, I09, I32, I36,I39,I83, I86,23I,250n2, 254ni8, 256n3; efficacy of, 224; enforcement, 40; exorcistic, I78; farewell, u8, I37; features of, 89, I 3 I; first-rank, I 66; formalization, 2, 26ff; functions of, 5-I I passim, 52, 6I, 75f, 78, 85f, 88, I37, I 50, I57,I70, I78f,I85,20~2I9-25 passim, 23I, 240, 246; gender, 243; goals of, I, 4-IIpassim, 92, II8, I36, I79, 22I, 223f, 237; Greek, 3, 126, I28; guest, 58; healing, 2I4; homage, I 53; hungry ghosts, I 86, 227f, 230, 243, 259n2; imperial, 59 passim, I6, 35-75passim, I50-74 passim; inauspicious, I 54; indebtedness to parents, I58;jiao, I95, 2 58nni-2; joyous, I 54, I 66; Korean, 68f; life cycle, Io, 27, I4I, I5of; Lingbao, 2I7, 2I9; marriage, Io, I6, I07-29passim, I34; meaning of, 224; military, 58, 69; misinterpretation in, 26on2; modifications of, 255n2; mourning, I79, I8I, I92, 2I3; non-musical aspects of, 39, 6of, 92, I33, I37, I39, I 52; of oblations, I 8 2; omission of music, I66; origins, I79, 2o8; of passage, 172; penance, I84; plan, 37, 59; political structure of, 55; precedents, 36, 48, 6o, 63, 68, I 56, I58ff; preparations for, 23, 39, 48, I22, 204, 23I, 243; prescriptions, 27, I 5o; procedures, 39, I 51; proper appearance, 2 I 9; proper conduct, 2I9; pseudo-Daoist, 26In8;pudu, I86f, 22If, 224, 258ni, 259n4, 26onio; purification, I95ff, I99, 2I3, 2I5; qinzheng, Ipf; qualities

3I

I

3r

2

Index-Glossary of, 23 I, 238, 246; quality of, 4f, So, 137, 184; repetition in, 171; requirements for, 2 3 5; responses to, 6r, 63f, 87, 183, I87, 242,244, 24 6; of reversal, 2, r r 2f; sacrificial, 249n3; salvation, 179, r83f, 219; scale of, 6off, 64, 70, 74f, 8r, 86, 94, I3o, I38f, 141f, I49; secular, 85; sericultural, 6, r6, 24, 35-48 passim, 5 r, 6o; shamanistic, I 64, 26m8; shape, 62, 68, I33; simplification of, I 54; sources of, 26oni4; standardization, 98, 182; standards of evaluation, 43f, 59, 92; state, Qing, I 5o-7 4 passim; submission, r68; suspension of, 4If, 46; synchronization, 28; termination of, 87, 96, roo, ro8, I6o; theatrical, 26m8; Tiantai, I8I; Tianxin, 212; Tibetan-Buddhist, r 6 5; tours of gods, 136, 138; tours of magistrates, I 37; transformative, 8-9; types, 6o; transmutation, I 84; uniformity, 6f, 49, 83, 90; universality, I72; universal salvation, I 79; use of proxy, 54, 72, I38, I 54; variations, 6f, 29, 48,84,94, I86, I94,2oo,202, 205, 208, 2I9, 22I; weddings, I, I I7-30 passim, I 34; welcoming, I 56, I66; welfare of the dead, I79 Ritual actions, I, 6If, 70, 78, 84, Io8, I32f, I4o, I 52-58 passim, I66, I85, I 87-2I8; ablution, I 87, I9o; acceptance of offerings and precepts, I 8 3; accompaniment of recitation with offerings, 2oo; acknowledgment of emperor, I6o, I68; acknowledgment of head ofhousehold, I68; acknowlegment of obseisances, I 67; ascending the throne, 43, r6o, I7If, I93-94,2I7;awakening, I83; bathing, 119, I35, 20I, 2I6, 2I9; benedictions, 2 I 3; bowing, 9 5, I 56, I68f, I74, I92, I94, 214, 257n5; burning of ritual items, 12of, I 3 6,

I66, 212f; calling of ghosts, I83, I 9 8; calling on Three Treasures, 200; calling the deities, I96; calling the spirits, I92f, I96; capture of ghosts, 24 3; changing, clothes, I pff, 20 I; circumambulation, I 94; closing, I45, I 53, I79, 202, 212; collect, I87, I89; commands and repetition, 2II, 218; conclusion, I68, 232; confining of Hanlin, 232; congratulations, I 56, I 74; consecration, I95, 2I8; coordination, I96; credo, 187, I9o; crossingbu.xu, I92; culmination, I72; Daoist Ritual of Opening the Stage, 2 3 I; descending throne, I68, I74; dismissal, I87, I9I; dispatching Hanlin, 232; dispersal of incense, 195; distribution of food, 227; distribution of items, 223; dressing, 219; duration of, 2 3 2; encoffining, r 52; exhumation, 126; facing south, I 56, 172; feasts, 23 5; floating lights, 232; gestures, I, 14, 22, 147; ghosts, 243; guarding the bride, I I9; hand gestures, I 94ff, 20 3; hanging flags, I92; hanging the memorial placard, I94; homage, I 55-56, 158; homily, 187, 19I; imitation, 235; imperial, I 69; insertion of incense into buns, I97, I99; intervenient chants and hymns, I87, I9I; introductory, I 32, 14 5; introit, r 87f; invitation, I 2I, I95, 200, 216-I9 passim; invocation, r82f, I87, 189, I92f, 209, 218; kidnapping, 204; kneeling, I52f, 156f, I68, 257n5; kowtow, 95, Ip, I 54, I57f, 168, 257n5; mandate, I 9 I; manipulation of paraphernalia, I92, 203; monitoring repentance, 183; mounting the throne, I 52-58, I67f; movement, 22, 48, 6I, 84, 93ff, I 18-24 passim, I33, I36, J40, I47, I67, I92ff, I97, 204, 226, 231-32; "mounting the

Index-Glossary ultimate:' 257n6; mudra, 183, 194, 196; naming deities, I82-83, 194ff, 202, 205, 2o8ff, 2I6, 222; naming imperial successor, r 5 If~ r 59; naming of offerings, 203; naming, Sanqing trinity, 222; naming sponsors, 2or, 212; obeisance, 257n5; oblations, 187, 190; oblatory transmutation, 183; of sponsors, 192; offerings, I93, I99; openingofsacreddiadem, 194; opening the gates of purgatory, r 8 3; opening the tan, I 94; opening the throats, r82f; Pacing the Void, 192; physical manipulations, 259n6; pledges, I 9 5 f, 20 5; power of, I 8 3; presentation of ritual plan, 2 I 2; processions, 256n8; prostrations, I 5 2f, r 67f; purification, I 8 3, 2oof, 2 I 8; receipt of acknowledgment, I 69; release of ghosts, I94, 232, 235; removal of coffin, 254nr9; receipt of mandate, I 52, r 54; rescuing the soul, I 3 2; respect to the dead, 2 54n I 9; responses, 2 r 3; reversal of objects, I 24; scripture, I87, I9I; send-oft~ I66; settling the soul, I37, 149, I79; standing, 212; submission, order of, I68; summoning spirits, 210, 218f, 232; summons, I 9 6; surrender to Three Jewels, I83; Ten Precepts, I9I; testimony, 202; Threefold Refuge, I 9 I ; transfer of seal, I 6 9; transformations, 2 3 5; writing, I I o, I I 3, I53, I92, 194 Ritual cycles, 4f, I 19, I7o, 193, 233t~ 237, 239; cycles, opera, 23of, 234ff, 239-45 passim; elements, r, 5, 8, I39,214f Ritual drawings, 57 Ritual masters, I 84f Ritual models, 44f, I66 Ritual music, 90, 98, roo, 104, I 64f, 169, I94,250n2,255n2,252ni2; suppression of, 8of, 87, 96, roi,

103, 228f, 253n9, 254nrs, 254ni9, 26Ini2 Ritual music stores, I3I, I34, I39f Ritual partners, 3 s-3 6, 2 son2 Ritual resources, access to, I I 2f Ritual sacrifice, I 04, r r 2, 13 2, r 3 6, 140, 153f, I6o, I62, r68-7rpassim; ancestral, 6o, 69f, 72, 74f, I 6o; animal, r66, 232; Confucius, 57, 69f, 75; to earth, I 54; to Heaven, 63, 68-75passim, I66, 252ni6; to Heaven, China, 7, 56, 62f, 72, 74, 151,154, r6o, 164, 171; to Heaven, Korea, 7, 62f, 68, 70, 72, 74; state, 6, r6, 22ff, 28, 30, 35-39passim, 47f, 57f, 6of, 65-73passim, 79, 83, 90, 250n2, 251nr6; state, Korea, 54-7 5 passim Ritual sequence, r, 23, 6If, 78, 84f, 88, 9 I, ro8, 1 13ff, I I 8-2 5 passim, 132f, 135, I40, 142, 152ff, rs8f, r67f, 170, I83, 186-2r6passim, 219, 222f, 226f, 230ff, 239, 246 Ritual specialists, 6, 78, 8o, 88, 91, 93, I07, II9, 121, I3I, I35, I40, I46, 153,232, 250n2; advisors, 56, I45i celebrants, roles of, 185; codifiers, I79; opera, 236; requirements for, 119; roles of, 78, 119, 121f, 185, 195ff, 243 Ritual texts, 184, 228, 25rn8, 258nr Roles, social, 108, 142, 238 Ru A., 249n8 Rui #(Prince), 157 Ruichang !lffl~, 40 Rulers, 54, 6off, 79, 150, 154-6I passim, 236f Sages, 69, 174

Sainii, 78, 253n4. See also Shamans Sajik:j: iii±~, 6o Salvation, II, 2I9, 236,238,240, 244, 246. See also rituals, salvation "Salvation:' 190, 201. See also chants Sanch'on:j: !lr )II, 6o

3I 3

3r 4

Index-Glossary "Sanctified Offerings," I 9 I

Sandong .=.~(Three Caverns), 2IO "San furong" ="?€~ (Three hibiscus), I35, I48 Sangang .=.m, 8 "Sangzhong"~i_i, I34, I42f San mingbian = ~~ !f.lf, I 53 Sannai .:=.fr}j, r 8 r trinity, r92f, 213 Sanqing San Tin, I08 "San tong" .=.im (Three tucks), 145f San.xian .=.~, 8I, 256nn5-6 Scales, 26, 47f, I43-47 passim, I62, 250n9 Scapulamancy, 7 8 Schools, 6, 79, I8I, I86, 2I7, 2I9, 26rn7; musical, 47, I65 Scripture, readings, 206, 2I6

.=.m

Scripture of the Incantation on Sweet Dew, I93, 199, 2or Scripture of the Three Radiants, 209 Scripture on the Fivefold Cuisine, 206 Scripture on the Nine Metamorphoses of the Three Radiances, 206 Scripture on Pacing the Void, r 9 2 Scripture on Rebirth, r 9 r Scripture on Release from Transgressions, 206

Scripture on Relieving Distress, 202, 204,206

Scripture on Salvation, 179, 195, 213, 2I7 Scriptures, 27, 78, 8o, 84-87 passim, 92-95passim,99, I03, I32, I82~ I85, I95ff, 20If, 206, 2II, 2I3, 2I7,222,253n5,253n9,254ni4, 254ni9; Daoist, 83, 9I, 93, 132, I80-224passim, 259n4; readings of, 205, 2I2; repetition of, r82, I94f, I97; sentient beings, 195; sources o~ r 83-84; sutras, performance of, 256n4; variations in, 195,209 Se ~. 64, I63, 252m3 SeaofBitterness, I93, 2IO

Seasonality, I62, I66, 249n5; of ritual, rr, 68, 98, root: I 53, 196f, 23I Seclusion, 45f, ro9, II2, II4ff, II9f, I68, I96, 232; of women, 234, 242 Secretive aspects of ritual, r 52, 203-4, 2IO "Secret Stanza for Opening Throats;' 205 "Secret Stanza on Sweet Dew;' 20 5 Seeger, Anthony, 2, 26on1 3 Seeger, Charles, I 3, I 8 Sejo:j: t!H!El., 68, 69-70 Sejong:j: tit*, 58, 66, 68f, 72, 2pnro Sentiments, 3f, 7-I I passim, 28, 3 5ff, 40, 5 If, 88, I I0-28 passim, I 54, I58f, I74, 182, 2II, 223, 234, 239,243,255n2,26onnii-I2; gratitude, 42, 64, 66, 73, I22, I26, 198; grief, 53, I79, 207, 2Io, 223, 234,237, 26onu;joy, 154,172, 207, 2I2; longing, IIo, 234, 236, 239, 243f; loss, I 17, I I9f, I 25, I27f, I77, 239; pity, I23, !96, 255n2; sympathy, II7, 123, 126f, 202,207, 2I8; terror, I82, 211, 224, 232ff, 237, 239f, 243f, 246, 26Ini2 Separation, I07, I I of, I I 5-20 passim, I23-28 passim, I37, 198, 2oof, 204,234,237,244 Seremetakis, Nadia, 3, 126, 128 Sericulture, 3 5-38 passim, 45, 6o, I I7f Seung taot ..tim, I22 Seven Sisters, I I 6 "Seven Words;' I9I, 2I3 Shaanxi, 2I9 Shamanism, 2, 78, 230 Shang _t, 249n8 Shanghai, 79, 86, 258m

Shangqing lingbao dafa _t ¥Jlf II W7::. #3:., I8I, I93,

I99,204,20~2o8,2I2

Shang zhuguo_ttt~ (Superior pillar of state), 53 "Shanpo yang" Li.J:i:Bl-'F(Sheep on the hill), 83, s 5

Index-Glossary Shanzhang ~:R:, 9I Shanzi magua f~:::;. '~ m' 8 I Shan 00 (music), I 7 4 Shaoshu minzu yl)[l£;~, 97, 253m Shen iil$, 9I Sheng'!!!_, I63 She'W baozuo f!-W .@:,I 57 Shengli ttilil, I37, I40 Shengpingshu ft-zp:~, I65

Sheng zuo 7T .@:, I 57 Shenyuesi iil$~1"f), I65 Shenzhou iil$ )!E, 9 I "Shi gongyang" +f:!tlt (Ten offerings), 85f, 91,94 ShiguEE'!l, 87, Io2 Shilu !if~, 58, I 56 Shishifa Dffiit~, r82 Shishi keyi llf!iitf4~, 209 Shiyin +ii, I32f

Shi zhu egui yimhi ji shuifa llflimffii5\ JttitEul