The Ancient State of Puyŏ in Northeast Asia: Archaeology and Historical Memory 0674737199, 9780674737198

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[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

The Ancient State of Puyŏ in Northeast Asia

Harvard East Asian Monographs 392

The Ancient State of Puyŏ in Northeast Asia Archaeology and Historical Memory

Mark E. Byington

Published by the Harvard University Asia Center Distributed by Harvard University Press Cambridge (Massachusetts) and London 2016

© 2016 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College Printed in the United States of America The Harvard University Asia Center publishes a monograph series and, in coordination with the Fairbank Center for Chinese Studies, the Korea Institute, the Reischauer Institute of Japanese Studies, and other faculties and institutes, administers research projects designed to further scholarly understanding of China, Japan, Vietnam, Korea, and other Asian countries. The Center also sponsors projects addressing multidisciplinary and regional issues in Asia. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Byington, Mark E., author. The ancient state of Puyo in northeast Asia : archaeology and historical memory / Mark E. Byington. Harvard East Asian Monographs ; 392. Cambridge, Massachusetts : Published by the Harvard University Asia Center, 2016. | Series: Harvard East Asian Monographs ; 392 | Includes bibliographical references and index. LCCN 2015018478 | ISBN 978-0-674-73719-8 (hardcover : alk. paper) Puyo (Ancient kingdom) | Excavations (Archaeology)—China—Manchuria. | Archaeology and history— China—Manchuria. | Korea—History—To 935—Historiography. |Korea—Historiography. | Manchuria (China)—Antiquities. | Manchuria (China)—History. LCC DS783.4 .B95 2016 | DDC 931/.804—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2015018478 Index by the author Printed on acid-free paper Last figure below indicates year of this printing 20 19 18 17 16

This book is dedicated to my mother, Madge T. Byington, and to the memory of my father, Frank E. Byington

Con ten ts

List of Plates, Figures, and Tables Acknowledgments A Note to the Reader A Note on the Politics of Romanization Introduction 1 The Beginnings of History in Northeast Asia

ix xiii xiv xiv 1 8

2 Ancient Peoples and States of Northeast China and Korea

25

3 The Archaeology of Puyŏ—Part One: Bronze Age Antecedents

62

4 The Archaeology of Puyŏ—Part Two: Formation of the Puyŏ State

101

5 History of the Puyŏ State

140

6 Society and Territory of the Puyŏ State

181

7 Post-Conquest Puyŏ Survivals

231

Conclusion: Two Phases of State Formation

279

Introduction to the Appendixes: Puyŏ in Studies of Historical Geography Appendix A: The Capital of the Puyŏ State Appendix B: Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng Appendix C: Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu Bibliography Index

307 309 336 347 357 385

Pl at e s, Figu r e s, a n d Ta bl e s Plates Following Page 180 1 Bronze buckle from Laoheshen 2 Gilt-bronze hook ornament from Laoheshen 3 Gold earrings from Laoheshen 4 Bronze wrist ornaments from Laoheshen 5 Bronze cauldron from Laoheshen 6 Bronze mirror from Laoheshen 7 Tomb 15 in Area 1 at Maoershan 8 Dou pedestal vessel from Maoershan 9 Guan vessel from Maoershan 10 Gold ornament from Maoershan 11 Silver earring from Maoershan 12 Beads from Maoershan 13 Bronze cauldron from Maoershan 14 Lacquerware bowl from Maoershan 15 Axle cap and linchpin from Maoershan 16 Face-shaped finial cap from Maoershan 17 Silk from Maoershan 18 Swords from Xichagou 19 Earrings from Xichagou 20 Face mask from Lamadong 21 Dongtuanshan viewed across the Songhua River 22 Nanchengzi walled site viewed from the top of Dongtuanshan

x

Pl ate s, Figu r e s, a n d Ta bl e s

23 Breach in the Nanchengzi wall 24 Interior of the Nanchengzi wall 25 Exterior view of Nanchengzi 26 Exterior of the Nanchengzi wall 27 Hu vessel from Dongtuanshan 28 Dwelling site at Dongtuanshan 29 Excavation of the Dongtuanshan wall 30 Gilt-bronze face mask found near Maoershan 31 Gilt-bronze face masks found near Maoershan 32 Exterior of the Dongjiatun walled site at Shanghewan 33 Interior of the Dongjiatun walled site at Shanghewan 34 The Gaolifang Nanshan walled site at Shanghewan 35 Wall of the Gaolifang Nanshan site at Shanghewan 36 The Xiaochengzi walled site in Shulan County 37 Wall of the Xiaochengzi site in Shulan County

Figures I.1 Map showing the location of Puyŏ in Northeast Asia

xvi

2.1 Jilin Province, municipalities, and counties

27

2.2 Liaoning Province, municipalities, and counties

27

2.3 The territories of Yan and regions farther north

30

2.4 Yan and the neighboring states and peoples

31

2.5 Inscription on a bronze vessel from the Kazuo cache

38

2.6 The Yan state and the peoples to its north

41

2.7 The territory of Yan after its expansion

44

2.8 Liaodong and the surrounding regions, ca. 75 bce

50

2.9 Layout of the Taijitun site

53

2.10 The Liaodong region and archaeological sites

55

2.11 Examples of Yan coins

59

2.12 Layout of the Erlonghu walled site

60

3.1 The Liaoning dagger

64

3.2 Bronze Age sites in Liaoning

65

3.3 Distribution of Xituanshan sites

70

Pl ate s, Figu r e s, a n d Ta bl e s

xi

3.4 Archaeological sites in the Songhua valley between Jilin and Wulajie

72

3.5 The Saodagou and Xituanshan sites

73

3.6 Tomb from Saodagou (49M4)

75

3.7 The hilltop tomb of Saodagou

76

3.8 Artifacts from the hilltop tomb of Saodagou

77

3.9 Location of the Xingxingshao site

79

3.10 The Wanghua sphere and archaeological sites

83

3.11 Xituanshan pottery from a mortuary context, Xingxingshao site

90

3.12 Xituanshan pottery from a dwelling context, Houshishan site

91

3.13 Example of a Xituanshan burial (Houshishan 79 West M19)

93

3.14 Xituanshan bronzes from Houshishan

95

3.15 Example of a Xituanshan dwelling (Houshishan 79 F6)

97

4.1 Excavated archaeological sites associated with post-Xituanshan culture

103

4.2 Artifacts from the upper level of the Paoziyan site

105

4.3 Artifacts from the upper level of the Xuegu Dongshan site

107

4.4 Tomb M1 at Laoheshen cemetery

109

4.5 Excavation of Laoheshen cemetery in 1981

110-11

4.6 Example of a triple interment at Laoheshen (M114, M115, M116)

110

4.7 Pottery hu vessels from Laoheshen

112

4.8 Iron swords from Laoheshen

113

4.9 Iron lamellar helmet from Laoheshen

114

4.10 Artifacts representing the northern nomadic tradition

115

4.11 Artifacts representing the Sinitic tradition

116

4.12 The region surrounding Dongtuanshan east of Jilin

118

4.13 Example of a triple burial at Maoershan (M1)

120

4.14 Distribution of sites associated with the Liangquan culture

126

4.15 Liangquan pottery from the Shidawang site

129

6.1 Layout of the Dongtuanshan site

199

6.2 View of Nanchengzi from Dongtuanshan

200

6.3 One of the gilt-bronze masks found near Maoershan

204

6.4 The gilt-bronze mask found by Li Wenxin

206

6.5 Distribution of sites in the Jiaohe valley

210

6.6 Distribution of walled sites at Shanghewan and in the Songhua valley

215

xii

Pl ate s, Figu r e s, a n d Ta bl e s

6.7 Layout of the Dongjiatun site

216

6.8 Distribution of Qingyuan sites and Han fortifications

221

6.9 Distribution of walled sites in the Dongliao valley

223

6.10 Layout of the Majiagou site

224

6.11 Distribution of sites and frontier defense networks of the Puyŏ state

228

A.1 Modern cities and archaeological sites mentioned in the appendixes

311

A.2 Two removals of the Kaiyuan administration

314

A.3 Sites associated with the Guiren hypothesis

317

A.4 The removal of Parhae populations to Liaodong

325

A.5 Koguryŏ’s western defenses and Puyŏ-sŏng

339

A.6 Layout of the Chengzishan Fortress

340

A.7 Layout of the Longtanshan Fortress

345

A.8 Parhae walled sites

348

A.9 Layout of the Sumicheng site

349

A.10 Layout of the Wujiazi site

352

A.11 Layout of the Wulacheng site

354

Tables 3.1 Chronology of Xituanshan sites

92

4.1 Distribution of burial goods at Laoheshen

137

Ack now l ed gm en ts

I

would like to express my gratitude to the many people who have facilitated or assisted in the research and production that resulted in the publication of this book. The core of this volume developed from my doctoral research conducted at Harvard University and at Jilin University in China. During my fieldwork in Jilin from 1997 to 1998, I was fortunate to benefit from the expertise of various specialists, especially Wei Cuncheng and Zhu Yonggang, as well as other faculty and staff at the Department of Archaeology at Jilin University and at the Institute of Archaeology in Jilin and its counterpart in Liaoning. At Harvard I benefitted further from the guidance and feedback of various faculty in the Department of East Asian Languages and Civilizations and the Department of Anthropology, especially Michael Puett, Yun Kuen Lee, and Milan Hejtmanek. Other friends and colleagues who contributed in various ways to my research include Martin Bale, Jonathan Best, Richard McBride, Pak Yangjin, Yi Chong-su, and Zheng Junlei. I wish to express my gratitude to them for many years of friendship and for the numerous discussions that have contributed to the ideas presented in this book. I was able to develop my research further under a Korea Foundation postdoctoral fellowship at the Korea Institute, Harvard University, from 2003 to 2004, and the present volume is largely the result of that year of funded work. I would like to thank the faculty and staff of the Korea Institute as well as the Korea Foundation for making this opportunity possible. During the final phase of preparation, Dennis Lee and Scott Walker have kindly assisted in the preparation of the many maps that appear in this book, and at the Asia Center Publications Program I have received much expert advice from John Ziemer, Will Hammell, Bob Graham, and Deborah Del Gais. In China, Wei Cuncheng, Li Xinquan, and Song Yubin helped me to acquire many of the illustrations that appear in this volume. I thank them all for their help and guidance. I also would like to express my gratitude to various people whose contributions have been significant, though their names are not known to me: staff members at museums and archaeological institutes in China and Korea have greatly aided my research and acquisition of data, and the anonymous reviewers of my manuscript have provided numerous correctives and suggestions of ways to improve the text. This book has greatly benefitted from contributions from all of these individuals and institutions. Lastly, I would like to thank my wife Tracy and my son Charles for their love, patience, and encouragement during the years this volume was taking shape.

A Note to t h e R e a der

I

n this study I have occasionally converted Chinese and Korean measures of distance into their metric equivalents. Most such measures changed through time—the Chinese li, for example, represented a different distance for almost every dynasty. For the purposes of conversion, I relied on the tables provided in the Zhongguo lishi dacidian 中国 历史大辞典.1 For translations of Chinese official ranks and titles I have generally followed the conventions outlined by Charles O. Hucker.2 For English translations of various classical book titles I generally follow those suggested by Endymion Wilkinson in his Chinese History: A Manual.3 In a study that involves the histories of three modern East Asian language groups, romanization is bound to be a challenge. Wherever the context is clear, Chinese terms have been rendered in Pinyin, Korean terms according to the McCune-Reischauer system, and Japanese according to the Hepburn system. In cases where there is ambiguity, I have chosen one language for romanization and have attempted to be consistent in its usage throughout. As noted below, I use the modern Korean forms of “Puyŏ,” “Koguryŏ,” and “Parhae” in this study. When a name clearly relates to a Chinese administration I use modern Chinese pronunciation rendered in Pinyin. I make an exception, however, when referring to the people who founded Parhae and who accounted for the vast majority of its population—I use the Chinese pronunciations and render their collective name as Mohe rather than the Korean Malgal. I made these choices deliberately as I believe that they minimize confusion, but I have provided alternate renderings where necessary.

A Note on the Politics of Romanization A further word on the romanization of certain names is in order. Specifically, it is necessary that I discuss my choices among modern languages to render the names of certain ancient polities so as to avoid misunderstanding with regard to my own position on the “proper” place in history of those polities. For example, the polity that is the focus of this

1. Zheng Tianting, Wu Ze, and Yang Zhijiu, eds. 2000. 2. Hucker 1985. 3. Wilkinson 2000.

A Note to the Reader

xv

study is today pronounced as Fuyu in Chinese (here rendered in Pinyin) and as Puyŏ in Korean (rendered in McCune-Reischauer). This polity was located in a region that today is in northeastern China, but its historical legacy has been claimed in the history writing of later polities located primarily on the Korean peninsula. An argument can be made, therefore, for using either modern Korean or modern Chinese as a basis for romanizing the name of this polity in English writings. In the present work I have opted to use the modern Korean rendering in recognition of the fact that historiography in East Asia has created a much stronger connection between Puyŏ and later peninsular polities than with those of the Central Plains of China; in addition, both historical and archaeological records suggest much more cultural affinity between Puyŏ and peninsular cultures than with cultures of traditional China. Since both Koreas and the People’s Republic of China today officially claim Puyŏ as part of their own history (and exclusively so), my choice of romanization might be interpreted as bias in favor of one claim or the other. In fact, I view Puyŏ as an entity in its own right and consider claims that it was somehow innately “Korean” or “Chinese” to be misguided and lacking in proper analytical perspective. Still, the claims of a polity or a people to ownership of the political or historical legacy of a defunct state do have some meaning, and one of the goals of the present study is to explore the meaning of such claims with regard to Puyŏ. The fact that peninsular states (Koguryŏ, Paekche, Silla, Koryŏ, Chosŏn, and the two modern Koreas) all utilized the Puyŏ legacy in their own historiographical traditions colors how scholars today might understand Puyŏ in East Asian tradition. This book is about Puyŏ history and culture, but it is also about how later states utilized the Puyŏ legacy in various ways, including primarily those associated with Korean history. My choice of “Puyŏ” rather than “Fuyu” to refer to that polity is guided by these considerations. Similar concerns inform my decision to use “Koguryŏ” rather than “Gaogouli” and “Parhae” rather than “Bohai” when referring to those respective polities. The choice of “Koguryŏ” is appropriate here in that East Asian states have traditionally associated Koguryŏ with peninsular history, its place in Korean historiography remaining unchallenged until very recent years. The selection of “Parhae” is more problematic, since peninsular historians have not consistently viewed it as a “Korean” polity (though neither have Chinese polities traditionally claimed it as their own), but my choice of rendering was made based on my view that Parhae was culturally more closely akin to the peninsular polities than to Chinese polities. A perfect solution would have these polities’ names rendered in a manner that avoids uncomfortable present-day political associations, but, alas, I know of no such convention that would also avoid the introduction of additional confusion. These selections are thus made in the interest of convenience of expression and should not be construed as implying a particular political orientation on my part.

Fig. I.1. Map showing the location of Puyŏ in Northeast Asia. Map by Scott Walker, Harvard Map Collection.

Introduction

T

he focus of this book is the kingdom of Puyŏ, an ancient and largely obscure polity that once exercised influence over a significant portion of central Manchuria in what is today the northeastern part of China. Chinese historical records reveal that Puyŏ was well known to the Han empire of China as a distant but valuable ally beyond its northeastern frontier; it also appears in Korean histories as a venerable antecedent of two of the ancient kingdoms that rose in the Korean peninsula and adjacent regions of Manchuria. These traditions hint at Puyŏ’s important role in political relations of ancient East Asia and in the roots of Korean historiography, yet little about the Puyŏ state itself appears in historical treatments of later states in Korea and China. This is primarily due to the fact that Puyŏ left no written historical records of its own; it is also due in no small degree to the ways in which later states appropriated Puyŏ’s legacy to shore up their own claims of legitimacy—and in the process of such appropriation, those later states obscured the political and social realities of Puyŏ in favor of representations of the ancient polity that best served themselves. This is the first study in any language to incorporate recent archaeological material from the ancient state of Puyŏ into a historical framework that addresses both the formation and development of the Puyŏ state as well as its impact on later states in northeast Asia. In this work I endeavor to present an analysis of all currently available historical and archaeological data associated with the Puyŏ state in an effort to address several questions relevant to the nature of that polity and its place in later historiographical traditions. The data employed here encompass those survivals in the written record, drawn principally from Chinese sources but also from some Korean records, as well as archaeological data derived from work conducted in the Chinese provinces of Jilin and Liaoning since the early twentieth century. Until the 1980s, scholarly circles in East Asia and elsewhere had neither the motivation nor the means to conduct rigorous study of the Puyŏ polity. Advances in the field of archaeology in China, however, made possible the identification of the archaeological correlate of Puyŏ in the mid-1980s, and steady developments since

2

introduction

then have made available a great deal of new material beyond the known collection of written records that previously provided the only source for the study of that ancient kingdom. Despite this relatively recent boon, limitations remain. A variety of factors has so far restricted the number of focused studies on Puyŏ history and culture, and the full range of available data still waits to be exploited. The geographical stage for the chapters that follow centers on a region in the middle of Jilin Province in northeastern China, a region stretching across the hilly zone that separates the more mountainous, forested regions to the south and east from the vast, open pasture lands to the north and west (fig. I.1). The Songhua River flows northward through the middle of this zone. Before it merges with the Nen River and turns sharply to the northeast, this lower branch of the Songhua and its tributaries drained the land that was home to the people of Puyŏ from the time of that state’s formation around the third century bce to the period of its final collapse in the late fifth century ce. This time span extends from the prehistoric period of the region through the protohistoric and into the historic periods. Such divisions are important to keep in mind, as they determine the range of data we may employ during the course of our analyses and call for a number of different methodological approaches. The goal of this work is, first, to present an analysis of available data to reconstruct the sequence of processes that led to the formation and development of the Puyŏ state; second, to discuss the gradual decline and collapse of that state and the dispersal of its peoples; and third, to explore how the legacy of Puyŏ—its historical memory—was utilized by a variety of emerging polities to assert a specific claim for legitimacy based on their purported derivation from Puyŏ itself. This last goal leads us to consider the close relationships between myth and ethnicity and between historiography and social identity, and directs us toward new understandings of the origins of later history and identity, particularly those of the Korean peninsula. The focus of the present study is thus on early history, but its implications bear directly upon the later historiography of the Korean peninsula and upon the formation of group, state, and national identity current in present-day Korea.

Puyŏ in Studies of Early Northeast Asia Because of the prominent place of Puyŏ in the earliest historiographies of peninsular states, most modern accounts of Puyŏ are to be found in history books dealing with the ancient history of the Korean peninsula, in which context Puyŏ is presented as an ancient polity that is politically and culturally ancestral to modern Koreans. In China, by contrast, Puyŏ (Fuyu in Chinese) is today often understood as part of the regional history of China’s Northeast, an earlier association with Korean history currently being downplayed in favor of a view that emphasizes Puyŏ’s connections with Chinese history.1 In 1. In the People’s Republic of China the general term “Northeast” (Dongbei 东北) refers collectively to the three northeastern provinces of Liaoning, Jilin, and Heilongjiang.

introduction

3

general, most scholarly treatments of Puyŏ today view Puyŏ either in the context of its role in the development of peninsular polities or as a component of the regional history of northeastern China. A few studies, however, treat Puyŏ as an independent phenomenon and ignore the claims of later traditions regarding its proper place in history. The present study focuses primarily on Puyŏ as a unique and independent entity and secondarily on how the historical legacy of Puyŏ was utilized by later polities. In the latter context it becomes useful to note the ways in which modern scholarship in East Asia has come to understand Puyŏ and its place in history. From the perspective of the role of Puyŏ’s legacy as taken up by later polities, it becomes useful to view Puyŏ in the context of Korean historiography (that is, history writing as it gradually developed on the Korean peninsula). To consider Puyŏ in this context, however, it becomes necessary to distinguish among a number of different traditions. There is, first, the role of Puyŏ as presented in the historical writing of Koguryŏ and Paekche, states that specifically claimed derivation from Puyŏ. There is also a later historiographical tradition stemming from the Silla state, in which Puyŏ plays a less central but still important role as an early polity directly associated with an inclusive history of the peninsula. In more recent decades, Puyŏ has appeared as a component of still other realms associated with new religions and with a kind of ultranationalist perspective of history. If we are to investigate the Puyŏ state itself, apart from these various overlays, we must take care to determine the most appropriate interpretive methods with which to analyze data of different kinds. For various reasons, the study of Puyŏ (and of early Korean history in general) has been conducted within a fairly restrictive framework in Korea. This is due in part to the fact that the study of the historical past has a very deep-rooted and well established foundation in Korea, based primarily on the study of written historical texts. Although the existence of such a scholarly foundation has previously facilitated historical research, it also tends to limit the range of views to those that fit within the established paradigm. Further, in recent years the study of certain aspects of the peninsular past has become politically charged, as demonstrated most recently by the international dispute over the historical place of the ancient Koguryŏ kingdom and the intense debates in South Korea over the historicity of the ancient polity of Chosŏn and the location of the Han commanderies. Although such disputes may produce some positive results (such as increased academic scrutiny), they also bring about—or reveal—a polarization of views often based on non-scholarly considerations. Such factors as these tend to limit the range of interpretive possibilities for scholars considering the early historical (and prehistoric) past of the peninsula and the surrounding regions. Despite these limitations, however, scholarship on early history has developed remarkably since the early 1990s in South Korea, where an especially active and productive academic environment has generated a range of inquiries focused on such themes as early writing systems, social evolution, state formation, and other related topics. Yet as a result of various developments, not the least of which is the boom in archaeological progress of the past few decades, there is today a real need for a wholesale and broad-reaching reconsideration of the assumptions that have come to form the foundation of studies of early northeast Asian history. In the present volume I seek to reexamine

4

introduction

studies of historical geography and address the interpretation of foundation accounts as functional myths rather than as elaborated history. Scholarship focused on such issues should not be bound to restrictive modes of inquiry that are based on outdated interpretations of historical records and a limited set of archaeological data. Further, there is a need to engage in a critical assessment of all available data related to such subjects as the ancient polity of Chosŏn, the Han commanderies in Korea and Manchuria, the origins of Koguryŏ and Paekche, and the role of the Samhan polities in early northeast Asian history. The relative conservatism of academia in East Asian countries tends to hinder a bottom-up reconsideration of the scholarly foundations as advocated here, but signs of gradual change in this direction are evident, and it is likely that more radical breaks with academic tradition will occur in the coming years and decades—and it will be a necessary change. Our present emphasis on Puyŏ is fortuitous in many respects, as we need not devote much effort toward deconstructing a deep tradition of studies on Puyŏ, nor need we confront academic circles that are strongly resistant to abandoning long-cherished historical perspectives (one possible exception, however, involves the role of Puyŏ in the foundation myths of Koguryŏ and Paekche). Further, scholarship in Korea is generally not heavily vested in any particular interpretation of Puyŏ’s place in Korean history, in part due to the fact that present circumstances make it difficult for Korean scholars to access unpublished archaeological data related to Puyŏ in China. With a very few exceptions, there is also, at present, a curious lack of interest in Puyŏ even among Korean historians and archaeologists whose work concentrates on Korea’s early periods (despite—and perhaps because of—the current tightly focused and sustained interest in Koguryŏ). For their part, Chinese scholars seem content to maintain a relatively narrow view of Puyŏ as an ancient state representing little more than a footnote to the frontier history of China, though here too, there are a few notable exceptions. Nevertheless, scholarship on Puyŏ in Korea and China has taken form in ways that suit those societies, and which sometimes differ markedly from the view presented in the present work.

An Opportunity and an Obligation The time is ripe to engage in a total reassessment of the fundamentals of the early history of the Korea-Manchuria region. The sheer volume of archaeological data yielded each year provides an opportunity for reconstructing the remote past that far surpasses the potential of any previous era. Prior to a few decades ago, the best a scholar of the early history of northeast Asia could hope for would have been the discovery of a new text or of a previously unnoticed connection between historical records. Scholarly interpretation and speculation concerning these early periods was greatly hindered by the dearth of relevant information. Today, we have at our disposal a great wealth of data that the scholars of previous generations would never have imagined, and the present generation of scholars is the first to benefit from the richness of the new information. Rather than insist on attempts to plug the new data into the old models constructed on the basis of limited

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5

textual records, would it not be more valuable to start over—to take stock of the previous store of information along with the continuing flood of new archaeological data, and build new models on that basis? Scholars who spend their careers working within an established paradigm are not likely to welcome the potential overturning of that paradigm. Indeed, resistance to an unwarranted change of fundamentals is perhaps a sign of a healthy academic field. But present circumstances demand at least a large-scale reevaluation of the assumptions that lie at the core of historical interpretation, and many of those assumptions can be expected to pass the test against the new data, while others will certainly fail. The result should be a set of models that more accurately reflect a sound reconstruction of past events, polities, and societies. Given the potential made possible by the fruits of archaeology, it would be irresponsible not to take full advantage of that opportunity to seek deeper understandings of the remote past. Going further, it is not too much to suggest that scholars of early northeast Asian history and archaeology have an obligation to reassess the basic data at their disposal. Various recent phenomena, including international disputes over ancient history, the rise of nationalism in both Korea and China, and the preponderance of sheer misinformation regarding early northeast Asian history that permeates both paper and electronic publications, all demand that trained scholars take careful stock of their data and present them clearly in a responsible manner. A basic and essential first step in scholarly inquiry is to separate reliable from untrustworthy information and to distinguish between that which we can know and that which we cannot yet know. Such determinations require a full evaluation of all available data, which cannot be adequately accomplished when some of the basic data are buried beneath the accumulated foundations of interpretations created long ago from a much more limited subset of older information. Such conditions present us with a rare opportunity and a clear obligation to engage in studies of the past that take into account the full range of available data without being bound and limited by the interpretive modes of a previous day. The position of the present work is that we may take full advantage of the conditions of the day to conduct productive explorations of the origins of northeast Asian history— in the sense both of political and social development and of expressions of legitimacy through the art of history writing. In the process we are prompted to examine the limitations of viewing this inquiry as an exploration of “Korean” or “Chinese” history, and in fact in this book I propose to view the early polities as entities in their own rights, recognizing that their place in later history writing represents a development of later times. When the restrictive framework of later historiography is thus cast off, a much fuller picture of the richness of the early societies of “Korea” and “Manchuria” comes into focus, and we may explore alternate ways of interpretation that would not be possible within the confines of later historiography. At the same time, our interpretations should be informed by the data, and the interpretive models we construct should be flexible and robust and subject to continual testing as more relevant data become available. Guided by this spirit, the present work addresses the polity of Puyŏ and is primarily concerned with accounting for surviving historical and archaeological data to begin a reconstruction of that ancient state. Although Puyŏ was a polity always placed fully

6

introduction

within south-central Manchuria that never controlled territories on the Korean peninsula, its place in the early history and myth of later peninsular kingdoms such as Koguryŏ and Paekche make it a useful subject for the study of those later polities as well. The chapters that follow explore the social origins of the Puyŏ state itself; account for its political history as an active component of East Asian political dynamics from the second century bce to the fifth century ce; explore its material culture and territory through analysis of archaeological data; and look at ways in which the Puyŏ legacy was appropriated by various later polities in efforts to express their own legitimacy. This study constitutes a beginning of a process that could be applied in like manner to other peoples and polities in northeast Asia, future studies on Koguryŏ, Xianbei, Paekche, Kaya, and Silla being especially promising in this regard. It is also a beginning in the sense that archaeological data relevant to the study of Puyŏ continue to surface, those presently available being sufficient to initiate such studies as advocated above but promising a wealth of information that will allow us in time to revise and improve our ways of understanding the cultures and societies of this time and place. This in turn will allow us a basis for a better understanding of the present, of how peoples and nations come to be, and of how we might make sense of seemingly conflicting and discordant ways of viewing the remote past.

In this study I employ a variety of different source materials from a number of disciplines. The archaeological analyses are based primarily on Chinese site reports and analyses, most of which are published, though other documents are either unpublished or restricted in circulation. To a significant degree my interpretations have been guided by personal visits to archaeological sites in Jilin and Liaoning, most of which occurred during my fieldwork in Jilin from 1997 to 1998. In addition to the Chinese materials, I have occasionally made use of earlier archaeological reports published in Japanese, as well as analyses of Chinese data in works published in Korean and Japanese. This phase of the research was also greatly facilitated by the use of cartographic material kept in the collections of Harvard University and the Library of Congress, and by aerial and satellite imagery from the holdings of the National Archives in Washington, DC. For the chapters and sections that deal with the political history of Puyŏ and its neighbors, I employed various documents produced by the governments and scholars of early states in what are now China, Korea, and Japan. These include the standard dynastic histories of Chinese states, and a number of compendia and early reference works written in literary Chinese. The vast majority of early historical references of Korean states are from the Samguk sagi, the earliest extant Korean work to address the histories of peninsular states. In all instances I have made an effort to cite the earliest known reference to these classical sources. I have also made substantial use of both modern and premodern scholarly analyses written in Chinese, Korean, and Japanese, both for the sections on political history and for the treatments on historiography and historical geography. The chapters that follow address the issues discussed above from a variety of perspectives. Chapter 1 provides some background and context for early historiography in northeast Asia and introduces Puyŏ as a historical entity. Chapter 2 covers the history

introduction

7

and archaeology of northeastern China prior to the appearance of Puyŏ as a state, and focuses primarily on the expansion of the Chinese state of Yan and the effects of that expansion on non-state societies in Manchuria and the Korean peninsula. Chapter 3 consists of an analysis of the archaeological record of the Bronze Age antecedents of the regions where Puyŏ developed, and chapter 4 treats archaeological data associated with the Puyŏ state itself and examines the social processes that catalyzed the formation of that state. Chapter 5 represents a historical narrative of the Puyŏ state from its earliest appearance in surviving Chinese records up to the fall of the state in 346. Chapter 6 consists of a study of Puyŏ society and culture as recorded in early Chinese and Korean records, as well as a study of the territorial organization of the Puyŏ state based on the distribution of walled defenses. In chapter 7 the discussion returns to political history with a description of the various fates of Puyŏ populations and the incorporation of the Puyŏ legacy into the historiographies of later states. The study concludes with a summary discussion of the main themes addressed throughout this work. Appendix A presents a survey of historiographical research focused on Puyŏ, with an emphasis on the question of the location of Puyŏ’s capital city.

Ch a p t er On e

The Beginnings of History in Northeast Asia

O

ne of the most vexing and pervasive obstacles that the scholar of early northeast Asian history must confront is the fragmentary and patchwork nature of the very material that serves as the foundation of all historical inquiry in the field.1 Chinese records treating the region are frustratingly sparse, often ambiguous and unclear, and limited to issues of interest to polities in the Central Plains of China. Such records are, however, quite valuable in that they are often contemporary with the people and events they describe. The surviving historical record of the earliest states of the Korean peninsula, though providing a much richer treatment of early northeastern states and peoples, is very much a product of selective compilation of disparate materials that served various functions in assorted contexts over a very long period of time. The vast majority of such records, moreover, survive today in forms that were compiled many centuries after the events they describe. This is particularly true of the two earliest extant compendia of Korean history, the court-sanctioned Samguk sagi 三國史記 (History of the Three Kingdoms), compiled in 1145 by Kim Pu-sik 金富軾, and the privately written Samguk yusa 三國 事 (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms), compiled ca. 1285 by Iryŏn 一然, both of which represent efforts to preserve ancient texts and traditions, but with very different end purposes. The records and descriptions preserved in the Samguk sagi and Samguk yusa, covering what are now popularly referred to as the Three Kingdoms 三國 (trad. 1st c. bce– 668 ce) and Unified Silla 統一新羅 (668–935) periods of Korean history, were drawn from a number of literary traditions.2 Some of those traditions would today be recognized as historical in nature, whereas others are more accurately identified with myth or legend. Despite this variety of source material, the compendia described above, especially the 1. In the present study I use the term “northeast Asia” primarily to refer to that region that encompasses northeastern China (Manchuria) and the Korean peninsula, though this usage often includes the Russian maritime region and the Japanese archipelago as well. 2. These periods range from the formation of the three peninsular states (Koguryŏ, Paekche, and Silla), traditionally assigned to the first century bce, to the fall of Silla to Koryŏ in the tenth century ce.

Beginnings of History

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Samguk sagi, have been presented and understood as wholly historical works, and to a considerable degree this is the way they are treated today in East Asian scholarship. Although much in these works is indisputably historical in nature, some portions are recognizably drawn from myth or legend. One may readily perceive the hazards of inadvertently reading as history narratives that were created originally in a mythological context, and it is likewise obvious that such a methodological oversight would very likely have grave implications for our understanding of the histories of the earliest states of northeast Asia. Be that as it may, far too little attention has been directed, in studies of early northeast Asian history, toward a critical analysis of the texts that serve as primary sources for those historical studies. Even a cursory reading of the records composing the annals (pon’gi 本紀) chapters of the Samguk sagi, representing a twelfth-century compilation of early remnants of indigenous records and pertinent Chinese accounts of the Three Kingdoms of early Korea, reveals that the annals are in fact a patchwork of materials pieced together from a wide variety of sources rather than a monolithic text. The annals are what they are because the twelfthcentury compilers had access only to scattered remnants of historical records that had chanced to survive from earlier centuries. That is, they were tasked with creating a comprehensive and coherent historical text by piecing together assorted bits of disassociated information, not all of which was historical in nature. One result of this process of selective compilation and editing was that, for the earliest reigns at least, history and myth have become intertwined and conflated. I maintain that a critical analysis of these early texts will enable the researcher to unravel some of these mismatched combinations and to distinguish between the historical and the non-historical, at least to a degree. That being said, I must now point out that the present study is not properly the kind of analytical project advocated above, but is rather an effort to explore the origins of northeast Asian history and historiography from a specific perspective, guided by a recognition of the limitations inherent in the source materials just described. This study is guided also by the recognition that the historical narrative is a very mutable medium and is created to respond to a set of needs tied to a specific social context of a particular place and time. As such, the portrayals of a given historical condition—depictions of the history of a specific state and its historical significance, for example—can be expected to change through time as the social and political context changes. For example, what some may now wish to view as the “tapestry” of “Korean” history is ultimately an ephemeron, the development of which has been dictated by the uncertain course of political history of peninsular states.3 Rulers of ascendant dynasties use and manipulate the histories of earlier states to suit their own needs and desires, though the nature of the written tradition often requires that limits be placed on the extent to which such manipulation can be allowed to distort the past. 3. In this study I use the term “peninsular states” to refer to the various complex polities that developed on the Korean peninsula, including Koguryŏ, Paekche, Silla, Kaya, Koryŏ, and Chosŏn. Although it may be argued that Koguryŏ technically emerged first in northeastern China, it soon occupied substantial portions of the Korean peninsula and was closely linked, both politically and culturally, to the other peninsular polities.

10

Chapter One

Studies of historiography explore how historical depictions change and evolve through time to suit the tastes and needs of the day, but they are not typically concerned with the historical “realities” of the states constituting the historiographical matrix at hand. One goal of the present study is to address the political and cultural history of a specific subset of early northeast Asian states, and also to account for the treatment of a single state—Puyŏ—in the historiographies of peninsular states from the fourth century to the present. The underlying theme of this project is state formation, both as a social process and as a political development. It also seeks to explore the questions of how the earliest peninsular states came to exist and of how historiographical depictions of these earliest states developed. Since we are here concerned with state origins, the most appropriate place to begin is the earliest well-attested state associated with the early history of northeast Asia. Although there has been much research in both Koreas (and to a lesser degree in China and Japan) in recent years devoted to the “history” of the early state of Chosŏn 朝鮮 (often referred to in scholarly writings as “Old Chosŏn” 古朝鮮), unequivocal historical and archaeological evidence supporting the existence of Chosŏn as an indigenous state has to date remained elusive.4 The earliest attested state-level polity associated with northeast Asian history is the state of Puyŏ 夫餘 (also written 夫余, 扶 餘, and 扶余). The primary focus of this study is the history of the Puyŏ state and its people, and the secondary focus is the historiographical portrayal of the Puyŏ legacy by later peninsular states such as Koguryŏ 高句麗 (trad. 37 bce–668) and Paekche 百濟 (trad. 18 bce–660). The chapters that follow will explore the history of Puyŏ from its pre-state antecedents to its legacy as a cultural and political wellspring as depicted in the histories of later states. A substantial portion of this study is devoted to an archaeological analysis of the central Manchurian regions where Puyŏ developed as a state by the third to second centuries bce. A comprehensive analysis of Puyŏ from an archaeological perspective has become possible only since the early 1990s, and to my knowledge no such project, even of this modest scale, has yet been attempted in any language. The analysis of Puyŏ archaeology that constitutes several chapters of this study, though it is preliminary, reveals much that is new about Puyŏ culture and history, and it serves as well to place Puyŏ spatially by permitting a rough estimate of the territorial extent of the state. Other chapters of this work are concerned primarily with the political history of the Puyŏ state and the ways in which the memories of Puyŏ, after the fall of that state in 346 ce, served various functions in the formative periods of states that rose to prominence in Puyŏ’s wake. In the final chapter the discussion will return to the methodological concerns voiced at the beginning of this introduction, and I will propose an alternate reading of the significance of the Puyŏ legacy as expressed in the state myths of Koguryŏ and 4. Although it is almost certain that an entity referred to by Chinese writers as Chaoxian 朝鮮 (Chosŏn) existed in the coastal regions of the Liaodong peninsula before the second century bce, it is entirely unclear as to whether it was a state-level polity. Furthermore, the state set up by Wei Man 衛滿, a refugee from the Chinese state of Yan, in the early second century bce hardly appears to be an entirely indigenous development. Until stronger evidence is found to suggest otherwise, the state referred to as “Old Chosŏn” in Korean histories today should be treated with due caution. Chaoxian / Chosŏn will be discussed further in the next chapter.

Beginnings of History

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Paekche. The theme throughout, as mentioned above, will be state formation, both as a developmental process toward social complexity and as a socio-political phenomenon wherein a state and its people develop a collective formal identity, often expressed in the form of a state myth.

A Brief Historical Description of Puyŏ Until quite recently history textbooks in South Korea, where Puyŏ enjoys a place of importance as a polity understood to be ancestral to the modern Korean nation, typically contained no more than a brief description of Puyŏ customs and political history. These summaries represent a crystallization of research conducted primarily by Japanese scholars during the first half of the twentieth century, and are based almost exclusively on passages gleaned from historical texts of early Chinese dynasties and treatments on Puyŏ in the two early compendia of peninsular history described in the previous section.5 Such summaries do attempt to portray Puyŏ as a state on its own merits, and to a degree most succeed at this. Yet because the surviving historical records concerning Puyŏ are fragments derived from the historical traditions of later states, the treatments tend to focus primarily on Puyŏ’s putative role as the wellspring from which the ruling houses of Koguryŏ and Paekche originated. Given the relative obscurity of the topic, even in Korean-language works, the reader of the present study is not assumed to be already familiar with the history and culture of Puyŏ. To facilitate the reader’s ease of entry into the material that follows, a brief description of Puyŏ and its perceived role in history would seem to be in order. The following treatment is designed to provide the reader with a basic description of Puyŏ as it is portrayed in history texts of East Asian countries. It represents the essentials of what scholars knew about the Puyŏ state until the 1980s. The earliest clear mention of Puyŏ in historical records concerns events of the late second century bce, but it is generally supposed that the state had been already well established by that time. The core of the state centered on the middle reaches of the northflowing Songhua River 松花江 in what is now the center of China’s Jilin Province.6 The authority of the Puyŏ king extended over a broad geographical expanse, his territories 5. Since this statement might draw objections in some circles, I will illustrate by referring to the fact that a major Korean-language encyclopedia published in 1991, the Han’guk minjok munhwa taebaekkwa sajŏn 韓國民族文化大百科辭典, cites a number of modern scholarly works for its rather comprehensive treatment of Puyŏ. Among those works focusing specifically on Puyŏ, only one published prior to the 1980s is not that of a Japanese scholar. This is the treatment of Puyŏ by Yi Pyŏng-do, who worked closely with the Japanese scholars who wrote the other works. 6. In China the Songhua River is today understood as divided between the north-flowing portion (in China called the second Songhua River) that runs from Changbaishan to the confluence with the Nen River, and that portion that continues from the Nen and flows past Harbin on a northeasterly course (called the first Songhua River) until it flows into the Heilong (Amur) River. In the present study this distinction is reflected in references to the north-flowing and east-flowing segments of the river.

12

Chapter One

stretching over the central third of Jilin Province. By the mid-first century ce, the Puyŏ king commanded a formidable army of mounted warriors and had entered into a beneficial alliance with the Eastern Han dynasty of China. This vertical alliance was created to offset the threat posed by the emergent authority of two newcomers on the political stage of northeast Asia—the nomadic Xianbei 鮮卑 of eastern Inner Mongolia and the Koguryŏ people of southern Jilin, eastern Liaoning, and the northern part of the Korean peninsula. Puyŏ’s relationship with Koguryŏ was particularly strained, though a later Koguryŏ tradition maintained that its ruling clan in fact descended from ancient refugees from the Puyŏ ruling house. Koguryŏ leaders of later centuries thus professed kinship with the Puyŏ people while simultaneously maintaining the historicity of an ancient antagonistic relationship with that state. During the first and second centuries ce, Puyŏ’s alliance with the Han court and its successors proved to be both an effective check on the Koguryŏ and Xianbei threats as well as a boon to the wealth and prestige of Puyŏ leaders. Third-century documents note that the Puyŏ treasuries contained a wealth of precious gifts presented by generations of Chinese emperors. The Puyŏ king was even presented with a rare jade suit in which he was to be interred upon his death, a privilege in China reserved only for emperors and noblemen. Such conditions speak to the closeness of the relationship that had developed between the Puyŏ and Chinese courts. There is, however, no indication that Puyŏ ever became “sinicized” to any degree as a result of this relationship. There is only a single record of a Chinese visit to the Puyŏ heartland, and this occurred when an expedition sent by the Wei 魏 (220–65) state against Koguryŏ in the mid-240s returned home by way of Puyŏ. Much of our present knowledge of Puyŏ customs is derived from firsthand reports of this visit. The reports of the Wei observers describe Puyŏ as a wealthy state ruled by a hereditary king, under whom a number of regional elites enjoyed hereditary position in a highly stratified society. These local aristocrats, known as ka 加, took their titles from the names of various game or domestic beasts, and there are references to a horse ka, a dog ka, and so on. The Puyŏ people observed ritual festivals to celebrate the harvest and the new year, during which men and women engaged in carefree song and dance. The aristocrats preferred a simple white garment when at home, but when they traveled they wore fine furs and fabrics and adorned their caps with precious ornaments. Puyŏ law was harsh and simple, and above all the Puyŏ people despised jealousy in women, the punishment meted out to jealous wives being particularly severe. The Puyŏ king commanded an effective fighting force, and in times of war the aristocrats would themselves engage in battle. Every household possessed weapons of iron, and the horse was well utilized in warfare. Despite their military formidability, however, the Puyŏ people are typically depicted as peaceful and amicable. Although Puyŏ was flanked by hostile neighbors, its alliance with Chinese courts, through the agency of the Chinese commanderies in the Liaodong 遼東 region, enabled Puyŏ to thrive in a very dynamic political environment. However, when a Xianbei leader managed to gain effective control over the Liaodong region in the late third century, Puyŏ’s leaders could no longer fall back on their alliance with the Chinese court. This marked the beginning of a long period of decline for Puyŏ’s fortunes. In 285 a Xianbei strike at the heart of Puyŏ crippled the state so severely that it survived only with Chinese

Beginnings of History

13

intervention. A second strike in 346 destroyed the state’s infrastructure and deprived it of its king, and the state ceased to exist as an independent polity. The territories of Puyŏ were soon occupied by a re-ascendant Koguryŏ, and for a time a Puyŏ polity continued to exist as a dependent tributary of Koguryŏ. At the end of the fifth century, however, an invasion of Mohe 靺鞨 people from the northeast drove the Puyŏ government of Koguryŏ out of the central Jilin region, and from this time forward only the Puyŏ name survived as a regional designation under a succession of later states. Some scattered remnants of the Puyŏ populations can be traced after the second Xianbei strike in 346 destroyed the state. A number of groups fled to the north and east, and many members of the ruling clan were taken by their Xianbei conquerors and continued to hold positions of status under a succession of Xianbei states in central China. It is barely possible that yet another group fled to the south and established the state of Paekche in the vicinity of modern Seoul. Paekche kings later claimed to be descended from Puyŏ refugees, and there are indications that might support just such a migration scenario in Paekche’s formative period. Paekche’s Puyŏ connection is difficult to substantiate, however, and scholars today disagree on how such refugees might have made their ways through hostile Koguryŏ territory to reach the Han River valley. Nevertheless, many contemporary scholars assume that the Paekche ruling clan, which bore the surname Puyŏ, was in fact descended from Puyŏ refugees. With both Koguryŏ and Paekche ruling houses claiming descent from Puyŏ royalty, the Puyŏ legacy has been conceived of as a foundation of political legitimacy underlying the ruling houses of Koguryŏ and Paekche by virtue of this special relationship, and Puyŏ’s place in the history of later peninsular states is likewise rendered in this fashion.

Puyŏ in History and Historiography One goal of the present study is to explore how the historical and cultural legacy of Puyŏ was taken up by later states and thereby served as a basis for historiographical traditions that continue to the present day. Because these traditions have provided the starting point for most modern scholarship on the Puyŏ state, a brief review of the historiographies of peninsular polities will facilitate an understanding of how the majority of published scholarship on Puyŏ has perceived that state and its place in northeast Asian history. Lastly, a look at the place of Puyŏ in studies of ethnicity and in new religions will illustrate how the process of adapting and redefining the past to answer to present-day concerns continues even today and plays an important role in informing group identity. Puyŏ does not appear to have left a written history of its own, nor is there any clear indication that the state ever had a literary tradition. Historical accounts of Puyŏ do, however, appear in contemporary Chinese works and also in some of the earlier remnants of Koguryŏ’s historical record. It is primarily from these records that historians are able to piece together small fragments of the history of the Puyŏ state. Puyŏ also figures prominently in the state myths—and the state cults—of Koguryŏ and Paekche as a point

14

Chapter One

of origin for the ruling clans of both polities. As such, Puyŏ’s significance in the histories of these later peninsular states goes rather beyond the historical, and the role it plays in their corporate identities belongs more properly to the realm of religion and cosmological belief.7 Shortly after its destruction in 346, the Puyŏ legacy was quickly taken up as part of a developing historiographical tradition of peninsular states. The earliest historical records of Koguryŏ were most likely written (in Chinese script) during the latter half of the fourth century, whereas those of Paekche appeared shortly thereafter.8 In these earliest historical works, Puyŏ is treated primarily as a place of origin in the foundation myths of Koguryŏ and Paekche, but given the obvious mythological context it is perhaps best not to view these accounts as historical. Nevertheless, some accounts in Koguryŏ history describing early battles between Koguryŏ and Puyŏ may indeed reflect historical events. After the destruction of Paekche and Koguryŏ (in 660 and 668 respectively) before the allied armies of Silla 新羅 (trad. 57 bce–935) and Tang China, Silla historians incorporated the histories of the fallen states into their own state’s history. Puyŏ thus continued to figure prominently in the early period of this history of the peninsular “Three Kingdoms,” but it served only as a place of origin for the ruling houses of Koguryŏ and Paekche.9 Since Silla rulers claimed no such linkage with Puyŏ, there was no associated cult centered on Puyŏ as had been the case with Koguryŏ and Paekche. The historiographical tradition that was to persist throughout the Koryŏ 高麗 (918–1392) and Chosŏn 朝鮮 (1392–1910) periods of peninsular history was based on the Silla perspective, which focused on the “Three Kingdoms” as the scope of historical narrative. Although Puyŏ had no place in the state cult of Silla, it nevertheless retained a special significance as the earliest non-Chinese state associated with the Three Kingdoms and the political and cultural wellspring from which two of those kingdoms arose. When the Koryŏ state emerged during the waning years of Silla in the early tenth century, its leaders chose to establish their legitimacy by portraying their state as a restoration of Koguryŏ. However, the historiographical scope established under Koryŏ was 7. The significance of the distinction between the treatment of Puyŏ as a historical polity and as an element in state cult will be addressed in some detail in the concluding chapter of this work. 8. There is mention of an early compilation of Koguryŏ history known as the Yugi 留記 (Remnant records), which was redacted in 600 by Yi Mun-jin 李文真. Portions of this later work appear to make up a substantial part of the first five chapters of the Koguryŏ Annals 高句麗本紀 of the Samguk sagi. An early Paekche history called the Sŏgi 書記 (Documentary records) is said to have been written by Ko Hŭng 高興 (possibly a Chinese) in the latter half of the fourth century. See Samguk sagi 20:182 (Koguryŏ Annals, Yŏngyang 11/1); 24:221–22 (Paekche Annals, Kŭnch’ogo 30). 9. It is likely that the term “Three Kingdoms” 三國 was consciously adopted by Silla writers during the seventh century in order to draw a parallel between the three warring states of the Korean peninsula and the earlier Three Kingdoms of China. The Chinese kingdoms fought one another in an effort to restore a unity that had been lost since the breakup of the Eastern Han dynasty in 220 ce. The Silla rhetoric was probably designed to create the impression that the three peninsular states were bound eventually to unite, preferably under Silla’s leadership. The designation “Three Kingdoms” was incorporated into the title of Kim Pu-sik’s twelfth-century Samguk sagi, and the term is still used today to refer to the historical period up to the destruction of Koguryŏ in 668.

Beginnings of History

15

one that, like later Silla and unlike Koguryŏ, allowed for the inclusion of all of the “Three Kingdoms.” Ultimately, the Koryŏ historiographical tradition, as represented by Kim Pu-sik’s Samguk sagi, would favor the Silla-based view of history, but there was still room for many elements of the northern Koguryŏ tradition within this framework. Following a renewed interest in the importance of P’yŏngyang 平壤 (the later capital of Koguryŏ), the Koryŏ state cult placed special emphasis on the worship of the Koguryŏ progenitor, Ko Chumong 高朱蒙, and on another earlier figure also associated with P’yŏngyang, known in Korea as Kija 箕子.10 This Kija is the same figure described in many Chinese works as Jizi, the Viscount of Ji, who was reputed to have exiled himself to “Chaoxian” (K. Chosŏn; later thought to have been centered at modern Pyongyang) rather than serve the conquering leader of Zhou (1045–256 bce), who overthrew the Shang (ca. 1600–1045 bce) state around 1045 bce. There are some indications that Kija had been incorporated into the Koguryŏ state cult following the transfer of the Koguryŏ capital to P’yŏngyang in 427.11 During the early twelfth-century reigns of Koryŏ, Kija was placed alongside Ko Chumong as one of the revered progenitors of Korean civilization. The primacy of Puyŏ as the birthplace of Korean culture and political legitimacy was thus displaced in favor of Kija, at least within the state cult of Koryŏ. The historiographical portrayal of Koryŏ’s roots, however, represented again by the officially sanctioned Samguk sagi, preserved the Silla-based view and downplayed the importance of Kija and his state of Old Chosŏn in peninsular history. During the period of Mongol domination of Koryŏ (1269–1365), still another figure appeared in some versions of peninsular history as an even more ancient progenitor of the Korean people. This was Tan’gun 檀君, who, unlike Kija, was an indigenous mythical figure, most likely associated with remnants of a Koguryŏ mythic tradition, the context of which had probably been lost long before the thirteenth century.12 Tan’gun was a divine figure who was said to have established the first Korean state in 2333 bce, and Kija was represented as the ruler of a polity that later succeeded the kingdom of Tan’gun. Both Kija and Tan’gun continued to figure prominently in the historiographical traditions of Koryŏ and the succeeding Chosŏn state, the two often appearing as complementary faces of a complex Korean identity that included both an acknowledgment of the importance of the relationship with Chinese states (Kija) as well as an expression of stubborn independence (Tan’gun).13 With these two figures functioning as the progenitors of Korean civilization and statehood, at least within the officially sanctioned historiographies, the 10. Note that in this study the city that today serves as the capital of North Korea is romanized as Pyongyang, whereas the historical city of that name established by Koguryŏ is romanized as P’yŏngyang or P’yŏngyang-sŏng. 11. See Jiu Tangshu 舊唐書 199a:5320 (Account of Ko[gu]ryŏ): 其俗多淫祀, 事靈星神、日神、可 神、 箕子神. 12. The earliest surviving record of the Tan’gun myth is preserved in the Samguk yusa, compiled ca. 1285 by the Buddhist monk Iryŏn. 13. Soon after the establishment of the Chosŏn state in 1392, both Tan’gun and Kija received sacrifices at their altars in P’yŏngyang. The name Chosŏn was selected for the new dynasty based, at least partly, on the association between Kija and the ancient state of Chosŏn. See Han Young-woo 1985, 358–59.

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Chapter One

former importance accorded Puyŏ was cast aside, and it was relegated to a less prominent role as another early Korean state descended from Tan’gun, which happened to be the place of origin for the ruling houses of Koguryŏ and Paekche.

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Puyŏ in Modern Scholarship Puyŏ’s role in the developing historiography of peninsular states steadily decreased in importance as it shifted from the wellspring of civilization in Koguryŏ and Paekche histories, to a venerable grandfather of states in Silla-based histories of later Silla and Koryŏ, and finally to a kind of dignified obscurity as its preeminence was eclipsed by the invented states of Tan’gun and Kija. From the latter half of the Chosŏn period to the mid-twentieth century, scholars in Korea, China, and Japan began to explore Puyŏ’s historical significance within a broader regional scope. The majority of published studies on Puyŏ during this period focused on historical geography—the attempt to ascertain the geographical locations of places named in historical works.14 From the 1920s and 1930s, however, scholarly attention began to shift toward efforts to explore Puyŏ’s role in the interregional dynamics of ancient northeast Asia. The majority of early studies of Puyŏ in the twentieth century were undertaken by Japanese scholars, often in conjunction with Japanese efforts to exploit Japan’s territorial holdings on the continent. In the 1930s, seminal studies of Puyŏ’s interregional significance were published by Ikeuchi Hiroshi 池内宏 (1878–1952) and Shiratori Kurakichi 白鳥庫吉 (1865–1942), both of which were also published in English translation.15 By far the most comprehensive treatment of Puyŏ has been the work of Hino Kaisaburō 日野 開三郎 (1908–89) in a series of papers published between 1946 and 1952.16 Hino’s work took the study of Puyŏ to new levels through detailed comparative analyses of Puyŏ and various neighboring groups, such as the Mohe and the Khitan 契丹. His work has also shed much light on Puyŏ history through studies of later peoples and states, including the Mohe and Parhae 渤海 (698–926). The publications of these three Japanese scholars laid most of the foundation upon which later studies have been based. In South Korea, studies of Puyŏ have also appeared, but until recently there has been little attempt to go beyond the Japanese research just described. Yi Pyŏng-do 李丙燾 (1896–1989) published a brief study of Puyŏ, focusing primarily on its social organization, in the first volume of the 1959 Han’guksa 韓國史 (History of Korea).17 A 1989 study by No 14. See appendix A for a survey of historical geographical studies of Puyŏ. 15. Ikeuchi’s paper was published in the 1932 volume of Memoirs of the Research Department of the Toyo Bunko, and Shiratori’s paper was published in the 1938 volume of the same journal. 16. These papers are included in Hino’s collected works in a three-volume sequence titled Tōhoku Ajia minzokushi, volumes 14–16 in Hino Kaisaburō Tōyō shigaku ronshū, published between 1988 and 1991. Especially important is his “Fuyogoku kō,” 扶餘國考, which was originally published in the 1946 volume of the journal Shien 史淵. 17. See Yi Pyŏng-do and Kim Chae-wŏn 1959, 219–24. This study was also included in Yi’s 1976 Han’guk kodaesa yŏn’gu. See the reprint edition in Yi Pyŏng-do 1985, 213–27.

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T’ae-don took advantage of preliminary archaeological advances to reappraise the question of Puyŏ’s geographical location and extent.18 The new emphasis on archaeology was furthered in a more comprehensive paper by Pak Kyŏng-ch’ŏl, published originally in 1992.19 The same author published a paper on Puyŏ political structure based on a reinterpretation of the historical record through the lens of modern anthropological theory.20 Still more recent is a 1997 chapter on Puyŏ written by Song Ho-jŏng for the fourth volume of the Han’guksa 韓國史 series published by the National Institute of Korean History.21 This work, which includes a study of Puyŏ archaeology based on Chinese publications from the mid-1980s and later, represents the most comprehensive study of Puyŏ published in South Korea to date. From 2004 interest in Puyŏ history grew noticeably in South Korea, perhaps due in part to the history dispute centered on Koguryŏ that erupted late in 2003. The Society for Korean Ancient History held a conference on Puyŏ in late July 2004 and published most of the presented papers in its journal the following year.22 These papers reviewed and discussed Puyŏ archaeological and historical data as well as the place of Puyŏ in Korean historiography. Also in 2005, the Koguryŏ Research Foundation in Seoul published a collection of papers on the topic of Old Chosŏn and Puyŏ, which contained two articles on Puyŏ—one treating Puyŏ racial composition and the other discussing Puyŏ state formation.23 More recently, in July of 2007, the Northeast Asian History Foundation in Seoul held a small-scale conference on Puyŏ history that featured six presentations on different aspects of Puyŏ history and culture.24 The publication of these papers in 2008 represents the first effort in South Korea to produce a comprehensive treatment focused solely on Puyŏ, though it unfortunately lacks coverage on archaeology.25 This omission, 18. No T’ae-don 1989. 19. See the reprint of this paper in Pak Kyŏng-ch’ŏl 1995. 20. See Pak Kyŏng-ch’ŏl 1996. This paper was originally presented at a meeting of the Society for Korean Ancient History held in February 1994. Although the theme of this meeting was problems in the study of Old Chosŏn and Puyŏ, Puyŏ was represented by only this single paper. See also Yi Ki-dong 2005. 21. Song Ho-jŏng 1997. 22. The conference was held on July 29–30, 2004 at the National Museum of Korea in Seoul and featured presentations by Pak Yang-jin, Song Ki-ho, and Sŏ Yŏng-dae. The first two presentations were published in the March 2005 volume of Han’guk kodaesa yŏn’gu. See Pak Yang-jin 2005 and Song Ki-ho 2005. 23. See Pak Kyŏng-ch’ŏl 2005 and Song Ho-jŏng 2005. The Koguryŏ Research Foundation was established in Seoul in 2004 for the purpose of responding to China’s perceived efforts to claim Koguryŏ as a state properly belonging to Chinese history. The focus on Old Chosŏn and Puyŏ can therefore be seen as directly related to the history dispute. 24. The conference was held as part of the Foundation’s program to analyze China’s perceived distortions of Korean history, but the presentations focused on discussing key issues in the study of Puyŏ history. 25. See Yun Yong-gu et al. 2008. Note that some previous efforts, primarily in the mid-1990s, have bound the study of Puyŏ with that of Old Chosŏn, which is an association peculiar to Korean scholarship as there is no clear connection between the two other than a partial chronological overlap. The likely reason for the pairing is the fact that both topics were at the time rarely explored in South Korean scholarship and therefore were readily addressed in a single dialogue. As both fields have developed substantially since the 1990s, Puyŏ and Old Chosŏn are now not often discussed together.

18

Chapter One

however, has since been addressed in part with the 2008 and 2009 publications of volumes by O Kang-wŏn and Yi Chong-su, respectively, which explore comprehensively the bronze-period and early iron-period cultures of the Songhua River valley.26 Research on Puyŏ in South Korea thus developed slowly throughout the 1990s, but the subject attracted little attention within Korean academia until 2004. South Korean historiography retains the traditional Silla-based view, which relegates Puyŏ to minor status as a vaguely “Korean” state from which the ruling houses of Koguryŏ and Paekche originated. In North Korea, however, Puyŏ has been accorded much greater historiographical importance, particularly since the early 1990s when the mythical figure of Tan’gun gained an unprecedented measure of attention following the announcement of the “discovery” of his tomb in Pyongyang in 1993.27 North Korean scholars emphasize a close connection between Puyŏ and the Chosŏn states descended from Tan’gun, and they attribute to Puyŏ a much greater territorial expanse and a much earlier time of origin than do scholars of other countries.28 Unfortunately, the evidence cited by the North Korean scholars usually fails to substantiate the claims that are made, and it seems clear that a desire to glorify the ancient past of the northern states traditionally associated with Korean history lies behind these assertions. A comprehensive treatment of North Korean scholarship on Puyŏ appears in the fifth chapter of the 1963 study of ancient Chosŏn by Yi Chi-rin.29 North Korean historiography has departed substantially from the traditional Silla-based view in order to place greater emphasis on the legitimacy of northern states such as Koguryŏ and Parhae. To date, however, there seems to have been no serious effort in North Korea to make use of the recent archaeological developments in northeast China, which have shed so much light on Puyŏ history and culture. Chinese scholarship on Puyŏ has remained primarily within the scope of historical geography, but in recent years, following the identification of the archaeological remains of Puyŏ in the mid-1980s, much attention has been directed toward studies of the material culture of Puyŏ and its pre-state antecedents. The vast majority of scholarly works on Puyŏ in China therefore take the form of archaeological reports and analyses.30 The new trend toward the archaeological perspective in studies of Puyŏ in South Korea is entirely informed by this new wealth of data from China, but the Korean studies are hampered somewhat in that they are usually restricted to only those reports that have been published in China. Several of the chapters that follow rely on these published reports and on unpublished data that I have derived from my own research in northeast China, 26. See O Kang-wŏn 2008 and Yi Chong-su 2009. 27. See Sahoe Kwahak Ch‘ulp‘ansa 1994; Pai 2000, 269–70. 28. See for example Kim Pyŏng-nyong 1991, where Puyŏ is divided into earlier (slave society) and later (feudal) phases, the earlier dating from before the seventh century bce. Kim’s estimates of the territorial extent of Puyŏ (p. 60) claim for Puyŏ an area several times that suggested by any historical or archaeological evidence. 29. Yi Chi-rin 1963, 214–62. 30. A more recent Chinese publication that aims toward a comprehensive treatment is the 2003 collection of studies on the Puyŏ kingdom edited by the Office of Cultural Properties in the Jilin Municipality. See Dong Xuezeng and Qiu Qi, eds. 2003.

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including visits to many of the archaeological sites associated with Puyŏ. With these new archaeological discoveries comes the opportunity to reassess past research on Puyŏ history and culture, and the research conducted during the past two decades has yielded much fruit in this endeavor.

Puyŏ in Ethnicity Studies and New Religion Studies of Puyŏ history and culture have developed in new directions in the modern period, but in the early twentieth century Puyŏ also figured prominently in other fields of interest. One such field concerns early conceptions of ethnicity and the advent of a nationalist history in East Asian countries. Influenced by notions of race and ethnicity associated with Social Darwinism, scholars in East Asian countries began to develop theories centered on the idea that the nation, or the ethnic group, was the proper subject of history. Even as the populations of politically bound regions were conceived of as bound by ethnic ties, so too was this concept projected back in history to apply to peoples who appeared in ancient histories. Further, these postulated ethnic groups of antiquity were often described as the direct lineal antecedents of modern ethnic groups, peoples both ancient and modern being portrayed as relatives in a hereditary sequence. In both Korea and China, traditional histories were recast so that the nation-state, rather than the ruling elite, was made to take the center stage of history. Puyŏ appears, in both Korea and China, as an ethnic group in at least two major conceptions of ancient northeast Asia. The earlier of the two was that developed by the Korean nationalist Sin Ch’ae-ho 申采浩 (1880–1936). In an elaborate and largely imagined arrangement, Sin conceived of a great Korean race that existed essentially unchanged from remote antiquity.31 He saw this race as composed of a number of related ethnic groups, but the core group remained the mainstream of Korean history throughout, and he called this core group “the Puyŏ nationality” (Puyŏ minjok 民族).32 Sin’s view of Korean history stemmed from Tan’gun, but the Puyŏ nationality formed the dominant branch of Tan’gun’s many descendents, and it was the Puyŏ nationality that assimilated the other groups and became the mainstream of Korean history. Sin’s north-centered view challenged the Silla-based historiographical tradition, which granted primacy to the south as the mainstream of political legitimacy. In many ways, Sin’s views represented a continuation of an earlier emphasis on the northern states associated with Korea’s remote past, which had featured prominently in a number of unofficial outlines of Korean history during the latter half of the eighteenth century.33 31. For an analysis of Sin’s views of Korean history, see Schmid 1997. See also Schmid 2002, ch. 5. 32. Sin 1995, 473–75. Sin lists a total of six nationalities he saw as composing the greater Korean nation: the Xianbei, the Puyŏ, the Chinese, the Mohe, the Jurchen, and the “indigenes” (who include the Yemaek and Samhan people of the peninsula proper). 33. One example of this is the Tongsa 東史 (History of the East) by Yi Chong-hwi 李種徽 (1731–98), which recasts the traditional historiography by shifting the emphasis toward Koguryŏ, Puyŏ, and Parhae.

20

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Sin’s focus on the north influenced the later historiography of North Korea and has had a strong influence on many works of popular history in South Korea as well. His notion of an ancient Korean nationality is similarly echoed in scholarly works in both Koreas today, though this is perhaps more dominant in North Korea. In Sin’s view, Korean history began with Tan’gun, but it continued with Puyŏ and its people, whom Sin saw as the very core of the formative Korean nation. In a way, Sin restored Puyŏ to a position of dominance in the historiography of peninsular states, even if it stood secondary to Tan’gun in importance. Sin’s treatment of Puyŏ as a historical polity, however, departed from the historiographical tradition inherited from Chosŏn only in the importance he placed on Puyŏ in the formation of the Korean nation—he offered no significantly new perspective of Puyŏ beyond what other historians had been writing for centuries. A second modern use of Puyŏ as an ethnonym occurred in the writings of the historian of northeast China, Jin Yufu 金毓黻 (1887–1962). Influenced both by the theories of nationalism then current in China and by the active field of research on Manchurian history he observed in Japan, Jin wrote a comprehensive history of Manchuria (referred to in China as the Northeast) called Dongbei tongshi 東北通史 (Comprehensive History of the Northeast), published in 1941. This was essentially a regional history, but it sought also to portray Manchuria as having always been an integral part of a greater Chinese nation. Nevertheless, Jin focused less on the influence of Chinese states and more on the indigenous development of the peoples and states of Manchuria and Korea. He believed that nationalities were the proper subject of history, and he delineated four distinct ethnic groups of ancient Manchuria and referred to them as nationalities (minzu 民族). The first nationality was Chinese, but it was not indigenous to the region. The other three were the Sushen nationality 肅慎族, which was represented historically by the Yilou 挹婁, Jurchen 女眞, and Manchus among others; the Donghu nationality 東胡族, whose descendents included the Xianbei, Khitan, and Mongols; and the Puyŏ nationality 夫餘 族, who established the states of Puyŏ, Koguryŏ, and Paekche.34 Jin conceived of the Puyŏ nationality in broad terms as an ethnic group, but he also differentiated between states populated by the Puyŏ nationality and those, like Paekche, which he saw as being merely governed by members of the Puyŏ nationality. He does not seem to have formed a clear idea on the role of Koreans in his depictions of the lineal descent of ethnic groups, but he does imply that modern Koreans are descended both from the ancient Puyŏ nationality as well as from the Samhan 三韓 groups in the southern parts of the peninsula.35 Jin’s views of the multinational history of northeast China have been largely adopted by Chinese historians today, but there have in recent years been decided efforts to deny any relationship between the ancient Puyŏ nationality of northeast China and modern Koreans.36 Although the name Puyŏ has been thus applied 34. Jin Yufu 1976, 1:15B, 20B. 35. Jin Yufu 1976, 1:15B–20B. 36. The reasons for such efforts to reject the notion of a connection between Puyŏ and modern Koreans are very complex and are related primarily to concerns in China over territorial stability in its northeastern regions. This tendency has been displayed most clearly in the history dispute between China and South Korea over the ancient Koguryŏ kingdom, which erupted late in 2003 and continued over the following years. On this matter see Byington 2002, 2004a, and 2004b.

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to a hypothetical ethnic group of ancient northeast China, the historians who invoke this term rarely elaborate on Puyŏ as a historical polity. Jin’s historical arrangement grants priority to Puyŏ as the earliest indigenous state to appear in what is now northeast China, but within current Chinese historiographical models today, Puyŏ is viewed as nothing more than a vaguely understood early state of the Northeast. A third example of a way in which the Puyŏ name is used today in fields other than history concerns the Korean new religion called Taejong-gyo 大倧敎, which centers on the worship of Tan’gun as the grand progenitor of the Korean people. Taejong-gyo is substantially a development strongly influenced by the historiographical views of Sin Ch’ae-ho outlined above. The new religion was established by the nationalist Na Ch’ŏl 羅喆 (1863–1916) in 1909, and it soon became associated with the resistance movement during the early years of the Japanese colonial rule over Korea (1910–45).37 Works purporting to recount the lost history of Tan’gun and Puyŏ appeared during the early years of the colonial period, some of which elaborated on the themes already put forth by Sin Ch’ae-ho. In particular, the emphasis on Manchuria and the Korean nationality appears throughout these works, the Sindan minsa 神壇民史 of Kim Kyo-hŏn 金敎獻 (1868– 1923) being one example. More interesting is a work purported to be a recovered lost book of antiquity called the Hwandan kogi 桓檀古記, said to have been collated by one Kye Yŏn-su 桂延壽 (1864– 1920) in 1911. This work contains “historical” information regarding Tan’gun and his descendents, as well as coverage of the northern states of Puyŏ, Koguryŏ, and Parhae. One chapter purports to reconstruct the lineage from Tan’gun to the kings of Northern Puyŏ, each of which bears the designation tan’gun as a title.38 This chapter begins its history of Puyŏ with the legendary figure Hae Mosu, who figures in the Koguryŏ foundation myth, followed by another five kings who are not otherwise attested in surviving historical works. The narrative then continues with Eastern Puyŏ and its three kings, Hae Puru 解夫婁, Kŭmwa 金蛙, and Taeso 帶素, who all appear in the Koguryŏ foundation myth. The events described during the reigns of the Puyŏ kings represent elaborated paraphrases of events depicted in Chinese or Korean historical works or other events that are probably newly invented. Although the Hwandan kogi is widely recognized by historians today as an apocryphal text, it constitutes one of the most important writings of the Taejong-gyo religion, whose many adherents view Tan’gun and Puyŏ as the beginnings of the Korean nation.39 In the examples of uses of the Puyŏ name in nationalistic writings and new religions presented above, there is little if any discussion of the history of the Puyŏ state beyond the minimal treatments preserved in the officially sanctioned histories of Koryŏ and Chosŏn. Although Puyŏ as a vague concept has been brought to prominence in these depictions of history, there is in fact little of the historical to be found in them. This is perhaps not surprising in works that seek more to inspire and provoke than to relate a 37. See Pai 2000, 266–69; Schmid 2002, 192–98; Baker 2002. 38. Kye Yŏn-su 1986, 125–43. 39. For a critique of the apocryphal texts associated with Taejong-gyo, see Pak Kwang-yong 1990. For a critique of the Hwandan kogi, see Yi To-hak 1986.

22

Chapter One

(comparatively) dispassionate narrative of historical events. This latter goal is instead that of the writers of modern history texts, who were discussed in the previous section. But even in this realm, despite significant advances in viewing Puyŏ within a broader perspective as described above, historians in East Asia, and particularly in Korea, have had great difficulty transcending the restrictive portrayals of the historical Puyŏ polity as presented in the official histories of Koryŏ and Chosŏn. This is probably due in part to the paucity of historical data regarding Puyŏ at the historian’s disposal, and partly due to the limitations encountered when presenting Puyŏ as a component of the history of the Korean nation instead of approaching Puyŏ as an entity in itself. In the chapters that follow I will attempt to compensate for both of these limiting factors and discuss both the historical Puyŏ as well as the conceptions of Puyŏ in the historiographies of other states.

The State, the People, and the Legacy In this study I will approach the history of Puyŏ from a new perspective that attempts to view Puyŏ as a historical entity outside of the historiographical frameworks described above. That is, I will distinguish between Puyŏ as a state in its own right and Puyŏ as a historiographical device from which later states drew their political legitimacy. This will entail an analysis of recently gained archaeological data associated with Puyŏ and its antecedents, as well as a reconsideration of the written record concerning Puyŏ. Additionally, the study will include an examination of the ways in which Puyŏ was portrayed in the historiographies of later states, with the aim of better understanding the received historiographical traditions that today form the basis of historical works in South Korea and China and, to a degree, in North Korea. Through this approach I hope to illustrate that one may distinguish among different components of the patchwork that constitutes the earliest attempts to create a comprehensive history of early peninsular states, so that those accounts that reflect historical events may be weighed against those that were drawn instead from myth. In this way one may both gain a clearer understanding of how that patchwork history was pieced together and better comprehend the significance of Puyŏ in the history and historiography of early East Asian states. State formation will be the underlying theme throughout this study. The term “state” will be used primarily in its broad sense, indicating a form of social organization characterized by a relational structure of an order of complexity higher than that of a chiefdom. Although the distinction between a chiefdom and a state is typically quite vague, I here adopt the definition proposed by Ronald Cohen wherein the key characteristic of the state that distinguishes it from the chiefdom is its ability to resist fissioning.40 Whereas certain social stresses, such as excessive population growth, would cause a chiefdom society to split, a state’s social structure would accommodate and adjust to the 40. Cohen 1978a, 35.

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stress, allowing the state continually to grow in size and complexity. Other characteristics that help us to recognize the state, and which contribute to its ability to resist fissioning, are its highly stratified hierarchical structure, its capacity to command and direct force under a single leader, its maintenance of a code of laws, and its centralized governing structure manned by a professional bureaucracy.41 When I speak of a Puyŏ “state” in this study, I will not insist that the society so designated must meet each of these criteria in order to be recognized as a state, but I do imply by the use of the term an order of social complexity significantly higher than that of the society from which it developed. The emphasis in this study will therefore be on processual development characterized by a significant increase in social complexity. This study seeks to explore two different but related phases of state formation. The first phase involves state formation as a social process whereby a society experiences a significant increase in organizational complexity. This social process may be detected in the archaeological record by monitoring and measuring changes in artifact distribution, settlement structure and hierarchy, and mortuary practice. Combining the results of such analyses with a reconsideration of the written historical record will facilitate an investigation of the social processes associated with the formation of the Puyŏ state. This part of the study represents what I refer to in the title of this section as the study of the Puyŏ state. In conjunction with this study of the formation of the Puyŏ state, I will present an account of the history of Puyŏ based on a reappraisal of the written record. Such a reappraisal, guided by the results of the study of the archaeological record, reveals a great deal about the territorial extent of the Puyŏ state, its relations with neighboring states and peoples, and its place in the interregional politics of its place and time. I devote much space to the history of the Puyŏ people and the Puyŏ name after the destruction of the state in 346. This not only provides an illustration of interregional dynamics at a very pivotal time in East Asian history, it also addresses the historical context of a second wave of state formation that ushered in what is now referred to as the Three Kingdoms period of peninsular history. With its focus on the political and social history of Puyŏ, I refer to this as the study of the Puyŏ people. The second phase of state formation involves the creation and maintenance of a state myth, which is very much a part of the formative processes associated with the development of early states. In particular, I will examine the ways in which states that arose in the wake of Puyŏ’s demise employed the historical memory of Puyŏ to affirm their own political legitimacy. The historiography that developed in the early peninsular states was based largely on this process of identity construction, but, I maintain, centuries of development and change within the historiographical tradition have nearly obscured this fact. In this part of the study I will suggest that rather than reading the foundation myths of Koguryŏ and Paekche as history, one might derive more benefit in reading them as myth designed to meet a specific set of social needs at a specific time in history. This constitutes the study of the Puyŏ legacy. 41. For discussions of various definitions of the state, see Flannery 1972, 403–4; Claessen and Skalník 1978, 3–5; Cohen 1978b, 2–5; Fried 1967, 229–30.

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Chapter One

Despite the tripartite organization suggested above, the three named themes—the state, the people, and the legacy—are not treated in discrete sections of this study. The organization instead follows a roughly chronological order beginning with the archaeological study of the formation of the Puyŏ state, followed by historical descriptions of the state and its people both during the tenure of the Puyŏ state and after its fall, followed by a historiographical survey and a concluding discussion.

Ch a p t er T wo

Ancient Peoples and States of Northeast China and Korea

W

hen treating the history of an ancient state, it is desirable and appropriate to begin by examining historical records created by that state. Unfortunately, in the case of Puyŏ these are wholly lacking, either because such records were destroyed long ago or because they never existed in the first place—indeed, it is not yet known whether Puyŏ was a literate state. The next best approach is to utilize the historical records left by contemporary peoples and states that may shed light on the activities of the state under consideration. Most of the extant written material concerning Puyŏ falls into this category. A third type of historical material that will serve the present study involves records of the activities of polities neighboring the target state, which provide a perspective from which the tangential activities of that state may be inferred, even though such records may make no specific mention of that state. Such historical records, and supporting evidence from the archaeological record, will be the focus of the present chapter. Extant written records pertaining directly to the history of the Puyŏ state, most of which fall into the second category described above, may be further subdivided into two general categories. The first consists of those accounts in Chinese historical works that attempt briefly to describe Puyŏ society and customs or that record events in which Puyŏ became involved, most often in a manner incidental to the major events being addressed. These are for the most part found in the Accounts of the Eastern Yi (Dongyi zhuan 東夷傳) or in the annals chapters of the early dynastic histories Sanguozhi 三國 志 (Record of the Three Kingdoms) and Hou Hanshu 後漢書 (History of the Eastern Han). The second kind of record, those found in Korean sources, particularly the Samguk sagi and Samguk yusa, recounts semi-legendary events concerning the enmity between Puyŏ and its southern neighbor Koguryŏ. These latter records represent a composite of material from both history and myth, and it is difficult to place much faith in their authenticity as historical accounts without very careful analysis. Even when such

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Chapter Two

accounts are accepted as historically accurate descriptions, the perspective is always that of Koguryŏ looking upon its distant rival to the north. In none of these works is Puyŏ polity or society described except as a faceless and abstracted adversary beyond the borders: the Puyŏ people are granted no clear voice of their own in these works. It is likely, however, that some of the information regarding Puyŏ in the works described above was derived from the testimony of the Puyŏ people themselves. For example, the Lunheng 論衡 (Doctrines evaluated), a first-century collection of philosophical essays written by Wang Chong 王充 (27–ca. 100 ce), preserves what purports to be an early account of the founding of the Puyŏ state. That account describes how the young Tongmyŏng 東明, a product of divine conception, fled south from the state of T’angni 橐離 (Ch. Tuoli) and came to rule over the people of Puyŏ. Despite the clearly fantastic elements of this undated story and its probable origins in an early mythic tradition, one might be tempted to accept it in general as a stylized depiction of the founding of a Puyŏ regime. This is especially tempting when the somewhat more reliable description of the Puyŏ polity brought home by members of the Wei expedition that passed through the Puyŏ heartland in the 240s ce relates that some of the Puyŏ elders called themselves descendents of refugees 亡人.1 There are, however, certain problems with accepting these accounts at face value. First, the Tongmyŏng tale reappears in essentially identical form as the foundation tale of the Koguryŏ state, the divine founder in this case fleeing south from Puyŏ to a site (called variously Cholbon 卒本 or Hŭlsŭng-gol 紇升骨) that would become the capital of Koguryŏ. There is therefore considerable uncertainty as to whether this tale applies to Puyŏ, to Koguryŏ, or to both. Furthermore, it is unclear what the term “refugees” in the Wei account means or why Puyŏ elders of the mid-third century would refer to themselves in such a way centuries after the state first emerged. Finally, such foundation tales as these must in any case be treated with special care as they were most likely created long after the states, the foundation of which they claim to describe, had developed. Further, they are at best to be viewed as semi-historical accounts that have been embellished with a highly mythical and magical element, if they are not in fact complete fabrications. It would, therefore, be ill-advised to employ such material as a foundation for a historical search for Puyŏ’s origins. On the other hand, when the third-century Wei account states that the Puyŏ people built their city walls in the round, heated cattle hooves to divine the future, buried their kings in jade suits, and interred up to a hundred immolated servants in a single elite burial, one is left with the impression that the drafters of this account received this rather specific information from sources they felt to be reliable or perhaps even witnessed these customs firsthand. In these instances the faint voices of the Puyŏ people may be discerned, speaking through the interpretation provided by the Wei record keepers and revealing a dim echo of their socio-cultural reality. Any of the practices described above would potentially leave material remains that can be corroborated archaeologically, and as this study will demonstrate, the identification of the archaeological correlate of Puyŏ culture will be the key for unlocking the vault of the unwritten Puyŏ archives for the first time in sixteen centuries. 1. Sanguozhi 30:842 (Account of Puyŏ).

Fig. 2.1. Jilin Province, municipalities, and counties. Base map created by Scott Walker of the Harvard Map Collection, with final cartography by the author.

Fig. 2.2. Liaoning Province, municipalities, and counties. Base map created by Scott Walker of the Harvard Map Collection, with final cartography by the author.

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This study offers a critical reassessment of the history and culture of the Puyŏ state and its people and of their place in the history and historiography of northeast Asia. It is in large part guided by abundant new evidence brought to light by archaeological work conducted in the Chinese provinces of Jilin and Liaoning since the 1980s (see figs. 2.1 and 2.2 for the current arrangement of municipalities and counties in these two provinces). In the chapters that follow I will argue that we can in fact identify the archaeological manifestation of Puyŏ culture, at least that of the political and cultural core of the state, while simultaneously identifying and resolving some long-held misconceptions about Puyŏ’s origins and its relations with neighboring states and peoples. Before turning to a discussion of Puyŏ’s origins as revealed by archaeological data, it will be useful first to consider the political circumstances of the regions northeast of China in the centuries preceding the emergence of Puyŏ as a state. This analysis will begin with the Chinese state of Yan 燕 (ca. 1045 bce–222 bce), the political center of which is associated with a number of sites just south of modern Beijing. The choice of Yan as a starting point for this study is appropriate and beneficial, as the earliest surviving written records concerning the regions surrounding the later Puyŏ state are those relating to the expansion of Yan into Liaodong in the early third century bce. Nevertheless, approaching the issue of Puyŏ development from the standpoint of Chinese-language descriptions of the political expansion of Chinese states into Manchuria is bound to create the mistaken impression that the culture (or cultures) of the Central Plains served as the solitary prime mover for social change and state development among the Puyŏ people. Although I will argue below that the Yan and (later) Han presence in Liaodong had a profound effect on Puyŏ social development, this should not be presupposed. I will, in fact, propose in later chapters that the cultures of the Central Plains were not the only ones exerting a strong influence upon the Puyŏ society that was rapidly developing in central Jilin during the third to second centuries bce. The choice of a focus on Yan is advantageous because the Central Plains culture has left a comparatively rich written record with which to work. Let us therefore turn our attention now to the northeastern fringes of the Zhou kingdom of 1000 bce, where the feudal state of Yan lay remote and distant from the Zhou heartland, perched on the edge of the Zhou world facing a non-Sinitic frontier to the north.

The State of Yan and Peoples on Its Periphery The state of Yan was established around the time King Wu 武王 of Zhou conquered the Shang state in the mid-eleventh century bce.2 The Zhou king appointed as governor of Yan the Duke of Shao 召公, whose descendents continued to rule Yan under the title of 2. The year of the Zhou conquest of Shang is a much-debated issue, though in most views the conquest year falls within a range of about two decades in the middle of the eleventh century bce. The Cambridge History of Ancient China adopts the year 1045 as a convention for the conquest, which will also suffice for the present study (Loewe and Shaughnessy 1999, 23).

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Marquis of Yan 匽侯 (later written 燕侯) from their capital city near modern Beijing.3 The territory they governed covered that region of northern Hebei today marked by the cities of Beijing, Tianjin, and Tangshan. The history of Yan is described in the Shiji 史記 (Records of the historian) of Sima Qian 司馬遷 (ca. 145–86 bce), but records prior to the mid-ninth century bce are lacking, and fragments of the early history of Yan are known only from the inscriptions on bronze ceremonial vessels.4 Archaeological data have shown that the social composition of the Yan polity consisted of a complex combination of distinct elements, representing Shang and Zhou culture as well as an indigenous culture that had existed prior to the establishment of the Zhou state of Yan.5 Prior to the establishment of Yan, the region it came to occupy was represented archaeologically by the Lower Xiajiadian culture 夏家店下层文化, which encompassed a broad geographical scope including western Liaoning, the regions along and south of the Sira Mören (Ch. Xilamulun 西拉沐沦) River in Inner Mongolia, and in northern Hebei, including the Beijing-Tianjin-Tangshan region (fig. 2.3). The Lower Xiajiadian declined in the northern Hebei region during the later centuries of the second millennium bce, and it was succeeded there by local indigenous cultures that came to co-exist with the Shang and Zhou elements of the Yan state.6 To the north of the Yanshan 燕山 mountain range and beyond the sphere of Yan influence, the Lower Xiajiadian was succeeded first by the Weiyingzi 魏营子 culture, which persisted for some centuries before it was replaced by the Upper Xiajiadian 夏家店上层 culture in the early first millennium bce. The last culture will be discussed in greater detail in the next chapter, as it is important in understanding the bronze-period predecessors of the Puyŏ state. The bronze-producing cultures mentioned here are understood as composing part of a larger phenomenon called the “Northern Complex,” which features an assemblage of bronze weapons and ornaments of

3. The Yan capital was relocated several times, but it always remained in the vicinity of Beijing. The earliest capital remains have been identified with a walled site at Liulihe about forty-five kilometers to the south of Beijing. Excavations conducted at this site from the early 1970s have shed considerable light on the culture of early Yan. See Beijingshi Wenwu Yanjiusuo 1995; Zhongguo Shehui Kexueyuan Kaogu Yanjiusuo et al. 1984; Liulihe Kaogudui 1997; Beijing Daxue Kaoguxuexi and Beijingshi Wenwu Yanjiusuo 1996; Beijingshi Wenwu Yanjiusuo and Beijing Daxue Kaoguxuexi 1996; Beijingshi Wenwu Yanjiusuo 1997; and Liu Xu and Zhao Fusheng 1997. 4. This chronological gap in the Shiji applies not only to Yan but to other states as well. More generally, Sima Qian appears to have been unable to reconstruct from his sources a reliable chronology for the period prior to 842 bce (Loewe and Shaughnessy, eds. 1999, 22), further illustrating the problematic nature of the records for the earlier three quarters of the Western Zhou period. 5. See the English abstract in Beijingshi Wenwu Yanjiusuo 1995, 272–76; Hsu and Linduff 1988, 194– 201; Rawson 1999, 409–13. 6. These local cultures are the upper phase of the Zhangjiayuan 张家园 culture and the third phase of the Weifang 围坊 culture. Zhangjiayuan culture was first discovered at Xueshan in Changping in 1961 but was not categorized until the 1965 excavation of the type site at Zhangjiayuan at Jixian, when it was viewed as a late regional variation of the Yannan Lower Xiajiadian culture. By the late 1970s, after continued excavations at Zhangjiayuan and nearby Weifang, the culture was recognized as a distinct one derived from a Lower Xiajiadian antecedent. It is variously referred to as “Upper Zhangjiayuan” or “Weifang III culture.” See Zhang Lidong 1997, 226 for background information.

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Fig. 2.3. The territories of Yan and regions farther north.

a consistent style.7 The persistence of this northern culture both in the region occupied by early Yan and in the broad regions to its north produced a distinctly northern character in Yan culture that does not appear in other Zhou polities.8

Peoples on Yan’s Periphery Surviving written records describe a number of non-Zhou peoples that existed in the regions peripheral to the Yan state. In early times groups of these peoples were described by general inclusive terms such as Rong 戎, and by Eastern Zhou times (770–256 bce) more specific names such as Shanrong 山戎 (Mountain Rong) or Beirong 北戎 (Northern

7. This complex appeared in what is now northern China in developed form around the late Shang period and covered a wide geographical scope from northern China as far east as Liaodong and as far north as Siberia. The Northern Complex is described in Lin Yun 1986a, and in Di Cosmo 1999, 893–909. 8. For an illustration of this northern character as manifest in Yan culture, see Beijingshi Wenwu Guanlichu 1976.

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Fig. 2.4. Yan and the neighboring states and peoples. Names in gray represent approximate locations of independent peoples identified by that name; the same names in black represent later district towns of Yan, Qin, and Han.

Rong) appear in the records. Although the Rong most often appear as predatory enemies of Yan, other smaller groups were gradually conquered and defeated by Yan.9 Some of these conquered groups were resettled in the coastal region to the northeast of Yan. In this way Yan gradually extended its sphere of control past modern Shanhaiguan and continuing along the Liaoxi corridor—the narrow coastal strip between the Luan 滦河 and Daling 大凌河 rivers, which eventually brought Yan into contact with people living in what is today Liaoning Province (fig. 2.4).10 Besides the non-Zhou groups bordering Yan mentioned above, there are a number of other groups that are likewise associated with Yan whose names are important in studies of the history of Manchuria and the Korean peninsula. Of particular importance is the fact that the way we understand these groups has a strong bearing on how we interpret certain basic elements of the history of this region. It is therefore necessary to present some discussion of these groups to establish the context in which the names are used elsewhere in this book. The groups to be discussed include the Hui and Mo (K. Ye and Maek), the Sushen (K. Suksin), and Jizi (K. Kija), the last being properly the title of an individual but typically used to refer to a group of people led by that individual. 9. Some of the groups said to have been conquered by Yan are the Guzhu 孤竹, Lingzhi 令支, Wuzhong 無終, and Tuhe 屠何. 10. For more detail on Yan’s method of extending its territories to the northeast, see Byington 2003, 43–55.

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Hui and Mo We will examine first two ancient groups that are often associated with each other. These are the Hui 穢 and the Mo 貉, or Ye and Maek in Korean, often shown in combined form as the Huimo, or Yemaek 穢貉/濊貊. These two names appear frequently in writings relevant to the early history of northeastern China and the Korean peninsula, but they are used inconsistently and scholarship is divided as to which groups are referred to using these names.11 With regard to the Mo, the discussion below will demonstrate that there were in fact two distinct groups referred to by that name—one early and one late—and that the two were separated both by geospatial distance as well as a substantial chronological gap. The term “Hui,” on the other hand, appears to have been applied as an inclusive designator for a large group of people to the northeast of China (sometimes including Puyŏ), but it cannot be reliably shown to have been in use until late in the history of the Yan state. The Mo are mentioned quite early in Chinese records, the name appearing variously as 貊 and 貉. A poem in the Shijing 詩經 (Book of odes) mentions the Mo as one of two groups of people sent to populate the newly founded state of Han 韓.12 Later in the Guanzi 管子 (Writings of Master Guan) a group called the Mo of Bi’er Mountain 卑耳 之貉 (which was located just east of the bend in the Yellow River) appear, apparently assisting Duke Huan of Qi 齊桓公 (r. 685–643 bce) in his campaign to the west.13 The same record, in describing the duke’s central expedition, lists the Hu-Mo 胡貉 as another subjugated group.14 Analysis of the various early records concerning the Mo reveals two interesting points. First, the term “Mo” appears to be an inclusive name used to refer to a number of groups, often appearing as the second character in a compound name (as in Hu-Mo or Hui-Mo).15 Second, the Mo groups of the period examined thus far have all 11. For a study of these names in historical records, see Dong Wanlun 1998 and Dong Wanlun 1999. 12. See Legge 1960, vol. 4, 546–51. One view places the site of Han a few kilometers southeast of the Liulihe site, but there appears to be no evidence to support this. See Shuijingzhu 水經注 3:1–4 (Shengshui 聖水). 13. Duke Huan of Qi was the first of the powerful hegemons (ba 霸) to wield power after the weakening of the Zhou court prompted rulers of the larger fiefs to exercise regional authority. Duke Huan assisted Yan in repelling various Shanrong groups that had been harassing Yan. His campaign against the Shanrong appears in brief form in the Chunqiu, in the Zuozhuan, and in several other works such as the Guanzi and Han Feizi. See Chunqiu Zuozhuan 4:201 (Zhuanggong xia 莊公下, Zhuanggong 30, Winter); Guanzi 8:15 (20, Xiaokuang 小匡); Han Feizi jishi 7:431 (22 Shuolin shang 說林上). 14. Guanzi 8:15 (20, Xiaokuang): 西征, 攘白狄之地, 遂至于西河, 方舟投柎, 乘桴濟河, 至于石沈, 縣 車束馬, 踰大行, 與卑耳之貉拘秦夏. A nearly identical passage in the Guoyu (6:9B [Discussions of Qi]) casts doubt on the existence of Mo groups in Duke Huan’s western campaign by replacing the character Mo with another that means “valley”: 踰太行, 與辟耳之谿拘夏. Another passage in the Guanzi 8:15 (20, Xiaokuang) says of Duke Huan: 北至於孤竹、山戎、穢貉、拘秦夏. An earlier segment of the first Guanzi passage above reads: 中救晉公, 禽狄王, 胡貉, 破屠何, 而騎寇始服. This “Hu-Mo” clearly refers to another group, this one perhaps north or west of Yan. The passage naming the Hui-Mo seems to be a summary of one of the other accounts (either the western or central campaigns) where the character 穢 has been erroneously inserted. 15. Although the term “Mo” may have referred to a specific people at one time, their identity and location remain elusive. When used as the second element in a compound, as in Hu-Mo or Hui-Mo, it may be considered as an inclusive term for northern peoples (the examples given might just as well read simply Hu or Hui). Prušek (1971, 223–25) understands the Hu element in this compound to be equally

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been located to the west or southwest of Yan. This is significant in that the Mo (or Maek) groups as well as the Hui-Mo (Yemaek) referred to in sources dated to the early Han period and later appear to have been located to the east of Liaodong and even as far east as the Korean peninsula. This later Mo group is thought to be associated with Koguryŏ and other early Korean states and appears to have been a group completely different from the earlier Mo, the name of the more ancient people having been appropriated by Han-period writers to refer to the later group. Although migration has been suggested to explain this apparent disparity, no evidence exists for such a wholesale movement of people between the Yellow River region and the Korean peninsula. It is much more likely that two different groups are indicated. The Hui appearing in early records are unrelated to the early Mo groups examined above, though they are later often paired with the Mo (Maek) of the Han period. The name appears as 穢, 濊, and 薉. They do not appear in early historical records nearly as often as do the Mo, and virtually all occurrences of the name in Yan’s pre-expansion period (prior to 282 bce) should be suspected as the work of later hands. There is a reference to the Hui in the Guanzi passage mentioned above, but it is likely an error for Hu.16 The Hui are mentioned in a vague passage in the Lüshi chunqiu 呂氏春秋 (Annals of Lü Buwei): “East of the northern shore are the villages of the barbarian Hui.”17 Since this work was compiled around 239 bce, after Yan had occupied Liaodong, it is possible that this refers to the Hui (Ye) people of Korea or southern Manchuria, though there is a problem with fixing a location due to the likelihood that the text is corrupt. Another reference appears in the “Wanghui” 王會 chapter of the Yi Zhoushu 逸周書 (Remaining Zhou documents), compiled originally around the late fourth century bce and revised in the early first century bce.18 This source lists many of the groups discussed above, and among them is a passage mentioning the Hui people. Although one Jin-period commentator (Kong Chao 孔晁, fl. 260 ce) identifies them as the Ye of Korea (穢, 韓穢, 東夷別種), this may have been an interpolation introduced by later scholars who would have been familiar with the people of Manchuria and Korea and might have been tempted to read them into the pre-Qin text. The Hui, therefore, do not seem to have been known in China until after Yan’s occupation of Liaodong around 282 bce had brought Yan people into proximity of the Korean peninsula and central Manchuria. To summarize, the Mo people of the Zhou period all seem to have been northern groups to the west and south of Yan, whereas those of the Han period and later who would come to be associated with Koguryŏ were a different group entirely. The name Hui may have been used as a reference to some group of northern people prior to the period of Yan’s expansion, but it seems more likely that the Hui were unknown to Yan until it had occupied Liaodong. By the Han period the names Hui and Mo, often in combination as

as general. The compound Man-Mo 蠻貊, which appears occasionally in early texts, is an even more general term referring to non-Chinese peoples. In some early references, however, a specific group is clearly indicated. 16. See note 13 above. 17. Lüshi chunqiu 呂氏春秋 20:1B (Shi jun 恃君): 北濱之東夷穢之鄉 reading 北 for 非. 18. Yi Zhoushu 7:6A–12B (59, Wanghui).

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Hui-Mo (Yemaek), were applied to peoples to the east of Liaodong and including parts of the Korean peninsula.19 Although it is possible that the names were at one time applied to a specific group of people, the usage was not consistent over time and it is difficult to identify the intended referent when this name is invoked in historical sources. Further, these were inclusive names used by Chinese to refer to foreign groups, and it is unlikely that those groups used the same name for themselves. There is much confusion apparent in scholarship concerning these early peoples caused by a widespread reluctance to acknowledge that in Han China names of ancient peoples were sometimes reused to refer to foreign groups newly recognized by the Han but probably entirely unknown to the more ancient Chinese. This is certainly the case with the Eastern Yi 東夷, for example. Early Zhou records, including recently discovered bronze inscriptions, indicate clearly that at the time of the conquest the term “Eastern Yi” referred to a number of Yi groups (for example, Huai-Yi 淮夷, Lai-Yi 萊夷, etc.) in Shandong and farther south. This is similar to the way the term “Rong” was later used to classify disparate groups north of Zhou. Centuries later when Han began to colonize foreign lands in Manchuria and Korea its historians grouped those peoples together under the general epithet of “Eastern Yi,” employing the generic name used for ancient non-Zhou groups on the eastern borders of early Zhou. Since Han’s eastern frontiers reached much further than did those of Zhou, it was necessary that the name for peoples beyond those frontiers be applied to a geographical region correspondingly more distant. It is often supposed that the Yi of Shandong migrated to the Korean peninsula sometime before the Han dynasty, but there is no evidence of this, nor is there a need to understand the usage of names in this manner. Likewise, it is unnecessary to assume a correspondence between the Zhou-period Mo and those of the Han period—the name had simply been reused by the Han. The Hui and Mo, or the Ye and Maek, particularly the former, who are often claimed to have been the ancestors of the Puyŏ people, will reappear later in this study. It is therefore necessary to avoid as much confusion as possible regarding these peoples and their relations with other groups north of the Zhou states. Before moving on to the period of Yan’s full flourish and its occupation of Liaodong, there are two more names that must be examined as they are both pertinent to later discussions in this study. Both of them appear in historical records at a critical moment in history—that of the Zhou conquest of Shang. The first is a group of northerners called the Sushen, whom the later Manchus claimed as their earliest forebears. The second is the Viscount of Ji, or Jizi, called Kija in Korean, a Shang minister who refused to serve the usurper King Wu even though Wu had released him from the oppression he suffered under his own sovereign. Jizi is said to have chosen instead to cast himself into exile in Chosŏn 朝鮮 (Ch. Chaoxian), a location usually associated with the Korean peninsula. 19. References to the Yemaek in the Shiji and Hanshu clearly show them to have been located to the east of Liaodong and on the Korean peninsula. See Shiji 110:2891 (Account of Xiongnu): 諸左方王將 居東方, 直上谷以往者, 東接穢貉, 朝鮮; 129:3265 (Accounts of the Wealthy): 燕 東綰穢貉、朝鮮、真番 之利; Hanshu 28b:1658 (Geography 8b): 玄菟、樂浪, 武帝時置、皆朝鮮、濊貉、句驪蠻夷; 94a:3773 (Account of Xiongnu): 是時漢東拔濊貉、朝鮮以為郡.

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Sushen One of the most puzzling groups of the north and northeast, the Sushen 肅慎 (sometimes written 息慎) appear numerous times in early historical sources and are reputed to have sent missions to various Chinese states sporadically from very early times. Although accounts of their putative appearance in the age of the sage kings may be easily dismissed, reports of their visit at the time of the Zhou conquest of Shang deserve closer examination. According to the Preface 序 of the Shujing 書經 (Book of documents), one of the lost documents in that collection was called the “Command to Send Gifts to the Sushen” 賄肅慎之命. The brief description provided in the Preface notes that the Sushen appeared to congratulate Zhou’s King Cheng 成王 upon the occasion of his conquest of the Eastern Yi, prompting the king to order one of his officials to draft the command to present gifts to the Sushen.20 In a passage in the Zuozhuan 左傳 (Zuo’s tradition) describing events of 533 bce, the Zhou king speaks of the extent of the Zhou territories following King Wu’s conquest of Shang, noting that to the north Zhou territories included those of Sushen and Yan-Bo 燕亳.21 These passages suggest that the Sushen were located to the north of Zhou and in proximity to Yan. They also indicate that the Sushen were affected by the campaigns led by King Cheng (actually by the dukes of Zhou and Shao on behalf of the young king) against the Yi groups who had rebelled along with Wu Geng 武庚 following the death of King Wu. Later historical works, some of which purport to relate events dating to very early times, described the Sushen as coming to present tribute to the Zhou court in the form of their peculiar hu arrows 楛矢.22 In some works the Sushen are treated almost as a model tributary, faithfully presenting tribute to the Zhou court from afar, and their tribute is viewed as emblematic of the virtue of the ruling court. Yet in none of these works do we see the Sushen doing anything other than presenting their arrows, and all of the records that mention Sushen from the mid-Zhou until the Han period would seem

20. See Legge 1960, vol. 3, 12: 成王既伐東夷, 肅慎來賀, 王俾榮伯作賄肅慎之命. 21. See Legge 1960, vol. 5, 624–25: 及武王克商 . . . 肅慎燕亳吾北土也. “Yan-Bo” is not a wellunderstood term. Traditional scholarship has viewed Yan and Bo as separate toponyms, the location of Bo being vaguely assigned to the vicinity of Yan. More recently, however, scholars have proposed reading the term as a compound. Chen Ping (1995, 60–62) reads bo as a term meaning a city or capital and assigns Yan-bo (the Yan capital) to the Liulihe site. Lin Yun (1994) makes a linguistic case for reading bo as Mo 貊, the compound Yan-Bo meaning something like “the Mo subordinate to Yan.” Lin believes that this refers to a group of Mo (whom he differentiates from the Mo appearing in earlier records who lived to the west and southwest of Yan) that had been subjugated by Yan. He speculates that such a group might have existed in the valleys of the Daling and Xiaoling rivers in western Liaoning and might be associated with the Weiyingzi culture that existed in the interim between the Lower and Upper Xiajiadian cultures. 22. See for example the Guoyu (5:11B–12A [Discussions of Lu B]), in which a story is related that has Confucius explaining that a hu arrow that mysteriously killed a bird in the state of Chen was manufactured by the Sushen, who were anciently known to present tributes of such arrows. For this account see also Shiji 47:1922 (Hereditary House of Confucius): 有隼集于陳廷而死, 楛矢貫之, 石砮, 矢長尺 有咫. 陳湣公使使問仲尼. 仲尼曰, 隼來遠矣, 此肅慎之矢也. 昔武王克商, 通道九夷百蠻, 使各以 其方賄來貢, 使無忘職業. 於是肅慎貢楛矢石砮, 長尺有咫. 先王欲昭其令德, 以肅慎矢分大姬, 配虞胡公而封諸陳. 分同姓以珍玉, 展親, 分異姓以遠職, 使無忘服. 故分陳以肅慎矢. 試求之故 府, 果得之.

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to be of questionable veracity.23 From the end of the Eastern Han period (25–220), however, we see the first appearance in Chinese records of a people called the Yilou 挹 婁, a subject people of Puyŏ who are described in various works as being the descendents of the ancient Sushen people.24 In some works the names Sushen and Yilou are used interchangeably. Historical geography from Han times and later show the Yilou to have been located in the valley of the Mudan River 牡丹江 in southeastern Heilongjiang near the Qing-period city of Ningguta 寧古塔.25 Although many Chinese scholars simply assume, based on this information, that the Sushen of the early Zhou were located in eastern Manchuria and use this to demonstrate that Zhou’s influence had reached to such extremes, it is much more likely that two different groups are indicated. It is almost inconceivable that news of King Cheng’s defeat of the Eastern Yi of Shandong could reach the ears of people in the Mudan valley and prompt a congratulatory mission sent to such a distant realm. Some scholars, insisting that the early Zhou Sushen and the late Han Yilou must have been the same group, theorize that a large-scale migration was responsible for the apparent disjunction in the history of this ancient people.26 Yet the archaeology of the Mudan River region not only indicates that the people occupying that region in the Han period were indigenous to eastern Manchuria but also reveals a lack of similarity between the cultures of North China and this region. It is rather more likely, as with the case of the Eastern Yi, that the name of the ancient Sushen was applied during the Han or Wei periods to a different border people, the Han and Wei borders reaching much farther east than did those of Zhou. It is possible that when the Yilou presented a tribute of arrows to the Han or Wei courts, the historians of those courts were reminded of the ancient Sushen and assumed a connection. Alternatively, the association with the Sushen may have been deliberately emphasized to reinforce Han’s (and especially Wei’s) own association with the ancient Zhou kings, whose authority was such that remote border tribes willingly offered their allegiance in the form of tribute missions.27 23. For a brief overview of these sources see Sun Jinji and Wang Mianhou, eds. 1989, vol. 1, 196–201. 24. See Sanguozhi 30:848 (Account of Yilou), where the Yilou are said to have been descendents of the Sushen. Though the text dates from the late third century and describes events of the early Wei period, it notes that the Yilou had been subject to Puyŏ from Han times. The Yilou are said to have made arrows out of hu wood, tipped by points made of green stone. 25. For the association between Yilou and the ancient Sushen, see Hou Hanshu 85:2812 (Account of Yilou). For the location of Yilou see Tan, ed. 1988, 30–31. 26. For a discussion of various theories, see Sun Jinji and Wang Mianhou, eds. 1989, vol. 1, 196–201. Sun and Wang themselves believe that the ancient Sushen had always been located in the Mudan River valley. An early proponent of the migration theory was Jin Yufu, who suggested a migration from Shandong to the Mudan valley, as outlined in Jin Yufu 1976, 18A–20B. 27. See Sanguozhi 3:107 (Mingdi, Qinglong 4/5): 肅慎氏獻楛矢; and Jinshu 2:37 (Wendi, Jingyuan 3/4): 肅慎來獻楛矢、石砮、弓甲、貂皮等. In each of these accounts the Yilou, here called Sushen, are said to have presented a tribute of hu arrows (hu is a type of wood used to fashion the arrow shafts), first to the Wei court in 236 and then to the Jin court in 262. See also Hou Hanshu 85:2808 (Accounts of the Eastern Yi, Introduction) for one of several references to the Sushen of the early Zhou period presenting hu arrows: 及武王滅紂, 肅慎來獻石砮楛矢. That the “Sushen” people presenting the arrows in the Wei and Jin accounts are really the Yilou, see Jinshu 97:2534 (Account of Sushen), where it is said that

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37

A fuller examination of this problem of the Sushen would, I believe, clarify the distinction between the ancient Sushen and the later Yilou. For the purposes of the present study, however, it is sufficient to note that the two groups must have been unrelated and that no major migration should be assumed to have occurred to explain the disjunction. The Sushen of King Cheng’s time were probably located in the vicinity of the Yan state and were undoubtedly assimilated eventually either by Yan or by one of the other northern groups. The Yilou will reappear below in an analysis of the Puyŏ state.

Jizi (Kija) Zhou records condemn the last Shang king of having been extremely depraved and cruel, and maintain that through his dissipation he lost Heaven’s Mandate to rule the world. One of his crimes was to imprison the Viscount of Ji, or Jizi 箕子, one of several upright ministers who had dared to reprimand the Shang king. One of the first tasks King Wu is said to have undertaken after his conquest of Shang was to release Jizi from his confinement. Jizi, however, could not bear to serve a lord whom he viewed as a usurper, so he placed himself in exile.28 Later tradition would hold that his place of exile was Chosŏn, or Chaoxian, which by the Western Han period was the name of a state centered at modern Pyongyang on the Korean peninsula. This same later tradition claims that Jizi established a state and civilized the people of Chosŏn. Later Korean states, including Chosŏn (which took its name from the ancient state of Jizi / Kija), Koryŏ, and perhaps Koguryŏ, revered Jizi as the earliest civilizer of the Korean people.29 In recent decades, however, the connection between Jizi and Chosŏn has been called into question. It is unlikely that Jizi would have sought a place as distant as Pyongyang for his exile. Recent scholarship has proposed that the Chosŏn of Jizi’s time was instead located in western Liaoning, the state shifting far to the east after Yan’s expansion swallowed up the territories of Liaoxi and Liaodong, so that by Han times Chosŏn could have been centered at Pyongyang.30 This view was given added weight when early Zhouperiod bronze vessels that appear to bear the emblem of Jizi and his clan were discovered in burials at the early Yan capital at Liulihe 琉璃河 and in bronze caches in western the Sushen are also called Yilou, that they live north of Buxian Mountain, and that they are about sixty days distant from Puyŏ 肅慎氏一名挹婁, 在不咸山北, 去夫餘可六十日行. The similarity in the phraseology between the account referring to the early Zhou Sushen and the accounts of the later Yilou tribute strongly suggests that the later courts saw considerable significance in receiving the same tribute and from the same quarter as had the Zhou court. The later courts may, therefore, have been motivated to see the Yilou as the descendents of the ancient Sushen in order to enhance their own authority and prestige. For an argument for the deliberate appropriation by Chinese courts of the Sushen name as a device to indicate their own legitimacy, see the thorough study in Ikeuchi 1930b. 28. For accounts of Jizi’s imprisonment and release, see Shiji 3:108–9 (Annals of Yin); 4:131 (Annals of Zhou); and 38:1609 (Hereditary House of Weizi of Song). 29. A comprehensive study of Kija’s significance in Korea appears in Han Young-woo 1985. 30. Such views were proposed first by Ri Chi-rin in North Korea and later by Yun Nae-hyŏn in South Korea. These theories are based primarily on tenuous and selective interpretations of geographical works and do not stand up well under scrutiny. A more persuasive interpretation is currently put forth as orthodoxy in South Korea, where three possibilities are upheld for debate. These views hold that the center of Chosŏn was either (1) in Pyongyang, (2) in Liaodong, or (3) had shifted to Pyongyang from an original site in Liaodong. See Kim Chŏng-bae 1997, 74–80 for discussion of these theories.

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Fig. 2.5. Inscription on a bronze vessel from the Kazuo cache. The inscription on the left describes a conferral of cowries upon an official named Wen; the cartouche on the right reads “Marquis of Ji.” After Ma Chengyuan 1988, 30.

Liaoning (fig. 2.5).31 Shang oracle inscriptions mentioning the Marquis of Ji have been found at the site of the Shang capital at Anyang, suggesting that the fief of Ji had been located near the Shang capital but was later removed to western Liaoning just beyond Yan.32 This would conform nicely to the traditional account of Jizi, but there are problems with such an interpretation. First, bronze vessels bearing what has been interpreted as the emblem of Jizi have been found in Shandong and in the vicinity of the Zhou capital as well, though the content of the inscriptions found at Liulihe implies strong connections between Yan and the Marquis of Ji. Second, the bronze vessels found in Liaoning were in caches, and it is entirely unclear how and when they came to be buried there. One possibility is that they may have been carried away as loot by

31. See Liaoningsheng Bowuguan and Chaoyang Diqu Bowuguan 1973; Yan Wan 1975; and Kazuoxian Wenhuaguan, Chaoyang Diqu Bowuguan, Liaoningsheng Bowuguan, and Beidong Wenwu Fajue Xiaozu 1977. 32. Historical reference to a walled site named Chaoxian in Lulong close to the walled towns of Guzhu and Lingzhi has suggested to some scholars that Jizi’s Chosŏn lay in this region. Such references appear only after the Han period, however, and it is clear from other sources that this is a site established much later, after the Murong Xianbei state of Yan had re-established the commandery of Lelang (the administrative center of which was named Chaoxian) in the Liaoxi region. The original Lelang in Pyongyang had been overrun by Koguryŏ in 313.

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the Shanrong after a raid on Yan.33 Though the problem requires much additional study before a solution can be reached, it appears possible that the bronzes did belong to the Marquis of Ji and his descendents and that the historical Jizi had relocated to the region just north of Yan. Another problem with the traditional account of Jizi is his connection with the state of Chosŏn. Though Jizi is mentioned frequently enough in early Zhou records, the name Chosŏn does not appear until quite late, in the Warring States period. There are two obscure references to Chosŏn in the Guanzi, which are usually claimed to be the earliest recorded references to Chosŏn in surviving literature. Yet though the putative author Guan Zhong 管仲 lived in the mid-seventh century bce, the text of the Guanzi has been shown to have been compiled over a long period of time extending from the fourth to the first centuries bce. The chapters that mention Chosŏn appear to date from the early Western Han period.34 The Zhanguoce 戰國策 (Records of the Warring States) includes a passage describing a conversation between Su Qin 蘇秦 (380–284 bce) and the Yan Marquis Wen 燕文侯 (r. 362–333 bce), wherein Su Qin notes that located to Yan’s east were “Chosŏn and Liaodong.”35 If authentic, this may be the earliest clear reference to Chosŏn’s geographical location. There is, however, no reference to a connection between Chosŏn and Jizi. Sima Qian’s treatment of Jizi in his Shiji mentions Chosŏn only once, though he treats that state extensively elsewhere in the work and makes no mention of Jizi.36 The earliest extant source that claims a connection between Jizi and Chosŏn appears to be the second-century bce Shangshu dazhuan 尚書大傳 (Great commentary of the Book of Documents) said to have been written by Fu Sheng 伏勝. A passage in that work states that when King Wu overthrew Shang and released Jizi from confinement, Jizi could not bear to serve a conqueror and chose to go into exile in Chosŏn. King Wu therefore enfeoffed Jizi with Chosŏn, and Jizi was forced by propriety to appear in court before King Wu. This account could have been based on earlier Zhou documents that have since been lost, though it is curious that no tradition linking Jizi with Chosŏn appears in the extant pre-Qin documents. This invites the question of whether the association between the historical figure and the state might not have been assumed or created many centuries after Jizi made his decision to go into exile.37 The tradition of Jizi’s Chosŏn state was very influential in later centuries, and it figured prominently in Korean historiographical theory and in establishing Korea’s position vis-à-vis China, fluctuating between ortho33. In his study on the cached bronzes found in the Daling River region, Hirokawa Mamoru (1997) suggests that the inscribed bronzes were imported to the region from various locations in the Central Plains including the site of the Yan capital at Liulihe, though he does not speculate on how they got there. 34. The first mention of Chosŏn occurs in Guanzi 23:10B (78, Kuidu), and the second in Guanzi 23:27A (80, Qingzhong jia). Rickett dates these chapters to the late second century bce and to the late second or early first century bce respectively. See Rickett 1998, 430, 446 for the dating, and 438, 464 for these translated passages. 35. Zhanguoce 29:1039 (Yan 1, Su Qin Goes North to Speak with the Yan Marquis Wen 蘇秦將爲從北 說燕文侯): 燕東有朝鮮遼東. 36. The single mention of Jizi being enfeoffed with Chosŏn appears in Shiji 38:1620 (Hereditary House of Weizi of Song). 37. For a survey of views on Kija and an argument that Kija’s association with Chosŏn was created only during the Han period, see Shim 2002.

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doxy and extreme unpopularity depending on the period. For the purposes of this study I will treat with great caution the notion that there might have existed a Chosŏn state that was in its organization and character similar to the contemporary Chinese polities. Archaeological research in the regions between western Liaoning and Pyongyang has thus far revealed no strong evidence for the existence of a tightly organized complex polity before the third century bce. The resolution of the matter must await further archaeological data. Certainly, the nature of such a hypothetical early state is of vital importance to our understanding of state formation in Korea and Manchuria. In this study I assume the presence of a state (or perhaps a less complex society) called Chosŏn from the fourth century bce at the latest (justification for the dating will follow below). No direct relationship with Jizi will be assumed, however, since this would imply the existence of a Zhou feudatory in the Liaoxi-Liaodong-Korea region centuries earlier than the archaeological records suggest. The historical figure Jizi may well have established himself in some location north of Yan. But if his connection with Chosŏn is a later invention, then he and his hypothetical citystate evidently disappeared or ceased to be a significant factor in the political scene of the northeast soon after the rise of the Western Zhou state.

Territorial Consolidation of Early Yan The establishment of the state of Yan resulted in the creation of a multiethnic community on the fringe of what Zhou would have viewed as the civilized world. Throughout the Western Zhou and most of the Eastern Zhou periods Yan was a relatively small state bordered on the north by non-Zhou groups that posed a potential threat to Yan’s precarious position. Nevertheless, Yan expanded its sphere of authority from its center south of Beijing until, by the fifth century bce, it seems to have consolidated its territorial holdings and achieved a kind of power equilibrium vis-à-vis its neighbors. The territorial extent of Yan is reflected in the distribution of Yan burials, which concentrate in four zones in the Beijing-Tianjin-Tangshan region.38 This territorial extent was circumscribed by the sea on the east, other Zhou states on the south, the various Di 狄 groups on the west, and the non-Zhou groups, as well as the natural barrier formed by the Yanshan range on the north.39 It is likely that by no later than the late fourth century bce Yan had also come to occupy the narrow coastal stretch between Shanhaiguan and Jinzhou 錦州, which I refer to here as the “Liaoxi corridor” due to its historical and geographical function as a conduit linking the Central Plains and Manchuria (fig. 2.6).40 38. These four zones are the Central Region (including Beijing and Yixian 易县), the Northern Region (Zhangjiakou 张家口), the Southern Region (Tianjin 天津), and the Eastern Region (Chengde 承德 and Tangshan 唐山). For this organization of Yan burials proposed by archaeologist Zheng Junlei, see Zhang Boquan and Wei Cuncheng, eds. 1998, 306. 39. The Di had pressed southward against the Rong from the first half of the seventh century bce, and they eventually established long-term strongholds to the west of Yan. For descriptions of the Di and their southward movement, see Prušek 1971, 136–49, and Di Cosmo 1999, 919–24, 947–51. 40. This assumption is based on the location of the walled site of Tuhe and on historical references to the Yan border with Chosŏn described elsewhere in this study. According to Guo Dashun (personal

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Fig. 2.6. The Yan state and the peoples to its north. The hatched area represents the extent of Yan territorial control.

Yan would remain confined to this circumscribed region until the first part of the third century bce, when political forces and a series of events made possible a bold military expansion to the northeast as far as the Korean peninsula. From this time the peoples in Korea and Manchuria who had till then remained insulated from the direct influence of Zhou culture and political authority found themselves confronted with the superior military might of a Chinese colonial force just on the horizon. It is to this period of Yan’s full flourish that we now turn.

Yan’s Expansion into Manchuria and the Korean Peninsula By the fourth century bce the Di had ceased to menace the northern Zhou states, and in their place appeared a new group then known as the Hu 胡 and later referred to in Chinese histories as the Xiongnu 匈奴. Yan’s northern territories appear to have included regions adjacent to lands occupied by an eastern neighbor of the Hu, called the Donghu 東胡.41 It is likely that by the middle of the fourth century bce Yan had come to control territories at least as far north as Shanhaiguan on the coast and probably had occupied communication, April 20, 2001) Yan remains that predate its third-century bce expansion have been found in the Liaoxi corridor but remain to be documented. See also Byington 2003, 52–53. 41. The earliest extant textual reference to the Donghu appears to be that in the “Wanghui” chapter of the Yi Zhoushu. See Lin Gan 2007, 3.

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the Liaoxi corridor as well. Its inland northern perimeter would have roughly approximated the path of the Great Wall of Ming times. The Donghu would presumably have occupied the lands north of this line, including portions of northern Hebei, western Liaoning, and the adjacent parts of Inner Mongolia. By the last quarter of the fourth century bce the Donghu and Yan both shared borders with the state of Zhao 趙, which had risen from the breakup of Jin 晉 in 453 bce.42 To the east of Yan’s northernmost extremes lay Chosŏn, though its precise location and the nature of its organization remain unclear. Certain references to Chosŏn in this context appear in records dating to as early as the mid-fourth century bce. A passage in the Zhanguoce has Su Qin pointing out to the Yan Marquis Wen that to Yan’s east were Chosŏn and Liaodong.43 Chosŏn’s location is unclear in this context, but later records suggest that Chosŏn at this time (whether it was a people, a state, or a toponym) occupied part of the Liaodong peninsula and the northern part of the Korean peninsula, its zone of contact with Yan lying somewhere between Jinzhou and the mouth of the Liao River 辽河. Since Yan’s territorial holdings seem clearly to have extended to the vicinity of Chosŏn by the mid-fourth century bce, we may postulate that Yan’s northernmost extent at this time included the Jinzhou region. This then represented the locus for interaction between Yan, the Donghu, Chosŏn, and the inhabitants of Liaodong. A problematic passage in the third-century ce Weilüe 魏略 (Brief history of Wei) of Yu Huan 魚豢 describes a confrontation between the rulers of Chosŏn and Yan, suggesting that the two must have shared a border or were at least not very distant from one another: In ancient times Jizi’s descendent, the Marquis of Chosŏn, witnessed the decline of Zhou. When [the ruler of] Yan adopted the title of King [323 bce] and wanted to invade the lands to the east [Chosŏn], the Marquis of Chosŏn also took the title of King and desired to rouse his troops to attack Yan in return, intending thereby to honor the Zhou house. But his Grandmaster Ye 禮 remonstrated with him, so [this plan] was laid aside. He sent Ye westward to dissuade [the king of] Yan, who called off [his plans] and did not attack.44

This passage poses a number of questions. First, the description of the ruler of Chosŏn as a marquis enfeoffed by the Zhou house is surprising given that no such figure appears in pre-Han sources (the earliest extant references to Jizi associated with Chosŏn date to no earlier than the Western Han). Second, the authority of the passage cannot be evaluated because the Weilüe no longer exists except as fragments cited in other works, the present passage deriving from Pei Songzhi’s 裴松之 (372–451) fifth-century commentary on the Sanguozhi. Nevertheless, other records to be examined below, though not dating to pre-Han times themselves, when taken together tend to give more credibility to the 42. This is evident from the passage in the Shiji (43:1809 [Hereditary House of Zhao]) wherein King Wuling of Zhao (r. 325–299 bce) notes that to his east are the borders of Yan and Donghu: 東有燕、東 胡之境. 43. Zhanguoce 29:1039 (Yan 1, Su Qin Goes North to Speak with the Yan Marquis Wen 蘇秦將爲從北 說燕文侯): 燕東有朝鮮、遼東. 44. Sanguozhi 30:850 (Account of Han): 昔箕子之後朝鮮侯, 見周衰, 燕自尊為王, 欲東略地, 朝鮮侯 亦自稱為王, 欲興兵逆擊燕以尊周室. 其大夫禮諫之, 乃止. 使禮西說燕, 燕止之, 不攻.

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Weilüe account, at least with regard to Chosŏn’s relationship with Yan. The Hou Hanshu describes Jizi as having been enfeoffed with Chosŏn during the reign of King Wu, and it also maintains that Jizi’s fortieth-generation descendent, the Chosŏn king Chun 準 (fl. 195 bce), had forsaken his designation as a Zhou marquis in favor of self-proclaimed kingship.45 Given that at the time this account was written Han had already conquered and incorporated Chosŏn, one suspects that Han historiographers had begun to rewrite Chosŏn’s place in history in order to create the impression that it had always been a member of the Zhou system of states. In this light, the passage cited above appears to have been embellished to suggest that Chosŏn was a Zhou state and therefore communicated with Yan on equivalent terms. The basic narrative describing the enmity between Yan and Chosŏn, however, rings true when compared with other historical references to this rivalry, and may be accepted as fairly accurate. It may be provisionally assumed that the Chosŏn of the fourth century bce lay generally to the east of the present Liao River. For centuries Yan’s territorial extent had been limited to a fairly confined area centered near modern Beijing. By the late fourth century bce Yan had probably also occupied the Liaoxi corridor as far north as Jinzhou, which brought it into contact with Chosŏn and other peoples of the Liaodong region. Also by this time the more powerful Zhou states were rapidly absorbing their smaller neighbors so that only seven large states remained to contend with one another. Yan was militarily the weakest of these seven, and this weakness can be seen to have been at least partially a factor of its circumscribed territory and the associated limitations on the resources at its disposal. This was shortly to change. The Zhou court had diminished to the point where the rulers of Zhou’s constituent states one by one relinquished any façade of loyalty to the Zhou king and adopted the royal title for themselves. In Yan this occurred in 323 bce when the Duke of Yan became King Yi 易王. The Weilüe account cited above, if authentic in its basic narrative, must be describing events of this year. To the west of Yan the state of Zhao was gaining a considerable measure of control over the mounted peoples to its north, building a long wall along its northern frontier during the reign of King Wuling 武靈王 (r. 325–299 bce) and destroying the Di state of Zhongshan 中山 bordering Yan by 294 bce. Around this time, during the reign of King Zhao 昭王 (r. 312–278 bce), Yan experienced a burst of internal development and entered what is often referred to as its period of full flourish. Under King Zhao the capital at Yi 易, also called Wuyang 武陽, was reconstructed on a grand scale, its palaces and terraces assuming an aura of splendor far surpassing that of previous reigns. This construction coincided with a territorial expansion to the north and east, with Yan gaining territory at the expense of the Donghu and Chosŏn, the limits of which were demarcated by a long wall similar to the one constructed by Zhao. The Shiji describes this expansion in brief: Yan had the worthy general Qin Kai 秦開. He had been a hostage of the Hu, and the Hu greatly trusted him. He returned and attacked the Donghu, defeating them and sending them to flight. The Donghu withdrew over one thousand li. . . . Yan also constructed a long 45. Hou Hanshu 85:2817 (Account of Ye): 昔武王封箕子於朝鮮 . . . 其後四十餘世, 至朝鮮侯準, 自 稱王.

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Fig. 2.7. The territory of Yan after its expansion. The dotted line represents Yan’s territory prior to expansion; the five newly established commanderies and Chosŏn, which are labeled in gray letters, define Yan’s post-expansion territory.

wall from Zaoyang 造陽 to Xiangping 襄平, establishing the commanderies of Shanggu 上谷, Yuyang 漁陽, Youbeiping 右北平, Liaoxi 遼西, and Liaodong 遼東 to defend against the Hu.46

The wall described in this passage traced an east–west path from the vicinity of Duolun in Inner Mongolia about 250 kilometers north of Beijing, eastward passing to the north of Chifeng and Aohan, north of Fuxin, and finally to the vicinity of modern Shenyang. The center of Liaodong Commandery, the town of Xiangping, was located on the site of the present city of Liaoyang in Liaoning Province. The territories now occupied by the northern regions of the commanderies of Shanggu, Yuyang, Youbeiping, and perhaps Liaoxi would have been those lands previously home to the now-displaced Donghu.47 Other sources indicate that the territories farther east, including the Liaodong peninsula, had belonged to Chosŏn (fig. 2.7). The Weilüe passage cited above, after describing Chosŏn’s abortive attack on Yan, continues:

46. Shiji 110:2885 (Account of Xiongnu): 其後燕有賢將秦開, 為質於胡, 胡甚信之. 歸而襲破走東胡, 東胡卻千餘里. . . . 燕亦築長城, 自造陽至襄平置上谷、漁陽、右北平、遼西、遼東郡以拒胡. 47. See the next section for a more detailed discussion of these new commanderies and their locations.

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But later [Chosŏn’s] heirs became increasingly arrogant and cruel, so Yan sent the general Qin Kai to attack [Chosŏn’s] western regions, seizing over two thousand li of territory up to the Manpanhan 滿潘 , which became its border, and Chosŏn subsequently weakened.48

This passage appears to indicate that Yan’s attack on Chosŏn was conducted in concert with its repulse of the Donghu. Since the Panhan District 番 縣 of Han’s Liaodong Commandery (thought to correspond to the above-mentioned Manpanhan) bordered the commandery of Lelang 樂浪郡, which was formed in 108 bce from the conquered territories of Chosŏn, there can be little doubt that the easternmost border of Yan’s Liaodong differed only slightly from that of Han.49 This also suggests that Chosŏn had controlled substantial holdings in Liaodong (two thousand li is probably an exaggerated figure) but was forced to fall back on its eastern regions, probably centered at modern Pyongyang. A passage in the Yantielun 鹽鐵論 (Salt and iron debates) of the mid-first century bce reinforces this view of Chosŏn’s location: Yan attacked and repulsed the Donghu, opening up one thousand li of territory, [and then] crossed Liaodong and attacked Chosŏn.50

Clearly the writers of the Han period believed that the Chosŏn of roughly 300 bce lay beyond the regions to the east of the Liao River, corresponding to at least part of the later Liaodong Commandery of Yan (and Han).51 If Liaodong and Chosŏn both lay primarily to the east of the Liao River, and if all of the region of Liaodong and part of Chosŏn came to be subsumed under the territorial administration of Liaodong Commandery, the lost 48. Sanguozhi 30:850 (Account of Han): 後子孫稍驕虐, 燕乃遣將秦開攻其西方, 取地二千餘里, 至滿 潘 為界, 朝鮮遂弱. Many scholars believe that the man 滿 character in “Manpanhan” is either spurious or an anachronistic reference to Wei Man, the term meaning “Wei Man’s Panhan.” This is based on the reference to a Panhan district in Han’s Liaodong Commandery. In its present usage the name may indicate a river. 49. On the likelihood that Panhan District was located on Liaodong’s border with Chosŏn, see Sun Jinji and Wang Mianhou, eds. 1989, vol. 1, 296–97. 50. Yantielun 9:26B (Fa gong 伐功): 燕襲走東胡, 辟地千里, 度遼東而攻朝鮮. The processual reading of this passage seems important here, the emphasis being placed on the order of events. Yan first consolidated its territorial gains taken from the Donghu, after which it could finally turn its sights to Liaodong and Chosŏn. A passage in the same work indicates that at some time Chosŏn had raided Yan’s eastern territories, though it is unclear as to when this event occurred. Yantielun 8:25A (Bei Hu 备胡): “In the past the barbarians all grew strong and together plundered ferociously; Chosŏn transgressed the border and raided Yan’s eastern territories” 往者四夷俱強, 並為寇虐, 朝鮮踰徼, 劫燕之 東地. It is likely that these eastern territories were those that Yan had earlier taken from Chosŏn, though the event may have occurred before Yan’s expansion. 51. Another interesting but very problematic passage appears in the Bowu zhi 博物志 (Treatise on research into nature) (9:2B [Zashuo shang 雜說上]), a miscellany compiled by Zhang Hua 張華 (232–300) in the third century ce: “Jizi resided in Chosŏn, but later Yan attacked it, and Chosŏn fell, so [Jizi] entered the sea and became the Marshal of Xianguo” 箕子居朝鮮, 其後燕伐之, 朝鮮亡, 入海 為鮮國師.

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regions of Chosŏn must have included the Liaodong peninsula and the northwestern part of the Korean peninsula.52 In addition to Chosŏn, Yan is said to have brought into subjugation the territory of Chinbŏn 真番 (Ch. Zhenfan), which is one of the most elusive polities encountered in the early history of the Korea-Manchuria region. Sima Qian, writing as late as the early first century bce, notes in his account of Chosŏn in the Shiji that “when Yan first came into its full flourish it attacked and subjugated Chinbŏn and Chosŏn, posting officials and constructing a fortified frontier.”53 The location of Chinbŏn is very difficult to determine, and most theories place it either in the vicinity of the Hun 浑江 and Yalu rivers where Koguryŏ would later emerge (the northern theory) or in the modern Hwanghae region south of the Chosŏn capital at Pyongyang (the southern theory). Since the early third-century commentary of Ying Shao 應劭 (ca. 140–ca. 206) associates Chinbŏn with the later commandery of Xuantu 玄菟郡 near the Hun River valley, a case can be made for locating Chinbŏn in this region, which would have been just beyond Yan’s Liaodong frontier and within range of its direct influence.54 Records describing the reorganization of Han’s northeastern commanderies in 82 bce, however, suggest that Chinbŏn was instead located in the modern Hwanghae region of Korea to the south of Chabi Pass.55 I believe that the southern theory is the more likely arrangement, though it is not possible to rule out the northern theory. In this study I will treat Chinbŏn as if it had been located in the Hwanghae region, while recognizing that there is considerable evidence for the northern theory as well. For most of the third century bce Yan occupied and controlled Liaoxi and Liaodong, bordering a withdrawn Chosŏn to its southeast (and, perhaps, the people of Chinbŏn to its east). To the northeast of Liaodong Yan’s frontier would have drawn close to lands 52. The passage above and many others in making such references to Chosŏn and Liaodong beg the question of what the term “Liaodong” means prior to the establishment of the Liaodong commandery. If it is not used retrospectively in the earliest instances, the term appears to be simply a toponym dependent on its relation to the Liao River. Nowhere are we told who the inhabitants of Liaodong (north of Chosŏn) were. This is an important issue that deserves further attention, though it is beyond this study’s scope. 53. Shiji 115:2985 (Account of Chosŏn): 自始全燕時, 嘗略屬真番、朝鮮, 為置吏, 築鄣塞. 54. For Ying Shao’s commentary, see Hanshu 28b:1626 (Geography 8b): in a commentary on Xuantu, Ying Shao notes that it had been “originally the former barbarian [Hu] states of Chinbŏn and Chosŏn” 玄菟 . . . 故眞番、朝鮮胡國. Also see Shiji 115:2985 (Account of Chosŏn): after an account of Yan’s subjugation of Chinbŏn, the Suoyin commentary cites a commentary of Ying Shao, who said that “Xuantu was originally the Chinbŏn state” 玄菟本眞番國. 55. See Hou Hanshu 85:2817 (Account of Ye): 至元封三年, 滅朝鮮, 分置樂浪、臨屯、玄菟、真番四郡. 至昭帝始元五年, 罷臨屯、真番, 以并樂浪、玄菟. 玄菟復徙居句驪. 自單單大領已東, 沃沮、濊貊悉屬 樂浪. The key portion of the text states that in 82 bce, the commanderies of Lintun and Zhenfan were abolished as separate administrations and their territories attached to Lelang and Xuantu. The arrangement that makes the most sense geographically would have Lintun attached to Xuantu (both being located on the eastern peninsular coast) and Zhenfan attached to Lelang. The latter consolidation, however, is feasible only if Zhenfan were located in the Hwanghae region, which was contiguous to Lelang and separated from that commandery only by the Chabi Pass. This region then became the Southern Section 部都尉 of Lelang and, still later, Daifang Commandery. For a discussion of these administrative rearrangements, see Byington 2013.

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

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occupied by the people who would later establish the state of Puyŏ. The introduction into Liaodong of Yan’s advanced culture, especially its metallurgical techniques, would have a profound influence upon all of these neighboring peoples. The next section will show, however, that although Yan had gained political control over Liaodong, the indigenous culture was not immediately replaced with that of Yan. There was rather a gradual infiltration of elements of Yan culture into the region, which was absorbed by the indigenous populations. This had the net effect of creating another hybrid culture unique to the LiaoxiLiaodong region, and recognition of this special regional character would continue even into Han times. With the fall of the state of Zhao in 228 bce, the force of Qin’s conquest of the Zhou states had reached Yan. The Yan king Xi 喜王 (r. 255–222 bce), well aware of Qin’s designs on his state, sent the assassin Jing Ke 荊軻 to Qin in a desperate attempt to kill its ruler. The failure of the plan resulted in a Qin attack on Yan in 226 bce, during which the Qin army seized the city of Ji 薊. King Xi fled to Liaodong along with Crown Prince Dan 太 子丹, who had planned the assassination.56 With Yan’s capital region in the hands of Qin, the Yan king managed to find a safe haven in the remoteness of Liaodong for four years, after which Qin’s advance overwhelmed this last bastion of Yan defense. With the Qin occupation of Liaodong the state of Yan ceased to exist. The following year, 221 bce, Qin completed its unification of the former Zhou realm with the conquest of Qi 齊, and for the first time an empire held sway over the territories of the Zhou states. There is evidence that the extent of Qin’s territorial control over the Liaodong region was somewhat greater than that held by Yan, and it is possible that the Chosŏn state centered at Pyongyang acknowledged the suzerainty of Qin.57 The Shiji reports that when Qin destroyed Yan it brought into subjugation a region called the “Liaodong outer boundary” 外徼. Though the location of this boundary has not been determined, it is likely that the region it circumscribed consisted of territories taken from Chosŏn and possibly Chinbŏn.58 With the fall of Qin and the rise of Han, Yan was revived as a kingdom, the first king of which was Lu Wan 盧綰 (256–194 bce), a childhood friend of Liu 56. See Shiji 86:2526–38 (Accounts of Assassins). The Taizi River 太子河 that runs past the site of Xiangping near today’s Liaoyang appears to have taken its name from the tradition that the prince had held out against the Qin forces in this region. There is a ruined fortress called Taizicheng 太子城 on the Taizi River near Benxi, about one hundred kilometers east of Liaoyang. Some scholars have speculated that this is where the prince and his party secured themselves after their flight, but the fortress construction and remains found in the vicinity suggest that it was a Koguryŏ fortification. See Fushunshi Bowuguan 1992 for the archaeological report on the site. 57. Sanguozhi 30:850 (Account of Han), citing the Weilüe: 及秦并天下, 使蒙恬築長城, 到遼東. 時朝 鮮王否立, 畏秦襲之, 略服屬秦, 不肯朝會: “When Qin unified the world it had Meng Tian construct a long wall reaching to Liaodong. At that time the Chosŏn king Pu 否 had come to the throne and feared that Qin would attack him, so he surrendered and became subject to Qin, though he did not dare to attend [Qin’s] court.” 58. Shiji 115:2985 (Account of Chosŏn). The relevant text can be interpreted to indicate that the area within this outer boundary included both Chosŏn and Chinbŏn (自始全燕時, 嘗略屬真番、朝鮮, 為 置吏, 築鄣塞. 秦滅燕, 屬遼東外徼: “From the time Yan first came into flourish, it attacked and subordinated Chinbŏn and Chosŏn, established administrative officials, and constructed frontier fortifications. When Qin destroyed Yan, [this region] fell within the outer frontier of Liaodong.”).

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Bang 劉邦 (247–195 bce), the founder of the Han dynasty. The Yan kingdom did not enjoy the same authority in Liaodong as had Qin, so the “outer boundary” established by Qin was abandoned, and the old border at the Pei (K. P’ae) River 浿水 was restored.59 A few years before Han emerged from the ruins of Qin, the Xiongnu groups north of Qin unified under their leader Modun 冒頓 and rose to become a long-term threat to Han security. Therefore, when the king of Yan, Lu Wan, fell out with Liu Bang in 195 bce, to avoid the emperor’s wrath (or that of his empress) his only recourse was to flee northward with several thousand troops and join the Xiongnu. At this time a number of disaffected Yan officials fled beyond the eastern frontier of Liaodong to Chosŏn. Among these refugees was one Wei Man 衛滿 (K. Wi Man, or Wiman), who managed to assemble a following of refugees and Chosŏn populations and secured a grant of territory from the king of Chosŏn. This territory seems to have been that region delimited by the nowabandoned “outer boundary” established by Qin. Eventually Wei Man deceived the Chosŏn king and wrested from him his kingdom, making himself king of Chosŏn.60 Wei Man and his descendents continued to rule Chosŏn independently of direct Han control until 109 bce, when Han sent two armies against Chosŏn to prevent it from blocking the passage of other groups (such as Chinbŏn) who sought relations with Han, or perhaps to eliminate the possibility of Chosŏn forming an alliance with the Xiongnu 59. Shiji 115:2985 (Account of Chosŏn): 漢興, 為其遠難守, 復修遼東故塞, 至浿水為界, 屬燕: “When Han rose, it considered the region to be too distant and difficult to defend, so it reconstructed the former frontier [故塞] of Liaodong, reaching to the Pei River 浿水, which became the border, and making [the region] subordinate to Yan.” The identity of the Pei River is a much debated issue, and many problems concerning early Korean history hinge on which river is intended. For the time period in question, in my view, the Pei seems likely to have been either the Taeryŏng or Ch’ŏngch’ŏn River, since both enter the Yellow Sea at the same location just south of Pakch’ŏn in North Korea. For my argument on the location of the Pei River, see Byington 2014. 60. Sanguozhi 30:850 (Account of Han), citing the Weilüe: “When Pu died his son Chun 準 came to the throne. After more than twenty years Chen She 陳涉 and Xiang Yu 項羽 rose, and the world was in turmoil. The people of Yan, Qi, and Zhao suffered hardships and gradually fled to Chun, who set them up in his western regions. When Han made Lu Wan the king of Yan, the Pei River 浿水 became the border between Chosŏn and Yan. When Wan rebelled and went over to the Xiongnu [195 bce], the Yan man Wei Man 衛滿 took to flight, dressing in Hu style and crossing the Pei River, and went to Chun and submitted to him. He told Chun he sought to reside on his western border, so he took in refugees from the Middle Kingdom and became Chosŏn’s border guard. Chun trusted and favored him, granting him the title of Erudite 博士, presenting him with a staff, enfeoffing him with one hundred li of land, and commanding him to guard the western border. Man attracted the refugee masses, and their numbers gradually increased. As a deception he sent a man to tell Chun that Han troops had arrived on various routes and begged leave to enter the court as a guard, whereupon he presently returned and attacked Chun. Chun fought with Man but was unsuccessful.” Shiji 115:2985 (Account of Chosŏn): “The Chosŏn king Man 滿 was formerly a man of Yan. . . . When the Yan king Lu Wan rebelled and went over to the Xiongnu [195 bce], Man fled with masses of over a thousand people, tied his hair in a mallet-shaped knot and dressed in barbarian clothing, and fled east beyond the frontier. He crossed the Pei River and took up residence in the upper and lower fortifications of the old vacated region of Qin [居秦故空地上下鄣]. He gradually subjugated the barbarians of Chinbŏn and Chosŏn and the refugees from Yan and Qi, making himself their king and making his capital at Wanghŏm 王險 [Pyongyang].”

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against Han. In 108 bce the Chosŏn capital at Pyongyang fell, and Han occupied Chosŏn’s territories, incorporating them into a Han-style administrative arrangement divided into four commanderies: Lelang (centered at Pyongyang), Xuantu (on the northeastern littoral of Korea, centered at Okchŏ 沃沮 in the vicinity of Hamhŭng or Kyŏngsŏng), Lintun 臨屯郡 (on the Korean east coast near Wŏnsan Bay, south of Xuantu and east of Lelang), and Zhenfan 真番郡 (either in the Hun-Yalu valleys or in the modern Hwanghae region south of Lelang). Although the Lelang commandery at Pyongyang would outlast Han itself, the other three commanderies underwent drastic change soon after their establishment. In 82 bce Lintun and Zhenfan were abolished and their territories transferred to Xuantu and Lelang respectively. Xuantu appears to have encountered serious difficulties in maintaining control of the indigenous populations, and by 75 bce the commandery was forced to withdraw far to the northwest in the vicinity of today’s Yongling in Liaoning Province.61 About the time Xuantu had withdrawn to the Yongling region the Yan kingdom had been dissolved and most of its territories came to be directly administered by the Han commandery system (fig. 2.8). Before this had occurred, however, the array of peoples surrounding Yan’s Liaoxi and Liaodong territories had changed somewhat, at least with regard to their names. A description of the Yan kingdom of Han reveals something of this new arrangement: Yan is [ca. 110 bce] a metropolis between Bohai 勃海 and Jieshi 碣石. To the south it communicates with Qi and Zhao, and borders on the Hu to the northeast. From Shanggu to Liaodong the land is far and remote, the people are few and are frequently raided. Their customs are generally of a kind with those of Zhao and Dai 代, but their people are hawklike and fierce, and they tend to lack foresight. They have an abundance of fish, salt, jujubes, and chestnuts. On the north they overlook Wuhuan 烏桓 and Puyŏ, and on the east they control the profits of Yemaek 穢貉, Chosŏn, and Chinbŏn.62

This passage draws a contrast between the two regions of Yan; the metropolitan region around Beijing was heavily populated and closely tied to the central Han network, whereas the northeastern extension of Yan (the five commanderies) was sparsely populated, open to attack from the north, and possessed a distinct regional character. During the Han period this regional singularity extended even to language, as indicated by passages in the Fangyan 方言 (Dialects) of Yang Xiong 揚雄 (53 bce–18 ce), which lists a number of terms that were peculiar to the regional stretch between Yan’s northern commanderies and Chosŏn.63 This may be indicative of a persistence in this region of an 61. For a discussion on the organization and locations of these commanderies, see Byington 2013. 62. Shiji 129:3265 (Accounts of the Wealthy): 夫燕亦勃, 碣之閒一都會也. 通齊趙, 東北邊胡. 上谷至 遼東, 地踔遠, 人民希, 數被寇, 大與趙代俗相類, 而民雕捍少慮, 有魚鹽棗栗之饒. 北鄰烏桓、夫餘, 東綰穢貉、朝鮮、真番之利. I have assumed that the description here applies to the time immediately preceding the Han conquest of Chosŏn, a justification of which assumption will follow in chapter 5. 63. Although Serruys (1959, 99–100; 167; 303, n. 24) interprets the terms specific to the Northern Yan / Chosŏn region to be Chinese rather than non-Chinese words, this still indicates a peculiarity

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Fig. 2.8. Liaodong and the surrounding regions, ca. 75 bce.

indigenous element present before Yan’s expansion, and there is evidence that there was some cultural commonality shared between this element and Chosŏn. Of the five groups bordering Yan in the passage above, we have encountered Yemaek, Chosŏn, and Chinbŏn already. In this instance the term “Yemaek” would appear to indicate the groups in the Hun and Yalu valleys who later formed the primary population of Koguryŏ.64 To the northeast of Liaodong lay Puyŏ, and the passage above marks the earliest known instance of this name in extant written records. We will see in the chapters below that the zone of contact between Yan and Puyŏ was most likely in the region between Kaiyuan and Siping. Farther to the west were the Wuhuan (written 烏桓 or 烏丸), who along with the Xianbei are said to have emerged from the earlier Donghu, though the reliability of this claim is questionable. The Wuhuan had been subject to the that separates the region from other parts of China and suggests some commonality within that region. 64. If we accept the northern theory for the location of Chinbŏn, which places that polity also in the Hun-Yalu region, there is a problem in distinguishing Chinbŏn from Yemaek, as they would appear to have been located in the same place.

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Xiongnu since the time of Modun, but when Han defeated the Xiongnu in 119 bce, some of the Wuhuan groups were resettled along the frontier north of the five Yan commanderies, providing Han with a kind of protective buffer against the Xiongnu and Xianbei peoples to the north.65 Although the historical record of the development of the Liaodong frontier of Yan, Qin, and Han is poorly represented, the essential data concerning Liaodong’s territorial extent and the identity of its neighbors are sufficient for a preliminary study on how the presence of the commandery might have influenced the development of the surrounding groups. Such a study is essential in understanding the origins of the earliest states in Korea and Manchuria, and the following chapters will illustrate this with a study of the origins of the Puyŏ state. Before turning our attention to the peoples of central Manchuria, let us look once again at the archaeological record of Yan’s northeast to determine where the frontier lay. This study will focus on the frontier walls constructed by Yan, Qin, and Han.

The Archaeology of Greater Yan In estimating the territorial extent of Yan’s northern commanderies, one may take advantage of archaeological data associated with the long walls built to demarcate those political boundaries and with the distribution of sites within and sometimes beyond the walls. Acknowledging that these boundaries were not static or even well defined, it is possible to draw an estimation of the extent of Yan control at its peak based on these data. The present study will be concerned primarily with the easternmost commanderies, Youbeiping, Liaoxi, and especially Liaodong. Such a study will be useful later for fixing Puyŏ’s geographical position and for estimating the degree to which the Yan presence in Liaodong may have affected Puyŏ’s pre-state society. Although the primary interest in this study is in the Puyŏ state, a similar method can be applied to the Koguryŏ state to the east of Liaodong. The Yan presence in Youbeiping and Liaoxi is relatively easy to discern and delineate. The long wall constructed in the wake of Qin Kai’s conquest of the Donghu is fairly well studied for this region, though the presence of multiple nearly parallel walls has been the source of some debate among Chinese scholars. Two walls run near the city of Chifeng, one north of the city and one to its south, the distance between the walls being forty to fifty kilometers. Some scholars maintain that the southern wall was built by Yan, whereas the northern one was that wall built by Meng Tian 蒙恬 of Qin.66 Others believe that both were built by Yan, though studies based on archaeological remains strongly support the former view.67 Lining both walls on their southern sides is an array of walled town sites, watch towers, and military camps, indicating the actively defensive nature of 65. For studies on the Wuhuan in the Western Han period, see Yu Ying-shih 1986, 436–42; de Crespigny 1984, 355–416. 66. Zhang Boquan and Wei Cuncheng, eds. 1998, 297. 67. Yan Zhong 1995; Li Qingfa and Zhang Keju 1991.

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the walls in this region. South of these walls and running roughly parallel to them is a third “wall” that is actually formed of a series of earthen towers placed at intervals. These are believed to be the remains of a defense line built during the Han period. These walls were constructed of rammed earth or of stone depending on the material locally available. They usually run along the crests of hills or along riverbanks, and they do not appear where the terrain provides a natural defense precluding the need for an artificial barricade. Such walls are, therefore, not continuous lines winding through the frontier, but are rather wall segments constructed to defend open areas prone to invasion from the north. The Yan wall running along the northern frontier of Youbeiping and Liaoxi can be traced as far east as the Yiwulu Mountains 醫巫閭山, after which its traces have not yet been well documented. The Yiwulu range formed a natural boundary between the Liaoxi and Liaodong commanderies (the boundary was not, as is sometimes assumed, the Liao River). There are a number of walled urban sites south of the Yan wall, many of which have produced identifiable Yan remains. Many of these sites show continued occupation through the Qin, Han, and later periods. A good example of this is the Heicheng 黑城 site near Ningcheng in Inner Mongolia. This site is believed to have been that of Pinggang 平剛, the capital of the Youbeiping commandery during the Yan period. Adjoining the Yan walled site is a much larger walled town built during the Han period, within which is a smaller Liao-period walled site.68 The Yan site, called Huacheng 花城, consists of a rammed-earth wall that would have been about one thousand meters in circumference, within which were found identifiable Yan remains. A well-studied example of a walled site in Liaoxi is the Xiaohuangdi 小荒地 site at Taijitun 台集屯 near Huludao (formerly named Jinxi) on Liaodong Bay (fig. 2.9). This site consists of a rammed-earth walled compound in rectangular aspect, about nine hundred meters in circumference. To the north and adjoining the northern wall of the site is another wall forming a semicircle along the hillside, and to the south on the Nüer River 女兒河 are the badly disturbed remains of a third walled town, called the Taijitun site. Portions of the Xiaohuangdi site were excavated from 1993 to 1994, and based on the findings the site was determined to have been constructed in the Zhou period when the region was under the control of Yan, though it was occupied continuously through the Qin and Western Han periods.69 The site was abandoned no later than the middle Eastern Han, but there are indications that it was reconstructed in the Liao period.70 Yan 68. According to the archaeological site report provided in Feng and Jiang 1982, the Han site (called Wailuocheng 外羅城) appears to have been the Pinggang administrative headquarters for Western Han’s Youbeiping Commandery, whereas the Liao site (called Heicheng 黑城) is believed to represent the remains of Quannong District 勸農縣. The authors believe the site later served as Fuyu-yi 富峪驛 under the Yuan and as Fuyu-wei 富峪韋 under Ming. See also Li Wenxin 1983, and Zhaowudameng Wenwu Gongzuozhan and Ningchengxian Wenwuguan 1977. 69. Jilin Daxue Kaoguxuexi and Liaoningsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1997. 70. It is known, for example, that the site was occupied in the mid-Western Han period. One of the most interesting finds produced by the excavation was a clay seal bearing the imprint of the Governor of Lintun Commandery 臨屯太守章. It will be recalled that Lintun was active from 108 to 82 bce, so this seal should have been deposited at the site during that period. This find is significant also in that

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Fig. 2.9. Layout of the Taijitun site. After Zhu Yonggang and Wang Lixin 1997.

ceramic remains were found in abundance within the walled site, many of which have been compared to similar finds at Yan’s Lower Capital (Xiadu 下都) at Yixian. In 1976 a cache of Yan knife coins was also discovered in the vicinity.71 Based on its dating and position, some scholars believe this site to be the remains of the Yan and Han district of Tuhe 徒河縣.72 Others believe that the site is not that of Tuhe but is rather that of Qielu District 且慮縣, thought to have been the capital of Liaoxi Commandery under Yan and it is the only known material evidence for the existence of Lintun Commandery, which operated for twenty-five years on the east coast of the Korean peninsula. That the site was abandoned in the early Eastern Han period is no surprise. Much of the northern region of the five commanderies was lost to the Xianbei at this time, and even many of the Han cities still within Han jurisdiction were depopulated as a result of the unrest the entire region suffered during these years. 71. Jinzhoushi Wenwu Guanli Weiyuanhui 1982. Yan knife coins are thought to have been minted from about the third or fourth centuries bce. 72. See Wang Mianhou 1990b. The identification of this site as that of Tuhe District is based on geographical data preserved in the Shuijingzhu. The knowledge that the site was walled during the Yan period provides evidence for the theory that the site was named after the Tuhe people of Yan times and was perhaps settled by Tuhe populations that had surrendered to Yan. Wang Mianhou erroneously assigns this site to a later period based on the intrusion of its walls upon the mountain fortress to its north. Having based his analysis on a surface survey, Wang was not aware that the former wall had been reconstructed, a fact not revealed until the 1993–94 excavations. In his article Wang assumes that the mountain fortress was the original home of the historical Tuhe people, but as we have seen above, it is more likely that the Tuhe populations were not native to this region but were resettled here under Yan’s administration.

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Western Han.73 In its construction, size, and material content, this site is quite similar to the Huacheng site described above. The excavation revealed, beneath the Yan cultural level, material remains corresponding chronologically with the Upper Xiajiadian culture, though there were enough distinguishing features to cause the reporting archaeologists to question their identity with that culture. One analysis has suggested that this pre-Yan culture bears closer resemblance to the so-called “curved-dagger bronze culture” 曲刃青铜短剑文化 of western Liaoning, and the reported finds of such bronze daggers a kilometer north of the site tend to support this hypothesis.74 Since the semicircular wall adjacent to the Yan site appears both to predate the latter site and to be unrelated to Yan or later occupation, the analysis proposed that it may have been built by the people of this “curved-dagger” culture, who were later subjugated by Yan. The “curved-dagger” culture is poorly defined, and there are disagreements as to how to classify it. Whereas some associate it with the Upper Xiajiadian culture, others believe it to be sufficiently distinct from that culture to warrant a different label, though the designation “curved-dagger culture” seems rather provisional.75 There have been various attempts to associate it with either Chosŏn or Shanrong peoples, but convincing evidence for either assignment is still lacking. This “culture” will be treated in more detail in the next chapter. East of the Yiwulu Mountains, in the territory of Liaodong Commandery, the remains of the Yan long wall are not well documented. Nevertheless, it has long been taken for granted that a wall bounding Liaodong did exist, and some scholars have recently proposed that a series of rammed-earth towers running eastward from the vicinity of Zhangwu and passing to the east of Shenyang represents the northern border of Yan’s Liaodong (fig. 2.10).76 There have also been attempts to estimate the geographical extent of the commandery by plotting a distribution of Yan remains based on (often random) archaeological finds. Thus, an estimation of Liaodong’s extent based on defensive remains and site distribution is quite practicable, and published works have addressed this problem by utilizing available archaeological data.77 This method yields results that indicate that Yan’s administrative control extended northward to the line of towers stretching from Zhangwu and running to the north of Xinmin and to the south 73. Wang Chengsheng 1997. Wang’s identification of the Xiaohuangdi site with Qielu is based on the discovery at the site of a ceramic vessel with an inscription mentioning Qielu. This is a poor case for making an identification of the city itself (consider the discovery of the Lintun seal at the same site). Sun Jinji and Wang Mianhou (1989, vol. 1, 300–301) place Qielu just northwest of today’s Chaoyang. 74. Zhu Yonggang and Wang Lixin 1997. Many scholars, however, classify this bronze-dagger culture as part of the Upper Xiajiadian culture. The artifact is also referred to as “the Liaoning dagger” 遼寧 式銅劍. In Korea it is often called the “mandolin-shaped dagger” (pip’ahyŏng tonggŏm 琵琶形銅劍). 75. As the distribution of this bronze dagger ranges from northern Hebei to the northwestern parts of the Korean peninsula and northward into central Manchuria, it is unrealistic to see it as representative of a single archaeological culture. It is more likely to be a style shared by a number of groups, who may or may not have been related. In this it may be likened to a shared assemblage somewhat like the Northern Complex of bronze styles described earlier. 76. It might be argued that the construction of beacon towers as a defensive border is more characteristic of the Han period, though archaeological analysis should eventually be able to clarify this point. 77. Xiao Jingquan 2000a.

Fig. 2.10. The Liaodong region and archaeological sites.

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of Tieling, after which their direction of propagation curves to the south and passes between Shenyang and Fushun. Though additional towers of this period have not been reported farther to the south, a study of the distribution of Yan remains suggests that the frontier of Liaodong continued on a southeasterly course, passing to the west of Huanren. It then ran southward again past Kuandian, where it passed the Yalu River and followed the curve of the Taeryŏng River 大寧江, terminating at its mouth. Although no extant walls or towers are known to exist for most of the frontier south of Shenyang, there is a discontinuous wall constructed of mixed stone and earth in the stretch between Kuandian and the mouth of the Taeryŏng River. The five wall segments north of the Yalu run in a northwest to southeast direction east of the city of Kuandian and terminate just before reaching the river.78 South of the Yalu the wall follows the eastern bank of the Taeryŏng River as it curves to the south and terminates at the city of Pakch’ŏn. Chinese scholars believe this to be the eastern terminus of Yan’s long wall based on finds of Yan-style roof tiles at a site called Tansan-ni 壇山里 near Pakch’ŏn, which site represents the southern terminus of the long wall.79 North Korean scholars, however, maintained at first that the wall was built in the tenth century during the Koryŏ period, though such a position is difficult to defend in light of the existence of portions of the wall north of the Yalu, which would have been beyond Koryŏ’s territorial reach.80 More recent North Korean scholarship, based on extensive surveys of the entire length of the wall, points to construction by Koguryŏ during the sixth to seventh centuries.81 The Tansan-ni site produced at least one semilunar tile end and some curved roof tiles that bear a close resemblance to examples found at Yan sites such as Xiadu.82 Because of this, most Chinese and many South Korean scholars believe this to be the site of the Panhan district, which lay on Liaodong’s border with the state of Chosŏn (and later with 78. Zhang Boquan and Wei Cuncheng, eds. 1998, 300. Note, however, that a more recent gazetteer for Kuandian County suggests that this wall was constructed during the Ming period. This wall runs from Dabiangou 大边沟 in the northwesternmost part of Kuandian County and terminates at the Yalu River as it passes through Hongshilazi 红石砬子 in south central Kuandian. See Kuandian Manzu Zizhixian Gaikuang Bianxiezu 2009, 24–25. 79. Yan Zhong 1995, 183–84. Yan here criticizes North Korean scholarship for denying the possibility that the wall had existed before the tenth century. The site occupies a narrow spit of land wedged between the Taeryŏng and Ch’ŏngch’ŏn rivers at the southern end of the long wall. 80. Son 1987. This report describes the wall in detail, but it makes reference neither to the Tansan-ni site nor to the trans-Yalu wall. The author insists that it must have been part of the Koryŏ long wall built in the tenth century. The existence of the wall segment in Kuandian makes this unlikely since Koryŏ’s territorial holdings at the time would not have extended as far north as Kuandian. 81. Ch’oe Sŭng-t’aek and Mun Hyŏk 2003. Note however that the identification of the long wall as a Koguryŏ construct is based on finds of Koguryŏ tile and pottery sherds, which does not preclude the possibility of an original Yan construction (though the location to the east of the Taeryŏng River makes it much more likely that the wall was built to defend against invasion from the northwest, which would again suggest a Koguryŏ origin). 82. A diagram and photographic reproduction of the tile end appear in Yi Sŭng-il et al. 1996, 83, photo 37. No details are provided on the context in which the artifacts were excavated. They are offered as examples of the architectural technology of the ancient Chosŏn state, the resemblance to Yan tiles being unaddressed.

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the Lelang commandery). If this interpretation is correct, the Taeryŏng River would then be the Manpanhan River mentioned in the Weilüe as being the far point of Qin Kai’s conquest of Chosŏn’s western territories.83 Yan remains in Liaodong are concentrated in the region around modern Liaoyang, beneath which the site of the Yan city of Xiangping is thought to lie. Archaeological evidence has provided ample support for a historical tradition that places Xiangping in what is now Liaoyang. A study of the distribution of spade-shaped coins inscribed with the name “Xiangping” 纕坪 shows that they are concentrated in the region between Liaoyang and the center of the Liaodong peninsula.84 Discoveries of early Yan remains in the oldest quarter of Liaoyang provide strong evidence for the identification of this area as the site of Xiangping, though long and continuous occupation of the site has obliterated all surface traces of the Yan city.85 In the northernmost regions of Liaodong identifiable Yan remains have been discovered in several locations. The Lianhuapu 莲花堡 site near Fushun yielded iron agricultural implements comparable to specimens unearthed at Yan’s Lower Capital along with ceramic vessels and a coin assigned to Yan and Han.86 The site appears to be that of a non-walled farming village of the Yan and Han periods, populated primarily by indigenous inhabitants. Farther north is the Qiujiatai 邱家台 site at Xintaizi 新台子 south of Tieling, which appears to have been a walled urban center (though no trace of walls has yet been found) believed to have been a district city in the northernmost part of Liaodong (see fig. 2.10).87 The site represents a major settlement, and many roof tiles, ceramic vessels, and iron and bronze implements have been unearthed. Caches of coins buried in ceramic jars have produced thousands of Yan and Han coins, of which the Yan knife and 83. Since no extant records mention the building of this wall, there remains the question of when it was built and by whom. The wall runs along the eastern bank of the river, which suggests that it was built to defend against an attack from the north, in which case we may suppose that it was built by Chosŏn rather than by Yan. 84. Wu Rongzeng 1956, 50–51. Many of the spade coins were inscribed with the names of the cities in which they were minted, the Xiangping spade being such a case. Interestingly, the inscribed coins reveal that the name Xiangping, which was written as 襄平 during the Han period, was originally written with radicals attached to both characters: 纕坪. The spade-shaped coin in fig. 2.11 is a Xiangping spade. 85. Wang Mianhou (1994, 276) provides textual and archaeological evidence for the continued existence of the city of Xiangping at modern Liaoyang. An excavation report of a Han-period settlement site in northern Liaoyang at Sandaohao appears in Dongbei Bowuguan 1957. 86. Wang Zengxin 1964. 87. Tielingshi Wenwu Guanli Bangongshi 1996, 50. The report suggests that the site is that of Wangping District 望平縣 of Han’s Liaodong Commandery, which according to the Shuijingzhu was located to the east of the Liao River where the river course shifts to the southwest. See Shuijingzhu 3:41–43 (Daliaoshui 大遼水). For a different theory regarding the Qiujiatai site, see Zhou Xiangyong 2006, which notes that although the site appears to be the remains of a large-scale settlement, no trace of walls was found. The site yielded remains suggesting that an indigenous bronze-period settlement was directly superseded by an iron-period Yan-Han settlement populated by indigenes and Yan-Han emigrants. Zhou suspects the site is not that of Wangping District, which he instead assigns tentatively to a more recently discovered walled site near Yinjiacun 尹家村 in the Xinchengzi area of Shenyang.

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the Xiangping spade constitute a large percentage of the total (fig. 2.11).88 With one important exception to be discussed below, no major Yan or Han sites are known to exist north of Xintaizi, suggesting that it lay on the frontier of Liaodong. The site also occupies a position along the most easily traversable route into central Manchuria (paralleling the northeasterly course of the Daheishan 大黑山 mountain range), now paced by the modern railroad, and can therefore be viewed as a gateway to the Manchurian frontier, beyond which lay the home of the Puyŏ people. After passing through that gateway and proceeding northward for about 160 kilometers beyond Liaodong one encounters an anomaly in the form of a Yan walled town. Although it is not unusual to find a Yan town or military camp north of its long wall, these tend to be only a few kilometers distant from the wall.89 The site in question, however, is a very long distance removed from any other known Yan settlement. Known as the Erlonghu 二龙湖 walled site, this ruin lies on the route into central Manchuria and overlooks the Dongliao River 东辽河 from a position some 30 kilometers east of the city of Siping (see fig. 2.10). An archaeological investigation of the site in 1987 resulted in a brief report that describes the layout of the walls and the types of material remains associated with them.90 An excavation of the southeastern section of the site was conducted in 2003, which revealed a dense concentration of building remains and an unusually large quantity of iron farming implements of a style typical of Yan.91 In 2009 local residents dug up some sherds in the southwestern part of the site, prompting a small-scale rescue excavation of the damaged area, which yielded a single refuse pit containing Yan pottery sherds and a piece of an iron digging tool.92 Since the full report of this excavation has not yet appeared, the descriptions that follow are based on the report of the 1987 survey and the brief reports published for the 2003 and 2009 excavations. The site consists of a rammed-earth wall in rectangular aspect with a circumference of 750 meters (fig. 2.12). It sits on a high bluff overlooking what is now the Erlonghu reservoir, formed by the damming of the Dongliao River. In its construction it is very much like examples of Yan walled towns seen in the northern commanderies. Ceramic vessels found at the site closely resemble specimens from Yan’s Lower Capital and from sites in Tangshan in the Yan core region and are considered typical Yan vessel types. Some of these vessel types were also found at the Lianhuapu site near Fushun. The iron implements found at Erlonghu are likewise comparable to Yan styles found both in the core 88. Tielingshi Bowuguan 1992. The presence of Han coins shows that the caches were not buried during the Yan period and further confirms that Yan coins were used even during the Han period. The presence of Yan coins at a site, therefore, should not be assumed to indicate deposition in the pre-Qin period. The Yan knife coin is that variety imprinted with a character that is often interpreted as ming 明 (so they are usually called Ming knife coins 明刀錢). It is more likely, however, that the inscribed character is a stylized form of the character Yan 匽, which was used for the name of the state until the character Yan 燕 was adopted (Wu Rongzeng 1956, 50). 89. See for example Shao Guotian 1989, who describes several Yan sites along the Laoha River 老哈河 east of Chifeng, all of which are north of the Yan long wall. 90. Siping Diqu Bowuguan and Jilin Daxue Lishixi Kaogu Zhuanye 1988. 91. See Wang Hongfeng 2004. 92. See Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo and Sipingshi Wenwu Guanli Weiyuanhui Bangongshi 2012.

Fig. 2.11. Examples of Yan coins (round, spade-shaped, and knife-shaped varieties). Photograph courtesy of the author.

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Fig. 2.12. Layout of the Erlonghu walled site. After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo and Sipingshi Wenwu Guanli Weiyuanhui Bangongshi 2012, 34.

region and in the commanderies. Tools recovered include iron adzes (which make up the majority), hoes, awls, knives, spades, and projectile points, all being types found in the Central Plains. Many of the iron tools appear to have been stored in caches. The site is, in effect, a typical Yan walled town far removed from the sphere of Yan administration that one would expect given the distribution pattern formed by other Yan sites. Its geographical position may offer a clue as to the function of the site, and this will be explored in more detail in chapters 4 and 6. For the present it is sufficient to note that although the artifacts found within the walls indicate an initial Yan occupancy followed by a terminal Western Han occupancy (after which the site was abandoned), the matrix of material culture found outside of the walls provides a stark contrast. The archaeological culture of the surrounding region, both preceding and contemporary with the

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walled site’s tenure of activity, is recognized as being closely related to the Xituanshan 西团山 bronze culture of central Jilin. The Xituanshan culture is the subject of the next chapter, as its populations are believed to have been the forebears of the Puyŏ people.

Summary The earliest extant historical records concerning the regions to the northeast of the Central Plains of China describe the establishment and expansion of the state of Yan. From its earliest base in the Beijing vicinity, Yan expanded to the north and east, most probably by taking in conquered peoples and resettling them along the advancing frontier to the northeast. By the end of the fourth century bce, Yan control had extended northward along the Liaoxi corridor as far as the Jinzhou region, which brought Yan into contact with the people or polity known as Chosŏn. Around 282 bce Yan dramatically increased its territorial holdings through military expansion into what are now northern Hebei and Liaoning. Many of the Donghu and Chosŏn peoples who had lived in this area were forced to withdraw, though others appear to have coexisted with the new Yan authority in the region. Yan established five new commanderies and built a series of defensive structures and walls along its new northern frontier. The territories to the east of the Yiwulu Mountains were administered as Liaodong Commandery. Yan’s intrusion into Liaodong disrupted the social organization of the local populations. The introduction of Yan iron technologies is evident in the archaeological record of the Liaodong region, and archaeological finds beyond the Yan walls confirm that this new technology was shared with the peoples surrounding Liaodong. As Yan authority in Liaodong was succeeded in turn by the empires of Qin and Han, contacts with surrounding populations, either by trade or conquest, continued to facilitate the introduction of elements of Sinitic culture into those areas. Exchange with the societies to the northeast of Liaodong appears to have been conducted through a Yan walled town at Erlonghu, far to the north of the Yan frontier. By the end of the second century bce, the outpost at Erlonghu had been abandoned, and relations with the peoples to the northeast of Liaodong were managed first through the commandery seat at modern Liaoyang and later through the agency of the Xuantu commandery to the northeast of Liaodong. By this time those peoples to the northeast, and the polity they had formed, were known by the name of Puyŏ. The next two chapters will examine the archaeological record of the regions northeast of Liaodong and explore how the state of Puyŏ developed.

Ch a p t er T h r e e

The Archaeology of Puyŏ—Part One Bronze Age Antecedents

T

he extant written history of Puyŏ begins in the early first century bce with Chinese accounts of peoples beyond the Liaodong frontier. From such records, however, scholars cannot describe the origins of the Puyŏ people and their state as a political organization. For this they must rely on archaeology, which has, in the past two or three decades, shed much light on the question of Puyŏ’s origins. This chapter will focus on the pre-state Puyŏ society represented in part by the Xituanshan archaeological culture in central Jilin Province, setting the stage for the next chapter, which will address the state formation processes as suggested by archaeological data from the core region of the Puyŏ state. Recent scholarship has provided strong evidence that the political and cultural center of the Puyŏ state was located at a site in the Songhua River valley near the city of Jilin. The primary goal of this chapter, therefore, is an examination of the Bronze Age archaeological remains found in and around the Songhua valley. Although I will speak of these pre-Puyŏ societies in terms of archaeological cultures, which may extend over very broad and discontinuous geographical regions, I will be mostly concerned with the geographically contiguous region along the Songhua, where regular and long-term maintenance of social interaction may be assumed to have existed. This restrictive approach permits me to avoid some of the problems inherent in the use of the archaeological culture to refer to politically or socially bounded groups (these problems will be discussed in the concluding chapter). The study presented in this chapter and the next will show that the formation of the Puyŏ state was at least partly a response to significant external influence beginning around the third century bce, the agents of which include the Yan occupation of Liaodong and the later expansion of the Han and Xiongnu empires. I will suggest that external trade exerted a strong influence on the development of the societies in and around

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the Songhua valley, and that the importation of iron technologies and the horse had a particularly profound impact on the rate and course of social development in the region in which the Puyŏ state emerged. Archaeological evidence suggests that even before the Yan expansion brought Sinitic culture into regions contiguous to the pre-Puyŏ societies, the bronze cultures of Liaoxi and Liaodong exerted some influence upon Xituanshan society. I will therefore begin this chapter with a brief description of these bronze cultures before shifting focus to the peoples of central Jilin.

Bronze Cultures of Liaoning Given the current state of archaeological studies in northeast China, the bronze cultures of western Liaoning appear to display more uniformity over a broad geographical range and are much better understood than are those in eastern Liaoning. This is partly due to the fact that much less archaeological work has been done in eastern Liaoning, but there is also some evidence for a greater level of cultural consistency in the west that might account for the disparity. Such consistency may be a result of the greater influence in western Liaoning of the Northern Complex described in the previous chapter. As noted in the previous chapter, the archaeological culture referred to as the Lower Xiajiadian included regions north and south of the Yanshan range (that region to the north is called Yanbei, and that to the south Yannan). After this culture declined at the end of the second millennium bce, as the Zhangjiayuan 张家园 culture emerged in the Yannan region, the Yanbei Xiajiadian was supplanted in the Daling and Xiaoling 小凌河 river basins by a culture called Weiyingzi 魏营子 after the type site in Chaoyang, which was excavated in 1970.1 The chronology of this culture is associated with the late Shang and early Western Zhou periods of the Central Plains based on the presence of Shang and Zhou bronze vessels in burials and caches belonging to the Weiyingzi culture. This culture has its own distinct bronze tradition that is closely associated with the more general Northern Complex, though the Shang-Zhou bronzes are often found together with the Weiyingzi bronzes.2 Although some interchange between the Weiyingzi populations and those of the Central Plains is clearly indicated here, the nature of that relationship is still unclear. The caches containing Shang and Zhou bronzes do not seem to represent a Shang-Zhou presence in the western Liaoning region given the lack of other types of material culture from the Central Plains. There is some suggestion that the bronzes may have been taken during raids on Yan and subsequently deposited in western

1. An early but useful study of Weiyingzi culture appears in Guo Dashun 1987. For an English treatment see Guo Dashun 1995. 2. Some of the Shang-Zhou bronzes are inscribed, and the previously mentioned bronzes with inscriptions referring to Guzhu and Jihou are included in such finds. Although the bronzes in caches are not found with ceramic pottery that indicates an association with Weiyingzi culture, such a relationship may be assumed based on the close proximity between the caches and identifiable Weiyingzi sites and by their chronological congruity.

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Fig. 3.1. The Liaoning dagger. After Lin Yun 1997.

Liaoning.3 An analysis of pottery styles suggests that Weiyingzi culture was strongly influenced by cultural elements originating in the Ordos plateau and extending across northern China, as well as by the Gaotaishan 高台山 culture of northern Liaodong.4 Around the tenth century bce the Weiyingzi culture was succeeded by the more expansive Upper Xiajiadian culture. The Upper Xiajiadian covered a geographical scope similar to that of the Yanbei Lower Xiajiadian, but scholars disagree over the identity of the culture occupying the stretch between the Nuluerhu and Yiwulu mountains and between Shanhaiguan and the upper reaches of the Laoha River. Representative of this culture is a peculiar dagger with a willow-leaf-shaped blade and a T-shaped pommel, sometimes called a “Liaoning-style dagger” (fig. 3.1). This dagger is a regional variation of a much larger distribution of similar daggers that range from Hebei and Inner Mongolia in the west to the Korean peninsula in the east. Some scholars believe that the regional type of this dagger appearing in western Liaoning is a component of the Upper Xiajiadian culture to its west, though others believe that it is distinct from the Upper Xiajiadian and more closely related to cultures in eastern Liaoning.5 Like the Upper Xiajiadian culture, this bronze-dagger “culture” ranged chronologically from the early Western Zhou to the middle Warring States periods (or, roughly, from

3. Some of the inscribed bronzes, including some mentioning the Marquis of Yan, closely resemble vessels excavated from the cemeteries at Liulihe, suggesting that they had at some time been moved from the Yan core region to locations in western Liaoning that were then beyond Yan control. Since it is unlikely that precious bronze vessels associated with the rituals of the ruling clan of Yan would have been used as trade items, it is more likely that they were taken by plunder. 4. Zhu Yonggang 1998, 137. 5. Zhang Boquan and Wei Cuncheng 1998, 256.

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Fig. 3.2. Bronze Age sites in Liaoning.

the ninth to the fourth century bce).6 One well-documented burial associated with the culture is M1 at Shiertaiyingzi 十二台营子 on the Daling River just south of Chaoyang (fig. 3.2).7 This was the best preserved of three stone-lined pit burials found in Shiertaiyingzi in 1958. Dating to as early as the late Western Zhou period (ca. eighth to seventh century bce), this rich double burial yielded a large number of bronze implements, including two Liaoning-style daggers with hematite pommels, two mirrors, a socketed axe with a fan-shaped edge, two knives, and several other objects, some of which were decorative.8 The bronzes, many of which were probably locally cast, are of high quality 6. Although the distribution marked by this type of dagger is commonly referred to as an “archaeological culture” in both Chinese and Korean scholarship, such a usage is very problematic. A distribution of a single item is of rather limited use unless the broader context is taken into consideration. The broad geographical expanse corresponding to this distribution includes numerous other distributions of material culture that are clearly distinct, the dagger being in many cases the only element they share in common. 7. Zhu Gui 1960. 8. These disk-shaped objects are termed “mirrors” in the Chinese reports because they resemble contemporary mirrors found in the Central Plains. The objects found in Liaoning and the Korean

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and represent types commonly found within the distribution scope of the bronze-dagger culture. The knives and axe are similar to specimens found in the Upper Xiajiadian sphere farther west. In 1959 an archaeological examination was conducted on three tombs in a cemetery located at Wujintang 乌金塘 in Huludao (then called Jinxi).9 During a construction project in this region, just ten kilometers west of the Taijitun sites described in the previous chapter, a number of burials in this ancient cemetery were disturbed, and local residents collected more than eighty artifacts from the tombs. Of the three tombs examined by the archaeologists, one of them contained bronze implements, most of which had already been removed by the local residents. These included four specimens of the Liaoning-style dagger, a helmet, three axes, and various ornamental pieces. The dagger was compared to those previously found at Shiertaiyingzi. Based on ceramic remains excavated from an ash pit located to the north of the cemetery and thought to be associated with the burials, the site was tentatively dated to the Warring States period. Later analyses, however, would adjust this dating to the late Western Zhou or early Eastern Zhou periods.10 East of the Yiwulu Mountains, in the Liaobei 辽北 region, the earliest bronze culture, currently known as the Gaotaishan culture, centered on the Liu River 柳河 northwest of Shenyang in the counties of Faku and Kangping.11 It is characterized by pottery vessels featuring a raised clay band near the rim. This culture is roughly contemporary with the Lower Xiajiadian in western Liaoning and appears to terminate around the end of the second millennium bce. In its place appeared the Shunshantun 顺山屯 culture centered on Kangping County north of Shenyang and the Upper Xinle 新乐 culture in the vicinity of Shenyang and Fushun. Of these the Upper Xinle culture is better understood at present. Its characteristic features include a peculiar tripodal vessel with a narrow waist and a smaller li tripod with straight sides. The Wanghua 望花 culture of the Fushun region is a closely related contemporary of Upper Xinle, and as it also constitutes an important element in the formation of the early Puyŏ state, it will be analyzed in some detail later in this chapter. Lastly, the relatively late Liangquan 凉泉 culture succeeded the Wanghua culture. It centered on the counties of Xifeng, Kaiyuan, and Changtu, extending eastward into the adjacent regions of Jilin Province and southward to the Fushun region of Liaoning. It appeared around the middle of the first millennium bce and continued until about the first century bce. This culture is also closely related to the Puyŏ state and will be analyzed in greater depth in the next chapter. Farther to the south, in Benxi County, the Miaohoushan 庙后山 culture, more recently called the Machengzi 马城子 culture, appeared as a contemporary of Upper Xinle. peninsula, although possibly serving the same functions as their Chinese counterparts, nevertheless bear numerous qualities that distinguish them from the mirrors of the Central Plains cultures. Their function may have been merely ornamental. 9. Jinzhoushi Bowuguan 1960. 10. Lin Yun 1997. 11. The Liaobei region is defined as that area in northeastern Liaoning occupied by the present counties of Kangping, Faku, Tieling, Kaiyuan, Changtu, and Xifeng (see fig. 2.2 for the locations of these counties).

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It is distinguished from its neighbors to the northwest primarily by the preference of its people for cave dwellings and burials. Its ceramic assemblage may bear some relation to those of Upper Xinle, Shunshantun, and Wanghua, but it is notable for its lack of tripodal vessels. Bronze implements associated with these cultures appear to be limited to a small number of types, including ring-handled knives and daggers, socketed axes, and various ornamental bronzes. Some of these implements, particularly the curved knives with an animal-head motif, appear to be closely related to the Northern Complex of western Liaoning. Around the time the Upper Xiajiadian culture emerged in western Liaoning, the Upper Xinle, Shunshantun, and Miaohoushan (Machengzi) cultures of Liaodong declined and in their place appeared a phenomenon similar to that concurrent west of the Yiwulu range. The late bronze period of Liaodong is represented by a style of Liaoning dagger similar to that which characterized western Liaoning at this time, with the styles of peninsular Liaodong differing somewhat from those farther north. Representative sites include the Zhengjiawazi cemetery in Shenyang and the Erdaohezi cemetery near Liaoyang (see fig. 3.2). In 1965 fourteen tombs were excavated in the Zhengjiawazi 郑家洼子 cemetery in the southwestern suburbs of Shenyang. Although a full report of the findings has yet to appear, the published descriptions of earthen-pit burial M6512 show it to be especially rich in burial goods.12 The bronze implements included in this burial consist mostly of horse gear and weapons, including three Liaoning-style daggers and their ornate scabbards. The discovery of this tomb demonstrates the domestication of the horse for transportation and warfare and provides clear evidence for the stratification of society, with the occupant of M6512 representing the upper strata. Based on a comparative analysis of the burial goods, the site is thought to be contemporary with the Shiertaiyingzi and Wujintang sites in western Liaoning, suggesting a date of ca. seventh century bce. Two stone-cist burials were examined in 1975 at Erdaohezi 二道河子, located forty kilometers southeast of Liaoyang.13 Although neither burial was nearly as rich as the elaborate interment at Zhengjiawazi, both yielded a number of bronze items of comparable quality. These include a chisel, a socketed axe, and a Liaoning-style dagger. Another significant find was a bifacial compound mold made of a pair of stone schists for casting a bronze axe and two spear points. The dagger resembles one found at Shiertaiyingzi, both in its size and shape, though it probably dates to somewhat later than the Shiertaiyingzi and Zhengjiawazi burials. This burial demonstrates the close relationship between the bronze-dagger complexes east and west of the Yiwulu Mountains, while at the same time emphasizing that this complex encompasses numerous distinct archaeological cultures.

12. Shenyang Gugong Bowuguan and Shenyangshi Wenwu Guanli Bangongshi 1975. Part of this excavation was conducted jointly with a North Korean archaeological team, whose report appears in Cho-Chung Kongdong Kogohak Palgultae 1966, 129–40. 13. Liaoyangshi Wenwu Guanlisuo 1977. Note that the stone-cist burial is a common form of inhumation in northeastern China and the Korean peninsula, but such burials are not common in the Central Plains of China.

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Although the distribution of Liaoning-style daggers covers a wide geographical extent, this scope does not necessarily coincide with a single social or ethnic continuum. It is therefore useful to distinguish between regional variations. In Liaoning these can be generally divided by the Yiwulu Mountains into categories styled the Dalinghe and Liaodong varieties.14 A further division in the Liaodong region may be drawn between southern and northern varieties. The cultures of peninsular Liaodong will not be discussed in detail here, but it is interesting to note that those southern bronze cultures bear numerous characteristics distinguishing them from their neighbors to the north, though there are clear indications of regional interaction between north and south. This distinction continues throughout the bronze period, toward the end of which northern and southern styles of dagger can be distinguished, the latter including regions from the tip of the Liaodong peninsula to the middle reaches of the Yalu River. Though these archaeological cultures of the south appear to have had little influence on the early Puyŏ society, they are key to understanding the origins of the Koguryŏ state and people. As in western Liaoning, the bronze period of Liaodong came to an end in the early third century bce with the Yan expansion into both regions and the introduction of its iron technologies. This overview of the bronze cultures of Liaoning is far from comprehensive, but will suffice as a basis for understanding the cultural influences exerted from this region upon the societies in central Jilin. Much more work will be needed before the bronze cultures of Liaodong become well defined, though it is already clear that this was a region characterized by dramatic change and a rapidly developing civilization. It was both a receiver and a transmitter of bronze technologies, and it may be viewed as a cultural nexus serving as a zone of contact and interchange for societies in the Korean peninsula, Central Manchuria, and western Liaoning. If the Yan expansion had not interrupted the social development of this region—if it had instead reached only as far as the Yiwulu Mountains, for example—it is quite possible that a state-level society would have emerged here in due course. Instead the local social processes were preempted by the Yan conquest. The pressures introduced by this new, socially complex presence were brought to bear on other peoples just beyond the borders of Liaodong Commandery, and it was they who responded by creating a state.

14. This very general division is utilized in Zhu Yonggang 1998, 140. Another regional and stylistic variation appears in the form of the “slender dagger” (sehyŏng tonggŏm 細形銅劍) of the Korean peninsula. This slender dagger appeared in eastern Liaoning and the northern part of the Korean peninsula around the fourth century bce. After the Yan expansion introduced a new iron culture to Liaodong, the slender dagger ceased to appear in the region north of the Ch’ŏngch’ŏn River. This iron culture is referred to in North Korea (and, increasingly, in South Korea) as the Sejungni-Lianhuapu culture 細竹里-蓮花堡文化, which is poorly defined but thought to range between the Daling and Ch’ŏngch’ŏn rivers, with a dense distribution about the Liao River (the Lianhuapu site near Fushun is one of its type sites). South of the Ch’ŏngch’ŏn River the slender dagger continued to develop for a time before it too vanished. See Lee, Chung-kyu 1996. For the Sejungni-Lianhuapu culture, see Sahoe Kwahagwŏn Kogohak Yŏn’guso 1977, 139–43.

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Xituanshan Culture and Society The Xituanshan bronze culture of Jilin Province is named for the type-site first test excavated in 1948 and later excavated more extensively in 1950. By the time the excavation report was published in 1964, the mortuary remains from the Xituanshan 西团山 site in southwestern Jilin City had been recognized as representative of a distinct archaeological culture, which was thereafter referred to as Xituanshan culture 西团山文化.15 The material remains of this culture had been known to archaeologists since the 1930s and had been documented by Japanese and Chinese archaeologists, including Mikami Tsugio 三上次男 (1907–87) and Li Wenxin 李文信 (1903–82).16 Although the remains were initially thought to have represented a Neolithic culture, a series of excavations in the Jilin region from the late 1940s to the early 1960s revealed the presence of bronze tools and ornaments in Xituanshan tombs and dwelling sites. The geographical extent of the culture was determined roughly to have extended from its center at Jilin City to the counties of Yushu in the north, Jiaohe in the east, Nongan in the west, and Huadian in the south. Later finds have allowed a more accurate determination of the distribution of the culture. Dong Xuezeng compiled a list and description of over 140 sites believed to be associated with Xituanshan culture.17 Figure 3.3 shows a distribution of Dong’s sites plotted on a map of the central Jilin region. Since the 1970s archaeological studies of Xituanshan culture have focused on defining its cultural and ethnic constitution and on establishing a chronology with which to analyze the development of the society or societies represented by the Xituanshan archaeological culture. The earliest known Xituanshan remains date to about the eleventh century bce, whereas the latest date to the third or second century bce, making it a rather long-lived culture. The termination of the culture is marked by a sudden appearance of new pottery types and new forms of dwelling and burial, which appears to coincide with the introduction of iron implements. By the mid-1970s archaeologists had discovered that a cultural deposit containing Han-style pottery and Han coins directly overlay a stratum identified with the new forms of post-Xituanshan pottery. The existence of such Han remains in the Jilin vicinity had long been recognized, leading some scholars to propose that Han military expansionism had reached as far as Jilin. Later, however, scholars recognized that the Han element remained secondary in proportion to the indigenous element, suggesting that the society native to the Jilin region had gained access to Han luxury goods, perhaps by way of trade. In the 1960s some scholars had proposed that the Xituanshan remains were those of the ancient Sushen people.18 By the early 1980s, however, the new finds had brought about a reconsideration of the question of “ethnic” attribution.19 For the first time 15. Dongbei Kaogu Fajuetuan 1964. 16. Mikami Tsugio 1939; Li Wenxin 1992 [1946]. 17. Dong Xuezeng 1994. 18. Dongbei Kaogu Fajuetuan 1964, 46. 19. In Chinese scholarship today, ancient peoples described in ancient texts are typically treated as ethnic groups. Since archaeological cultures are often similarly treated, there is a tendency in Chinese scholarship to match ancient peoples with archaeological cultures. The problems associated with this practice will be treated in the concluding chapter.

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Fig. 3.3. Distribution of Xituanshan sites.

scholars proposed that the post-Xituanshan culture that included an element of Han material culture was in fact the archaeological correlate of the historical Puyŏ people.20 As additional excavation work in Jilin continued to produce evidence in support of the Puyŏ hypothesis, scholars in increasing numbers abandoned the Sushen hypothesis in favor of a view that saw the Xituanshan culture as representing the historical Hui (Ye) people, obliquely identified in historical records as the forebears of the Puyŏ people. This section will focus on the Xituanshan culture and will describe the various elements of the culture, accounting for external influence and internal development. I will summarize the reports of major excavations in the Jilin region and discuss what the findings reveal about the Xituanshan society, including their social organization, subsistence patterns, and religious practices.

Major Excavations Although several hundred archaeological sites associated with the Xituanshan culture are currently known, to date only about two dozen sites have undergone formal archaeological excavation.21 Below I will briefly describe some of the more significant excavations, 20. Li Jiancai 1982; Wu Guoxun 1983. 21. Zhang Boquan and Wei Cuncheng 1998, 272.

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first addressing those sites in what I shall refer to as “the Xituanshan core region” between the city of Jilin and Wulajie to the north. I will then very briefly address sites in the regions peripheral to the core (fig. 3.4).

Xituanshan The Xituanshan 西团山 site is located at a small but prominent mountain in the southwestern suburbs of Jilin City. A test excavation was conducted at this cemetery site in 1948, followed in 1950 with a larger-scale excavation, during the course of which a total of nineteen tombs were uncovered in two areas on the southwestern slope of the hill.22 In 1953 one tomb was excavated, and in 1956 two tombs and three pit dwellings were uncovered.23 In 1962 an ash pit was excavated.24 The tombs clustered on the southwestern slope of the mountain, to the west of which the dwelling sites occupied a more level ground. From 1948 to 1962 a total of forty-nine tombs, three dwelling pits, and one ash pit were uncovered. The tombs were stone cists created by arranging large stone slabs into walls set into a pit, the floor of which was often lined with flat stones. After interment stone slabs were placed over the opening to seal the tomb. The tombs uncovered in the 1950 excavation were roughly rectangular and less than two meters in length, except for one small square tomb thought to be an infant burial. Of the eighteen rectangular cists, six were simple single-chamber pits, and twelve others included a separate stone-lined enclosure for burial goods. The auxiliary chambers of ten of these burials were located in line with and at the foot of the primary chamber, though the chambers of two other tombs were located to the side of the main burial but also at the foot. Burials were extended and supine with the head directed toward the summit of the hill. Burial goods, found in the primary and auxiliary chambers, include stone and clay tools, pottery, and ornaments made of the teeth of wild boar. Additionally, pig mandibles were found placed on top of or near the capstones of some of the burials. All of the burials except for that of the infant contained burial goods. No bronzes were found in the Xituanshan excavations. The dwelling sites were not fully excavated, but they were obviously semi-subterranean pit dwellings, some with stone-lined hearths near the center of the floor. Saodagou The Saodagou 骚达沟 site covers a broad geographical range to the north of Saodagou village, located 10 km to the west of Jilin City and about 4 km west of the Xituanshan site (fig. 3.5). The Pingdingshan 平顶山 mountain runs to the north of the site, its easternmost reaches terminating at Xituanshan. The various areas of the Saodagou site underwent excavation five times (in 1941, 1948, 1949, 1950, and 1953) under the direction of different agencies, and during this time a total of twenty-eight tombs were uncovered. A detailed report on these important excavations was not published until 1985.25 The 22. Dongbei Kaogu Fajuetuan 1964. 23. For the 1956 excavation, see Jilin Daxue Lishixi Wenwu Chenlieshi 1960. 24. See Dong Xuezeng 1994, 1–10 for a history and summary of these excavations. 25. Duan, Li, and Xu 1985; Jilinsheng Bowuguan and Jilin Daxue Kaogu Zhuanye 1985; Pan and Han 1985.

Fig. 3.4. Archaeological sites in the Songhua valley between Jilin and Wulajie.

Fig. 3.5. The Saodagou and Xituanshan sites. Circles mark the tombs excavated in 1949; squares mark those excavated in 1953. A: Xituanshan; B: Saodagou Village; C: focus of the 1953 excavations; D: focus of the 1949 excavations; E: hilltop tomb. Based on a 1936 map engraved by the Japanese Kantō [Guandong] Army.

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tombs uncovered during these excavations were spread across a large area, with the majority located on the southern slope of the Pingdingshan mountain to the northeast of Saodagou village. There seemed to be no general pattern to the tomb orientation, though most were positioned so that the head of the corpse pointed to the top of the hill, and the tombs were all built at a slight angle to conform to the curve of the slope. Of the tombs uncovered in the 1949 and 1953 excavations, 17 were sufficiently intact to accommodate analysis. Of these tombs, 11 had auxiliary chambers for burial goods, 2 did not have them, and 4 were indeterminate. Some of the tombs were found to have been originally covered with a mound of earth, with at least one instance of a pair of tombs having been covered by a single mound. The corpses all seem to have been placed in a supine position, some with extended lower limbs and others with flexed limbs. A total of 118 items of burial goods were retrieved, of which 72 were stone tools or ornaments (including 1 jade axe), 28 were pottery, 10 were bronze tools and ornaments, and 8 were bone ornaments. Stone items were usually placed near the waist of the corpse, ceramics were placed near the feet, and ornaments near the head. In tombs with auxiliary chambers some burial goods were placed in these side chambers and others were placed in the main chamber. In terms of tomb structure and the quantity and quality of burial goods, very little variation was observed among the tombs. One exception may be seen in tomb 49M4, which contained a large number of burial goods (though not the largest number among the tombs), including nine out of ten bronze items in the total inventory (fig. 3.6). This was a tomb of a male about fifty-five years old at the time of death. His tomb contained a polished green jade axe (the only jade artifact recovered); several stone implements; two pottery vessels; nine strands of linked bronze hemispheres, which seem to have been clothing ornaments; and four teeth of a wild boar. There was also a shield-shaped plate formed from a bone (cut from a pig skull) that was placed over the pelvis and may have served as a clothing ornament or a symbol of authority. He appears to have been an elder of some degree of social status. Nevertheless, although his tomb contained more burial goods and goods of high quality, the tomb itself is of rather average construction and size, and there is no indication of a significant degree of differentiation of social status based on these remains. During the 1949 excavation an additional tomb was excavated near the top of one of the hills of Pingdingshan. Referred to as “the large tomb on the hilltop” (山顶大棺), this burial was described in a separate report in 1985 (fig. 3.7).26 The construction of the tomb was similar to that of the tombs found on the lower slopes, but it was built on a much larger scale (the tomb chamber was wider and deeper than the other Saodagou burials). It was the burial of a single individual, supine with flexed lower limbs, with the head oriented toward the top of the hill. Although skeletal material was recovered, the report does not mention the sex or age of the tomb occupant. The tomb was covered with an enormous capstone, which over time had fractured into four pieces. A total of seventyone items of burial goods were recovered, including a semilunar stone knife, a stone pestle, forty-eight stone ornaments, two clay spindle whorls, two ceramic vessels, and 26. Jilinsheng Bowuguan and Jilin Daxue Kaogu Zhuanye 1985.

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Fig. 3.6. Tomb from Saodagou (49M4). After Duan Yiping, Li Lian, and Xu Guanghui 1985.

several bronze pieces. The bronzes included a small axe, two crude knives, a whistling arrowhead, and thirteen buttons. The burial goods are in general of much higher quality than are those in the other burials, and even the stones of the chamber were handworked, whereas those of the other tombs were not. The quantity and quality of the burial goods and the predominance of ornamental items suggest that the tomb occupant was an individual of high status (fig. 3.8). The bronze buttons appear to have been clothing ornaments, and most of the forty-eight stone ornaments appear to have been personal adornments such as necklaces. Although one of the pottery vessels (a straight-neck hu pot) is similar to those found in the other Saodagou burials, the other one (a curved-neck hu pot) is quite unusual and may have been a luxury item, perhaps even manufactured outside of the Xituanshan cultural sphere. The burial goods, the large size of the tomb, and its high position overlooking the cemetery on the lower slopes indicate that the occupant enjoyed a high social status.27 27. Additionally, Wang Yazhou 王亞洲, who was one of the first archaeologists to examine the Saodagou burials in 1949, noted in his personal records that a pair of stone slabs forming a 1.76 × 1.30 m T-shape was placed 15 m to the southeast of the hilltop tomb, and a large oval boulder was placed about 50 m south of the tomb. He took these to be the remains of altar structures associated with the tomb. Since both features had vanished by the time the authors of the 1985 report had examined the site, no determination can be made on their function or their relation to the tomb. See Jilinshen Bowuguan and Jilin Daxue Kaogu Zhuanye 1985, 902.

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Fig. 3.7. The hilltop tomb of Saodagou. After Jilinsheng Bowuguan and Jilin Daxue Kaogu Zhuanye 1985.

Although some scholars took the disparity in tomb construction to mean that the hilltop tomb and those of the lower slopes of Saodagou represented different cultures, other scholars have concluded, based on a comparative analysis of the burial goods, that the hilltop tomb and the lower tombs all represent a single culture and were, moreover, roughly contemporary in their construction. The Saodagou hilltop tomb remains the largest known tomb of the Xituanshan culture. Its presence provides evidence for some level of social stratification, though the degree of differentiation appears to be rather low.

Houshishan On the east bank of the Songhua River as it curves northward around the city of Jilin are a number of sites belonging to the Xituanshan culture (see fig. 3.4). The Tuchengzi 土城子 site, excavated in 1954, yielded 32 stone-cist tombs and several ash pits and pit dwellings.28 Farther downstream is the Changsheshan 长蛇山 site, excavated in 1957 (2 tombs, 8 ash pits, 6 dwellings), 1962 (4 ash pits, 3 dwellings), 1963 (2 tombs, 5 ash pits, 6 dwellings), and 1996 (1 dwelling, 1 ash pit).29 Just to the west of Changsheshan is the Houshishan 猴石山 site, excavated in 1975 (3 tombs, 3 dwellings) and 1979 (157 tombs, 14 dwellings).30 The 1993 report on the second excavation of the Houshishan site contains a detailed analysis of the findings. The large number of tombs uncovered makes this report particularly valuable for statistical analyses of certain elements of Xituanshan culture. Additionally, because one of the ash pits was found to have intruded on one of the dwelling sites, analysts were for the first time provided with stratified deposits to be used in constructing a relative chronology of remains of Xituanshan culture. Like the Xituanshan site, Houshishan is divided into a settlement area to the west and a cemetery to the east (they are not contemporaneous), the former on slightly more 28. Kang Jiaxing 1955; Jilinsheng Bowuguan 1957. 29. Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui 1980; Tang Yin 1997. 30. Jilin Diqu Kaogu Duanxunban 1980; Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo and Jilinshi Bowuguan 1993.

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Fig. 3.8. Artifacts from the hilltop tomb of Saodagou. 1, 2: bronze buttons; 3: white tubular bead; 4: straight-necked pottery hu pot; 5: bronze axe; 6: stone ornament; 7: ceramic spindle whorl; 8: curvenecked pottery hu pot; 9: bronze arrowhead; 10, 12: bronze knives; 11: stone reaping knife (various scales). After Jilinsheng Bowuguan and Jilin Daxue Kaogu Zhuanye 1985.

level ground than the latter, though both were placed on the slope of a large hill. The dwellings were either subterranean or semi-subterranean, many without signs of entry passages or postholes. Many had a fire pit set apart from the main hearth, and some were constructed with smaller chambers to one side of the main living space. Tombs were divided into three general types, including those with and without auxiliary chambers for burial goods and those of irregular shape or construction. Five subgroups were proposed based on the presence or absence of certain features. Many tombs were found to contain the remains of a low rectangular clay frame interposed between the corpse and the stone walls of the tomb. Traces of a wood imprint on the outer sides of some of these frames indicate that wood beams or planks may originally have been placed between the

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stone walls and the clay frames. Many of the tombs had flat stone floors, though others did not. One tomb (80East M6) had a layer of clay spread throughout the bottom of the cist to form a floor. Houshishan burials contained a large number of bronze items, including knives similar to those found at the hilltop tomb at Saodagou, axes with fan-shaped edges, spear points, finial caps, and several disks with handles on one face, often described as mirrors. Pottery included an earlier black ware with fine sandy paste fired at high temperatures, and a later brown ware, coarser and fired at lower temperatures. An analysis of the three cemetery areas at Houshishan reveals that the western area contained tombs that were generally richer and more organized in placement than those in the other two areas. Although the occupants of the western area’s tombs seem in general to have been richer than those of the other areas, there is an indication of social stratification within the western group. Given the stratigraphy and several radiocarbon dates, the site was divided into three chronological periods.31 The early period corresponds to the lower stratigraphic level and seems to date to the seventh or sixth century bce, whereas the middle period corresponds to the upper level and dates from the sixth to the fourth century bce. The late period is associated with the tombs, which seem to date as late as the third century bce. The analysis of the chronology of the Houshishan site suggests an evolution of styles in many areas. Dwellings changed from subterranean pits to semi-subterranean structures, generally moving from round or oval shapes to rectangular ones. The later dwellings also incorporated a side room, possibly for storage purposes. Pottery changed from high-fired fine black ware to a low-fired coarse brown ware, with a decrease in the surface polish. Bronze items in tombs increased in number through time, though the later items tended to be small and mostly ornamental. The earlier dwellings were high on the hills, whereas the later ones were built on artificial terraces shaped on the lower slopes. The relative chronology of the three burial areas is undetermined, though there may be a hint of an increase in social differentiation visible in the western area tombs.

Xingxingshao The Xingxingshao 星星哨 cemetery sits on the shore of the reservoir of the same name in Yongji County, about 35 km west of Jilin (fig. 3.9). The reservoir was formed by the damming of the Chalu River 岔路河, which is a tributary of the northflowing Yinma River 饮马河. The construction of the reservoir exposed several tombs belonging to the Xituanshan culture, and three investigations were conducted on the site, including surveys of 51 exposed tombs in 1974 and 1976 and an excavation in 1978.32 The third excavation was conducted on a large scale, and the resulting report provides a useful analysis of the 49 tombs and 155 burial items uncovered in 1978. The cemetery was located on a low slope overlooking the river. The excavation teams divided the site into four areas (A through D) and noted some variation in tomb density 31. For the results of radiocarbon tests on nine samples from Houshishan, see Zhongguo Shehui Kexueyuan Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1991, 81–83. 32. The report for the first two excavations appears in Jilinshi Wenwu Guanli Weiyuanhui and Yongjixian Xingxingshao Shuiku Guanlichu 1978. For the report on the third excavation see Jilinshi Bowuguan and Yongjixian Wenhuaguan 1983.

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Fig. 3.9. Location of the Xingxingshao site.

and arrangement among the areas, though generally the tombs appeared to have been placed in a linear series of multiple rows. The tombs were stone-lined cists similar to those found at Xituanshan, but the Xingxingshao tombs had no floor stones since the pits were dug down to a natural granite floor. Some tombs were walled with stacked flat rocks of irregular size (Type I), though in most tombs the walls were formed out of large vertically placed stone slabs (Type II). In general tombs of the first type are richer in burial goods. The sex of the occupant was determined from skeletal material in thirty-seven of the better-preserved tombs, which permitted the identification of twenty-two males and fifteen females. The table generated from excavation data reveals that the males were usually interred with one or two stone knives or axes, which are not found in female burials, whereas stone or clay spindle whorls are found only in the tombs of females. Burial items included stone axes, adzes, and semilunar knives, ceramic vessels and spindle whorls, bronze weapons and ornaments, several items made of wood (including a comb) or bone, and a fragment of cloth (which had been placed over the face of the corpse). Many tombs included a pig skull or mandible placed in a ceramic vessel (at Xituanshan these are usually found on the capstones or outside of the tomb). The ceramic assemblage is fairly rich (eighty-three items), particularly so in the hu vessels. There were only ten bronze items recovered, the most notable among which is the Liaoning-style dagger from tomb AM19, the first of this type found in Jilin Province. Two bronze bracelets and six bronze spangles were recovered from a single tomb (DM16), and a bronze spearhead with a wavy blade recalling the shape of the Liaoning-style dagger was recovered from tomb DM13 (a similar but more elongated example of such an item was found in AM11 during the earlier excavations). The bronze spangles appear to have been clothing ornaments and have been compared to those found at Shiertaiyingzi in Liaoning. The

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bronze dagger is similar to those found at Wujintang, Shiertaiyingzi, and Erdaohezi, and based on this comparison tomb AM19 was dated in the report to a range from the ninth to the fifth century bce. Radiocarbon dating on skeletal material from tomb CM2 yielded a (calibrated) date of 3225±160 ybp (years before present), or 1400 to 1080 bce, which if accurate would make this a very early tomb for the Xituanshan culture. Nearly all of the intact burials contained some number of burial goods, though a small number yielded goods of particularly high quality or in relatively great numbers. Tomb AM19 is a very large tomb (at 2.31 m, it is the longest excavated in 1978), and although it contained only seven burial items, one of them was the bronze Liaoning-style dagger. This suggests that the male occupant had privileged access to such a luxury item, perhaps by way of trade since this dagger was probably not manufactured locally. A similar inference may be made concerning the male occupant of tomb DM13, whose tomb yielded six items, one of which was the bronze spearhead. The tomb with the largest floor area is DM16, and from it were recovered the largest number of burial items. The female occupant was interred with several ceramic vessels, stone and ceramic spindle whorls, a pair of bronze bracelets, six bronze spangles, a wooden ring, and a wooden comb with a bronze cover. The tomb occupant appears to have held some degree of social status as reflected in the size of her tomb and the quality of burial goods. Nevertheless, based on the analysis of tombs excavated at Xingxingshao, the degree of social stratification appears to have been rather low. The community evidently occupied this location for many centuries (though the associated settlement site has not yet been identified), and although there is a considerable degree of commonality with the sites closer to Jilin in terms of tomb structure and burial practice, there are minor points of divergence. Moreover, the bronze dagger hints at some interaction between the communities at Xingxingshao and those in the Liaodong region, though the nature of this relationship is still quite obscure.

In addition to these excavated sites, there are many known sites in the Jilin vicinity that have not been excavated. These are easily identified by the presence of potsherds on the ground surface. Most of these sites are found on hilltops east of the Songhua River. The Dongtuanshan 东团山 and Maoershan 帽儿山 hills and the plains between them contain an abundance of Xituanshan sherds and stone implements. The distribution of sites belonging to the Xituanshan culture is most dense in the immediate vicinity of the city of Jilin, suggesting that the region was a center of population for the bronze culture. It is also here that the center of the Puyŏ state was later located. The region contains many broad and relatively level plains formed by the flow of the Songhua River, and its many hills and mountains make it particularly defensible. The surrounding region was, and still is in places, heavily forested. All of these natural qualities make the Jilin region ideal for a settlement sustained by an economy that focused on hunting and fishing with some degree of agriculture. Closely associated with these sites in the immediate vicinity of Jilin are several sites in Wulajie 乌拉 , a small town in Yongji County overlooking the Songhua River some thirty kilometers north of Jilin (see fig. 3.4). During the Ming period it served as the capital of the Jurchen Ula kingdom, and there are many remains of the Jurchen

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occupation in its vicinity. There are also many ruins here that predate the Ming period. These include substantial remains of Xituanshan society and of the Puyŏ, Mohe, and Parhae occupations of the region. Many sites contain the stratified remains of all of these periods. Major excavated sites that revealed Xituanshan ruins include the Xuegu Dongshan 学古东山 and the Yangtun Dahaimeng 杨屯大海猛 sites. I will describe the latter site here and will introduce the former in the next chapter.

Dahaimeng The Dahaimeng site is located in a broad plain near the village of Yangtun just to the north of the town of Wulajie. It was excavated three times, in 1971, 1979, and 1980.33 The site was found to consist of three cultural layers, the lowest of which was that of the Xituanshan culture. From this level the excavations uncovered fifteen dwelling pits, four ash pits, six pit burials, and four urn burials. The dwelling pits were semisubterranean and either rectangular or irregular in plan and held traces of stone-lined hearths and postholes. From these pits stone tools and sets of ceramic vessels were found in situ. In the 1980 excavation some tombs were found to have intruded on the floors of dwellings belonging to the same culture, though the tombs must have dated to a much later time period. An urn containing the burial of a child was found beneath the floor and wall of dwelling F3, suggesting that the burial was associated with the construction of the dwelling, a practice seen elsewhere at Xituanshan sites. None of the tombs yielded burial goods. Artifacts retrieved from the dwellings and ash pits included tools of stone and bone and a number of ceramic vessels and tools. No bronze items were found. The excavations of the Dahaimeng site are significant in several respects. The Xituanshan remains at Dahaimeng represent an early settlement and a later cemetery located in a broad river plain, whereas the Xituanshan sites closer to Jilin tend to be located on higher slopes. There is, however, much commonality observed between the sites at Jilin and those at Wulajie. The Dahaimeng site was rich in stone and ceramic artifacts, and the dwellings and ash pits yielded a wide variety of ceramic types, some of which had not been found elsewhere. Remains of fish and wild and domestic animals as well as carbonized grains indicate a society subsisting on an economy that integrated hunting and fishing and some degree of agriculture and husbandry. Radiocarbon testing yielded two dates ranging from as early as the ninth century bce to as late as the second century bce, and indeed the stratification of features and the morphology of vessel types observed at the site indicate a rather long period of occupation. The site clearly represents a major settlement of the Xituanshan culture, and it is particularly important because stratigraphically it occupies a lower stratum directly overlaid by an intermediate level belonging to the post-Xituanshan (Puyŏ) culture, upon which is an upper level belonging to the Mohe culture.

The Xituanshan archaeological culture is defined by a discernable commonality in material culture throughout a spatial and temporal matrix. As an arbitrarily selected distribution of certain cultural traits, the archaeological culture is best viewed as a convention 33. The reports of these excavations appear in Liu Zhenhua 1973; Jilinshi Bowuguan 1987; Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui, Jilinshi Bowuguan, and Yongjixian Wenhuaju 1991.

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useful for analysis rather than as a rigid marker of an ethnic or political continuum (see the concluding chapter). It is not surprising that the farther one moves from the core region the more variation will be observed in the styles of ceramics, of tomb and dwelling construction, and of ritual practice. The perceived existence of a certain degree of fundamental commonality among all sites defined as belonging to the Xituanshan culture, however, suggests a proportionate degree of regional interaction that justifies the treatment of the associated communities as a cultural unit (but no associated ethnic or political boundaries should be assumed to correspond with the archaeological culture). This treatment is further justified by the recognition that the contemporary archaeological cultures of surrounding regions exhibit certain sharp and fundamental dissimilarities in material culture and ritual practice. The archaeological sites located on the periphery of the Xituanshan cultural sphere often bear clear evidence of interaction with these other cultural zones, which accounts in part for the observed regional variation.34 Major excavated sites sometimes defined as lying within the peripheral zone of the Xituanshan culture include the Huangyujuan Zhushan 黄鱼圈珠山 site in Shulan County, the Laoheshen 老河深 site in Yushu County, the Xihuangshantun 西荒山屯 site in Huadian County, and the Xiaoxishan 小西山 site in Panshi County.35 There are more excavated sites and many more known sites that remain unexcavated, but the sites named above are among the most important and widely cited examples. These sites will not be examined in detail here, but I will address the Laoheshen site in the following chapter on post-Xituanshan culture. One region peripheral (or external) to the Xituanshan cultural sphere is especially worthy of some attention in this study since the societies inhabiting it were incorporated into the later Puyŏ state. This region encompasses the southwestern parts of Jilin (including portions of the municipalities of Liaoyuan and Tonghua) and the adjacent regions in northeastern Liaoning (including the counties of Xifeng, Qingyuan, and Xinbin). The archaeological culture of this region is referred to in Liaoning as Wanghua culture.

Wanghua Culture The Bronze Age culture of the upper Dongliao and Huifa 辉发 valleys in Jilin has not been rigorously studied due to a lack of formal excavation work. Although many elements of the local culture in this region bear close similarities to Xituanshan culture, there are also important differences. Most archaeologists now regard this culture as sufficiently distinct 34. There is some disagreement with regard to whether sites in certain peripheral regions should be classified as properly belonging to Xituanshan culture. Some scholars consider sites located on the Huifa River in the counties of Panshi and Huadian and sites in the vicinity of Siping as exhibiting qualities that differentiate them from Xituanshan culture. Other scholars emphasize the many common aspects between these sites and see them as integral components of Xituanshan culture. See Dong Xuezeng 1994. 35. For Huangyujuan see Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui 1985; for Laoheshen see Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1987; for the Xihuangshantun site see Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui and Jilinshi Bowuguan 1982; and for Xiaoxishan see Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui 1984.

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Fig. 3.10. The Wanghua sphere and archaeological sites. 1: Longshoushan; 2: Yongling burials; 3: Dahuofang; 4: Baoshan; 5: Dayang; 6: Longtoushan; 7: Dajiazishan; 8: Paotaishan; 9: Shilazi; 10: Xiejiajie.

from Xituanshan culture to warrant a separate designation, though to date no collective name has been accepted. Some researchers, however, include the culture as part of the Baoshan culture centered on Dongfeng County in Jilin, though there are still different views regarding its chronology (this culture will be discussed further below and in the next chapter). In the adjacent hilly regions of northeastern Liaoning the associated remains have come to be referred to as Wanghua culture 望花文化, which is understood as being closely related to the Upper Xinle culture of the Shenyang region. Although the term may not ultimately prove suitable as a designation for the cultural remains on both sides of the Liaoning-Jilin border, it will be employed in this study as an expedient. A summary of research on this cross-border culture will be presented below, divided by region (fig. 3.10).

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In 1977 and 1979 excavations in the Wanghua section of Fushun, Liaoning Province, conducted in concert with the construction of a yard for tractor parts, uncovered a number of stone and bronze tools.36 During the early 1980s hundreds of sites with similar artifacts were found throughout northeastern Liaoning, and because they were recognized as belonging to a single cultural continuum, the culture came to be known as Wanghua culture. Its remains are distributed broadly in northeastern Liaoning, concentrated in the municipalities of Tieling and Fushun. Wanghua culture sites concentrate on the Hunhe River 浑河 basin, especially on sunny slopes of hills, in the northern half of the Fushun municipality; however, they do not appear in the southern half of the municipality on the Taizi and Fuer river basins, the contemporary culture of that region being Machengzi culture. Wanghua culture is characterized by a reddish-brown or mottled pottery made of a sandy clay, sometimes with talc or mica inclusions, fired at lower temperatures. Surface decorations are rare, only a few examples having simple designs of incised lines. Pottery types include tripodal vessels, steamers, plates, and bowls, with only a few dou pedestals (and these may appear late in the tenure of the culture). Most production tools are made of stone and tend to be those intended for a crude agricultural economy, supplemented by some fishing as indicated by finds of stone and ceramic net sinkers. Only a few bronze items have been found, mostly daggers and knives. Data from the dwelling context are quite sparse, but typical dwellings seem to have been very shallow pits. In his 2000 study of this culture, Xiao Jingquan suggests that the crude agricultural tools and shallow pit dwellings may indicate a rudimentary degree of farming technology that required populations to relocate frequently to new fields.37 The chronology of Wanghua culture is difficult to estimate; thermoluminescence dating on a sherd recovered from the Wanghua site in 1979 yielded a date of 3090±90 ybp, which would appear to be a rather early sample.38 The culture is believed to continue as late as the Warring States period, or roughly to the fifth to third centuries bce. Remains of the same culture are found in the adjacent regions of Jilin, concentrated on the Dongliao River in the Liaoyuan municipality and on the headwaters of the Huifa River basin in the northern part of the Tonghua municipality. Research on these remains is typically divided into those regions north and south of the Jilinhada range, corresponding to the Dongliao and Huifa river systems respectively. Such research is typically conducted independently of archaeological data on the Liaoning side of the border, so there is some confusion regarding the chronological and typological associations between regions. Archaeologists recognize this shortcoming and are gradually working to overcome it by engaging in analyses of data across a broader geographical scope, though to date such progress is still in its preliminary phase. Research on the bronze culture in Dongfeng County, on the northern branches of the Huifa River, began primarily in the 1980s. In 1985 a large-scale survey was carried out in southern Dongfeng, followed by an analysis that resulted in the identification of three 36. This description is based largely on Xiao Jingquan 2000b. 37. See Xiao Jingquan 2000b, 57–58. 38. See Xiao Jingquan 2000b, 58.

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distinct archaeological cultures belonging to different chronological periods.39 The first culture belonged to the Neolithic, and the third belonged to a much later period to be discussed in the next chapter. The second culture is typified by sites at Dayang 大阳, including the Baoshan 宝山, Dayang, Longtoushan 龙头山, and Dajiazishan 大架子山 sites (see fig. 3.10). These sites yielded a brownish pottery made of coarse or fine sandy paste with plain surfaces, some of which feature simple designs of impressed dots. Besides hu and guan vessel types, a kind of dou pedestal vessel was found, distinguished by its flared hollow foot. Tripodals are rarely found in these sites. Later reports would begin to refer to this culture as Baoshan culture 宝山文化 after the type sites centered on the village of Baoshan in Dayang. In 1987 another survey was conducted on stone tombs in Dongfeng, especially in the Dayang region where they are concentrated, that are believed to be contemporary with the Baoshan culture sites surveyed in 1985.40 The majority of tombs are of the capstone variety, featuring a large capstone that rises above the ground surface and that covers deep pits with walls lined by slabs or rocks (a few had no stone lining). Most tombs were multiple secondary interments with evidence of partial cremation. The tombs tend to be located in level areas near the summits of hills. Skeletal remains are often found, but few burial goods have been recovered, perhaps as a consequence of looting. Pottery sherds found in and around the burials are the same as those of the Baoshan culture. Such burials are found in Dongliao, Huadian, and Siping, but they seem to concentrate on Dongfeng. The tombs and Baoshan culture in general are dated roughly from the eighth century bce to the fifth to third centuries bce. These dates are based on comparison with sites in other regions, however, and lack a firm chronological index. North of the Jilinhada range, on the headwaters of the Dongliao River, similar sites were identified in the 1980s. In his 1992 study, Jin Xudong analyzed data from over two hundred sites surveyed on the Dongliao River from 1984 to 1986 and the results of smallscale excavations conducted on three sites near Liaoyuan in 1988.41 He outlined four types of bronze-period remains in this region. Of these the Paotaishan 炮台山 I and Paotaishan II types are two phases of a single archaeological culture dating roughly to the middle of the second millennium bce to about the eighth century bce.42 The later phase features a new form of ding tripodal, which is also found at the Wanghua site in Fushun. The third type is the Shilazi 石砬子 type, which features pottery with impressed dotted designs on the surface and lug-style handles with impressed grooves. The dou pedestal appears in this type in two varieties, one having a hollow post-style handle and the other a flared base. Jin associated this type with the Baoshan culture of Dongfeng and dates it accordingly to about the eighth century bce to the third century bce. The fourth is the Xiejiajie 谢家 type, which features pottery with dotted pattern designs 39. See Jilinsheng Kaogu Yanjiusuo and Dongfengxian Wenhuaguan 1988. 40. See Jin Xudong 1991. This appears to be the first report to use the term “Baoshan culture.” 41. See Jin Xudong 1992. 42. The report suggests that the sites date from no earlier than the early Shang period and no later than the early Spring and Autumn period.

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and the two types of dou pedestal found in the Shilazi type. Dates for this type are estimated by comparison to dated remains found at other sites (some of them quite distant), and suggest a range extending from about the eighth century bce to about the second or first century bce. Tombs belonging to these bronze-period cultural types are all of the stone-cist variety, and they have the same general characteristics seen in the capstone burials of Dongfeng: single and multiple interments, both primary and secondary, with evidence of partial cremation. Most of the multiple secondary burials showed evidence of the bones of individuals being buried on different levels or in separate areas of the pit. Burial goods are uneven in quantity among groups of graves, though the multiple secondary crematory interments tend to be relatively rich in burial goods, consisting of pottery (with an assemblage composed of a hu pot, a guan jar, and either a dou pedestal or a wan bowl) and stone or bronze axe heads or knives. Shilazi-type sites tend to concentrate on the upper and middle reaches of the Dongliao River, whereas those of the Xiejiajie type are found mostly on the middle and lower reaches, so they are roughly contemporary types occupying adjacent geographical regions. These two types feature characteristics that are shared with Wanghua culture in adjacent Liaoning, but many characteristics are more closely related to the later Liangquan culture, which superseded the Wanghua in northeastern Liaoning. This may indicate a difference in how these cultures are defined, or the discrepancy may indicate an insufficient degree of periodization within the cultures. The Liangquan culture will be discussed in more detail in the next chapter, where we will see that it is possible that the Shilazi and Xiejiajie types in Jilin date to a later period than postulated in Jin’s arrangement. For present purposes, it is sufficient to note that the Wanghua and Baoshan cultures appear to be very closely related and may be best viewed as a single archaeological culture. The contemporary culture in the Dongliao region, however it may be defined, should also be included within the scope of this bronze-period culture. Although there is notable commonality in the cultures of this broad region, one must recognize that there is considerable variation as well. This variation may be characterized conveniently by observing that those sites to the northeast bear more cultural elements in common with Xituanshan culture, whereas those to the southwest share characteristics with the Upper Xinle culture. Still other elements in the Wanghua sphere are unique to the region. There are also differences in chronology between the archaeological cultures analyzed on either side of the provincial border, which are partly a factor of differences in defining the cultures and which may also reflect developmental distinctions between regions. As research progresses the constitution and chronology of the bronze culture of this region should become better understood, so the following outline is based on the limited data published to date. The primary form of inhumation in the Wanghua sphere is the stone-cist burial, some examples of which are remarkably similar to the typical Xituanshan burial. A stone cist excavated at Longshoushan 龙首山 in Liaoyuan, for example, would not have been considered out of place had it been found at a cemetery in the Xituanshan core region. It featured an auxiliary chamber at the foot of the primary chamber, within which were a

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hu pot, a guan jar, and a spindle whorl.43 Several other stone cists were found at Yongling in eastern Liaoning, the construction of which varied between the slab-wall and the piled-stone-wall types. In some of these tombs the auxiliary chamber is seen, as is the inclusion of pig teeth as burial goods. As in Xituanshan burials, tombs are distinguished by the presence or absence of stone knives and spindle whorls, which probably indicate the sex of the occupant.44 Other stone-cist tombs in northeastern Liaoning contain bronzes, such as the Liaoning-style dagger, spearheads styled after the Liaoning dagger, and the fan-shaped axe.45 In 1982 an excavation was conducted at the Dahuofang 大伙房 site in Fushun, which yielded six stone-cist tombs of various styles and with a number of bronze burial goods. Although the tomb construction and bronze types were similar to those found at Xituanshan sites, the pottery assemblage revealed significant departures from Xituanshan types.46 Until the early 2000s most archaeologists believed that the Bronze Age of northeastern Liaoning consisted of an early phase marked by a ceramic assemblage featuring tripodal vessels, and a late phase characterized by stone-cist burials with the Liaoning-style bronze dagger.47 This is now generally recognized as an inaccurate interpretation brought about by a perceived chronological distinction between dwelling sites, in which tripodals are dominant, and burial sites, which contain only hu and guan vessels. Xiao Jingquan has pointed out that the dwellings and tombs are in reality contemporary, the apparent distinction having been caused by the fact that, as in Xituanshan culture, tripodals are treated as utilitarian vessels and are never offered as burial goods.48 A second style of burial that appears late in the bronze period of this region is the dolmen. This kind of structure is distributed throughout southern Liaoning and the Korean peninsula, but its distribution pattern thins as it reaches northeastern Liaoning. Nevertheless, a number of dolmens appear in Fushun, Qingyuan, and Xinbin in the valleys of the Hunhe and Suzi 苏子河 rivers and their tributaries.49 Still more are found in the valleys of the upper Huifa and its tributaries, the distribution being densest in Liuhe County.50 Such structures are thought to mark the emergence of regional chiefs in a markedly stratified society, though there is disagreement on the chronology of their appearance and development. They do not appear within the Xituanshan sphere. In the adjacent area of Jilin Province just to the south of the Jilinhada range is found a third type of burial roughly contemporary with those discussed above. These are the 43. Tang Hongyuan 2000. 44. Li Jiqun, Wang Weichen, and Zhao Weihe 1993. 45. Qingyuanxian Wenhuaju 1981; Qingyuanxian Wenhuaju and Fushunshi Bowuguan 1982. 46. Tong Da and Zhang Zhengyan 1989. 47. Fushunshi Bowuguan Kaogudui 1983. 48. Xiao Jingquan 2000b. Xiao postulates that the dwelling and burial sites at Dajiabang 大甲幫 in Fushun are associated. He also relates that he found a pommel for a Liaoning-style dagger at a typical Wanghua dwelling site, drawing a closer association between the dwelling sites and the stone-cist burials, which sometimes contain the Liaoning-style daggers. 49. Xu Jiaguo 1990. A total of fifteen dolmens are described in this study. See also Ha Mun-sik 1998. 50. Liuhexian wenwuzhi 1987, 87–94.

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so-called stone-cist-capstone burials 蓋石墓 that concentrate on the Mei River 梅河 in Dongfeng County, one of the branches of the Huifa River. Such tombs are clearly related to those of the Xituanshan and Wanghua spheres, but they have a distinct regional character. They are typically large stone cists constructed of earthen pits lined with stacked slabs or rocks and covered by a large capstone, portions of which may extend above the ground surface (so that some are mistaken for dolmens). These burials are usually multiple, secondary crematory inhumations with logs arranged around the bodies. Few burial goods are found, but some pottery types and bronze ornaments have been recovered. Pottery types include the guan jar, hu pot, and dou pedestal. Tripodal vessels are rarely seen. Vessels have plain surfaces, but some are decorated with impressed dotted patterns, usually near the vessel rim. Some scholars associate these remains with the Baoshan culture of Dongfeng, which is said to have an approximate chronological range from the eighth century bce to the second century bce. If this chronology is correct, Baoshan culture overlaps temporally with Wanghua culture only for one or two centuries. A better understanding of the absolute chronology of both regions will be necessary before their relationship can be properly comprehended. Wanghua culture is itself still poorly understood, mostly due to a lack of systematic archaeological work and cross-regional analysis. Very few absolute dates are known for any of the Wanghua sites, and stratigraphic data are likewise scarce. The culture is believed to span the period from about the eleventh century bce to the fifth or fourth century bce, making it contemporary with Xituanshan culture.51 Wanghua burials and certain ceramics closely resemble their Xituanshan counterparts, though other ceramics bear a closer resemblance to those of Upper Xinle. Such a merging of styles may be expected given the region’s interposition between two strong cultural centers, though there is abundant evidence for a pronounced regional identity within the Wanghua sphere. This identity is most strongly manifested very late in the bronze period by the appearance of a peculiar dou pedestal with unusual markings and designs, which will be addressed in the next chapter. Until further excavation work is accomplished the relationship between the Wanghua and Xituanshan cultures will remain unclear. Nevertheless, there was unquestionably some interaction between the regions, and knowledge of the chronology of Wanghua sites will undoubtedly reveal much about the origins of certain elements of Xituanshan culture. Such data will also be crucial for an understanding of the emergence of the Puyŏ state.

Elements of Xituanshan Culture The Xituanshan culture is marked by a number of distinct characteristics that persisted over a rather long period of time, though there are also signs of gradual development and change in several aspects that can be analyzed using data from the archaeological record. 51. Xiao Jingquan 2000b, 58. Only a single date of 3090±90 ybp is known from a thermoluminescence test on a pottery sherd from a site in Fushun. Xiao’s proposed range is based primarily on a comparative analysis of retrieved burial goods.

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These data reveal something about the Xituanshan society and its constitution and will be summarized briefly here. The pottery of Xituanshan culture was formed from a coarse sandy paste, is undecorated but sometimes polished, and ranges in color from a dull red to a dark brown. There are two primary assemblages that tend not to overlap. The first assemblage is found in a mortuary context and consists of a hu pot with horizontal handles, a guan jar, a handled bowl, and a dish (fig. 3.11). The second assemblage is found in dwelling sites and consists of such practical daily-use items as ding and li tripods (cooking vessels), guan jars, hu pots, and dou pedestal dishes (fig. 3.12).52 The hu pot is the most diagnostic of the mortuary vessels. Although several chronological sequences have been proposed for Xituanshan sites, one of the most systematic is that put forward by Zhu Yonggang in 1991.53 Zhu delineated a morphological sequence for the hu pots recovered from the tombs at Xingxingshao and Xituanshan, determined the order of propagation by using radiocarbon data from the former site, and proposed six morphological phases in four absolute time periods. The provisional chronological sequence resulting from this analysis, represented in table 3.1, will be utilized in the present study as a base chronology. In a later study, Zhu analyzed the ceramic assemblages of Xituanshan culture (the Xingxingshao material) in an attempt to account for the origins of that culture.54 He noted that the lack of evidence for a related Neolithic culture in the Songhua basin suggests that the origins of the Xituanshan culture lay primarily outside of the Songhua region.55 Although the contemporary cultures to the northwest of Jilin (BaijinbaoHanshu culture) and those to the east bear little relationship to the early Xituanshan culture in terms of ceramic assemblages, there is much commonality observed with the cultures east of the lower Liao valley.56 Zhu suggested that the hu vessels prominent in the eastern Liaodong region derived from two independent lineages of hu (one decorated and one plain) that appear to have had antecedents in peninsular Liaodong.57 Furthermore, based on similarities in tomb structure, in mortuary ceramic assemblage, and in the forms of bronze daggers and axes, Zhu proposed that the Xituanshan culture and those contemporary cultures in the hill regions east of the Liao valley developed in 52. Zhang Boquan and Wei Cuncheng, eds. 1998, 271. 53. Zhu Yonggang 1991. A more recent systematic chronology has been proposed by Zhao Binfu, which differs in some respects from that forwarded by Zhu, though in most cases they are in general agreement (see Zhao Binfu 2009). 54. Zhu Yonggang 1994. 55. The Neolithic in central Jilin is represented by the Zuojiashan culture 左家山文化, which appears to have been unrelated to Xituanshan culture. See Jilin Daxue Kaogu Jiaoyanshi 1989. 56. Some researchers, however, have postulated a relationship between pottery of the Baijinbao and Hanshu II cultures of northwestern Jilin and that of Xituanshan culture. See for example Ma Deqian 1991, in which Ma proposes a cultural connection between the pottery of the Baijinbao and Xituanshan cultures and suggests that the Puyŏ state was founded by displaced people of the Baijinbao culture, whom he equates with the polity of T’angni, from which the legendary founder of Puyŏ is said to have come. See also Song Ho-jŏng 1997, 153–64, where an association is likewise implied between the Hanshu II culture and the T’angni polity. 57. The decorated hu lineage can be traced from Yujiatuotou 于家砣头 on the Liaodong peninsula to the Misongni 美松里 cultures of northern Korea (Zhu Yonggang 1994, 67).

Fig. 3.11. Xituanshan pottery from a mortuary context, Xingxingshao site. 1–8, 10: hu pots; 9, 11–17: guan jars; 18–21: bowls. After Jilinshi Bowuguan and Yongjixian Wenhuaguan 1983.

Fig. 3.12. Xituanshan pottery from a dwelling context, Houshishan site. 1–3, 8: ding tripodals; 4: hu pot; 5–7: li tripodals; 9, 10: bowls; 11: tripodal dish; 12–13: guan jars; 14–16: steamers; 17: boat-shaped vessel. After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo and Jilinshi Bowuguan 1993.

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Table 3.1 Chronology of Xituanshan sites Period Phase Centuries BCE

I 1 10–9

II 2

III 3

9–8

4

5 8–5

IV 6 5–3

Xingxingshao Xituanshan Saodagou Xiaotuanshan Donglianggang Xiaoxishan Langtoushan Houshishan Changsheshan Tuchengzi Liangbanshan Source: This table was adapted from Zhu Yonggang 1991, 9; Chinese dynastic periods have been replaced by century dates. Note: Dark shading indicates periods of flourish, and light shading indicates an indeterminate period during which the sites may or may not have been occupied.

parallel with cultural influence from common predecessors. Those predecessors are likely to be found in the Upper Xinle, Shunshantun, and Miaohoushan (Machengzi) cultures of Liaodong, and in the preceding Gaotaishan culture. Although this is a simplified and preliminary arrangement, it is evident that Xituanshan culture was a product of multiple cultural influences, some of which clearly originated in the eastern Liaodong region.58 Several studies have analyzed the tombs of Xituanshan culture and categorized them based on structural variation (fig. 3.13). Liu Jingwen distinguishes four general classes: (1) the stone-cist burial, which accounts for 95 percent of all known Xituanshan tombs; (2) the simplified stone cist, wherein an earthen pit is lined incompletely with stone, and which accounts for 3 percent of Xituanshan tombs; (3) earth-pit burials; and (4) urn burials.59 In this arrangement there are several additional subcategories based upon more 58. In a more recent study (Zhu Yonggang 1998) Zhu proposed a more specific account for the origins of certain elements of Xituanshan culture. He saw the prevalence of the hu pot in Xituanshan burials as the influence of Miaohoushan (Machengzi) culture, the preference for the ding tripod as influence of Upper Xinle, and the li tripod as derivative of Gaotaishan culture. 59. Liu Jingwen 1983.

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Fig. 3.13. Example of a Xituanshan burial (Houshishan 79 West M19). After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo and Jilinshi Bowuguan 1993.

specific variation in construction. Tombs are nearly always placed on the sunny slopes of low hills, with the head oriented toward the hilltop. Though the vast majority of burials are single, supine, extended, primary inhumations, a small number of flexed burials or multiple, secondary interments have been documented as well. Burial goods consist primarily of a ceramic assemblage (described above), and stone, bronze, and bone tools, as well as spindle whorls, net sinkers, and a small variety of personal ornaments. Patterns in the placement of burial goods have been observed, with ceramics placed at the feet, stone tools near the waist, and ornaments near the head. An auxiliary chamber is often placed at the foot of the primary chamber to hold burial goods. Tombs are usually covered with stone slabs upon which earthen mounds are raised, though remains of the latter rarely survive to be detected today.

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Several patterns emerge when applying Zhu Yonggang’s chronology, based on his seriation of hu pots, to burials. The stone-cist tomb remains the primary form of burial throughout the entire chronology. Bronzes make their appearance in Zhu’s Period II (ninth to eighth century bce). In Period III the stacked-stone-wall variety of cist appears, as do the auxiliary chambers for burial goods. Large-scale tombs, such as the hilltop tomb at Saodagou, also appear in this period. During Period IV a small number of simplified stone cists and a few earth pits and urn burials appear. Plaster coffin frames are constructed from this time, and there is also evidence for the use of wooden coffins, which may reflect external influence.60 Beginning with Period II a gradually increasing level of differentiation in distribution of burial goods is suggested, perhaps indicating some degree of social stratification. Xituanshan bronzes are not found in a very wide variety of forms as compared with the variety exhibited by their contemporaries in Liaoning (fig. 3.14). Liu Jingwen has classified Xituanshan bronzes into four categories based on function: production tools, weapons, ornaments, and domestic utensils.61 According to the chronology posited by Zhu Yonggang, bronzes first appear in Xituanshan tombs during Period II, or from about the ninth or eighth century bce. Even after their appearance, the use of bronze as burial goods is not particularly widespread, as demonstrated by the total absence of bronze goods at the Xituanshan cemetery. Most bronzes were cast in complex section molds, though no such molds have as yet been found in an archaeological context within the Xituanshan sphere. Nevertheless, the crudeness of early specimens points to a developmental period, and there is little doubt that bronzes were locally cast. Some of the earliest bronzes found in Xituanshan tombs, however, appear to have been imported. For example, the Liaoning-style dagger found in AM19 at Xingxingshao closely resembles the specimen found at Erdaohezi in Liaoyang, with which it is roughly contemporary. Another dagger found in tomb Jia-M2 at Xiaoxishan is stylistically akin to its contemporary found at Shiertaiyingzi in Chaoyang. Such daggers are very rare in Xituanshan burials, and their presence suggests interchange with the cultures in the Liaoxi and Liaodong regions (a close analysis indicates stronger communications with Liaodong).62 On the other hand, the spearhead with wide flanges found at Xingxingshao (AM11 and DM13) and in a dwelling site at Changsheshan (57F2) appears to be a local innovation based on the shape of the Liaoning-style dagger.63 60. Although the influence of wooden coffins of the type used in the Central Plains is one possibility, this is not the only potential source of such influence. Coffins or related structures made of wood were used in the Lower and Upper Xiajiadian cultures of western Liaoning, and Tomb M6512 at Zhengjiawazi in Shenyang (ca. seventh century bce) contained traces of both inner and outer coffins made of wood. Wooden coffins were also a feature of some Xiongnu burials in Mongolia from around the second century bce. Analysis of coffin structures should help to resolve the problem of external influence on Puyŏ coffins, though such analysis will be limited until the publication of more specific data from the excavations at Maoershan. 61. Liu Jingwen 1984. 62. Zhu Yonggang 1991, 10. 63. Zhu Yonggang 1994, 68.

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Fig. 3.14. Xituanshan bronzes from Houshishan. 1: spearhead; 2: knife; 3, 4: axes; 5: ornament plate; 6: mirror; 7–9: knives; 10: hook; 11: oblong ornament; 12: button; 13, 14: linked hemispheres; 15– 17: ornamental disks (various scales). After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo and Jilinshi Bowuguan 1993.

Other bronze forms found in Xituanshan burials bear close resemblance to forms found in Liaoning. A small socketed axe with a fan-shaped blade, several varieties of which have been found in Xituanshan burials, is a frequent find in bronze-period tombs throughout Liaoning (fig. 3.14, nos. 3–4).64 An ornamental piece resembling linked hemispheres is often found in Xituanshan burials as well as in contemporary burials in Liaoning, including tombs of the Upper Xiajiadian culture in Liaoning and Inner Mongolia (fig. 3.14, nos. 13–14). Such similarities indicate that the Xituanshan culture belonged to a broader cultural continuum represented by an assemblage of bronze forms. Besides the peculiar spearhead mentioned above, however, several forms of Xituanshan bronzes are not found in Liaoning. The bronze knives found at Saodagou and Houshishan, for example, appear to be unique to Xituanshan culture (fig. 3.14, nos. 7–9).65 Decorated pieces account for only a small proportion of the Xituanshan bronze assemblage, though many types are clearly ornamental. Certain of the “weapons” and “production tools” may have been prestige items rather than functional tools. The daggers and socketed axes, for example, seem too fragile or small to have been of much practical 64. Compare, for example, Houshishan 79M88 and Shiertaiyingzi M2 (Liu Jingwen 1984, 42); also compare Xiaoxishan Yi-M4 and tomb M16 at Gangshang near Dalian (Zhu Yonggang 1991, 10). 65. Liu Jingwen 1984, 43.

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utility, whereas functional counterparts made of stone were readily available. Much more likely is the possibility that such items were viewed as rare prestige goods available only to a select few individuals (at least during Periods II and III), suggesting the beginning of social stratification and complexity. The distribution of bronzes in early- and middleperiod Xituanshan burials would support this view. Of ten bronze items found in the 1978 excavation at Xingxingshao, for example, eight were retrieved from DM16, which was the richest of forty-nine burials. Similarly, nine of ten bronze items retrieved from the 1949 and 1953 excavations at Saodagou were found in 49M 4, again the richest of seventeen tombs. The hilltop tomb at Saodagou also yielded a number of bronze items. Such a concentration of bronzes in singular rich burials suggests monopolization of prestige items by a privileged minority, possibly representing a leadership stratum as in a chiefdom society. Except for a greater quantity of burial goods, some being rare prestige items, there is little indication of a significant gap between social strata. The hilltop tomb at Saodagou is perhaps the clearest instance of social differentiation manifest in tomb size and placement, and even this distinction fails to indicate any great magnitude of stratification. If bronzes represent a valued prestige item monopolized by the upper stratum of society in the middle period, Period IV burials indicate a shift in the significance of bronze goods. In general, bronzes in the late period become more numerous and smaller in scale. Analysis of the burial goods retrieved from the 1979 and 1980 excavations at Houshishan reveals that although bronze items tend to appear primarily in the richer burials, they are much more common and are found in a much higher percentage of burials. Of the three cemeteries at Houshishan, however, the tombs in the western cemetery far surpass those in the eastern and southern cemeteries in the richness of burials. From the 121 tombs excavated in the western cemetery, 63 bronze items were recovered from 27 tombs, whereas a single bronze item was recovered from the 20 tombs of the eastern cemetery, and no bronzes were found in the 14 tombs of the southern cemetery. The overall quantity and quality of burial goods among the cemeteries is reflected in the distribution of bronze items. This suggests that by the latest period of Xituanshan culture social stratification processes had resulted in economically disparate classes, though the degree of status differentiation remains low. Evidence points rather to a larger proportion of society having access to luxury goods, though whether this indicates a concomitant elevation in the status and rights of access of a leadership stratum is impossible to determine from the reported data. Although there is much variation in the dwelling remains of Xituanshan culture, they may be classified into two general categories: those with low walls constructed of piled stones and those without stone walls (fig. 3.15).66 All archaeologically excavated dwelling sites have been of the subterranean or semi-subterranean variety common in northeastern China and Korea. Dwellings of the first category are usually built on high riverside hills about 10 to 100 m above river level. At least one side of the dwelling consists of a piled-stone wall, whereas the other sides may be formed by excavating into the side of a hill. In some dwelling pits all sides are walled with stone. Dwellings of the second category are usually found on hills or in flat plains at a lower altitude, about 3 to 10 m 66. Dong Xuezeng 1994, 308–28.

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Fig. 3.15. Example of a Xituanshan dwelling (Houshishan 79F6). 1: stone axe; 2: stone knife; 3: stone adz; 4: ceramic net sinker; 5: pottery steamer; 6: pottery li; 7: pottery ding; 8: pottery guan jar; 9: stone tube; 10: hearth; 11: fire pit. After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo and Jilinshi Bowuguan 1993.

above river level. In such dwellings the sides are not walled with stone but are rather formed by the earthen surface created by the excavation of the pit. Hillside dwellings occupy the sunny slopes of gently rising hills. Dwellings are found in a variety of layouts. Most are rectangular with rounded corners or oblong, and some are of irregular shape. They typically enclose an area of 25 to 35 m2, though a few are rather larger at 45 m 2. Some floors are plastered and baked, though others are not. Many have irregularly spaced postholes or signs of an entryway, though in others such features are absent. The typical dwelling includes a rectangular or ovoid hearth dug into the house floor and lined with granite rocks. Some dwellings have storage pits dug into the floor or side rooms partitioned with a stone wall. Houses with postholes probably had thatch roofs supported by a wooden frame, though it is unclear as to how those pits without postholes were covered. Distribution of dwellings within a village may vary from a dense cluster with houses only a few meters apart to a rather sparse arrangement with houses more distant from one another. No hierarchical organization is evident in the distribution of dwellings. Analyses of Xituanshan dwelling sites have indicated development and change in several aspects. The Houshishan dwellings represent a long period of occupation (seventh

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to fourth century bce). Analysis suggests that earlier dwellings were subterranean or semi-subterranean pits dug into the upper levels of low hills, whereas later pits were semisubterranean and were built on artificial terraces cut into the lower slopes. The shapes of the dwellings developed generally from ovoid plans to rectangular ones, and partitioned storage rooms appear in the later houses. Such changes may be interpreted as evidence of social development from a more communal lifestyle to one that places value on private property.67 The large-scale terracing of hillsides is suggestive of some degree of social organization to allow for cooperative work projects involving many people. Such trends may be indicative of a gradual increase in population and a correlative increase in the complexity of social organization. Subsistence patterns of Xituanshan society may be inferred from various archaeological remains. The location of villages near rivers and finds of hooks, net sinkers, and fish bones in tombs and dwellings provide clear evidence for extensive fishing activities. Similar finds of pig skulls and mandibles as well as of clay pig figurines suggest the important role of that animal in the subsistence of Xituanshan society. The deliberate placement of pig mandibles in mortuary contexts further suggests a religious perspective that invested particular significance in the pig. Archaeological data have yet to demonstrate whether the pig was domesticated. Very few remains of other wild or domesticated animals have been found in Xituanshan sites, though it is likely that some degree of husbandry was practiced.68 The presence of arrowheads in tombs and dwellings suggests a hunting component in the Xituanshan subsistence activities. Agriculture also accounted for some portion of subsistence, as shown by the frequent finds of stone farming tools and grinding tools as well as by rarer discoveries of carbonized soybean and millet.69 Additionally, the local production of textiles is demonstrated by the ubiquitous finds of spindle whorls and by discoveries at Xingxingshao (DM17) and Houshishan (M1) of textiles woven from hemp and animal hair.70

Summary The study above allows us to propose a generalized profile of the Xituanshan society occupying the vicinity of the Songhua River valley from the late second millennium bce to the third to second centuries bce. The Xituanshan archaeological culture is a rather 67. See Flannery 1972. 68. At the late-period Xituanshan layer at the Paoziyan Qianshan site jawbones identified as belonging to rabbits, cows, and goats were recovered from a dwelling site, and pig teeth were found at another pit dwelling. See Jilinshi Bowuguan 1985. 69. See Liu Shimin, Shu Shizhen, and Li Fushan 1987. An analysis of the carbonized soybeans found at the Dahaimeng site in 1980 indicates that soy was probably cultivated. 70. See Jilin Diqu Kaogu Duanxunban 1980 for the hemp cloth discovered at Houshishan in 1975; Zhao Chengze 1983 for the Xingxingshao find. The latter consisted of a cloth covering the face of the deceased, and analysis shows it to have been composed of the hair of goat and dog and of hemp.

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long-lived one spanning nearly a millennium. The earliest known remains of the culture center on the Xingxingshao site in Jiutai County, and later population centers concentrate on the Songhua valley near Jilin. The bronze and ceramic assemblages suggest that Xituanshan culture shared a common ancestry with the bronze cultures in Liaodong. Conversely, with the exception of the characteristics shared with the cultures in Liaoning to its southwest, there appears to be little relationship between Xituanshan culture and the other contemporary cultures surrounding it. With its heaviest concentration on the Songhua valley near Jilin, the scope of Xituanshan culture encompasses the modern counties of Yongji, Jiaohe, Shulan, Yushu, Jiutai, Shuangyang, Panshi, Huadian, and perhaps Wuchang in Heilongjiang. A regional zone surrounds this area, within which the local societies exhibit characteristics containing elements of both the Xituanshan culture and the cultures beyond it. The societies of the Songhua basin were sedentary communities subsisting on an economy including hunting and fishing, agriculture, and some degree of husbandry. The pig figures largely in the diet of the Xituanshan society of this region and evidently in its religious beliefs as well.71 The early- and middle-period remains suggest an early chiefdom level of society. With the appearance of bronze technology (which seems to have followed a period of bronze import from Liaodong) the chiefs and other elites appear to have monopolized the new metallurgical medium. The importation and local manufacture of bronze prestige goods may have affected the degree of social stratification in Xituanshan society, but this is difficult to gauge at present. By the middle period, chiefs and elites were interred in tombs of larger scale and with richer burial goods than the lower strata of society, but the gap between elite and common never seems to have been of significant magnitude. By the late period there is evidence of an increase in population in the core region around Jilin and a concomitant degree of social complexity. Wealth is distributed across a greater percentage of the population, and there is further evidence of class stratification of a low degree, which may indicate the emergence of a privileged class. Xituanshan culture terminated in the third to second centuries bce with the appearance of new forms of ceramics and burials and the introduction of iron technology. In its place emerged a cultural successor, which I will refer to here as “post-Xituanshan culture,” but which may also be referred to as “Puyŏ culture.” Prior to the transition from bronze to iron, strong regional features characterized the peripheral regions of Xituanshan 71. The use of pigs in funerary practice, as indicated by finds of pig teeth or mandibles in burials, suggests a particular significance of that animal in ritual and religious belief. Although it is difficult to extrapolate from this to explore the specific meaning of the funerary role of pigs in Xituanshan society, it is important to note that pig bones are often found in burials in regions surrounding the Xituanshan sphere, some of them quite distant, suggesting the possibility of a broadly shared funerary culture. For example, pig bones are found in the Lower Xiajiadian burials at Dadianzi (along with dog bones), and in the Warring States–period Pingyang cemetery 平洋墓葬 in Tailai County, Heilongjiang Province (along with bones of horses, dogs, cows, deer, sheep, and rabbits). Closer to the Xituanshan sphere, as noted already, some stone-cist tombs belonging to Wanghua culture in eastern Liaoning also feature the inclusion of pig teeth.

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culture, though they shared certain cultural elements with the Xituanshan society. In the early period of the post-Xituanshan culture, however, this regional distinction began to give way to an increased uniformity in certain aspects. The catalysts for these developmental processes appear to have been contacts with the states of Yan and Han and with other surrounding groups such as the Xianbei. The state of Puyŏ was to emerge as a result of these dramatic social processes.

Ch a p t er Fou r

The Archaeology of Puyŏ—Part Two Formation of the Puyŏ State

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he previous chapter outlined the present state of archaeological knowledge regarding the pre-state societies of the central Songhua valley and the surrounding regions. The present chapter will focus on the archaeological record of the same regions during the ensuing period, which is marked by rapid social change and the emergence of a state-level polity. Although the archaeological data recovered so far are as yet sparse and not fully documented, they are sufficient to permit a preliminary discussion of the internal processes and external stimuli associated with the development of the Puyŏ state. This survey will first address what I refer to as the “post-Xituanshan” culture, which approximates the geographical scope of the earlier Xituanshan culture, and will continue with a discussion of the Liangquan culture, which characterizes the archaeological record of the region to the southwest of the post-Xituanshan sphere. These two regions together constitute the principal geospatial matrix within which the Puyŏ state formed and developed.

Post-Xituanshan Society The post-Xituanshan culture of the central Songhua valley can be viewed superficially as a composite of three major cultural components. The first is an indigenous component derivative of the Xituanshan culture, which appears to represent local developments influenced by interchange with external cultures. The second component, often called the Han cultural element, consists of material imported from Yan and Han or locally produced material that incorporates styles or technologies introduced from the Central Plains. The third component is represented by material imported from cultures to the

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west of Jilin, primarily thought to be those of the Xianbei or related peoples. Although the chronology and sequence of introduction of new cultural elements are still not clearly understood (though their introduction is assumed to have begun around the third century bce), currently available archaeological data permit a preliminary analysis of the constitution of post-Xituanshan culture. Additionally, in this study I define the postXituanshan culture spatially, with a core region centered on Jilin and a peripheral zone composed of several regional varieties, all of which bear evidence of a close association with the core region.1 I will first describe the archaeological culture of the core region (which I will refer to below as “Paoziyan culture” 泡子沿类型) and then briefly address the peripheral variations. As early as the 1930s the academic community recognized the existence of Han (Chinese) artifacts in the Jilin region, especially along the east bank of the Songhua River as it passes the city of Jilin.2 A Han-period indigenous culture was also later identified, but its relationship with the Han remains was unclear. In the early 1960s Zhang Zhongpei referred to this indigenous culture as “Culture Three” 文化三.3 From the late 1950s, however, during excavations of some sites belonging to Xituanshan culture, Han ceramic remains were found in context with late Xituanshan remains. In 1982 Liu Zhenhua published an analysis of these remains and concluded that the Han and indigenous pottery were coeval, that a number of new pottery types appeared in the late Xituanshan period, and that the Xituanshan communities had imported and emulated Han pottery.4 Liu made these proposals based on data from three archaeologically excavated sites: Tuchengzi, Dahaimeng, and Xuegu Dongshan (fig. 4.1). The Xuegu Dongshan site, excavated from 1973 to 1975, included a pit dwelling with a hearth containing Xituanshan pottery sherds along with Han sherds and an iron awl. This demonstrated that Xituanshan communities had imported Han material goods, which refuted the position of some theorists who believed that the Han material represented a Han colonization of the Jilin region. Liu’s analysis verified this by noting that the quantity of Han types remains consistently subordinated to that of the indigenous types, and that the types of Han artifacts were consistent with items known to have been used by Han as trade goods. The Dahaimeng site (the 1971 excavation) revealed a cultural layer represented by coexistent Xituanshan and Han remains directly overlying a level with only Xituanshan remains. 1. Note that the term “core region” in the present context is my own convention (though largely shared among archaeologists in northeastern China) and is based on the heavy concentration of archaeological sites of a certain type believed to relate to the political and cultural center of the Puyŏ state. Depending upon the focus of analysis there might be many such “cores” within the geographical scope associated with the Puyŏ state, a significant example being the region in and around modern Liaoyuan, which seems to have been an important population center of Puyŏ. My use of the term “core” should be understood in this relational context. 2. Mikami 1939. 3. Zhang Zhongpei 1963. The designation indicated that the Han-period indigenous culture was the third distinct culture known to have existed in the Northeast. “Culture One” was the Neolithic culture, and “Culture Two” was Xituanshan culture. Zhang suggested that the second and third cultures were directly related based on similarities in manufacture and in basic morphology. Later analysis would confirm this theory. 4. Liu Zhenhua 1982.

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Fig. 4.1. Excavated archaeological sites associated with post-Xituanshan culture.

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A radiocarbon date (calibrated) corresponding to 205±90 bce from a charcoal sample recovered from the lower layer indicates that the two layers are not separated by a significant temporal gap.5 In 1982 an excavation was conducted at the Paoziyan Qianshan 泡子沿前山 site north of Jilin. The site was found to consist of two cultural layers, the lower one belonging to a late period of Xituanshan culture (contemporary with the nearby Changsheshan site) and the upper one to a Han-period culture later identified as a component of that culture referred to here as “post-Xituanshan culture.” Later analysis of the Paoziyan finds by Zhang Liming indicated that the upper-layer pottery assemblage constituted a new archaeological type representing a development from the Xituanshan culture.6 The new assemblage, however, consisted of new vessel types and new morphologies for older types. The culture represented by this assemblage is now often referred to as “Paoziyan culture.”7 Sites associated with Paoziyan culture tend to center around the city of Jilin, the Dongtuanshan site in Jilin’s eastern suburbs being a point of heavy concentration. Paoziyan culture also appears at sites in the counties of Jiutai, Yongji, Shuangyang, Yushu, and elsewhere. The distribution pattern approximates that of the Xituanshan culture. Paoziyan pottery (fig. 4.2) is often found with Han pottery or locally produced vessels in Han style (though Paoziyan types were not found with the Han remains at Tuchengzi, Dahaimeng, and Xuegu Dongshan). The Paoziyan assemblage is distinguished from that of Xituanshan by the absence of tripodal vessels and by the inclusion of a dou pedestal bowl as part of the primary assemblage, whereas such vessels were relatively rare in Xituanshan culture. Paoziyan pottery is thicker than its Xituanshan predecessor, and it is fired at a higher temperature. The primary vessel shapes include dou pedestals, hu pots, and guan jars. The hu are particularly notable for their prominent necks with flared rims. The prominence of the dou is perhaps a reflection of the influence of its Han counterpart, with which it shares many similarities. Paoziyan culture (which is here defined to include those contemporary sites from which only Han remains have been found) is thought to range chronologically from the late Warring States period (third century bce) to the end of the Eastern Han period and perhaps later. The Paoziyan Qianshan site itself dates to the earlier part of this range. Very few sites belonging to this culture have been excavated, and fewer have been described in published reports. Most Paoziyan sites are known only from surface finds of pottery sherds belonging to that culture. Besides the type site at Qianshan, major 5. The middle layer at Dahaimeng was estimated to date from approximately the late Warring States period to the early Han period, or about the third century bce. This estimate was based on a comparison of pottery sherds found at the site with samples found at nearby sites such as Tuchengzi, Longtanshan, Dongtuanshan, and Xuegu Dongshan, and at the site of the Lower Capital of Yan near Beijing. 6. Zhang Liming 1986. Zhang equates this new cultural type with Zhang Zhongpei’s “Culture Three.” 7. The label “culture” here is rather inaccurate since the term leixing 类型 (type) used in Chinese academic studies connotes something less inclusive than the term wenhua (culture) and is often used provisionally for a hierarchical sub-component of another archaeological culture. I will demonstrate below that the Paoziyan “culture” may be viewed as a core component of a more broadly defined postXituanshan culture, which, I will argue, is the approximate correlate of the Puyŏ state.

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Fig. 4.2. Artifacts from the upper level of the Paoziyan site. 1, 5: pottery hu vessels; 2, 13: pottery dou pedestals; 3, 10: stone arrowheads; 4: iron jue digging tool; 6: pottery handle; 7: iron adz; 8: pottery tool; 9: pottery handle; 11: stone adz; 12: pottery guan jar (various scales). After Jilinshi Bowuguan 1985.

excavations of Paoziyan culture sites include the middle layer at Dahaimeng and the cemeteries at Laoheshen in Yushu County (middle layer) and Maoershan in Jilin. Paoziyan culture is differentiated from its predecessor by a number of distinguishing characteristics. One particularly significant difference is the presence of iron implements in early Paoziyan sites, most of which are farming tools. Dwelling F4 at Qianshan yielded fragments of an iron adze and a jue digging tool.8 From the middle layer at Dahaimeng a pair of iron scissors was discovered.9 The upper layer at Xuegu Dongshan, which is roughly contemporary with the Qianshan site, yielded thirteen iron tools, including five jue diggers, three adzes, a chisel, two sickles, an awl, and a spear point.10 These iron tools have been compared to specimens retrieved from late Yan and early Han sites in the northern and northeastern regions of China.11 Along with the introduction of iron implements and a new ceramic assemblage, new burial forms began to appear with Paoziyan culture. Although the Laoheshen cemetery dates to the middle and later periods of Paoziyan culture, its burials serve as a useful illustration of the innovations in interment practices. The stone-lined pits of Xituanshan culture give way to earth-pit burials, some with wooden coffins. Evidence of scorching suggests some form of partial crematory practice, but remains were not incinerated. Most burials are of individuals, but there are many examples of multiple interments with one male and one or two females. Burial goods are much richer than in Xituanshan burials, and they derive from a variety of sources. Ornaments and luxury items of gold, silver, bronze, and jade are found in richer burials, which also yield iron swords and armor along with, significantly, horse-riding gear. Although much of this inventory seems to 8. 9. 10. 11.

Jilinshi Bowuguan 1985. Jilinshi Bowuguan 1987, diagram on 133. Jilinshi Bowuguan 1981. Jilinshi Bowuguan 1981, 495.

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have been locally produced, many items were clearly produced outside of the Jilin region, such as Han mirrors, belt clasps, and coins, as well as bronze plaques and ornaments from the regions west of Jilin then occupied by the Xiongnu and Xianbei peoples.

Major Excavations As noted above, very few major sites belonging to the Paoziyan culture have undergone systematic excavation. Further hindering a comprehensive study of Paoziyan (and Puyŏ) remains is the fact that the report on the valuable work conducted on the most significant site, Maoershan, has yet to appear in publication. This treatment of Paoziyan sites must therefore be rather brief and incomplete. I will summarize below the published data from the excavations of the Xuegu Dongshan site, the middle layer at Dahaimeng, the Paoziyan site, the middle layer at Laoheshen, and the cemetery at Maoershan.

Xuegu Dongshan The village of Xuegu 学古屯 is located just to the east of Wulajie, about 30 km north of the city of Jilin. About 2 km northeast of the village is the mountain called Dongshan 东山, where two excavations in 1973 and 1979 uncovered a dwelling belonging to the Xituanshan culture and an ash pit dating to a slightly later period.12 The ash pit, designated H1, intruded upon the dwelling, demonstrating the stratigraphic relationship. Within the ash pit were found the remains of several pottery vessels and thirteen iron objects (fig. 4.3). The pottery vessels, which were made of fine clay and included dou pedestals and guan jars, were all judged to be Han types, probably imported from Han. The iron implements, as noted above, were compared to Yan and Han examples. The upper-level finds in general were compared to similar finds at the Sandaohao 三道壕 Han site in Liaoyang and the Shabayingzi 沙巴营子 walled site at Naiman Banner in Inner Mongolia.13 No Paoziyan ceramic types were found at the Dongshan site. Dahaimeng The lower layer of the Dahaimeng site at Yangtun near Wulajie was described in the previous chapter. Remains of the Han-period level, which directly overlies the Xituanshan level, were found during all three excavations of the site. In the report for the 1971 excavation, the presence of pottery sherds of fine clay was noted, but no analysis was offered.14 During the 1979 excavation three ash pits (H2, H3, and H4) belonging to the Han-period level were uncovered.15 The pits contained sherds of fine clay that suggested Han ceramics, a ceramic stamp used to impress designs on pottery, and a pair of iron scissors. All of these can be compared to like specimens found in Yan or Han sites. The 1980 excavation uncovered three more ash pits (H3, H5, and H6), which yielded a variety of remains.16 These included pottery sherds of fine clay, from which several bowls were 12. Jilinshi Bowuguan 1981. 13. See Dongbei Bowuguan 1957 for the Sandaohao site. For the Shabayingzi walled site see Li Dianfu 1978. The Shabayingzi site was first built by the Yan state and was occupied during the Qin and Western Han periods, after which it was abandoned. 14. Liu Zhenhua 1973. 15. Jilinshi Bowuguan 1987. 16. Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui, Jilinshi Bowuguan, and Yongjixian Wenhuaju 1991.

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Fig. 4.3. Artifacts from the upper level of the Xuegu Dongshan site. 1, 2: pottery dou pedestals; 3: iron awl; 4: iron jue digging tool; 5: pottery guan jar; 6: pottery bowl; 7: iron spearhead; 8: iron adz; 9: iron chisel (various scales). After Jilinshi Bowuguan 1981.

reconstructed. These were judged to be Yan or Han vessels comparable to examples found at the Lower Capital of Yan at Yixian near Beijing. These pits also yielded bones of animals including dogs and chickens, which are not often found at the earlier Xituanshan sites. Like the Dongshan site, no Paoziyan types were found among the Han remains at Dahaimeng.

Paoziyan Qianshan Paoziyan 泡子沿 is the name of a region to the east of the Songhua River in the northern suburbs of Jilin. Qianshan 前山 is a prominent hill rising to the east of the railroad as it passes Paoziyan. In 1982 an excavation on the slope of the hill uncovered four dwellings and several tombs belonging to the Xituanshan culture. The cultural level, however, was found to consist of two distinct phases separated by a very narrow chronological margin. The dwellings were constructed on artificial terraces during the late Xituanshan period, and though the lower level contained only late Xituanshan remains, the upper level contained indigenous (non-Han) pottery of a new variety. This pottery was created using methods similar to those used to make pottery of the Xituanshan period, and though the general shapes were similar to the Xituanshan counterparts, certain features (such as the rims and handles) were quite different. This ceramic type forms what I refer to here as “the Paoziyan assemblage.” The most diagnostic vessel is the hu pot, which has a rounded body, a conical upper portion, and a slightly flared rim (fig. 4.2, no. 5). The upper level also contained some typical Xituanshan artifacts (spindle whorls and net sinkers) identical to examples in the lower level, indicating a local transitional phase from the Xituanshan to post-Xituanshan periods. Also found with the Paoziyan pottery were sherds of fine clay Han vessels, which demonstrates the coexistence of Han and Paoziyan pottery during the post-Xituanshan transition. The upper level also yielded two iron items—an adze and a digging tool—as well as two horse teeth, indicating the

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introduction to the Jilin region of these two important resources. The coexistence in the upper level of Xituanshan-type items, indigenous Paoziyan pottery, imported Han pottery, iron tools, and horse remains makes the excavation of the Paoziyan site a very significant benchmark in the study of the termination of Xituanshan culture and the emergence of its successor.

Laoheshen The published volume describing the 1980 and 1981 excavations at the Laoheshen cemetery remains the single most valuable and detailed source for the study of the culture of post-Xituanshan society (fig. 4.4).17 Laoheshen is the name of a village in Yushu County to the southwest of the town of Dapo 大坡. The site is located on high ground to the south of the village on the east bank of the Songhua some 80 km north of Jilin (see fig. 4.5). The large-scale excavations revealed three cultural layers, the lower layer representing Xituanshan culture and the middle layer consisting of some 129 tombs belonging to the post-Xituanshan culture (the upper layer belonged to the later Mohe occupation). The abundant ceramic remains retrieved from these tombs display a close relationship with the Paoziyan assemblage, leaving little doubt that they belong to a single culture. The richness of the data resulting from the excavation sheds considerable light on the society represented in the cemetery. There are unmistakable patterns evident in the funerary customs of the Laoheshen society. The tombs are arranged roughly in rows, which form three discrete areas of the cemetery labeled as the “northern,” “central,” and “southern” areas. Of the 129 tombs excavated, 106 were oriented with the head facing to the west, and the remaining 23 were oriented to the east. All burials were of the extended-limb, supine type seen in Xituanshan burials. But instead of stone-lined pits, the Laoheshen burials were earthen pits with slightly sloping sides, into which a wooden coffin containing the corpse and burial goods was placed (figs. 4.5 and 4.6).18 Some coffins show evidence of having been coated with red lacquer, and some seem to have been lined with reed, leather, or birch bark. Coffins were stylistically divided into 6 types based on mode of construction, and some coffins included an auxiliary chamber located at the head of the coffin. Although individual interments accounted for the majority of burials, there were 2 examples of a male and female interred together in the same pit, 20 cases of a male and female buried together but in separate pits, and 5 cases of a male and 2 females buried together in separate pits.19 In the case of multiple burials, the male is always either on the left side (when facing the grave from the foot) or in the center. The cemetery also yielded 2 child burials in small tombs, and 1 pit near the center of the cemetery in which only 7 fragments of horse skulls were interred. A few coffin floors show evidence of having been scorched, but the corpse and burial goods seem never to have been touched by flame. It is possible that something was burned in the pit as the coffin was lowered into place. 17. Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo, ed. 1987. An earlier preliminary report appears in Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui, Changchunshi Wenguanhui, and Yushuxian Bowuguan 1985. 18. Only 79 (60 percent) of the tombs were verified to have contained wooden coffins, though many more might once have contained coffins that have now completely decomposed. 19. A systematic analysis of the significance of multiple burials appears in Pak Yang-jin 1998b.

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Fig. 4.4. Tomb M1 at Laoheshen cemetery. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

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Fig. 4.5 (left and above). Excavation of Laoheshen cemetery in 1981. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology. Fig. 4.6 (below left). Example of a triple interment at Laoheshen (M114, M115, M116). After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1989, 37.

There are distinct patterns in the placement of burial goods, male and female burials being distinguished by the prominence of weapons in male burials and the presence of bracelets and production tools in female burials. Males are usually buried with slightly more goods than females. Burial goods include ceramics, weapons, production tools, implements for daily use, horse gear, armor, and ornaments (see plates 1–6). Pottery is usually placed at the head, whereas personal ornaments such as earrings, necklaces, belt hooks, and bracelets are normally placed as worn on the body. Knives usually appear near the head and swords are placed at the waist with the points oriented toward the feet. Bronze mirrors are placed on top of some of the swords. Armor, helmets, and horse gear are placed at the feet. In nearly all burials a hu or guan vessel is placed on top of the coffin over the head, and the size of the vessel seems to indicate the status of the tomb occupant, the larger pots being found on coffins containing the richest burial goods (fig. 4.7). Horse teeth are sometimes found in the fill above the coffin, though in one case three horse teeth were placed in a pit below the coffin. There is considerable variety in burial goods (figs. 4.8–4.11). Iron production tools are usually for farming, and though they resemble their counterparts found in early postXituanshan sites, they are of superior quality. Ceramics are found in all but 13 of the burials and total 257 vessels, some of which were intact or restored. The vessels are classified into six types: hu pots (93 specimens), guan jars (50), bei cups (64), dou pedestals (26), wan bowls (18), and zhong cups (6). All vessels are made of a sandy fine clay and are

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Fig. 4.7. Pottery hu vessels from Laoheshen (various scales). After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1989, 44.

yellow, brown, or gray in color. There are 2 bronze fu cauldrons recovered that seem to be related to those used by nomadic groups farther to the west (plate 5). Four bronze mirrors were obviously imported from the Central Plains and date to the late Western Han or early Eastern Han periods (plate 6). Bronze belt hooks and buckles also match contemporary examples in the Central Plains and the Mongolian Plateau (plate 1). There are also many earrings, bracelets, and finger rings made out of gold, silver, and bronze. Some tombs yielded conical tubes worn on the wrists (plate 4), and others yielded giltbronze plaques with animal motifs stylistically related (even identical) to those found at sites in western Jilin and Inner Mongolia. A single broken wuzhu 五銖 coin dates to the Western Han period. Of particular interest are the horse gear and weapons that appear in the Laoheshen tombs. Three iron chariot axle ends suggest the use of wheeled vehicles. Horse trappings of iron, bronze, and deer antler (thirty iron bits were recovered) and several gilt-bronze bells indicate the importance of the horse in warfare and transportation. Weapons include iron and bronze knives, ring-handled swords, long iron swords with complex handles, spearheads, arrowheads, and lamellar armor and helmets. The long swords and armor seem especially well suited to mounted warfare. Based on the datable objects such as the coin and mirrors, and comparison with associated sites, the cemetery was judged to date to the late Western Han or, more likely, the early to middle Eastern Han periods. This chronology makes the Laoheshen site rather later in date than the Paoziyan sites described above and reflects the technological

Fig. 4.8. Iron swords from Laoheshen (longest sword 95.8 cm). After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1989, 77.

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Fig. 4.9. Iron lamellar helmet from Laoheshen. After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1989, 140.

advances observed in the remains of the former site. Although the ceramic assemblage undoubtedly belongs to the Paoziyan type of central Jilin, the variety of burial goods reveals extensive interchange with cultures based in the Central Plains and on the Mongolian Plateau. The wuzhu coin, bronze mirrors, belt hooks, and some other items indicate importation (direct or indirect) from Han, whereas some of the weapons and iron tools may be locally produced goods based on Han prototypes or even imported goods. On the other hand, the gilt-bronze plaques, bronze fu cauldrons, ring-handled swords, and some of the ornaments (particularly the earrings) clearly indicate the influence of, or even direct trade with, the nomadic groups such as the Xiongnu and Xianbei of western Jilin and Inner Mongolia. The Laoheshen cemetery illustrates clearly the three components (indigenous, Han, and nomadic) of post-Xituanshan culture previously described.20 20. The ethnicity of the occupants of the Laoheshen cemetery was the subject of some debate in the latter half of the 1980s. The original preliminary report published in 1985 identified the remains as those of the Xianbei, based mostly on a comparison of certain objects with counterparts found at other sites thought to be associated with the Xianbei (Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui, Changchunshi Wenguanhui, and Yushuxian Bowuguan 1985). A rebuttal was published by Liu Jingwen and Pang Zhiguo the following year (Liu and Pang 1986), wherein they refuted this ethnicity identification and proposed instead that Laoheshen was a Puyŏ cemetery. They pointed out that although the fu cauldron, the bronze plaques, and some of the weapons were related to similar items recovered from the Xianbei cemetery in Zhalainuoer in Inner Mongolia, their pottery assemblages are completely dissimilar (though the Laoheshen assemblage matches that of Paoziyan). They also pointed out that the presence of farming tools in the Laoheshen tombs indicates some degree of agriculture, which is a characteristic

Fig. 4.10. Artifacts representing the northern nomadic tradition. Left: bronze cauldron, height 25 cm; right: bronze belt buckle, length 11.2 cm. After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1989, 49, 66.

Fig. 4.11. Artifacts representing the Sinitic tradition. Left: bronze mirror, diameter 11.8 cm; right: bronze belt hook, length 11.7 cm. After Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1989, 50, 52.

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Maoershan The Maoershan cemetery is located on the slopes of the hill from which its name derives, located near the east bank of the Songhua just opposite the old city of Jilin. A few hundred meters to the northwest of this cemetery is the walled site at Dongtuanshan, thought to have been the capital of the Puyŏ kingdom. From 1980 the site has undergone several archaeological excavations, during which it was discovered that the cemetery covers a broad range that also includes the slopes of the nearby hills of Dongtuanshan, Guigaishan 龟盖山, Nanshan 山, Xishan 西山, and Longtanshan 龙潭山 (fig. 4.12). Unfortunately, very few of the excavation results have been published. Nevertheless, the data that have been released regarding the finds at Maoershan indicate that the site is very rich in cultural remains, and the anticipated publication of the finds promises to shed much light on the culture of the Puyŏ kingdom (see plates 7–17). Scholars have long recognized the existence of Han and Han-period remains along the east bank of the Songhua at Jilin. Mikami Tsugio published a report of archaeological remains in the Jilin vicinity in 1939.21 Later in 1946 Li Wenxin published a report on his archaeological finds in the Jilin vicinity and included descriptions of several artifacts he identified as belonging either to Han culture or to a Han-period indigenous culture.22 Among the objects Mikami and Li found at Maoershan are several bronze face masks, bronze buttons, and jade beads. In 1987, after the reports on Paoziyan and Laoheshen had allowed scholars to define the ceramic assemblage at those sites, Ma Deqian published an analysis of Han-period finds in the Jilin region.23 He noted that some of the pottery sherds found scattered on the surface near Maoershan matched the ceramic types composing the Paoziyan assemblage. Furthermore, the bronze buttons Li Wenxin described are types also found at the Laoheshen and Xuegu Dongshan sites. Ma’s analysis confirmed that the Han-period remains in the Maoershan and Dongtuanshan vicinity were closely related to the Paoziyan culture. In 1980 the first archaeological excavation was conducted on the cemetery known to exist on the slopes of Maoershan after construction of electrical towers accidentally disturbed and partially damaged several tombs.24 A rescue excavation uncovered three identified more closely with Puyŏ than with the pastoral Xianbei. The large ceramic vessels are likewise not to be identified with a nomadic lifestyle as they are not easily transported and are easily broken. The Xianbei items could have come to the Songhua valley by way of trade or warfare. Despite such differing viewpoints, the excavation volume published in 1987 maintained the original viewpoint and described Laoheshen as a Xianbei cemetery. In 1990 a review of the Laoheshen volume criticized the identification of the site as a Xianbei cemetery (Lin Xiuzhen 1990). Today very few scholars in China support the Xianbei theory, and most are satisfied that Liu and Pang are correct in proposing their Puyŏ theory. Pak Yangjin has conducted a systematic analysis of burials belonging to Xianbei and Puyŏ, the results of which may be considered as conclusive evidence that Laoheshen should be viewed as a Puyŏ cemetery (Pak Yang-jin 1998a). Scholars outside of China, however, are still occasionally misled by the ethnicity assignment in the Laoheshen volume and incorrectly identify the site as belonging to the Xianbei people. 21. Mikami 1939. 22. Li Wenxin 1992 [1946]. 23. Ma Deqian 1987. 24. Jilinshi Bowuguan 1988.

Fig. 4.12. The region surrounding Dongtuanshan east of Jilin. A: Dongtuanshan / Nanchengzi; B: Longtanshan; C: Xishan; D: Maoershan; E: Nanshan; F: Guigaishan. Based on a 1936 map engraved by the Japanese Kantō [Guandong] Army.

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tombs. The first tomb, designated M1, consisted of a single earthen pit containing three coffins (fig. 4.13). The sides and floor of the coffins were skillfully constructed using wooden beams, though none of the coffins had covers. The three coffins were oriented east–west and were in parallel alignment. The central coffin was somewhat larger than the flanking coffins. All of the coffins had been sealed with a thick coating of blue plaster. The northern and central coffins were sealed as one unit, but the southern coffin was sealed independently. Though there was no trace of an inner coffin, a framework of red clay was observed in each of the coffins, which may have served as a sort of inner chamber, though its exact function is unclear. No trace of human remains was observed in any of the coffins. The other two tombs, M2 and M3, were of similar construction, though both were single burials. M2 was badly decayed, but it too was constructed of joined beams and had no cover. A layer of blue plaster sealed the coffin, measuring some 10 cm in thickness on the sides and 18 cm on the bottom. M3 was relatively intact and consisted of a wooden coffin 3.1 m in length, 1.2 m wide, and 0.6 m high, placed in an earthen pit 3.5 m long, 2.0 m wide, and 2.8 m deep. This coffin was notable in that a hard earth partition separated part of the interior of the coffin, creating a small chamber at one end. This end chamber was covered with five wooden beams. The entire coffin was coated with blue plaster. In none of the burials was there any trace of human remains, though the bones of an animal were found in one of the coffins in M1. Burial goods were few, but consisted of four cylindrical containers made of birch bark from M1, a heavily rusted iron implement (possibly a spearhead) from M2, and seven agate beads from M3. A fragment of lacquerware was found in M2, and several metal fragments were recovered from M3. Additionally, two more agate beads and many pottery sherds were found in the earth filling the tomb pit. In the vicinity of the tombs, archaeologists recovered more agate beads, four wuzhu coins and one huoquan 貨泉 coin, and a ceramic dou pedestal. The sherds in the fill and in the vicinity were identified as belonging to the Paoziyan assemblage, and the tombs themselves were determined to belong to the same cultural stratum. Two radiocarbon readings from fragments of wood from the coffins yielded calibrated dates corresponding to 70±85 bce and 150±85 bce. This places the burials chronologically in the Western Han period, which agrees with the estimated dates for the Paoziyan culture and is reinforced by the finds of such diagnostic artifacts as Han-period coins. This chronological period also matches the historically confirmed early period of the Puyŏ state, which has caused many scholars to suggest that the Maoershan cemetery is a burial ground for Puyŏ elites, and that Maoershan itself might even be the “hill south of the capital” mentioned in Chinese historical records as having been associated with Puyŏ funeral customs.25 Although no human remains or rich burial goods were found in these tombs, there are some points of similarity to be noted between them and the tombs at Laoheshen. The practice of placing multiple coffins in a single pit is observed in both cemeteries. The partitioned coffin of M3 recalls the similar construction at Laoheshen and may be related to the auxiliary chambers placed at the feet of many tombs of the Xituanshan culture. There 25. Sanguozhi 30:841 (Account of Puyŏ).

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Fig. 4.13. Example of a triple burial at Maoershan (M1). After Jilinshi Bowuguan 1988.

are many points of departure as well, such as the heavy wooden construction of the coffins and the practice of sealing the coffins with plaster. These differences may be simply a matter of status differential, the Maoershan burials representing an elite class. The Maoershan tombs also appear to predate the Laoheshen cemetery by some margin, suggesting a temporal distinction as well as one of social status. The lack of coffin covers or human remains may suggest that the bodies had been plundered or otherwise removed, which leaves a conspicuous gap in our understanding of this cemetery. Since 1989, however, the cemetery has undergone several seasons of systematic excavations, and about 1,000 tombs have been located on the slopes of Maoershan and the surrounding hills.26 Only brief summary reports for these excavations have been 26. These include four planned seasons in 1989, 1990, 1991, and 1993 and one rescue excavation in 1997.

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published to date, but the reported finds are fascinating. In 1989 three sections of the cemetery at Maoershan were excavated and 27 tombs were uncovered.27 The tombs were of the same construction as those in the 1980 excavation and were divided into two classes—small-scale earth-pit wood-coffin tombs and large-scale earth-pit wood-coffin tombs (plate 7). The latter variety sometimes consisted of double coffins, but those of the former variety were always individual burials. Although the small-scale tombs sometimes had traces of covers and human remains, none of the large-scale tombs had either. The lack of covers and corpses in the larger tombs and the fact that pottery vessels and sherds were often found in the earth fill of these tombs suggest that the bodies in the larger tombs were all removed, though the reasons for such a removal are unclear. In many instances the smaller tombs were found to have intruded on the larger tombs, suggesting a chronological relationship between the two types of burials. The more than 180 items of burial goods retrieved from the tombs included gold plaques with animal motifs; ornaments of gold, silver, and gilt bronze; iron tools, spearheads, and horse bits; agate beads; and various types of pottery (plates 8–13). Most notable among the burial goods is a lacquerware vessel (plate 14). The 1990 excavation uncovered fifty-seven tombs in Areas IV and V of Maoershan, and in Areas I to V at Guigaishan about a kilometer to the southwest of Maoershan.28 The tombs were of the same construction as those in the previous excavation, but among the Guigaishan burials one pit contained three coffins arranged in a fashion similar to M1 of the 1980 excavation. Some of the smaller tombs at Guigaishan were found to be relatively undisturbed, allowing archaeologists to observe the funerary practice of placing pottery vessels on the coffin covers, which recalls the practice at Laoheshen. Burial goods were of types similar to those retrieved the previous year, but new types included an iron ring-handled knife of Han design and a broken bronze mirror. In 1991 the excavation work turned to the slopes of Nanshan and Longtanshan to the south and north of Maoershan.29 More than ten earth-pit wood-coffin tombs were uncovered, all of which were of the smaller variety. The most significant finds came from tomb M3 at Longtanshan Area II, which yielded a number of bronze chariot fittings including an ornamental disk, axle caps and linchpins, buttons, and bells. The ends of some of the linchpins were fashioned to represent human faces with features very similar to those on the bronze face masks found at Maoershan in the 1920s and 1930s (plate 15).30 Similar faces appear also on bronze items that seem to be ornamental finial caps (plate 16). In addition to the earth-pit tombs, this excavation uncovered a few tombs of an entirely different variety. These tombs were composed of surface mounds of mixed stone and earth, with river cobblestones topped by larger stones forming a square or circular frame. No traces of pits or of coffins were found, nor were there any human remains. Some pottery sherds and a few arrowheads and horse bits were recovered from the mounds, which 27. Liu Jingwen 1990. 28. Liu Jingwen 1991. 29. Wang Hongfeng 1992. 30. Linchpins with similar facial features but of different structure were found at two royal tombs at the Koguryŏ capital site in modern Ji’an. These bronze faces will be discussed in more detail in chapter 6.

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appear to have been cairn burials raised on the ground surface. Their relationship with the earth-pit tombs is unknown.31 Test trenches were cut in the plain between Maoershan and Dongtuanshan and at Xishan during the 1993 excavation.32 A disturbed dwelling was cleared, but few details were reported, though a thick cultural layer with clear stratigraphy was said to have yielded considerable information regarding the periodization of the ceramic assemblage. Four earth-pit tombs were also uncovered that year, in two of which charred earth was found in both the pits and the fill. Tomb M18 at Xishan Area I was a large-scale earth-pit burial with an end chamber, which yielded gold and silver ornaments, ceramic and wooden vessels, and lacquered cups with handles. It yielded the largest number of artifacts among all of the tombs excavated in the Maoershan complex. Two significant finds originated from this tomb. The first was a wood-core bronze-encased horse stirrup, one of the earliest specimens of its type yet found in China. The second was a number of textile fragments, including a 42 × 36 cm piece of silk painted with meanders and geometric designs, also an early example of a very rare item (plate 17).33 A rescue excavation in 1997 uncovered twenty-eight tombs at Nanshan to the southwest of Guigaishan.34 Six of the tombs were badly disturbed by construction work prior to the excavation, but twenty-two other relatively well-preserved tombs were analyzed. A few tombs were of the smaller variety, but they were badly decayed and archaeologists noted only the thin remains of the wooden coffin and the plaster on the sides and bottom. The majority of the tombs were large, and a few of these were individual burials, though most were double-coffin burials, and several pits contained three coffins. The coffins were plastered on the sides, top, and bottom. No human remains were found. Burial goods included pottery, spindle whorls, a bronze fu cauldron, a bronze bridle, other gold and bronze ornaments, iron farming tools, and some textile remains. Like the other earth-pit tombs in the Maoershan vicinity, these tombs were dated to a time range including the Han period and possibly a slightly later period. Although the formal reports for the excavations from 1989 onward have yet to appear in publication, the summary reports provide enough information to permit a general description of the Maoershan cemetery. The primary burial type is the earth-pit woodcoffin burial, which appears in smaller and larger varieties, the latter of which may predate the former by a small margin. The burials are spread over a wide area and concentrate on the slopes of low hills, with the larger and richer burials located on or near the tops of the hills. More than 160 tombs have been excavated, and the locations of about 1,000 more have been plotted, with the total number of burials in the cemetery estimated to be as many as 8,000. The tombs date from the Western Han period (last two centuries bce) to as late as 31. Although the report contained no speculation on the origins of these mounded tombs, they do bear some resemblance to early Koguryŏ tombs found in the Hun and Yalu valleys far to the south of Jilin. Abundant Koguryŏ remains are found in the Maoershan vicinity, reflecting the later Koguryŏ occupation of the region, but much more data are needed before the nature of these tombs becomes clear. 32. Wang Hongfeng 1994. 33. The painted silk, shown here in plate 17, is described in Wenwu Chubanshe 1999, 115; see also Wang Zhao 1997. 34. Liu Jingwen 1998.

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the Wei and Jin periods (third to fourth centuries), which corresponds to the entire period during which the Puyŏ state existed in this region. Significantly, the burials cluster around the walled site at Dongtuanshan, believed to have been the capital of Puyŏ during this time. The tomb occupants were very likely the elites populating the Puyŏ capital city. The tombs differ from those at Laoheshen in terms of specific structure, though the funerary practices observed in the two cemeteries appear to have been quite similar. The wooden coffin construction at Maoershan has been interpreted as reflecting the strong influence of Han culture, though a more detailed analysis seems warranted before local development can be ruled out. Nevertheless, there is clear evidence of close relations between the tomb occupants and the Han empire. Han coins, mirrors, and lacquerware indicate direct or indirect importation of goods from the Central Plains, whereas the presence of Han-style iron tools and Han-influenced ceramics implies a more profound importation of technologies and aesthetic tastes from Han China. The richness of the ornamental and luxury goods retrieved from the Maoershan burials (the vast majority of which were plundered long ago) is evidence of a thriving local economy reinforced, no doubt, by some form of trade with Han. The presence of a regional artistic tradition, represented by the gilt-bronze face masks and decorated chariot gear, provides evidence of a strong local cultural identity. A consistent funerary tradition is also evident and appears both to have been shared by the populations at Laoheshen and to have been inherited in part from the Xituanshan culture of the preceding period. The anticipated publication of the Maoershan excavation reports promises to reveal much about the inhabitants of the Jilin vicinity during the period that marks the emergence of the first state-level entity in central Manchuria. These reports will also undoubtedly generate many more questions about the nature of the cemetery and its history. Even now the cemetery poses some perplexing riddles, such as the question of why the corpses and burial goods of so many of the large-scale burials appear to have been removed. Until the time these reports are made public, scholars are limited to making only a few generalizations about the nature of the burials. Nevertheless, the Laoheshen reports and the other excavations described above make possible a preliminary analysis of the composition of the Paoziyan cultural element of the post-Xituanshan culture, which will follow presently. First, however, it is necessary to recognize that the Paoziyan culture constitutes only the center of a larger cultural distribution referred to here as the “post-Xituanshan culture.” Although the core element is the primary concern of the present study, a brief analysis of the peripheral components will be of some use. The archaeologically excavated sites located in the zone peripheral to the core of Xituanshan culture display some characteristics in common with the Xituanshan sites, while at the same time maintaining certain regional distinctions. Similarly, the societies that emerged contemporary with the Paoziyan culture also bear signs of strong regional identities, though sharing certain characteristics with all other components of the postXituanshan culture. In 1993 Qiao Liang published a study that proposed a preliminary classification of the regional components of post-Xituanshan culture and divided those components into five groups.35 35. Qiao 1993.

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The first is the Paoziyan type, which includes the Paoziyan and Laoheshen sites and is part of what is here termed “Paoziyan culture.” Next is the Huangyujuan Zhushan 黄 鱼圈珠山 M1 type, which consists of one tomb excavated at the Zhushan site at Huangyujuan in Shulan, tomb M1 at Guanmashan 关马山 and the upper level at Shilashan 石砬 山 in Jiutai, and the Houshi 猴石 cemetery in Gongzhuling.36 Stone cists, cremation, and iron farming tools characterize this type. The third type is the Xingjiadian 邢家店 type, which includes the Wangjiatuozi 王家坨子 and Beiling 北岭 sites in Dehui and the Xingjiadian site in Nongan.37 It is characterized by individual and multiple burials in earthen pits, with both primary and secondary interments. The fourth type is the Tianjiatuozi 田家坨子 type, which consists of dwelling F1 excavated at Tianjiatuozi in Nongan.38 Its distinguishing characteristics include a complex ceramic assemblage with coarse sandy ware and a fine clay ware, some of which is decorated with a cord pattern or incised lines. These remains combine stylistic elements from the Paoziyan types and from the Hanshu 汉书 II culture to the northwest. The final type is the “Han pottery” type, which includes those sites that have yielded Han or Han-style ceramics and iron tools. All of the remains of these five types are believed to date from the later Warring States period to the Han period, corresponding to the early post-Xituanshan period.39 The relationship among these various types is quite complex, and the classification schema seems rather preliminary and in need of further development. Qiao’s Paoziyan and “Han Pottery” types seem to overlap to such a degree that they might best be considered as a single category with multiple cultural elements. The differences observed among the various types appear to reflect regional traditions and influence from neighboring cultures. The Tianjiatuozi type, for example, displays the influence of cultures to its northwest, which is a consequence of its geographical position. In terms of ceramic types the various components of post-Xituanshan culture exhibit some degree of commonality (both in vessel types and in methods of manufacture), which may reflect increased regional interchange with the post-Xituanshan core in Jilin. Qiao notes that the Han element represents a local adaptation of Han goods and Han styles, though it would be more accurate to describe this “Han” influence as a composite that encompasses styles ranging chronologically from the Yan period to the Han. Underlying this influence is a strong indigenous character that did not vanish from the archaeological record following the introduction of “Han” culture. Qiao saw the Paoziyan and Tianjiatuozi types as the direct successors of the Xituanshan culture and the core of the Puyŏ state. The other types represent regional components of the post-Xituanshan culture that exhibit some degree of variation caused by the influence they received from 36. For Zhushan, see Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui 1985; for Guanmashan, see Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1991; and for Houshi, see Wu Baozhong 1989. 37. For the Dehui sites, see Liu Hongyu 1985; Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1993; for the Nongan site, see Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1989; Zhu Hong and Wang Peixin 1989. 38. Jilin Daxue Lishixi Kaogu Zhuanye 1979. 39. The chronology is determined by a few instances of observed stratigraphy. Tomb M1 at Huangyujuan intruded on a Xituanshan dwelling, and the Shilashan site intruded on earlier Xituanshan remains, suggesting a post-Xituanshan date. The Xingjiadian site also immediately overlay a Hanshu layer. The other sites yielded iron or ceramic artifacts that permitted a relative dating.

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neighboring cultures. Qiao’s model is useful but fails to account for what appears to be a greater degree of variability among regional types. He notes, for example, certain characteristics that seem to be shared between the Huangyujuan type and the burials at Xihuangshan in Huadian, though this congruence is difficult to account for given the geographical distance and isolation between these two groups.40 For present purposes I merely note the existence of regional variation in what appears to be a post-Xituanshan cultural continuum, but a more detailed analysis will be needed before the spatial extent of that continuum can be discerned. Any boundaries perceived to delimit such a geographical range will, of course, mark a zone of distribution of selected elements of material culture and should not be understood as representative of political or ethnic boundaries.

Liangquan Culture In the hilly regions around northeastern Liaoning and the adjacent regions of Jilin to the southwest of the Xituanshan sphere, new cultural features appeared late in the bronze period and gradually replaced the Wanghua culture and its regional variations. The new archaeological culture is often referred to in Liaoning as “Liangquan culture” 涼泉文化 after the type site in Xifeng.41 The distribution of this culture extends eastward across the border into Jilin, where certain elements are associated with Baoshan culture and others with the Shilazi and Xiejiajie types, though the taxonomies and chronologies of these cross-border cultures have yet to be sorted out in a comprehensive manner (fig. 4.14).42 There is also enough variation throughout this broad region to warrant caution in describing them as a cultural continuum, though there is sufficient commonality to discuss them in general terms as they relate to the phenomena we have examined in the central Jilin region. There are, additionally, limits to a general analysis due to the lack of a stable chronology, a problem that should diminish as more data become available. For present purposes, the sites associated with these archaeological cultures (defined provisionally as “Liangquan culture”) will be described and summarized below. 40. Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui and Jilinshi Bowuguan 1982. The Huangyujuan type is also difficult to define in that its type site in northwestern Shulan is only three or four kilometers to the south of the Laoheshen cemetery, which Qiao classifies as representing the Paoziyan type. A closer control of the chronology of these sites may better illustrate the relationship among these various groups. 41. Tielingshi Bowuguan 1992; Xin Yan 1995. The type site is located at Jiangjiagou 姜家沟 in the Liangquan township of southern Xifeng. 42. The term “Baoshan culture” is not well defined. It seems to have been first coined by Jin Xudong in a 1991 paper describing the bronze- and iron-period cultures of the Dongfeng region in Jilin (see Jin Xudong 1991). This study was based on a 1985 survey of sites in this region, which included those at Baoshan, Dayang, Longtoushan, and Dajiazishan (see Jilinsheng Kaogu Yanjiusuo and Dongfengxian Wenhuaguan 1988), and a 1987 survey of capstone tombs in the region. Since the heaviest concentration of sites focused on the town of Baoshan, this was the name given to the culture. The term appears to be coming into general usage, though it would appear to be in need of chronological refinement. Jin dates Baoshan culture to approximately the eighth to second centuries bce.

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Fig. 4.14. Distribution of sites associated with the Liangquan culture.

Site distribution is densest in the counties of Dongliao, Meihekou, Liuhe, Xifeng, and Qingyuan, though sites are found as far from this center as Siping in the northwest and Tonghua in the south.43 One branch of sites lying along the southern slopes of the Daheishan mountain range extends even as far as Changchun. Most Liangquan sites concentrate on the upper reaches of the Dongliao River, the upper tributaries of the Huifa River, and the Kouhe 寇河 and Qinghe 清河 rivers in Liaoning. Generally, the Liangquan cul43. Xiao Jingquan 2000b.

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tural sphere approximates that of the earlier Wanghua culture. The brief analysis that follows examines the major sites associated with this culture separately by region. This culture was recognized in northeastern Liaoning by the archaeologist Sun Shoudao in the 1950s and 1960s, but it was Xin Yan who began to use the term “Liangquan type” in the 1980s, after the type site in Liangquan Township in Xifeng (this type was also recognized as the indigenous culture identified at the Lianhuapu site in 1957). Data on this culture accumulated during the 1980s, and scholars initially considered it to be a regional bronze-period culture that succeeded the Wanghua culture. More recently, however, many scholars are beginning to distinguish Liangquan culture from its antecedents and to refer to it as an iron-period culture.44 Liangquan pottery is mostly a sandy gray ware, with vessel types including guan and hu vessels as well as urns and dou pedestals, which often have simple designs of impressed dotted patterns near the vessel rims. Handle styles include the looped, triangular, and bridged varieties. Stone tools include axe heads, adzes, hoes, knives, and net sinks. Iron farming tools are also frequently found at Liangquan sites. Although there are differences in opinion as to chronology, the most careful analyses would seem to indicate a range from about the fourth or third centuries bce to the first or second centuries ce.45 In the adjacent region of Jilin Province to the north of the Jilinhada range, this culture is equivalent to the Shilazi and Xiejiajie types identified by Jin Xudong (discussed in the previous chapter—see fig. 3.10 for site locations). Although these cultural types are often associated with Wanghua culture in Liaoning, it seems likely that some refinement of the chronology would result in a closer correlation between these regional variations.46 In the regions of southern Liaoyuan and northern Tonghua in Jilin Province, archaeological remains associated with two cultures of different periods in the latter half of the first millennium bce have been identified. They are typified by a pair of sites in Dongfeng county—the Baoshan and Dajiazishan sites—each of which preserved layers belonging to both of these cultures (the Dajiazishan site being particularly rich in artifacts, probably representing a large village of long occupation).47 The lower level features an indigenous pottery assemblage that includes guan, hu, and dou vessels, with very few tripodals. The pottery is a black or dark brown ware made of sandy paste, with burnished surfaces, some with impressed dot patterns near the rim. The dou pedestals appear in 44. For discussions of this shift in understanding see Xiao Jingquan 2000b and Zhou Xiangyong 2006. Zhou notes that the confusion regarding the labeling of the culture as belonging to the bronze or iron periods is largely a reflection of the lack of systematic excavation and analysis of sites and also a factor of the relatively sudden appearance of iron in this region from Yan and Han. 45. This is based on Xiao Jingquan 2000b. 46. See Zhou Xiangyong 2006, who notes that the types in Liaoyuan are thought to date as early as the eighth century bce. Zhou appears to credit the researchers in Jilin with being a step ahead of their counterparts in Liaoning, though differences in the frequencies of iron tools found at sites in Liaoyuan might prompt researchers in that region to postulate dates more firmly in the period preceding the introduction of iron by the Yan expansion into Liaodong (as Zhou’s own argument would suggest). In this respect, the chronology gaining favor in Liaoning seems more likely. Nevertheless, a difference in development between regions is also a possible factor contributing to the apparent disparity in periodization. 47. For a general discussion of these cultures, see Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 2003. See also Zhou Xiangyong 2006.

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two varieties, one featuring a flared base and the other a post-shaped handle. This culture is associated with Baoshan culture, as discussed in the previous chapter, and its dates are estimated to range from the eighth to second centuries bce. The upper level of the Baoshan and Dajiazishan sites dates to a slightly later period and is represented by brown and gray sandy ware vessels. The brown ware is indigenous, hand-made with a plain surface and variegated color. Types include the hu, guan, and the flared-base and post-handle dou. The gray ware is a Yan-Han type, wheel-thrown with impressions of fabric on its surface, and is thought to be an import. Numerous iron tools are also found at this level in both sites, all of which are types commonly found in the Central Plains. This culture is thought to date from the early second century bce or slightly earlier. Most elements of this culture would seem to suggest a close association with Liangquan culture in Liaoning, though some scholars now consider it to represent a variety of Puyŏ culture. As with Wanghua culture, the degree of commonality observed in artifacts of the succeeding period across these three adjacent regions is high enough to warrant a description of them as constituting a single cultural group. As mentioned above, however, there is a need for more and better data so that the developmental processes and chronological indexes for the region can be properly understood. A close study of the dou pedestal and the appearance of the peculiar dotted patterns on vessel surfaces would be especially useful in this respect, though again some firm chronological indexes are necessary to associate such developments with those of surrounding regions. Further, there is a need for correlation and standardization of terms and concepts in scholarly discourse on both sides of the provincial border to avoid confusion, which presently hinders the study of this region. Nevertheless, for present purposes, it is sufficient to observe that among the sites and artifacts associated with Liangquan culture and its correlates there are those that can be dated to the third century bce and later, the time by which the Puyŏ state would have exerted its political and cultural influence over this region. That the region would have belonged to the Puyŏ state will be argued in a later chapter, but for now we will discuss Liangquan culture as a transitional development associated with the emergence and early development of the Puyŏ state. The emergence of Liangquan culture is marked most clearly by new vessel types, of which the dou pedestal is the most diagnostic. Such pedestals, which are rare in the Wanghua assemblage except, perhaps, during its very late period, appear in large numbers, but the tripodal vessels of the Wanghua period are found only rarely in Liangquan culture.48 Iron farming implements make their appearance during the Liangquan period of this region, though their relationship with the appearance of the new vessel types remains unclear. The assemblage of vessel types and their mode of manufacture suggest a close relationship with the Paoziyan culture in central Jilin, but there are important distinctions as well. One diagnostic characteristic is the presence of incised or impressed markings on vessel surfaces (fig. 4.15). Appearing primarily on dou and hu vessels, such marks typically take the form of impressed dots arranged in simple patterns that are repeated on the surface, usually near the top of the vessel. Additionally, many vessels 48. Xin Yan 1995; Xiao Jingquan 2000b.

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Fig. 4.15. Liangquan pottery from the Shidawang site (various scales). After Dongfengxian wenwuzhi 1987, 26.

have simple knob-like handles, the ends of which feature a series of grooves. Some scholars have suggested that this decorative motif originated in the Dongliao region, from which the practice spread outward and evolved in adjacent regions.49 The dou of the Paoziyan assemblage, by contrast, is undecorated. Very few settlement sites of Liangquan culture have been excavated, and full reports for most of those sites that have been surveyed or excavated have yet to appear in publication.50 Further, few scholars have analyzed the culture across its entire geographical scope, those who have addressed it typically restricting their analysis to sites in either Jilin or Liaoning provinces only. There is also some disagreement as to the chronological placement of the culture, though the best estimates currently view it as ranging from the late Warring States period (ca. fourth century bce) to the Western Han period.51 Its appearance therefore appears to coincide roughly with that of the post-Xituanshan culture, though more data are needed to narrow the uncertainty of current estimates. The earliest iron farming implements (Yan-Han types) in the Liangquan sphere occur in context with Liangquan sites, particularly in association with defensive walled sites, which will be examined in chapter 6.52 49. Tang Hongyuan and Zhou Chuanbo 1994. 50. Exceptions are the Shidawang 石大望 site in Dongfeng (Tang Hongyuan and Zhou Chuanbo 1994) and the Longshoushan 龙首山 site in Liaoyuan (Liaoyuanshi Wenwu Guanlisuo 1997). 51. Following Xiao Jingquan 2000b. 52. An example is the Changzhi Nanshan 长治 山 site in Dongliao, which consists of a settlement and a walled hilltop site. An iron digging tool similar to those Yan-Han types found among post-Xituanshan remains was retrieved from the hilltop site. See Dongliaoxian wenwuzhi 1988, 47–48, 185–87, 250–51.

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Most Liangquan burials are in the form of stone cists, though dolmen burials and multiple interments (including cremations) in large stone cists appear as well.53 By the end of the Liangquan period earth-pit burials had also appeared, along with a very different cultural expression that parallels the processes observed in central Jilin. This new expression is represented by a number of cemeteries located in southeastern Dongliao and in nearby Xifeng. The first is the Xichagou 西岔沟 cemetery in Xifeng, excavated in 1956.54 Of equal importance are three cemeteries centered on Shiyi 石驿 in Dongliao, surveyed in 1979 and 1986.55 The burials in these cemeteries closely resemble those found at Laoheshen in northern Jilin. The Xichagou and Shiyi burials included iron swords, gold ornaments, bronze plaques with animal motifs, horse and chariot trappings, and Han coins and mirrors (plates 18–19).56 Both cemeteries additionally yielded evidence of horse pits placed in the center of the burials. In all of these factors the two cemeteries share characteristics with Laoheshen—all three combine elements from the northern nomadic traditions, Han luxury items, and an indigenous ritual expression. The cemeteries differ from Laoheshen in their ceramic content, though all three cemeteries display evidence of continuity from the earlier ceramic traditions of their respective regions.57 Sherds retrieved from the Shiyi cemeteries, for example, feature dou stems with impressed markings and handles with grooved edges. Based on analysis of datable Han coins and mirrors, the Xichagou burials are thought to date from the early to mid-first century bce, whereas the Shiyi burials date to the mid- to late first century bce.58 53. Jin Xudong 1991. 54. For Xichagou see Sun Shoudao 1960. The cemetery, located in Leshanxiang 乐山乡 in Xifeng County, was badly looted by local residents in the summer of 1956. After farmers accidentally uncovered several tombs, people from the vicinity and neighboring villages brought their families and even camped out on the site in order to dig up the tombs for their burial goods. By the time local authorities became aware of the looting the damage was already severe. A rescue excavation was conducted at the site, and some 13,800 artifacts were eventually recovered. No formal excavation report was ever published. Most published scholarship treating this cemetery focuses on the matter of the ethnic identity of its occupants, earlier theories favoring the Xiongnu or Xianbei, whereas later theories focused on the Wuhuan or Puyŏ. For such discussions see Sun Shoudao 1957; Ceng Yong 1961; Tian Yun 1984 (this study was the first to propose a Puyŏ association); Lin Yun 1998; and Zhou Xiangyong 2006 (in which the site is associated with Liangquan culture). 55. For Shiyi see Liu Shengyan 1984, Liu Shengyan 1985, and Dongliaoxian wenwuzhi 1988, 166–70. The three cemeteries are named Cailan 彩岚, Changxing Houshan 长兴后山, and Jinglaoyuan Beishan 敬老 院北山. The Shiyi cemeteries were never formally excavated—like the cemetery at Xichagou, they too were disturbed by local residents, who removed the burial goods. The archaeological survey based its reports on the testimony of the residents, whatever tomb goods were still in the vicinity, and any material remaining in the tombs or scattered in the vicinity. 56. Among the swords found at both cemeteries were a number with unusual bronze hilts, often referred to in scholarship as “antenna-style daggers” 觸角式銅劍. Although swords of this type have been found in northeastern China, the Korean peninsula, and southwestern Japan, their distribution zone is fairly restricted and known specimens number only in the twenties. The majority cluster in Puyŏ territory and date approximately from the second century bce to the second century ce. It is possible that they were products of Puyŏ manufacture, but more analysis is necessary to establish this. See Miyamoto 2002; Pak Sŏn-mi and Mark E. Byington 2012. 57. Lin Yun 1998; Zhou Xiangyong 2006. 58. Liu Shengyan 1985.

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These cemetery sites, therefore, seem to mark the latest phase of Liangquan culture and the emergence in the Liaoyuan region of the mature Puyŏ state. That this region was in fact integrated into the Puyŏ state will be demonstrated in chapter 6, though the important matter of chronology must remain unresolved for now. Future archaeological work should yield data that enable us to refine the rough chronology at hand today. This may help us to determine how the two regions—represented by the post-Xituanshan and Liangquan archaeological cultures—came to be united into the Puyŏ state. It is possible, of course, that there had been close interaction between the two regions from the bronze period and that the two developed in parallel. There is also the possibility that the societies of one region enveloped the other. Such problems and possible solutions will be treated in a later chapter, but for now it will suffice to acknowledge that the Liangquan culture and the region it occupied were critical components in the formation of the early Puyŏ state. The sparseness of published archaeological data forces me to deal with the region only summarily in this study, but a comprehensive treatment of the Liangquan culture will be indispensable for any future studies of Puyŏ state formation.

The Lamadong Cemetery We turn now to another site, which is located a great distance from the regions associated with Puyŏ and is rather later in date than the other sites considered here, but which is nevertheless likely to be associated with Puyŏ culture. The Lamadong 喇嘛洞 cemetery is located in Beipiao County in western Liaoning between the cities of Beipiao and Chaoyang. This region on the Daling River served as the principal center of the Murong Xianbei 慕容鮮卑 state of Former Yan 前燕, the archaeological remains of which are found in abundance. Lamadong is located 8 km to the southwest of a settlement site called Jinlingsi 金岭寺 and 6.5 km to the northeast of a site called Sanguanyingzi 三官 营子, both of which are believed to be associated with the Murong capital city of Jicheng 棘城.59 The Lamadong site is significant in the present study in that the majority of the burials may be those of Puyŏ people displaced by the Murong invasion of Puyŏ in 285 (this event will be discussed in chapter 5). Following its discovery in 1989, the Lamadong cemetery underwent five planned archaeological excavations from 1993 to 1998, during which some 435 tombs were uncovered. A natural drainage ditch divides the cemetery into two areas, the western area (Area II) containing the majority (369) of the burials.60 The tombs were mostly woodcoffin earth-pit interments that were built in large, medium, and small scales, though a 59. All of these sites overlook the Daling River. See Tian Likun 1996. 60. Test excavations began in the fall of 1993, and from 1995 to 1997 a sequence of planned excavations of small areas of the cemetery was conducted. During this phase, consisting of the first 4 excavations, 45 tombs were excavated in Area I (BL I-M1-M45), and 21 tombs were excavated in Area II (BL II-M1-M21). In 1998 a large-scale excavation conducted from May to November uncovered 53 tombs in Area I (BL I-M46-M53) and 382 tombs in Area II (BL II-M22-M382). Of the 369 tombs uncovered in the 1998 excavation, 355 belonged to the Three-Yan period, 12 to the bronze period, and 2 to the Qing period. For the

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few of the smaller tombs in Area II were of the stone-cist variety. Nearly all of the burials were individual primary interments, the body placed in a supine position, limbs extended, with the head oriented toward the northeast.61 Graves were arranged in linear fashion following the slope of the hill, with no apparent divisions of the burial precinct based on social criteria, such as social or economic status. Based on its location on the Daling River between the cities of Chaoyang and Beipiao, where the earliest capitals (Jicheng and Longcheng) of the Murong Xianbei were located, archaeologists were prepared to view the Lamadong cemetery as remains closely associated with the Murong Xianbei. The burials in the cemetery appear to date from the late third to mid-fourth centuries, corresponding to the period during which the Murong capital was at the nearby site of Jicheng. And indeed, most of the burial goods appeared to be typical of other contemporary Murong tombs that had been excavated. There were, however, some notable characteristics that distinguished the Lamadong burials from other known Murong mortuary remains. Tian Likun was the first to analyze and delineate these distinctive characteristics in systematic form, and he identified five areas that reflect these distinctions. First, other known interments belonging to the Murong Xianbei were not as a rule oriented toward the northeast or any other cardinal direction, but those of Lamadong are oriented between 30 and 65 degrees. Second, most known Murong burials feature oblong wood coffins that are wider at the head than at the feet, and many of these also have a niche for burial goods located at the head; however, of the burials at Lamadong, only M7 in Area I is oblong and contains a head niche, the others having rectangular coffins with no niche (M7 is also the only case of a secondary burial in the cemetery). Third, typical Murong burials do not yield pottery in the backfill of the tomb, but most of those at Lamadong did yield such pottery. Fourth, of the many types of burial goods recovered from Lamadong, gold wire earrings, bronze deer-shaped implements, ring-headed iron implements, bronze faces, and iron swords have not been found in other Murong burials. Fifth, other large-scale Murong tombs have yielded gold buyao 步摇 head ornaments that are thought to be representative of the early elite culture of the Murong; however, at Lamadong only M7 yielded a pair of buyao ornaments. The implication of this analysis is that with the exception of tomb M7 in Area I, the vast majority of the burials at Lamadong feature characteristics atypical of the Murong Xianbei. Again, Tian Likun was the first to draw a connection, albeit tentatively, between Lamadong and the Puyŏ cemetery at Laoheshen. Tian noted that the orientation of graves, the rectangular wood coffins, the pottery in grave backfill, and the gold wire earrings and iron swords are all features associated with the Laoheshen cemetery (though the two cemeteries are separated temporally by as much as two centuries). Tian further suggested that the vast majority of interments at Lamadong were those of Puyŏ people full report of the 1998 excavation see Liaoningsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo, Chaoyangshi Bowuguan, and Beipiaoshi Wenwu Guanlisuo 2004. 61. According to the report of the 1998 excavation, only four of the tombs excavated that year were double interments, the rest being individual burials.

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who had been captured by the Murong during their invasion of Puyŏ in 285 and resettled in the vicinity of Jicheng when the Murong returned to make their capital in this region in 294. The argument for a connection with Puyŏ is strong, though compelling evidence is still lacking, and many scholars remain unconvinced of Tian’s assertion. Certain elements that Tian did not discuss would, however, tend to strengthen his argument. First, the inclusion of gilt-bronze faces is perhaps the most distinctive characteristic feature of some burials in the Puyŏ cemetery at Maoershan, as will be discussed in further detail in chapter 6. Although the faces recovered from the burials at Lamadong are crude by comparison with those found at Maoershan, they may be explained as late retrograde examples of a surviving Puyŏ mortuary practice observed by displaced Puyŏ elites who lacked access to the workshops needed to produce the more refined specimens used at Maoershan. In fact, many of the features of the Lamadong faces, such as the protruding ears, the gaping mouths, and especially the furrowed foreheads, clearly echo those of the Maoershan faces (plate 20). Second, the appearance of several ornaments featuring deer decorations, including several bronze deer heads mounted on bronze hemispheres that were apparently worn on the chest or abdomen of the interred, is to be considered of possible significance.62 Although published archaeological data from known Puyŏ contexts have as yet not revealed any particular emphasis on deer or deer motifs, some scholars have argued that the name Puyŏ was derived from the local word for deer, which may be reflected in the fact that the Puyŏ capital had been located at Nok-san 鹿山 (Deer Mountain).63 Furthering his analysis of the artifacts recovered from Lamadong, Tian Likun compared horse gear from the Lamadong burials with other trappings from contemporary Murong burials in the region.64 He organized the artifacts into two assemblages, each consisting of a type of gilt-bronze saddle frame, cheek plates, and stirrups. Assemblage A saddle frames are more angular with a wider top, and they are typically found with rounded or floral-shaped cheek plates and ringed stirrups with distinct foot hoops and descending bars. Assemblage B saddle frames are distinctly rounded in shape, and they are found with S-shaped cheek plates and a ringed teardrop-shaped stirrup in which there is no distinction between the foot hoop and the descending bar. Tian’s sample size was admittedly small, consisting of six saddle-frame sets recovered from Lamadong (of which three were recovered during controlled excavation) and 62. The report of the 1998 excavation notes the frequency of deer-shaped items in the burials. The bronze deer heads on convex plates are rare and found only in the larger tombs (specimens were recovered from tomb II-M266 in 1998 and from I-M5 and I-M17 during earlier excavations). By comparison, deer heads and antlers made of lead occur with much greater frequency, being normally found singly, though two were found in II-M49. The report suggests that they would have been personal items of great value to the deceased. See Liaoningsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo, Chaoyangshi Bowuguan, and Beipiaoshi Wenwu Guanlisuo 2004. 63. During the eighth and ninth centuries ce, deer from the former Puyŏ region were favored trade items when the state of Parhae ruled the area as the Puyŏ Superior Prefecture. See Xin Tangshu 219:6183 (Account of Parhae): 俗所貴者 . . . 扶餘之鹿. 64. Tian Likun 2010.

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seven others from the surrounding region. However, with a single exception A-type items are found only with other A-type items, and the same is true for B-type items, though not all cases consist of a complete set of all three items. Assemblage A is characteristic of the majority of Murong Xianbei remains in the Chaoyang-Beipiao region, and in Tian’s sample they account for three of the saddle frames from Lamadong and all of the seven frames found in the surrounding region. Assemblage B items are comparatively rare and in the target region are found only at Lamadong. Tian notes that the S-shaped cheek plate is also found at Laoheshen and proposes that the Assemblage B items represent types associated with Puyŏ culture.65 Such an argument might be further tested should additional horse trappings be discovered in Puyŏ contexts, and the future publication of the excavation reports from Maoershan is likely to shed some light on this matter. If Tian is correct in postulating an ethnic distinction among the interred at Lamadong based on his analysis of material remains, this presents an opportunity to pose a number of questions related to the behavior of forcibly displaced peoples and their ideological views as expressed in a mortuary context. The case also indicates the need to engage in comparative analyses of Xianbei and Puyŏ material cultures. Careful studies of the rich data extracted from this cemetery can be expected to reveal more detail on the nature of those interred at Lamadong and their ethnic identities. For example, based on the orderly arrangement of graves, the prevalence of weapons and other military implements, and the disproportionate numbers of young men interred, the formal report of the 1998 excavation suggests that the cemetery remains reveal a military character and that those interred there are likely to be soldiers and their wives. Further, the report notes that the large quantities of iron weapons and production tools recovered from Lamadong are not consonant with contemporary Xianbei remains, where iron production was in its very early stages. The authors of the report suggest that the iron goods were not locally produced but came rather from outside. If this is the case, and Tian’s theory that the majority of the interred are Puyŏ people, we may postulate that one of the reasons the Murong brought Puyŏ captives back to their homeland in 285 was the desire to take advantage of Puyŏ’s advanced iron production technologies. The publication of the excavations conducted at the Puyŏ cemetery at Maoershan should permit the further study of these and many other questions. If those buried at Lamadong are indeed Puyŏ people, the data from this cemetery would prove useful for an analysis of Puyŏ’s late-period culture.66

65. If this argument is sustainable, it would be interesting to note that known saddle frames recovered from Koguryŏ contexts are of the A-type and would therefore represent influence from the Xianbei style rather than the Puyŏ style. 66. In fact, data from Lamadong have already undergone a number of useful and interesting analyses, many with focus on recovered skeletal material. Studies have been conducted on tooth disease, diet (via stable isotope analysis, which indicated a largely vegetarian diet), and genetic structure (via mtDNA analysis). These studies, however, have proceeded on the assumption that their subjects were Murong Xianbei people, and their conclusions might warrant reconsideration should the cemetery prove to be one used by Puyŏ populations. See Dong Yu et al. 2007; Haijing Wang et al. 2007; Zhang Quanchao, Liu Zheng, and Zhu Hong 2003; Zhang Quanchao 2003; and Zhu Hong et al. 2012.

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Elements of Post-Xituanshan Culture Given the lack of relevant published data, any description of the constitution of the post-Xituanshan culture must be a provisional one. Information on dwelling forms and community layout and distribution is sparse, and there is insufficient data to propose a comprehensive chronology of sites. Here I will focus on prominent features of postXituanshan culture, especially as they reflect change from the Xituanshan period. The discussion will emphasize that the late Xituanshan society experienced a series of profound transformations catalyzed by increased regional interactions, and that the result was the emergence of a state-level polity that corresponds to the historical Puyŏ state. I will focus primarily on the post-Xituanshan core represented by the Paoziyan culture, though it is clear that the societies in the zones peripheral to this core played a key role in the emergence of the state. Unfortunately, however, data from these peripheral sites are too scarce and currently represent only the earliest transformational period of social change, so a proper consideration of their role in the emergence of the Puyŏ state must be deferred to a time when more data are available and these societies are better understood. The pottery assemblage of the post-Xituanshan core represents a partial continuation of the Xituanshan tradition influenced by the introduction of pottery from Yan and Han. Although it is clear that pottery from Yan and Han (here referred to generally as Han pottery) was imported and used, the indigenous assemblage was also redefined based on knowledge of Han styles and, perhaps, manufacturing techniques. The early introduction of Han ceramic types was accompanied by the importation of iron farming implements, which supplemented or replaced the stone tools previously used and, most likely, resulted in an increase in agricultural productivity, creating conditions favorable for maintaining a surplus. This is particularly significant for the present study, as intensification of surplus is one of the factors often associated with the increase of social complexity that may lead to state formation. Subsistence patterns underwent some transformation during the early postXituanshan period. The use of iron tools and the evident increase and concentration of populations in river plains suggest both an increased importance of agriculture and an intensification of agricultural production. Hunting and fishing remained a key element in the subsistence pattern, and an increase in the variety of game animals suggests more variety in diet. The appearance of goat, cow, and dog remains also suggests an increase in the practice of husbandry. During the post-Xituanshan period the horse replaced the pig as the most important animal in production and ritual. Although the horse appears to have been another imported good, the source of the importation remains unclear. The horse pits at Laoheshen, Xichagou, and the Shiyi cemeteries and the ritual placement of horse teeth in some burials indicate its role in religious belief, and the presence of elaborate horse-riding gear illustrates the role of the horse in warfare. The appearance of iron weapons and armor illustrates the development of an effective military organization, which further indicates an increase in social complexity and centralization of authority.

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The most conspicuous observable changes are those evident in burial practices, though even here there are indications of the continuation of certain local traditions. The stone cist of Xituanshan culture is replaced by earth-pit burials with coffins made of wood. Individual interments continue to make up the largest percentage of burials, but with the post-Xituanshan period multiple burials appear. The separated compartments noted at the head of some burials may be a continuation of the auxiliary chamber of Xituanshan burials, but there is also the possibility that they are the result of influences from Yan or Han burial practices. The deliberate and consistent placement of burial items follows a pattern and may represent a development from the Xituanshan period. Burial customs reflected at the Laoheshen and Maoershan cemeteries indicate considerable uniformity, though the burials at Maoershan are generally more elaborate and probably represent a regional elite class associated with the Puyŏ capital. Even with such an incomplete pool of data as a foundation, there is considerable evidence that the early post-Xituanshan society underwent a rapid developmental period that resulted in an increase in social complexity and stratification. This development seems to represent an acceleration of processes that were already underway in the late Xituanshan period. The increase in population, perhaps made possible by maintenance of a production surplus, evident craft specialization, and the distribution networks that must have been formed to manage trade would all have contributed to an increase in social complexity. A level of complexity necessary to conduct large-scale work projects is evident in the appearance of walled towns and defenses (described in chapter 6). The appearance of mounted warfare also suggests a military organization that would have required some advanced degree of social complexity. The increase in social complexity was accompanied by an increase in social stratification. Though there is evidence of very rich burials in the Maoershan cemetery, published data do not permit a comparative analysis. The distribution of burial goods in the Laoheshen cemetery, however, shows clear signs of increased social differentiation. The disparity in the number and quality of burial goods and the apparent division of the cemetery into three sections of different classes of wealth indicate the separation of social strata. Table 4.1 shows a breakdown of the number of Laoheshen burials accompanied by a greater or lesser number of burial items.67 Although the vast majority of tombs included between two and fifty items, a few rich tombs contained a significantly greater number of items. Another indication of status consciousness is the correlation between the size of the pottery vessel placed on the coffin lid and the richness of the burial. Finally, there is some evidence that the southern section of the cemetery was reserved for the use of a privileged class, as its burials were much richer overall than those in the northern and central areas. Nevertheless, further analysis is indicated before such a conclusion can be made with confidence. Although the Xituanshan culture exhibited signs of social development in its later periods, the changes experienced during the transition to the early post-Xituanshan period were by comparison rapid and profound. The primary evident cause for this rapid development was contact and interchange with cultures based in the Central Plains and 67. The data in this table are drawn from Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo, ed. 1987, 39.

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Table 4.1 Distribution of burial goods at Laoheshen Number of tombs Number of items

1 300+

1 200–300

8 100–200

17 50–100

93 2–50

8 1

on the Mongolian Plateau. Such contact apparently took the form of trade rather than warfare or colonization. The earliest phase of contact appears to have been with the Yan state following its expansion into Liaodong in the third century bce, which would have brought it into proximity with the southwestern Xituanshan communities. The Erlonghu walled site, described in chapter 2, represents something of an anomaly among Yan walled sites, as it lay far to the north of Yan’s Liaodong frontier. Its position along the most convenient route into central Manchuria suggests that it was an outpost established to manage relations with the populations in that region, most likely focused on the trade of Yan iron farming tools.68 Although the cultural constitution of the communities surrounding the Erlonghu site is not yet clearly understood, it is evident that those communities were closely related to those in the Xituanshan core region.69 The placement of the Erlonghu site on the southwestern fringes of the late Xituanshan sphere, therefore, may indicate a point of contact between Yan and the Xituanshan communities. As such, it would have served as a point of entry for the iron and ceramic technologies that so transformed the Xituanshan society and launched that society on its path to statehood. The fact that the Erlonghu site was maintained until the Western Han period (during which it was abandoned) suggests that it continued for some time to serve as a conduit for interchange between the developing Puyŏ state and the Han empire. This would also suggest that relations between early Puyŏ and the Yan and Han states were mostly amicable, which is reflected in the regular influx of material and technology into the Jilin region. Even so, such peaceful relations may also have been punctuated by periods of discord, for, as will be shown later, archaeological evidence suggests that the Puyŏ-held regions north of the Liaodong and Xuantu frontiers were heavily fortified (the fact that the Erlonghu site was itself walled provides further support for this interpretation). Trade between Han and Puyŏ is recorded from as early as the late second century bce, though such trade had probably existed for at least a century before that date. From the reign of Emperor Wu (r. 141–87 bce) the Han court would have had strong motivation to forge close relations with Puyŏ, prompted by the ongoing warfare between Han and the Xiongnu confederation to its north. Emperor Wu’s conquest of Chosŏn was motivated, at least partly, by his need to control the polities surrounding Liaodong, lest those polities ally themselves with the Xiongnu against Han. It is reasonable to assume that Puyŏ also figured in Han’s defense policies, though historical records are silent on this matter. 68. The fact that large numbers of iron tools were stored in caches within the walled compound suggests that they had served as trade items, a view supported by numerous finds of such tools at indigenous settlement sites in the surrounding regions. 69. Siping Diqu Bowuguan and Jilin Daxue Lishixi Kaogu Zhuanye 1988.

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Archaeological records, however, indicate that Puyŏ’s relations with the Western Han court remained strong and amicable. By the Eastern Han period at the latest, the court in the Central Plains seems no longer to have enjoyed an exclusive trade relationship with Puyŏ. The Puyŏ-Han relations for this period will be analyzed in the next chapter as they are fairly well represented in historical records. Here I will briefly note a facet of Puyŏ trade that Han records do not address, namely Puyŏ’s relations with the Xianbei and other non-Han groups. Several of the luxury items recovered from the burials at Laoheshen (and, apparently, at Maoershan) clearly indicate interchange with the nomadic groups who occupied the grasslands to the west of central Jilin. Scholarship usually identifies these groups as the Xianbei, though there is much room for further research in this area.70 Many of the luxury items from the nomadic tradition appear to have been treated as equally valuable as the Han prestige goods. Some of the weapons found at Laoheshen in northern Jilin have counterparts recovered from the Xichagou site in western Liaoning, indicating a widespread distribution of these imported items within Puyŏ territory.

Summary This study of the archaeological sites associated with early Puyŏ and its pre-state predecessor allows a summary description of the state’s origins. The pre-state Puyŏ communities had occupied the Songhua valley from at least the end of the second millennium bce. Some aspects of their culture appear to have originated in the Liaodong region, and they continued to share many characteristics with the contemporary bronze cultures in that region as they developed in tandem. For many centuries the scattered communities developed at a very gradual pace, the society maintaining an egalitarian character with some individuals acting as regional chiefs. Bronze was introduced from the Liaodong and Liaoxi regions and was treated as a luxury good. By the beginning of the third century bce the social organization seems to have become more complex, with larger communities and an increased degree of status differential. In the first half of the third century bce the state of Yan expanded into and then consolidated its hold over the Liaoxi and Liaodong regions. The bronze cultures in those regions gradually adapted Yan culture, though the northern commanderies of Yan continued to exhibit a strong regional character. Relations between Yan and the pre-state Puyŏ communities seem to have been conducted through an outpost of Liaodong Commandery at the Erlonghu site in western Jilin. Through such trade relations new ceramic

70. Although it is clear that many of the remains recovered from the Laoheshen cemetery correspond to specimens also found in Xianbei burials, currently available data do not permit an estimate on the earliest date for the introduction into central Jilin of goods associated with the western nomadic groups. The publication of the Maoershan data should increase our understanding of this matter. Further analysis should also reveal something more on the sources of the western goods found at Puyŏ sites.

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types and iron technology were introduced to the Jilin region, catalyzing processes that led to an accelerated rate of social development. Within a century or two a state-level polity had emerged, which was capable of organized mobilizations of a workforce and an army. Although all regions of the Puyŏ state made good use of the advantages of iron metallurgy, the core region seems to have enjoyed the luxury of a trade in Han prestige items. Long-distance trade extended also to the nomadic peoples to the west of Jilin, from which other technologies and resources, perhaps including the horse, were introduced to the central regions of Jilin. A political center emerged in the Dongtuanshan area in the eastern suburbs of Jilin, where a walled town enclosed the Puyŏ capital city, and an adjacent cemetery received the remains of the elite members of the Puyŏ political and cultural center. The trade with Han continued through the Western Han period, but from the beginning of the Eastern Han, or perhaps earlier, Puyŏ began to maintain trade relations with the Xianbei groups to its west, and perhaps with the Wuhuan populations that had been settled along the frontiers of Han’s northeastern commanderies. The early Eastern Han period is considered to mark Puyŏ’s golden age as the first powerful state to emerge in Manchuria. During this time Puyŏ engaged in trade relations with Han and with other surrounding peoples, fought wars with the rising Koguryŏ state to its south, and subjugated the Yilou people, who occupied the valleys to Puyŏ’s east. The records left by Eastern Han historians mark the beginning of Puyŏ’s written history. The next chapter will analyze historical and archaeological sources and describe the history and culture of Puyŏ from the first century ce to the fall of the state in the fourth century.

Ch a p t er Fi v e

History of the Puyŏ State

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

T

he written history of the Puyŏ state begins with brief references in documents of the Western Han empire, but for data concerning specific events that involved Puyŏ one must consult records dating from the Eastern Han period. The earliest work to describe Puyŏ society and its activities in any detail is the Sanguozhi, completed in the late third century ce. Other useful Chinese sources for Puyŏ history include the Hou Hanshu (completed in 445), the Jinshu 晉書 (History of the Jin) compiled in 646, and the Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 (Comprehensive mirror for aid in government) compiled in the mideleventh century. These sources provide information on Puyŏ’s relations with Chinese states, focusing mainly on affairs concerning the northeastern frontier, and occasionally some observations on Puyŏ customs and culture. As essentially political writings based on an external perspective of an alien people, these sources are laden with certain biases, both cultural and political, that must inform modern efforts to interpret their depictions of the Puyŏ state and people. A very different perspective of Puyŏ is preserved in the Koguryŏ Annals of the Samguk sagi (compiled from earlier sources and completed in 1145), which describes Puyŏ in terms of early Koguryŏ legend and folklore. This source relates events that probably have some historical foundation, though the historical element is often difficult to extract from the preserved narrative, and the chronology offered in the early chapters of the Koguryŏ Annals is not to be trusted. Nevertheless, the Annals remains the most important source for understanding both the early exchanges between Koguryŏ and Puyŏ and the ways in which Koguryŏ leaders chose to portray their state’s relationship with Puyŏ. The present chapter will venture a brief history of the independent Puyŏ state until its fall in 346, based on the sources named above. This study will first address the activities of Puyŏ as described in the Chinese sources, and will continue with a treatment on the perspective of Puyŏ from Koguryŏ legend and history.

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Puyŏ in Han Frontier Diplomacy The history of Puyŏ that can be pieced together from records surviving in Chinese historical works is for the most part confined to Puyŏ’s place in the frontier policies of Chinese states. Very few details regarding Puyŏ’s internal activities can be recovered from such records, though one may derive from them some idea of how Puyŏ interacted with its neighbors. The previous chapter noted that interchange between Puyŏ and Chinese polities had already commenced by the third century bce and continued through the Western Han period. The nature of this interchange is not known. It may have been restricted to commercial exchange, most likely through the local authorities at Liaodong, though it is also possible that some form of diplomatic relationship had been established as well. Surviving historical records shed no light on this matter, nor do published archaeological data provide the level of detail necessary to address the question. The first clear evidence for the establishment of diplomatic relations between Puyŏ and Han does not appear until the beginning of the Eastern Han period. Although a few vague references in early texts have been interpreted as evidence for Chinese knowledge of Puyŏ, the first clear reference to Puyŏ in Chinese sources is found in the passage from the Shiji cited above in chapter 2.1 This passage, describing the territorial layout of the Yan kingdom under Han, notes that the northern commanderies of Yan “overlook Wuhuan and Puyŏ to the north, and on the east they control the profits of Yemaek, Chosŏn, and Chinbŏn.”2 This appears to reflect the situation during the decade prior to the Han conquest of Chosŏn in 108 bce. The Wuhuan had been rendered subject to the Xiongnu after the rise of the confederacy under Modun in 209 bce. Later, when the policies of Emperor Wu began to favor an aggressive opposition to the Xiongnu, he took advantage of the enmity the Wuhuan harbored toward the Xiongnu and engaged them as allies. After a successful Han campaign against the eastern territories 1. In his commentary on the Nine Yi barbarians mentioned in the “Wangzhi” 王制 chapter of Liji 禮記, Kong Yingda 孔穎達 (574–648) cites a work called the Dongyi zhuan 東夷傳, which lists the Nine Yi individually. One of the Yi is called Fuyu 鳧臾 (see Liji zhushu 禮記注疏, 12:39a [Wangzhi, Commentary]), which some later commentators have interpreted as a reference to Puyŏ. The identification of another of the Yi in this list as Koguryŏ (using the shortened form Koryŏ) suggests for this work a compilation date no earlier than the late Western Han period and probably rather later. Although later interpreters understood the Nine Yi of Western Han times as a specific set of peoples that included Puyŏ, it is far from clear that the Nine Yi the author of the “Wangzhi” had in mind consisted of the same groups. In the “Wanghui” chapter of Yi Zhoushu, the Zhou minister Yi Yin advocates sending a military campaign eastward against several groups, one of which is identified as Fulou 符婁. A nineteenthcentury commentary by Zhu Youzeng 朱右曾 interpreted this vague term as a joint reference to Puyŏ and Yilou, though there seems to be no foundation for such an interpretation (see Zhu’s Zhoushu jixun jiaoshi 周書集訓校釋, 7:12a). A passage in the “Dahuang beijing” 大荒北經 chapter of Shanhaijing 山 海經 describes a polity called Hubuyu (有胡不與之國, 列姓, 黍食) and continues with a description of the ancient Sushen. Some twentieth-century scholars (Yi Chi-rin 1963, 220) see this as a reference to Puyŏ, though this portion of the Shanhaijing may date to the Eastern Han period or even later. 2. Shiji 129:3265 (Accounts of the Wealthy): 北鄰烏桓、夫餘, 東綰穢貉、朝鮮、真番之利.

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of the Xiongnu in 119 bce, Wuhuan populations were taken in and settled along the northern frontier of the five northeastern commanderies, where they occupied a buffer zone just beyond the walled frontier. A decade later the territories of Chosŏn had been incorporated into Han’s territorial administrative system as Lelang Commandery, which served further to shore up Han’s northeastern defenses against the Xiongnu. By 75 bce the commandery of Xuantu, which had been forced from its original position on the northeastern coast of the Korean peninsula, had been re-established in the Yongling region east of Liaodong to manage Han’s relations with the Koguryŏ populations there. These populations are probably equivalent to the Yemaek (Huimo) referred to in the Shiji passage cited above. As discussed in chapter 2, there is considerable uncertainty as to the location of Chinbŏn, some theories favoring a position east of Liaodong and others suggesting it was located south of Pyongyang. Wherever it was located at the time the Shiji passage was written, its territories had been incorporated as a commandery (Zhenfan) shortly after the fall of Chosŏn. When the Zhenfan commandery was abolished in 82 bce, at least some of its territories were at that time transferred to the administration of Lelang or Xuantu. With the regions to the east and south of Liaodong secured as commanderies and the northern frontier zone buffered by relocated Wuhuan populations, only the northeastern frontier of Liaodong remains unaccounted for. As has been suggested already, this region marks the zone of contact between Liaodong and Puyŏ. By the end of Emperor Wu’s reign, the northern frontier zone of Liaodong must have drawn close upon the Wuhuan settlements from the Yiwulu mountains as far east as the Liao River basin. The frontier to the east of this region would have adjoined the lands occupied by Puyŏ populations. The exact location of Han’s walled defenses in Liaodong have not yet been determined, though a series of rammed-earth towers running just to the north of Fushun and following the Suzi River to the southeast appears to represent the northern border of Xuantu after it was removed to this region in 75 bce (refer to fig. 2.8). Since there is no strong evidence for Han occupation of sites farther to the northeast, one may surmise that the Puyŏ communities that bordered Liaodong and, later, Xuantu occupied the region marked today by the counties of Changtu, Xifeng, and Qingyuan and the adjacent regions in Jilin farther to the northeast, including Siping and Liaoyuan. Evidence for Puyŏ’s occupation of these regions will be discussed later in this chapter.

Puyŏ’s Relations with Western Han and Wang Mang There is little data available to shed light on the disposition of Liaodong’s frontier for most of the first century bce. Since archaeological evidence indicates a close relationship between Han and Puyŏ at this time, it is likely that Puyŏ remained allied to Han during this period. A closer study of the nomadic-style artifacts in the Puyŏ cemeteries, however, may reveal further details concerning relations Puyŏ might also have conducted with the Xiongnu, though the artifacts currently known appear to belong to a later period and are more closely associated with the Xianbei. The Western Han period may be seen as corresponding to a developmental period during which Puyŏ emerged as a centralized statelevel kingdom, and that development was certainly facilitated by Puyŏ’s relationship with

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Han, which was based primarily on its fortuitous location and Han’s need for allies on its northern frontier. During the last years of the Western Han period, the Xiongnu problem became more manageable. Although it is possible, even likely, that Puyŏ’s relations with Han were affected by a diminution in the perceived necessity of maintaining an alliance (from Han’s perspective), surviving records are silent on this matter. There is, however, evidence that during the reign of Wang Mang 王莽 (r. 9–23 ce) the Chinese court adopted a rather heavy-handed policy toward its neighbors to the northeast. Wang’s attempts to adjust the nature of the relationship with the Xiongnu significantly agitated the latter and prompted Wang’s large-scale conscription of forces to dispatch against the Xiongnu. When a number of Koguryŏ conscripts rebelled and fled in 12 ce, Wang had the Koguryŏ king Ch’u 騶 lured to one of the commanderies (probably Xuantu) and executed.3 One of Wang’s advisors had warned against such a harsh measure, predicting that if the Koguryŏ revolt, “there will certainly be those among the Puyŏ who will sympathize with them, and since the Xiongnu have not yet been conquered, it will be grave indeed if the Puyŏ and Yemaek rise up again.”4 This interesting passage may represent the only recorded instance of Puyŏ and Koguryŏ potentially acting in concert and with common interests. Significantly, the passage suggests that any uprising among the Puyŏ and “Yemaek” (Koguryŏ) people resulting from Wang’s actions would not be the first such occurrence.5 It is possible to infer from this statement that such a joint uprising had occurred prior to 12 ce, but there is no textual evidence that Puyŏ joined with the Yemaek groups after the execution of the Koguryŏ leader, for the record merely states that the Yemaek raids against the commanderies increased greatly. Although Puyŏ’s participation in the attacks on the commanderies (meaning Liaodong and Xuantu) during the Wang Mang interregnum (9–23 ce) cannot be verified historically, the account of 12 ce suggests that at this time Puyŏ had tended to ally itself with Koguryŏ against the commanderies. Such a stance may have resulted from Wang’s rather oppressive policies toward bordering peoples. Shortly after he proclaimed the founding of his Xin dynasty in 9 ce, Wang Mang dispatched his generals to the frontiers to make his authority known to the border peoples. Of these generals and their retinues, “those who proceeded to the east reached as far as Xuantu, Lelang, Koguryŏ, and Puyŏ.”6 Although we do not know the specific results of this mission to the east, the general sent northward to the Xiongnu presented the shanyu with a new seal. The new inscription on this seal abandoned the wording whereby Han emperors had acknowledged parity with the Xiongnu leader, replacing it 3. The Koguryŏ leader is called Ch’u 騶 in the Hanshu (99b:4130 [Biography of Wang Mang]), To 騊 in the Sanguozhi (30:844 [Account of Koguryŏ]), and Ch’u 騶 in the Hou Hanshu (85:2814 [Account of Koguryŏ]). 4. Hanshu 99b:4130 (Biography of Wang Mang): 今猥被以大罪, 恐其遂畔, 夫餘之屬必有和者. 匈 奴未克, 夫餘、穢貉復起, 此大憂也. 5. The term “Yemaek” in this instance seems to refer to Koguryŏ and perhaps also to allied groups willing to follow the Koguryŏ ruler’s lead. At other times it appears to refer more generally to peoples living just to the east of Liaodong, some of whom were also identified with Koguryŏ. 6. Hanshu 99b:4115 (Biography of Wang Mang): 其東出者、至玄菟、樂浪、高句驪、夫餘.

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with a legend that clearly implied subordination under the new Xin dynasty.7 This act contributed to the growing frictions that resulted in Wang’s conscription of border peoples for his planned expedition against the Xiongnu. Han records indicate that Wang had similarly reduced the recognized titles of the leaders of border peoples and states to a lower order, and evidence suggests that at this time the Koguryŏ leader’s title was reduced from king 王 to marquis 侯.8 All of these actions on the part of Wang Mang resulted in unrest along all frontier zones, and it is reasonable to deduce that Puyŏ’s relations with Wang were likewise strained. Since the relationship between Puyŏ and Koguryŏ will be explored in more detail below, it will be useful here to describe their respective relationships with Han in the early first century. Unlike Puyŏ, which engaged in relations with Han from a secure geographical distance, the early Koguryŏ communities occupied the valleys of the Hun and Yalu rivers just beyond the eastern frontier of Liaodong. In 75 bce Han’s Xuantu Commandery was removed from its original location on the northeastern Korean coast and re-established in the vicinity of modern Yongling, just seventy-five kilometers northwest of the heaviest concentration of Koguryŏ populations at modern Huanren. Xuantu’s function from that time was the management of Han’s dealings with the pre-state Koguryŏ communities. From such a close proximity, Xuantu would have been capable of exercising a considerable degree of influence over early Koguryŏ leaders, though there is no substantial evidence for Xuantu’s ever having colonized Koguryŏ directly. It is more likely that Xuantu dealt with the Koguryŏ populations indirectly through their leaders, and the influence exerted by Xuantu eventually prompted the transformation of Koguryŏ social organization toward greater centralization and a higher order of social complexity. The state of Koguryŏ emerged during the first century and began a process of aggressive expansion from the Hun and Yalu valleys into the surrounding regions.9 Puyŏ’s territorial extent in the early first century must have reached as least as far south as the northeastern regions of Liaoning. Archaeological evidence, consisting primarily of walled hilltop fortifications, suggests that Puyŏ’s southern frontier extended as far south as the Qingyuan and Xinbin regions bordering the northern walls of Xuantu to the south. Since Koguryŏ’s effective influence seems to have reached no farther northward 7. Hanshu 94b:3820–21 (Account of Xiongnu). See also de Crespigny 1984, 201–2. 8. The description of Wang Mang’s 9 ce dispatch of generals to the frontier regions notes that the kings of border states in the west and southwest were all reduced in title to marquises, which resulted in a general rebellion against Wang (Hanshu 99b:4115 [Biography of Wang Mang]: 出者, 隃徼外, 歷 益州, 貶句町王為侯; 西出者, 至西域, 盡改其王為侯 . . . 而句町、西域後卒以此皆畔). In particular, the case of the king of the southwestern state of Gouting 句町 is interesting in that his episode plays out very much like that of the Koguryŏ king Ch’u. After his demotion the Gouting leader refused to submit to Wang, who responded by having one of his agents deceive and kill the Gouting leader. The agent was killed in turn by the murdered leader’s brother, and the Gouting launched a general rebellion against Wang’s regime (Hanshu 99b:4130 [Biography of Wang Mang]). A passage in the Hou Hanshu (85:2814 [Account of Koguryŏ]) notes that after the execution of Ch’u, Wang Mang reduced the title of the Koguryŏ leader from king to marquis, and in 32 ce Emperor Guangwu of the Eastern Han restored his title to king: 莽大說, 更名高句驪王為下句驪侯, 於是貊人寇邊愈甚. 建武八年, 高句驪遣使朝貢, 光武復其王號. 9. I discuss the role of Xuantu in the emergence of the Koguryŏ state in Byington 2001.

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than the Hun valley at this time, it appears that Puyŏ and Koguryŏ communities had not yet come into close and regular contact. Puyŏ was at this time much more powerful and more tightly organized than was Koguryŏ, the communities of which still seem to have been under the leadership of several local chieftains. Puyŏ’s distance from the Han commanderies also afforded it considerable latitude in managing its interregional affairs, though the maintenance of relations with Han was clearly important to the Puyŏ leaders. The policies of Wang Mang upset the balance of frontier relations in all quarters, but by the reign of Emperor Guangwu and the rise of the Eastern Han, relations with many of Han’s neighbors had stabilized and, in many cases, had been formalized.

Formalized Relations with Eastern Han (49–189) With troubled frontiers and internal discord accompanying the collapse of Wang Mang’s authority, the restored Han dynasty under Emperor Guangwu (r. 25–57) faced a series of internal and external crises. In the northeast the commandery of Lelang had been lost to rebellion and was restored in 30 ce with a diminished sphere of authority.10 The Xiongnu problem continued to plague the northern borders, which shifted constantly as assaults were exchanged between Han and Xiongnu forces. The Wuhuan also continued to launch frequent raids against the northeastern borders, now aided in their assaults by Xianbei groups, who begin to appear in Chinese histories from this time. By 49 ce a series of diplomatic and military maneuvers resulted in the division of the Xiongnu confederation, with a southern shanyu now subject to Han and a northern shanyu placed on the defensive against an alliance between Han and the Wuhuan and Xianbei groups on the frontier. This marks both the point of sharp decline in Xiongnu authority, from which it would never recover, and the emergence of the Xianbei, who would eventually replace the Xiongnu as Han’s principal adversary to the north. Upon the dissolution of the Xiongnu confederation in 49 ce, Guangwu had groups of Wuhuan communities resettled in the regions to the south of the frontier. This resulted eventually in Han’s abandoning the northern parts of the commanderies of Shanggu, Yuyang, Youbeiping, and Liaoxi to the Wuhuan occupation.11 When the Xianbei began to press southward the frontier zone in these regions also shifted farther to the south. The disposition of Liaodong’s northern frontier zone is unclear, though archaeological and historical evidence suggests that the Tieling region was maintained as Wangping District 望平縣 on Liaodong’s northernmost fringe throughout the Eastern Han period.12 This evident stability of the northeastern frontier zone of Liaodong is reflected in the documented skillful management of Liaodong under its able governor, Zhai Rong 祭肜 (?–73 ce), and in the maintenance of formalized relations with states and peoples beyond Liaodong’s borders, including Puyŏ. 10. For a discussion of the rebellion in Lelang, see Kwŏn O-jung 2007. 11. See de Crespigny 1984. 12. See discussions in Sun Jinji and Wang Mianhou, eds. 1989, vol. 1, 278–79, 378. More recent discoveries, however, have opened the possibility that a Han-period walled site just to the north of Shenyang may in fact be the ruins of Wangping District (see Zhou Xiangyong 2006, 47).

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Guangwu attempted to draw allies from among the peoples bordering Liaodong, and in 32 ce he received a mission from Koguryŏ and restored the king’s title, which represents the restoration of relations between Han and Koguryŏ. Yet Liaodong was still plagued with the depredations inflicted by other border groups, notably the Wuhuan and Xianbei. In 41 ce Guangwu appointed the military commander Zhai Rong as governor of Liaodong. Zhai was unusually adept at manipulating relations with the border groups and bringing them into alliance with Han. In 45 ce he dealt a serious blow to the Xianbei groups who had been plundering the borders, and afterward managed to bring those groups into an alliance with Han and used them in 49 ce to launch attacks against the northern Xiongnu. Also in 49 ce, Zhai’s machinations resulted in a general settling of the Liaodong region and the forging of formal alliances with leaders of many of the states and peoples surrounding Liaodong. Guangwu received some eighty-one Wuhuan leaders early in 49 ce and allowed them to settle south of the frontier. He also accepted tribute offered by the southern shanyu, and late in the year he received envoys sent by the king of Puyŏ.13 This event marks the establishment of formal tributary relations between Han and Puyŏ, and the record of the event notes that missions from Puyŏ arrived each year afterward. Surviving records make no mention of activities specifically involving Puyŏ for the second half of the first century, a silence that reflects the stability of Liaodong during these decades. Han’s military efforts during this time were directed toward containing the northern Xiongnu, who were rendered harmless by the end of the century. This waxing of Han authority in the north accompanied a general stability in Liaodong, and though Puyŏ’s relations with Han appear to have progressed smoothly to the benefit of both parties, events transpiring to the east and west of the Han-Puyŏ alliance would soon result in the rise of two formidable groups—the Xianbei and Koguryŏ. During the first years of the second century Han would be placed once again on the defensive, and as its authority in Liaodong diminished, the vacuum was filled first by the emergence of Koguryŏ from its cradle in the Hun and Yalu valleys, and later by the southward advance of the Xianbei confederation. The primary function of the second establishment of Xuantu Commandery was the management of the Koguryŏ populations centered on the Hun River valley. The commandery was established in 75 bce with its administrative base at the modern town of Yongling in Xinbin County, and it was through this agency that Koguryŏ’s dealings with Han were managed. At the beginning of the first century Xuantu had three districts that managed a population of some forty-five thousand households, most of which were Koguryŏ communities under Xuantu’s direct or indirect influence.14 Recent archaeological discoveries have demonstrated that a series of beacon towers ran along the Suzi and Hunhe rivers to form the commandery’s northern frontier defenses.15 The region to the north of this 13. Hou Hanshu 1b:76–77 (Guangwudi, Jianwu 25); 85:2812 (Account of Puyŏ); 90:2982 (Account of Wuhuan). 14. This is based on data from the census of 2 ce preserved in the Hanshu (28b:1626 [Geography 8b]). 15. See Xiao Jingquan 2000a, 60. About twenty towers were discovered on the north bank of the Hunhe River and the east bank of the Dongzhou River in the early 1980s. In 1998 more than forty additional towers were discovered on both banks of the Suzi River, and by 2008 some sixty-seven towers were known to exist along this stretch. Pottery sherds found in the vicinity of these earthen towers

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fortified frontier was the domain of indigenous groups who had by the first century bce become part of the Puyŏ polity. As discussed in chapter 6, this region, which constituted Puyŏ’s southern frontier, was also heavily fortified, suggesting that Puyŏ’s relations with Han were initially founded upon the former’s capacity for resisting Han military advances. After the establishment of Xuantu at Yongling in 75 bce, however, the commandery’s management of Koguryŏ populations essentially protected them from the possible encroachment of Puyŏ’s southward expansion and likewise protected Puyŏ’s frontier against Koguryŏ incursions. Somewhat ironically, Xuantu’s influence over Koguryŏ communities resulted eventually in the rise of a rapidly expanding, centralized Koguryŏ state. The emergence of a strong Koguryŏ polity is reflected in the forced withdrawal of Xuantu by 106 ce and Koguryŏ’s occupation of the Suzi valley. The commandery was re-established in the northwestern corner of its former territory centered on the modern city of Fushun, and though Xuantu continued to manage Koguryŏ’s relations with Han, its direct territorial control was greatly diminished. Its new location, however, did offer one advantage in that it facilitated Xuantu’s communications with Puyŏ. Although it is possible that Puyŏ’s relations with Han had been conducted through Xuantu from as early as the establishment of formal relations in 49 ce, the realignment in 106 may have produced some initial friction between Puyŏ and Han. In 111 the Puyŏ king sent a mounted force against Han and killed large numbers of officials and civilians.16 By 120 this rift in relations between Puyŏ and Han had been repaired, for in that year the Puyŏ king sent his crown prince Wigut’ae 尉仇台 (the first Puyŏ individual clearly identified by name in Chinese sources) to the Han court in Luoyang to present a tribute offering, whereupon the emperor presented him with official regalia, including a seal.17 The reasons for Puyŏ’s assault on Han in 111 are not readily apparent, nor are the motivations for rapprochement in 120 easily explained. One possibility is that Puyŏ date to the Western Han period. This series of towers extends along the Hunhe and Suzi rivers in Liaoning as far as the present border with Jilin Province, and late in 2009 archaeologists in Jilin confirmed that the line of towers extends into that province as well. They continue at least as far as the Chibaisong 赤柏松 walled site, which is located near Kuaidamao 快大茂 to the west of the city of Tonghua and is thought to be the site of one of the three districts of Xuantu. See also Byington 2001, 481–82; and Byington 2013, 320–32. Note that in this work the term “Hunhe River” is used for the Hun River (Hunhe 浑河) in northeastern Liaoning to distinguish it from the other Hun River (Hunjiang 浑江) that flows through Huanren in southeastern Liaoning, herein referred to simply as “Hun River.” 16. Hou Hanshu 5:217 (Andi, Yongchu 5/3); 85:2812 (Account of Puyŏ). The first reference says only that Puyŏ invaded the frontier, whereas the second, more detailed reference identifies the target of the attack as Lelang (至安帝永初五年, 夫餘王始將步騎七八千人寇鈔樂浪, 殺傷吏民, 後復歸附). Since it is highly unlikely that Puyŏ forces could have reached Lelang, the reference is generally taken to be the result of a scribal error, the commanderies of Liaodong and Xuantu being much more likely targets for a Puyŏ assault. The text of the second reference contains an ambiguity that has resulted in an interesting minor problem. The character 始 can be interpreted either as an adverb (“the Puyŏ king attacked for the first time”) or as a name (“the Puyŏ king Si attacked . . .”). The event in question is in fact the first recorded attack by Puyŏ on Han, and since a Puyŏ king named Si does not appear elsewhere in surviving records (except for later documents that interpret the 始 in this passage as a name) the ambiguity is impossible to resolve using surviving texts. 17. Hou Hanshu 5:232 (Andi, Yongning 1); 85:2812 (Account of Puyŏ): 永寧元年, 乃遣嗣子尉仇台詣 闕貢獻, 天子賜尉仇台印綬金綵.

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objected to the resumption of Han’s relationship with Koguryŏ in 109 shortly after the withdrawal of Xuantu.18 It is also possible that in the process of reorienting Xuantu, Han provoked a military response from Puyŏ. Recorded history alone does not shed much light on these matters, but the recent discovery of the remains of Xuantu’s northern defense line suggests that Koguryŏ’s occupation of the Suzi valley following Xuantu’s withdrawal in 106 brought Koguryŏ into direct contact with the territories farther north, which were most likely claimed by Puyŏ. The removal of Xuantu would have exposed Puyŏ’s southern frontier to the incursions of Koguryŏ expansion. Han’s willingness to accept this situation by immediately engaging Koguryŏ once again as a tribute state—by essentially sanctioning a new orientation that left its ally’s southern flank exposed— might have provoked a military response from Puyŏ. Han’s acquiescence to what would normally be perceived as an unacceptable situation was undoubtedly necessitated by events that forced a fundamental change in Han’s frontier policy. When the young Emperor An succeeded to the throne in 106, the government under the direction of his regent, the dowager Deng, began to favor a policy of general retrenchment on the northern frontiers. The first Qiang rebellion that broke out in 107 forced a withdrawal of Han’s northwestern frontier, and the establishment of the Liaodong dependent state soon afterward is a clear indication of the further weakening of Han’s northeastern position.19 The withdrawal of Xuantu and Han’s ready acceptance of a revised relationship with Koguryŏ should therefore be viewed as elements of a general weakening of Han’s position along its frontiers. Puyŏ’s attack in 111 may have been motivated by a desire to reinforce its now-vulnerable southern frontier, which was now threatened by Koguryŏ aggression. Puyŏ-Han relations appear to have remained suspended until 120. During this decade Koguryŏ’s program of aggressive expansion progressed vigorously under its leader Kung 宮 (trad. r. 53–146). A Koguryŏ attack on Xuantu is recorded to have occurred in 118, which must have placed the weakened commandery in a very precarious position. The record of subsequent events suggests that the danger to Xuantu motivated the resumption of formal relations with Puyŏ. In 120 the Puyŏ crown prince Wigut’ae went to Luoyang in person, and though the records in the Hou Hanshu describe this as a tribute mission to re-establish relations, the events of 121 indicate that a specific military alliance must have been forged between Han and Puyŏ at this time. In the first month of 121 a combined military force from Liaodong and Xuantu, which included the governors of both commanderies, launched an unsuccessful attack on Koguryŏ. Koguryŏ responded in the fourth month with an attack against Liaodong and Xuantu in alliance with a Xianbei force, during which the governor of Liaodong was killed and several cities were burned. In the eleventh month Xuantu suffered another attack from the Xianbei, and in the next month a major Koguryŏ force attacked Xuantu and laid siege to the commandery seat. Xuantu might have succumbed to this attack, but it was saved when a force of some twenty thousand under the command of Wigut’ae arrived early in 122 to break the 18. This is suggested in Gardiner 1969c. 19. See de Crespigny 1984, 90–114, 294, 389.

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siege and repel the Koguryŏ forces. Afterward Wigut’ae dispatched envoys to Luoyang to present tribute and, undoubtedly, to report on the success of the alliance.20 This progression of events suggests that in 120 Han had secured an agreement for military support from Puyŏ, which provided Han with the strategic advantage needed for it to chance a military action against Koguryŏ. This also indicates that the Koguryŏ problem was of sufficient concern to Puyŏ for its king to make a considerable military investment in support of Han. The fact that Koguryŏ appears to have acted in alliance with Xianbei forces on occasion is also significant in that Han and Puyŏ would have had a common interest in preventing an active alliance between those two parties—a threat that from this time provided a raison d’être for the Han-Puyŏ alliance. This alliance must have achieved its immediate purpose, for after the Koguryŏ siege of Xuantu was thwarted no further aggressive actions on the part of Koguryŏ appear in surviving records for the next several decades. After the death of Kung in 122, his heir Susŏng 遂成 (trad. r. 146– 65) returned Han captives taken in the siege of Xuantu, after which an uncertain peace continued for some decades.21 In 132 Han established six State Farm colonies in Xuantu to help the commandery consolidate its new position and achieve some degree of selfsufficiency. In 136 the Puyŏ king reaffirmed his pact with Han by paying a visit to Luoyang in person. A dispatch of a Puyŏ envoy to Luoyang is recorded for early 162, but normal relations with Han must have been conducted through Xuantu. Three decades of relative calm in Liaodong were broken when a confederation of Xianbei peoples formed under the leadership of Tanshihuai 檀石槐 (136–81), who in 166 led his armies against Han’s northern commanderies.22 In alliance with the Xianbei during this campaign were armies of Wuhuan and Southern Xiongnu people, and within a year both Puyŏ and Koguryŏ would join with Tanshihuai’s forces against Han. In early 167 the Wuhuan and Southern Xiongnu armies surrendered before Han’s counterattack, but in the following month the Puyŏ king Put’ae 夫台 led a force of over twenty thousand against Xuantu and engaged its governor, Gongsun Yu 公孫域, in battle.23 The Xuantu army is said to have scored a victory over Puyŏ in this battle and to have killed over one

20. These events are described in Hou Hanshu 85:2812 (Account of Puyŏ); 85:2814–15 (Account of Koguryŏ). 21. The Hou Hanshu (85:2815 [Account of Koguryŏ]) states that Kung died early in 122 after a battle associated with the siege of Xuantu and was succeeded by his son Susŏng. By contrast, the Koguryŏ Annals section of the Samguk sagi (15:146–47 [Taejo 94]; 15:148 [Ch’a 20/3]), citing a now-lost work called the Haedong kogi 海東古記 (Old records of Korea), records that Kung abdicated in favor of his son early in 147 and died in 165 at the age of 119. Although the claimed longevity of Kung suggests a corrupt chronology, it is possible that Kung was incapacitated after the battle in 122 and that he then abdicated in favor of Susŏng. It is significant that Kung does not appear as an active figure in any of the years assigned to his reign in the Samguk sagi past 122, though Susŏng appears frequently in these years behaving very much like a king. These conflicting sources are difficult to reconcile, but the matter of Kung’s death in 122 is particularly open to interpretation. For a discussion of this problem, see Byington 1996, 79–81. 22. For the rise of Tanshihuai see Gardiner and de Crespigny 1977. 23. Hou Hanshu 7:317–19 (Huandi, Yanxi 9).

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thousand of the enemy.24 Koguryŏ’s involvement in the campaigns of Tanshihuai appears to have commenced with the assaults launched in the summer of 166, and Han records describe an alliance among the Xianbei, the Southern Xiongnu, and the Koguryŏ heir apparent Paekko 伯固 (trad. r. 165–79), which was effectively countered by the Han commander Qiao Xuan 橋玄 (109–89) in the capacity of General Deputed to Cross the Liao 度遼將軍.25 Despite the fact that the Xianbei forces of Tanshihuai continued to plague Han’s northern frontier for more than a decade, there is no specific indication in surviving records of additional Puyŏ involvement, though it is likely that Puyŏ remained allied with Tanshihuai for some years.26 The fact that a Puyŏ tribute mission was dispatched early in 174 indicates that the disruption in the Puyŏ-Han alliance lasted no more than seven years.27 Koguryŏ participation in the Xianbei campaigns is understandable since Koguryŏ-Xianbei military alliances had occurred prior to Tanshihuai’s rise to power. Puyŏ’s involvement is more difficult to explain unless one assumes that Puyŏ had been compelled by threat of force to join the Xianbei campaign.28 Two historical references suggest that this was indeed the case. A citation from the lost Weishu 魏書 in the Sanguozhi notes that when Tanshihuai came to power he repelled Puyŏ in the east.29 Another passage in the Hou Hanshu states that when Tanshihuai divided his territories into three regions, the Eastern Division reached as far as Puyŏ and Yemaek.30 These passages imply that Tanshihuai had gained some military advantage over Puyŏ and confirm that his territories adjoined those of the Puyŏ king. It is therefore possible that Puyŏ was drawn reluctantly into an alliance against Han. It is equally as possible that the Puyŏ king saw advantages in associating himself with the Xianbei.31 Though Xuantu held up under the Puyŏ assault in early 167, the commandery appears to have suffered another assault early in 169, this time by the armies of Koguryŏ.32 24. Hou Hanshu 85:2812 (Account of Puyŏ): 永康元年, 王夫台將二萬餘人寇玄菟, 玄菟太守公孫域 擊破之, 斬首千餘級. 25. Hou Hanshu 51:1696 (Biography of Qiao Xuan). 26. Han records do not specifically state that Puyŏ was acting in alliance with Tanshihuai in 167, but the connection is evident both in the timing of the event and in implications that Tanshihuai had gained a military advantage over Puyŏ. The latter point will be discussed further below. 27. Hou Hanshu 8:335 (Lingdi, Xiping 3/1); Hou Hanshu 85:2812 (Account of Puyŏ): 至靈帝熹平三年, 復奉章貢獻. 28. This is suggested in Gardiner and de Crespigny 1977, 30. 29. Sanguozhi 30:837 (Account of Xianbei): 檀石槐既立 . . . 東卻夫餘. A similar passage appears in Hou Hanshu 90:2989 (Account of Wuhuan). 30. Hou Hanshu 90:2989-90 (Account of Wuhuan): 從右北平以東至遼東, 接夫餘、 濊貊二十餘邑為 東部. 31. The Xianbei-style material recovered from the Puyŏ cemetery at Laoheshen may date from the time of the Xianbei ascent under Tanshihuai, which could indicate that a lucrative exchange had resulted from the encounter between the two parties. 32. Hou Hanshu 8:329 (Lingdi, Jianning 1/12). This event, described as a joint effort between Yemaek (Koguryŏ) and the Xianbei, notes only that the two groups invaded the regions of Bingzhou 并州 and Youzhou 幽州. Since Xuantu and Liaodong belonged to Youzhou, they are the most likely targets for a Koguryŏ assault. The response later in 169 came from the governor of Xuantu, which may suggest that Xuantu had been a target of Koguryŏ’s attack.

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Later in 169 the new governor of Xuantu, Geng Lin 耿臨, sent an expedition against the Koguryŏ king Paekko, who surrendered and resumed tributary status under Han, first through Liaodong and later in the mid-170s under Xuantu.33 By the early 180s Tanshihuai had died and the confederation he had forged quickly dissolved. During the period that Puyŏ-Han relations were suspended (167–74), Tanshihuai’s confederation maintained pressure on the entirety of Han’s northern frontier and effectively obstructed, by intimidation or otherwise, any amicable contact between Puyŏ and Han. Liaodong and Xuantu were at the same time subject to the combined assaults of the Xianbei and Koguryŏ. In the four or five years following the suppression of Koguryŏ in 169, Han control over Liaodong and Xuantu appears to have been restored. The fact that Puyŏ resumed its relationship with Han in 174, several years before the collapse of Tanshihuai’s confederation, suggests that the removal of the Xianbei-Koguryŏ alliance and the re-establishment of Han control in the northeast, and perhaps an easing of Xianbei pressures on Puyŏ, were all factors that enabled the restoration of Puyŏ-Han relations. Although the records concerning Puyŏ during the Eastern Han period are sparse, they nevertheless represent the most complete surviving account of Puyŏ relations with a Chinese state. Historical works treating the period from the loss of Han control of Liaodong in 189 contain less documentation on Puyŏ’s regular relations with Chinese and non-Chinese regimes, though some of their descriptions of Puyŏ customs and social organization are far more detailed than any records from earlier periods. The records examined above indicate that with two notable exceptions, Puyŏ maintained an amicable relationship with the Eastern Han court from the establishment of formal relations in 49 to the effective separation of Liaodong from the Han empire in 189. The two instances of hostilities between Han and Puyŏ during which relations were suspended (111–20, 167–74) suggest that from the Puyŏ perspective, relations with Han were necessarily predicated on the security of Han’s hold on Liaodong and, especially, Xuantu. The stability of Xuantu’s position meant an effective check on Koguryŏ aggressions and, consequently, the security of Puyŏ’s southern frontier. When Koguryŏ forced a withdrawal of Xuantu and threatened further aggression against Puyŏ’s southern frontier, Puyŏ responded to Han’s acquiescence to this new development with an assault against Xuantu in 111. Puyŏ’s relations with Han resumed only after Han moved to reassert its position in Xuantu in 120. The security of its southern frontier against Koguryŏ expansion was evidently a primary factor shaping Puyŏ’s relationship with Han. Similarly, the threat posed by the Xianbei and their occasional military alliances with Koguryŏ figured largely into Puyŏ’s frontier policy. Although Puyŏ appears to have been compelled to join Tanshihuai’s alliance against Han in 167 (an alliance that included Koguryŏ), it later defied the Xianbei and resumed its alliance with Han in 174, but only after Han had checked Koguryŏ aggression and reasserted its presence in Xuantu. Once again, the stability of Xuantu was key to the nature of Puyŏ’s relationship with Han, a relationship that was further based on a common interest in preventing an alliance between Koguryŏ 33. Hou Hanshu 85:2815 (Account of Koguryŏ). A more detailed account appears in Sanguozhi 30:845 (Account of Koguryŏ): 靈帝建寧二年, 玄菟太守耿臨討之, 斬首虜數百級, 伯固降, 屬遼東. 熹平中, 伯固乞屬玄菟.

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and the Xianbei. This would remain the primary political motivation for Puyŏ’s maintenance of relations with authorities in Liaodong for as long as the commandery remained under the control of a regime in the Central Plains.

Relations with the Gongsun House (189–238) When the Eastern Han dynasty disintegrated in 189, Liaodong was to some extent spared the disorder suffered by most regions of the former empire. This was due largely to the efforts of Gongsun Du 公孫度 (?–204), whose determined authority maintained the stability of the Liaodong region even as the central parts of the empire descended into civil war. As a native of Liaodong who had grown up in Xuantu, Gongsun Du knew the region and its surrounding peoples well, which undoubtedly facilitated the rapid consolidation of Liaodong under his personal command.34 Once in power, he worked to secure the hereditary leadership of Liaodong under the Gongsun house, and after his death in 204 the leadership did indeed pass to his descendents, the line of succession terminating in 238 with the Wei conquest of Liaodong and the death of Du’s grandson, Gongsun Yuan 公孫淵 (?–238). The Gongsun authority eventually extended even to the commandery of Lelang, which was reorganized under Du’s successor, who detached the commandery’s southern regions to create the new commandery of Daifang 帶方郡. The stability of Liaodong during the Gongsun rule depended on the rulers’ maintenance of relations with the surrounding groups, and as in the preceding regime, the early lords of Liaodong sought to strengthen their relations with Puyŏ to drive a wedge between the Xianbei and Koguryŏ groups flanking this axis. Gongsun Du undertook a number of measures to confirm and reinforce his alliance with Puyŏ. The first measure was to bypass the agency of Xuantu by making Puyŏ a direct dependency of Liaodong.35 Then he affirmed his ties with the Puyŏ ruling clan by binding the two houses in marriage: Puyŏ had originally been subject to Xuantu, but at the end of Han when Gongsun Du wielded his authority in the east and brought about the submission of the barbarians, the Puyŏ king Wigut’ae became subject to Liaodong instead. At that time Koguryŏ and the Xianbei were powerful, and since Puyŏ lay between these two caitiffs, [Du] married a daughter of his own house [to the Puyŏ king].36

The solidarity of the ties between Puyŏ and the Gongsun was undoubtedly reinforced during the rule of Du’s son and successor, Gongsun Kang 公孫康. Shortly after coming to power in 204, Kang took advantage of a Koguryŏ succession struggle and 34. For an account of the Gongsun regime of Liaodong, see Gardiner 1972. 35. The term “dependency” here indicates merely that Puyŏ relations with the Gongsun were managed through the agency of Liaodong; that is, the management of relations was the purview of the Liaodong office. Puyŏ was in no way rendered administratively subordinate to Liaodong, though the language the Gongsun used, at least internally, probably would have suggested otherwise. 36. Sanguozhi 30:842 (Account of Puyŏ): 夫餘本屬玄菟. 漢末, 公孫度雄張海東, 威服外夷, 夫餘王 尉仇台更屬遼東. 時句麗、鮮卑彊, 度以夫餘在二虜之間, 妻以宗女. Note that the Wigut’ae named in this account is not likely to have been the same figure mentioned as having been active in the 120s.

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abetted a large-scale civil war by providing military assistance to the weaker of the two contenders for power. This resulted in a rift in the Koguryŏ leadership, and for a time one claimant, with Gongsun support, remained in power at the Koguryŏ capital near Huanren while another established a new capital on the Yalu River. Soon thereafter the regime on the Yalu triumphed over its competitor and reclaimed the lost territories of the former capital. Though Kang’s interference in the succession struggle did not result in the destruction of Koguryŏ, it did leave Koguryŏ substantially weakened.37 This was to be the first of several disasters Koguryŏ would suffer through the course of the third century, the latter half of which would mark the nadir of Koguryŏ’s existence, and during which the state more than once perched on the edge of extinction. Although the weakening of Koguryŏ undoubtedly meant a relaxation of tensions on Puyŏ’s southern frontier, Puyŏ would soon face disasters of its own. As Puyŏ authority had waxed over several centuries, it had incorporated many surrounding groups into its own sphere of influence. To its northeast Puyŏ had subjugated Yilou populations who occupied the valley of the Mudan River and its tributaries. Though it is not known exactly when the Yilou had become subject to Puyŏ, by the beginning of the third century the Puyŏ government was imposing an oppressive tax on them. In the 220s, however, the Yilou rebelled and successfully freed themselves from Puyŏ control: Since Han times [the Yilou] had been subject to Puyŏ, but Puyŏ burdened them with oppressive tax levies, so in the Huangchu 黃初 reign [220–26] they rebelled. Puyŏ sent numerous campaigns against them, but though [the Yilou] numbers were few, they lived among rugged mountains, and the people of neighboring countries feared their bows and arrows, so in the end [Puyŏ] was unable to defeat them.38

The loss of resources extracted from the Yilou must have struck a serious blow to Puyŏ’s economy, and the fact that the incident had been communicated to Chinese record keepers suggests that it was an event of some moment.39 At this time Liaodong was under the leadership of Kang’s brother, Gongsun Gong 公孫恭, whose reign (ca. 220–28) marked a period of general weakness for Liaodong.40 This weakness was further exacerbated by the temporary resurgence of Koguryŏ and by the formation of a second short-lived Xianbei confederation (ca. 224–35) under a leader named Kebineng 軻比能 (?–235).41 Although Liaodong revived somewhat under the rule of Kang’s son, Gongsun Yuan (228–38), the 37. The events are discussed in Sanguozhi 30:845 (Account of Koguryŏ); Samguk sagi 16:152–54 (Koguryŏ Annals, Sansang, Preface). 38. Sanguozhi 30:848 (Account of Yilou): 自漢已來, 臣屬夫餘, 夫餘責其租賦重, 以黃初中叛之. 夫餘 數伐之, 其人眾雖少, 所在山險, 鄰國人畏其弓矢, 卒不能服也. 39. Since the narrative implies an Yilou point of view (in describing the taxes as oppressive), it is possible that the rebellion was reported by Yilou people to members of the Wei expedition that reached the Yilou in the mid-240s. The fact that the Huangchu reign is specified, however, suggests that some news of the event had reached Chinese record keepers shortly after the rebellion had occurred, and it may have been reported by the Yilou during their first formal visit to the Wei court in 236 (see below). 40. Gardiner 1972, 145–47. 41. On Kebineng see Sanguozhi 30:838–40 (Account of Xianbei).

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rapidly emerging authority of the Cao house of Wei began to press in on Liaodong. Yuan’s unfortunate policy of shifting his loyalties between Wei and its adversary, the Sun house of Wu, eventually brought Wei’s armies to his gates. In 238 the Wei army under Sima Yi 司馬懿 (179–251), assisted by contingents of Xianbei and Koguryŏ troops, overthrew Liaodong and brought the Gongsun dominion to an abrupt end. In addition to the Yilou rebellion, there is evidence that Puyŏ at this time suffered from internal difficulties brought on by a weakening of its hereditary leadership. We have seen that shortly after Gongsun Du came to power in Liaodong in 189, he established an alliance with the Puyŏ king Wigut’ae by marrying his daughter to the king. The Sanguozhi provides some information regarding the successors of Wigut’ae: After Wigut’ae died, Kanwigŏ 簡位居 came to the throne. He did not have a legitimate son, but he did have a secondary son named Mayŏ 麻余, so when Kanwigŏ died the various ka officials established Mayŏ [as king]. The nephew of the Ox ka was named Wigŏ 位居, who was of taesa rank. He thought little of wealth and enjoyed giving to others, so the people of the state became attached to him. Each year he sent envoys to the [Wei] capital to present tribute.42

Although no dates are provided for the reigns of these kings, evidence to be discussed below suggests that Mayŏ had become king by 245 at the latest. The account appears to describe Mayŏ as a weak king (perhaps even a child), whose authority to engage in diplomacy with Wei had been usurped by an official named Wigŏ. Further accounts to be analyzed in the next section will suggest that Wigŏ had, in fact, effectively usurped the Puyŏ kingship.43 Although Gongsun Kang probably maintained a productive relationship with Puyŏ during the early years of his rule, there is little evidence to suggest that Puyŏ lent any support to Kang’s successors.44 Though one might expect to find renewed expressions of their alliance when both the Xianbei and Koguryŏ revived during the reign of Gongsun 42. Sanguozhi 30:842 (Account of Puyŏ): 尉仇台死, 簡位居立. 無適子, 有孽子麻余, 位居死, 諸加共 立麻余. 牛加兄子名位居, 為大使, 輕財善施, 國人附之, 歲歲遣使詣京都貢獻. 43. As will be discussed below, since the ka are described as governing the regions outside of the capital, there is some possibility that Wigŏ and his uncle the Ox ka were not based in the Puyŏ capital. If this is the case (which is difficult to demonstrate), it is likely that Wigŏ was based in the southern region of Puyŏ where Wang Qi’s army is most likely to have marched on their return to Xuantu in 245–46, also discussed below. Such an interpretation would suggest that administrative power in Puyŏ had shifted southward. Wigŏ’s acts of gifting can be understood as attempts to win supporters among local populations in this region. 44. There is one record dating to the first year of the rule of Gongsun Kang (204) wherein a Liaodong envoy sent to the Wuhuan leader Supuyan 蘇僕延 (?–207) boasts that his ruler “commands the services of Puyŏ and Yemaek.” See Sanguozhi 28:731 (Biography of Qian Zhao): 我遼東在滄海之東, 擁兵百萬, 又有扶餘、濊貊之用. This statement, along with the fact that Kang’s interference in the Koguryŏ succession struggle had weakened that state to Puyŏ’s benefit, suggests that Puyŏ’s relations with Kang were initially active and amicable. By the reign of Kang’s successor, however, this seems not to have been the case, as discussed below.

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Gong, this does not seem to be the case. In fact, Puyŏ’s dispatch of a tribute mission to the Wei founder in 220 suggests that the Puyŏ-Gongsun alliance had dissolved by the time Gongsun Gong came to power.45 Such an act on the part of Puyŏ, indeed, could hardly have failed to create a rift between the two and suggests that from the Puyŏ perspective the relationship with the Gongsun had become unsatisfactory. Although it is possible that the Yilou rebellion had so crippled Puyŏ that the alliance with Liaodong was rendered temporarily impracticable or undesirable, the mission to the Wei court suggests a more complex motivation for a suspension of relations with Liaodong. As discussed above, Xuantu had been relegated to playing a less important role in Puyŏ-Liaodong relations when Gongsun Du bypassed the commandery and brought Puyŏ affairs into the direct purview of Liaodong. An account dating to 233 describes a much-reduced Xuantu under which only an estimated two hundred households were registered.46 Recalling that Puyŏ’s alliance with the authorities in Liaodong had previously depended on the stability of Xuantu (and, by extension, Puyŏ’s southern frontier), the decline of Xuantu at a time when the Xianbei and Koguryŏ were ascendant would certainly have had strong implications for Puyŏ’s attitude toward Liaodong. The nearly simultaneous occurrence of the Yilou rebellion, the usurpation of the Puyŏ king’s authority, the weakening of Liaodong and Xuantu under Gongsun Gong, and the Puyŏ dispatch of a mission to Wei is suggestive of Puyŏ’s strong motivation for severing relations with the Gongsun to seek a more productive alliance with the rising Wei court. That is, the weakness of Liaodong’s frontier, and especially that of Xuantu, at a time when Puyŏ was threatened by rebellion and the rise of its adversaries to the south and west made its relationship with the Gongsun of little benefit. The silence of the historical record on this matter makes it impossible to determine whether Puyŏ played any active role in Liaodong politics at this time, but the situation described above suggests that the traditional Liaodong-Puyŏ axis against the Xianbei and Koguryŏ threat had ceased to function by 220.

45. See Sanguozhi 2:58 (Wendi, Yankang 1/3). In addition to Puyŏ, the Yemaek (probably indicating Koguryŏ) are also said to have sent a tribute mission to the Wei court at this time. Curiously, the text can be read as “the shanyus of Yemaek and Puyŏ and the kings of Karashahr and Khotan each sent envoys to present tribute” (濊貊、扶餘單于, 焉耆、于闐王皆各遣使奉獻). Though the title shanyu had probably never been used among the Puyŏ or Koguryŏ leadership, there is at least one recorded instance in 234 of the Wu emperor Sun Quan rather arbitrarily bestowing the title shanyu on a Koguryŏ king (Sanguozhi 47:1140 [Wuzhu, Jiahe 2]). It is possible that the Wei founder had earlier conferred the same title on the rulers of Puyŏ and Koguryŏ on the occasion of their tribute missions in 220. The mission is described only in the Wei annals and does not appear in the accounts of Puyŏ and Koguryŏ in the same work. Although it is possible that Koguryŏ had occupied the mouth of the Yalu River by 220 (it had certainly taken the region by 234 as per the account cited above) and would have been able to dispatch a mission to Wei by sea, it is difficult to see how the Puyŏ envoys could have made the journey. One possibility is that Puyŏ had made common cause with Koguryŏ against Liaodong and sent its envoys along with those of Koguryŏ. 46. Sanguozhi 47:1139–40 (Wuzhu, Jiahe 2), citing the lost Weishu. The account describes Xuantu as such a feeble presence that a contingent of sixty expatriates from Wu considered overpowering it.

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Relations with Wei (238–65) Following the defeat of Gongsun Yuan in 238, Wei moved quickly to consolidate its hold over Liaodong and Xuantu as well as the former Gongsun holdings in Lelang and Daifang. Wei policy toward Liaodong, however, resulted in a dramatic decrease in the commandery’s Chinese population. This was due in the first instance to a large-scale purge in 238 of officials and troops who had served under Gongsun Yuan, and in response to a Wu campaign that assaulted the Liaodong coast the following year, entire districts on the Liaodong coast were removed to the Shandong region in 240.47 The latter development prompted Koguryŏ in 242 to launch a raid against Liaodong’s strategically located Xi’anping District 西安平縣 near the mouth of the Yalu River.48 Koguryŏ’s seizure of Xi’anping would have meant Wei’s loss of a land route between Liaodong and Lelang, and to prevent such an eventuality Wei took drastic measures. The result was a series of campaigns of unprecedented scale directed first against Koguryŏ and later against the Ye 穢 and Han 韓 people of the Korean peninsula. The first assault was launched in 244, when the Wei armies under the command of Guanqiu Jian 毌丘儉 (?–255) set forth from Xuantu and marched against Koguryŏ along several routes. The Wei troops broke through Koguryŏ’s defenses and reached its capital on the Yalu, where they destroyed the mountain fortifications that protected the capital. The Koguryŏ king Wigung 位宮 (r. 227–48) fled and managed to evade the Wei armies, who presently returned to Xuantu. The next year the Wei armies attacked again, and this time when the king took to flight, Guanqiu Jian sent an army under the command of the Xuantu governor Wang Qi 王頎 to pursue him. The Wei army chased Wigung first to Okchŏ, a region near modern Hamhŭng that had been subject to Koguryŏ. After the Wei subdued the Okchŏ communities, the chase continued northward to the town of Maeguru 買溝婁, also called Northern Okchŏ, located near the lower reaches of the Tumen River. Continuing northward, the Wei army passed through the southernmost regions occupied by the Yilou, where they apparently gave up their pursuit and began their long journey back to Xuantu. The return trip took the Wei army through Puyŏ territory, and the account from the Sanguozhi cited above continues with a description of how the Puyŏ usurper Wigŏ received the Wei army: During the Zhengshi reign [240–49], the Regional Inspector of Youzhou, Guanqiu Jian, sent a campaign against Koguryŏ. He dispatched Wang Qi, who [eventually] proceeded to Puyŏ. Wigŏ sent his taega officials to the outskirts to receive him and supplied his troops with

47. See Gardiner 1972, 172–74; Sanguozhi 4:119 (Qiwang, Zhengshi 1/2). 48. Sanguozhi 30:845–46 (Account of Koguryŏ). Note that Koguryŏ had occupied the Xi’anping region by the early 230s, and perhaps rather earlier, but it seems to have lost its foothold when the Wei armies overran Liaodong in 238. The region was significant for Koguryŏ’s kings as it provided them with sea access, by which they were able to communicate with the states in southern China. This was also one of Wei’s primary motivations for denying Koguryŏ such access. For the location and archaeological remains of Xi’anping, see Cao Xun 1980.

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provisions. His uncle, the Ox ka, was duplicitous, so Wigŏ killed him and his son, confiscated their wealth and property, and dispatched an envoy with a record of assets to convey them to the [Wei] government.49

This passage shows that as the de facto authority in Puyŏ, Wigŏ was not only friendly toward the Wei army but was even willing to go to extremes to ingratiate himself with the Wei court. Moreover, we see additional evidence of Wigŏ’s disproportionate authority, for it is Wigŏ, rather than the king Mayŏ, who dispatches a party to receive Wang Qi’s expedition. And despite the fact that his uncle held a preeminent position as Ox ka, Wigŏ is nevertheless able to have him and his son executed.50 Puyŏ’s regular relations with the Wei court must date from no later than the second Wei expedition in 245, though it is possible that they commenced as early as the mission sent in 220. Tribute missions are said to have continued year to year, which suggests that Puyŏ’s leaders perceived some advantage in that relationship, whether it be economic or strategic. Although Xuantu appears to have been reconstituted under Wei (judging from its role as a base from which to launch the Koguryŏ expeditions), Koguryŏ had been rendered powerless for the next half century, and the Xianbei would not begin their rapid rise to power for some time. It is therefore unlikely that Puyŏ engaged the Wei court because it sought the frontier stability that its Han-period relationship with Liaodong and Xuantu had provided. Since Wigŏ is portrayed as the initiator and prime agent of the Puyŏ-Wei relationship, one might suspect that his motivation lay at least partly in maintaining and extending, through that relationship, his status and prestige as the paramount authority in Puyŏ. Such exclusive access to the Wei court might tend to provide some sanction for his otherwise (presumably) illegitimate standing. A final episode in the account of Puyŏ in the Sanguozhi further suggests the impotence of the hereditary leadership: Anciently, it was a Puyŏ custom to place the blame on the king when the rains did not come in season or the crops did not ripen. Some would say he should be replaced, and others would say he should be killed. When Mayŏ died, his six-year-old son Ŭiro 依慮 was established as king.51

Although the narrative does not state explicitly that Mayŏ had been killed, this is nevertheless implied by prefacing the death of Mayŏ with the description of the peculiar 49. Sanguozhi 30:842 (Account of Puyŏ): 正始中, 幽州刺史毌丘儉討句麗, 遣玄菟太守王頎詣夫餘, 位居遣大加郊迎, 供軍糧. 季父牛加有二心, 位居殺季父父子, 籍沒財物, 遣使簿斂送官. 50. To be fair, however, it is possible that Wigŏ had been compelled to take such drastic action by the Wei army, who must have still represented a formidable force even after their long journey. The ka ranks will be discussed in chapter 6. Note, however, that Wigŏ’s actions as paramount authority in relations with Wei (including his dispatches of envoys to the court and his reception of Wang Qi’s army) may be suggestive of a geographical shift of power to the southward in Puyŏ. Surviving data, unfortunately, permit little more than speculation on this matter. 51. Sanguozhi 30:842 (Account of Puyŏ): 舊夫餘俗, 水旱不調, 五穀不熟, 輒歸咎於王, 或言當易, 或 言當殺. 麻余死, 其子依慮年六歲, 立以為王.

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ancient custom. The fact that a child was placed on the throne suggests strongly that the real powers at the Puyŏ court sought to maintain a weak kingship that could be easily manipulated. Although we do not know if Wigŏ was responsible for this change in nominal leadership, the event most likely occurred shortly after the 245 affair since when Ŭiro died in 285 he left a son, who was presumably an adult when he succeeded his father as king.52 Apart from the 220 mission and the statement that Wigŏ sent missions each year to the Wei court, there are no other surviving records that describe Puyŏ’s formal relations with Wei. That information was communicated to Wei is evident from the comparative wealth of detail concerning Puyŏ society and customs in the Sanguozhi, but most of this was probably derived from the passage of Wang Qi’s army through Puyŏ territory in late 245 or early 246. Much of the information concerning peoples of the Korean peninsula and the adjacent areas of Manchuria was undoubtedly acquired during the campaigns against Koguryŏ and other simultaneous campaigns conducted in the Korean peninsula. Except for references to the succession of kings already described, extant records are silent with regard to Puyŏ’s circumstances up to the fall of the Wei court and the rise of Jin in 265. There is, however, no clear evidence of major changes within Puyŏ society during this period (with the possible exception of Wigŏ’s usurpation of power), but the century following 245 would see Puyŏ suffer numerous disasters and enter a sharp decline that would terminate with the fall of the kingdom in 346.

Relations with Jin (265–346) During the period of Gongsun rule over Liaodong and the subsequent years of Wei control of that region, the administrative organization of Liaodong underwent multiple transformations, and with those reorganizations so too did the orientation of Puyŏ’s alignment with Liaodong change. Under the Gongsun the management of relations with Koguryŏ and Puyŏ, hitherto handled by Xuantu, was shifted to the direct administration of Liaodong. The Wei governors of Liaodong appear to have maintained this arrangement, though after the campaigns of Guanqiu Jian and Wang Qi brought many previously unknown peoples into contact with Wei, a Commandant of the Eastern Yi 東夷 校尉 was posted at Liaodong to manage relations with those groups. Beginning with the Yilou rebellion and increasing as the Wei expeditions opened channels with other groups in southern Manchuria, Puyŏ’s position in this region was profoundly altered. Prior to the rebellion, Puyŏ’s kings enjoyed exclusive access to the Chinese regimes via diplomatic relations. The Han and Wei emperors valued their alliance with Puyŏ to the extent that Puyŏ’s kings, upon their death, were granted the privilege of being interred in a jade suit, a prerogative normally reserved for emperors and princes.53 By the end of the Wei period the Puyŏ king was one of many leaders to the northeast of Liaodong engaged in formal 52. If, by a conservative estimate, Ŭiro came to the throne in 246 at the age of six (five by Western reckoning) and had a son in 265 at the age of twenty-five, then that son would have been twenty in 285 when Ŭiro died. 53. Sanguozhi 30:842 (Account of Puyŏ).

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relations with the Chinese court. Although later emperors would continue to place special value in their relations with Puyŏ, the authority formerly wielded by its kings had already entered a phase of rapid decay. It is this process of decline and disintegration that best characterizes the state of Puyŏ during the Jin period. The transition of dynastic rule in 265 seems not to have significantly disrupted the government of Liaodong. By 276, according to the geography treatise of the Jinshu, Liaodong consisted of eight districts with 5,400 households on its tax registers, which represent only 8.4 percent of the 64,158 households in the eleven districts recorded for Liaodong in the census of 140.54 Such figures reinforce the historical evidence that Liaodong was largely depopulated of its Chinese residents following the Wei conquest of the Gongsun. Xuantu, however, appears to have been to some extent reconstituted, as its registered populations totaled 3,200 households in three districts, which is more than double its 1,594 households in six districts in 140 and is much larger than the mere 200 households described in the account dating to 233 cited above.55 Since the Commandant of the Eastern Yi remained based at Liaodong’s capital of Xiangping, Xuantu’s primary function during the early Jin period appears to have been maintaining the security of the northern routes.56 Puyŏ continued to send frequent missions after the change of ruling house in Luoyang in 265, but there are no specific records for any of these missions.57 The 1980 discovery of a Jin-period bronze seal issued by the Jin court to a Puyŏ official is evidence of such formal relations.58 Several of Puyŏ’s neighbors sent their own missions to Jin. The first recorded mission from the Yilou is recorded to have occurred in 236 during the Wei period, followed by another mission that reached Liaodong in 262, for which there is a rather detailed description.59 For the Jin period, missions from Yilou are recorded for 280 and 319.60 The Chinese regimes regarded these tribute missions from Yilou as especially significant because the

54. Jinshu 14:427 (Geography); Hou Hanshu 23:3529 (Geography 5). Unfortunately, no corresponding figures for the Wei period survive. 55. Jinshu 14:427 (Geography); Hou Hanshu 23:3529 (Geography 5); Sanguozhi 47:1139–40 (Wuzhu, Jiahe 2). 56. Although Xuantu remained based at Gaogouli District during the early Jin period, four of the five remaining districts listed under Xuantu in 140 (Shangyintai 上殷台縣, Xigaima 西蓋馬縣, Liaoyang 遼陽縣, and Houcheng 候城縣) appear to have been abandoned by 276 (or reorganized as subordinate towns under other districts), leaving only Gaoxian District 高顯縣. Additionally, Wangping District 望平縣, formerly the northernmost district of Liaodong and possibly located at Xintaizi south of Tieling, had been transferred to Xuantu. This arrangement indicates that both the Liao River route to the north and the Hunhe River route to the northeast were controlled by Xuantu. 57. Jinshu 97:2532 (Account of Puyŏ): 武帝時, 頻來朝貢. Emperor Wu reigned from 265 to 290. 58. See Wang Weixiang 1997. The seal was discovered at Balin zuoqi in Inner Mongolia, at the site of an early Liao-period city. The inscription on the seal reads 晉夫餘率善佰長 (Jin’s Puyŏ Leader of One Hundred Conforming to the Good). This seal and others would have been conferred upon the Puyŏ king for redistribution to his officials and local leaders. For more on this seal see chapter 7. 59. Sanguozhi 3:107 (Mingdi, Qinglong 4/5); 4:149 (Chen Liu, Jingyuan 3/4). The second mission appears also in Jinshu 2:37 (Wendi, Jingyuan 3/4). 60. Jinshu 3:70 (Wudi, Xianning 5/12); 6:152 (Yuandi, Taixing 2/8).

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Yilou had come to be associated with the ancient Sushen, who by presenting their tribute of arrows to the court of the Zhou king Cheng made manifest the king’s legitimacy (or that of his regent, the Duke of Zhou). The Wei and Jin emperors similarly regarded the Yilou tribute as symbolizing and affirming their own legitimacy, and for this reason the annals of Wei and Jin consistently refer to the Yilou as the “Sushen.”61 Besides the Yilou, the Jinshu records missions in 267 and 290 from some ten other “states” that appear to have occupied the regions north of Yilou and Puyŏ.62 Of the four groups that sent missions in 267, the Koumohan 寇莫 appear to have shared borders with both the Yilou and Puyŏ, and it is possible that they represent another group that, like Yilou, had broken away from Puyŏ.63 While Puyŏ was coping with the loss of its position as the sole polity in central Manchuria to enjoy the recognition of Chinese regimes, events transpiring to the west of Liaodong would shortly result in the loss of the Jin court’s direct control of Liaodong to the Murong Xianbei state of Former Yan.64 The man who laid the foundations of the Former Yan state was Murong Hui 慕容廆 (269–333), whose ancestors had come to reside in the commandery of Changli 昌黎郡, which was established in the Liaoxi region under the Wei.65 Hui’s great-grandfather Mohuba 莫護跋 had assisted Sima Yi in his campaign against Gongsun Yuan, and his grandfather Muyan 木延 had participated in the Wei campaigns against Koguryŏ in 244 and 245. As clients of Wei, the Murong had established a position near the Changli city of Jicheng 棘城, but under the leadership of Hui’s father Shegui 涉歸 (d. 283) the Murong removed their base from Jicheng to some location north of Liaodong. It was in this region, most likely to the north and west of the convergence of the Xiliao and Dongliao rivers, that Hui rose to the leadership of the Murong in 285. Hui’s relations with Jin quickly became antagonistic when the Jin emperor forbade Hui from acting on a vendetta between the Murong and their neighbors to the northwest, 61. Only in the account of the Yilou in the Sanguozhi and the account of the Sushen in the Jinshu do we find that the terms “Yilou” and “Sushen” refer to the same people. See Sanguozhi 30:847–48 (Account of Yilou); Jinshu 97:2534–35 (Account of Sushen). The wording of individual entries regarding Yilou missions indicates that particular significance was attributed to their presentation of hu arrows and stone arrowheads, by which a direct comparison was made with the tribute of the ancient Sushen, who appeared only at the court of a legitimate and benevolent king. Ikeuchi (1930b) has suggested that the Jin founders deliberately and surreptitiously solicited the Yilou tribute missions specifically to buttress their own claims for legitimacy. 62. Jinshu 97:2536–37 (Account of Ten States). 63. The account of the ten states in the Jinshu (97:2536 [Account of Ten States]) describes Koumohan as consisting of more than fifty thousand households, but its location is difficult to ascertain. The account of the Yilou in the same work, however, notes that the territory of the Yilou adjoined on the west with that of Koumohan (97:3534 [Account of Sushen]). Sanguozhi 30:841 (Account of Puyŏ) states that Puyŏ was conterminous with the Yilou on its east, and it further notes that the Yilou center lay over one thousand li to the northeast of Puyŏ. This suggests that Koumohan lay to the north or northeast of Puyŏ. 64. For a survey of this state in English, see Schreiber 1949–55 and Schreiber 1956. 65. Changli was formed by combining the western regions of the former Liaodong Dependent State and the northern regions of the commandery of Liaoxi. The commandery was based at the district of Changli, which is probably to be identified with the Han-period district of Jiaoli under Liaoxi, located on the Daling River near the city of Yixian.

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the Yuwen 宇文 Xianbei. Hui retaliated by attacking Liaoxi and was defeated after engaging the Jin army at the town of Feiru 肥如.66 Hui continued his raids against the commandery of Changli, and before the end of 285 he had turned his armies to the northeast and dealt a devastating blow to the capital city of Puyŏ. There is no indication in surviving records that the Murong had previously had any contact with Puyŏ, but it is likely that the territories the Murong had occupied to the north of Liaodong brought them into close proximity to the southwestern territories of Puyŏ. No explanation is given for the attack, but it is possible that Puyŏ, by that time well into its decline, represented an easy target and a likely source of manpower, wealth, and technologies.67 The attack was overwhelmingly destructive and would probably have ended Puyŏ’s existence had Jin not interceded on its behalf. The event is briefly described in the biography of Murong Hui in the Jinshu: [Hui] then led his groups to the east and attacked Puyŏ. The Puyŏ king Ŭiro killed himself, as Hui leveled his capital city and returned driving over ten thousand [Puyŏ] people before him. The Commandant of the Eastern Yi, He Kan 何龕, sent the Protector-general, Jia Chen 賈沈, to receive Ŭiro’s son and establish him as king. Hui sent his general Sun Ding 孫丁 to lead forth his mounts and intercepted him. Chen fought valiantly and beheaded Ding, and presently restored the Puyŏ kingdom.68

Though this is a very summary recounting of the event, it contains information not related elsewhere, such as the fact that the Puyŏ capital was leveled and that a very large number of Puyŏ people were forcibly removed and some sold as slaves.69 A more detailed description of the event appears in the account of Puyŏ in the same work: In the sixth year of Taikang [285], [Puyŏ] suffered a surprise attack from Murong Hui. Its king Ŭiro killed himself, as his son and younger brother fled to the protection of Okchŏ. The emperor issued a decree, saying, “The Puyŏ kings have for generations maintained their loyalty and filial piety, but they have fallen victim to evil villains, and we think of them with

66. Jinshu 108:2804 (Biography of Murong Hui). By the Jin period the territory of Liaoxi Commandery was confined to the region around Shanhaiguan and Lulong, which had constituted the commandery’s southwesternmost extremes during the Han period. The remainder of its Han-period territory had since been transferred to Changli Commandery or abandoned. 67. On the possibility that the Murong attack was designed in part to acquire Puyŏ’s advanced iron production technologies, refer to the discussion of the Lamadong cemetery in chapter 4. 68. Jinshu 108:2804 (Biography of Murong Hui): 又率眾東伐扶餘, 扶餘王依慮自殺, 廆夷其國城, 驅 萬餘人而歸. 東夷校尉何龕遣督護賈沈將迎立依慮之子為王, 廆遣其將孫丁率騎邀之. 沈力戰斬丁, 遂復扶餘之國. 69. Although some Puyŏ captives were sold as slaves, it is likely that many of them were settled in the vicinity of the Murong capital at modern Chaoyang. As discussed in the previous chapter, the majority of the late third- and early fourth-century tombs at the Lamadong cemetery at Beipiao near Chaoyang feature characteristics that are unlike typical Xianbei burials but resemble those Puyŏ burials in central Jilin. Such characteristics and the finds of bronze face masks and deer-shaped ornaments may indicate that these burials belonged to Puyŏ people who had been relocated to the Murong heartland following the 285 invasion and sacking of the Puyŏ capital. See Tian Likun 2003.

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heartfelt sympathy. If their survivors are sufficient to re-establish their state, then we should draw up plans and cause them to be restored.” His officials reported that the Commandant of the Eastern Yi, Xianyu Ying 鮮于嬰, had not aided Puyŏ and was negligent in his strategy, so the emperor ordered by decree that Ying be removed from his post and replaced with He Kan 何龕. In the following year the succeeding Puyŏ king Ŭira 依羅 sent [emissaries] to Kan asking that he might lead the [Puyŏ] survivors on their return to restore his former kingdom and also begged [Kan’s] assistance [to accomplish this]. Kan took his position and sent the Protector-general Jia Chen 賈沈 with troops to escort the envoys on their return. Hui intercepted him on the road, so Chen engaged [Hui] in battle and completely defeated him. Hui’s groups withdrew, and Ŭira was able to restore his kingdom. Afterward, however, Hui frequently seized their people and sold them as slaves to the Chinese. The emperor commiserated with them and issued another decree ordering the use of government properties to redeem [the Puyŏ slaves] and prohibited the sale of Puyŏ people in the regions of Sizhou and Jizhou.70

The attack on Puyŏ in 285 hastened the state’s already rapid decline. If not for the leadership’s access to Okchŏ as a safe haven and the fact that the Jin emperor felt obligated to support the restoration efforts, Puyŏ’s history would surely have ended with this episode. The Okchŏ mentioned in this account must have been Northern Okcho, also called Maeguru 買溝婁, which probably centered on the lower Tumen valley. Although no records make note of any relationship between Puyŏ and Okchŏ (besides the fact that Okchŏ’s lands adjoined those of Puyŏ to the northwest), the Sanguozhi states that the Northern Okchŏ feared the raids of the Yilou people to their north.71 After the Yilou rebellion, Puyŏ may have had good reason to forge an alliance with Northern Okchŏ against their common foe. There is some evidence that Puyŏ maintained a strong presence in Northern Okchŏ even after the restoration of Puyŏ in 286 and that the region subsequently came to be referred to as “Eastern Puyŏ.” The Puyŏ state survived under the leadership of Ŭiro’s son Ŭira, but it was undoubtedly little more than a shadow of what it had once been. Murong Hui’s continued raids on Puyŏ territories must have further weakened the restored state. The Jin presence in Liaodong provided Puyŏ with some measure of protection against further invasion, but this would prove to be a temporary arrangement. By 289 Hui had resumed peaceful relations with Jin and turned his attention to expanding his authority in Changli and Liaodong. Shortly thereafter, in 294, he moved his base of operations back to the city of Jicheng. During the Eight Princes Disturbance (291–306) and the many subsequent uprisings the Jin heartland was cast into turmoil. The empire quickly fragmented, and by the time the Eastern Jin had been established in 317 with its capital in modern Nanjing, the Sima house was no longer able to exercise any direct control over its former territories 70. Jinshu 97:2532–33 (Account of Puyŏ): 至太康六年, 為慕容廆所襲破, 其王依慮自殺, 子弟走保沃 沮. 帝為下詔曰: 「夫餘王世守忠孝, 為惡虜所滅, 甚愍念之. 若其遺類足以復國者, 當為之方計, 使得 存立.」 有司奏護東夷校尉鮮于嬰不救夫餘, 失於機略. 詔免嬰, 以何龕代之. 明年, 夫餘後王依羅遣 詣龕, 求率見人還復舊國, 仍請援. 龕上列, 遣督郵賈沈以兵送之. 廆又要之於路, 沈與戰, 大 之, 廆 眾退, 羅得復國. 爾後每為廆掠其種人, 賣於中國. 帝愍之, 又發詔以官物贖還, 下司、冀二州, 禁市夫 餘之口. 71. Sanguozhi 30:847 (Account of Yilou).

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in the northeast. By remaining nominally loyal to the Jin court during these turbulent years, Murong Hui managed to advance his own standing in the northeastern regions. By the early 320s, Hui had extended his authority over Liaodong (appointing his son, Murong Ren 慕容仁, as its governor) and received the Jin emperor’s official recognition of his supremacy over the region of Pingzhou 平州.72 Once Liaodong had fallen under Hui’s control, Puyŏ’s final safeguard was effectively eliminated. Fortunately for Puyŏ, however, Hui had still to deal with the problem of the newly revitalized Koguryŏ under the rule of King Ŭlbul 乙弗 (Mich’ŏn 美川王, r. 300–331). Surviving fragments of Koguryŏ records describe Ŭlbul as a strong and charismatic leader, under whom the state reemerged from its half century of obscurity.73 Under Ŭlbul’s rule Koguryŏ seized control of the commandery of Lelang, made inroads into Daifang and Xuantu, and began to challenge the Murong for hegemony over Liaodong. Koguryŏ’s designs on Liaodong were for a time thwarted by the formidable presence of Hui’s son, Murong Ren, as governor of Liaodong. In 333, however, Hui died and his son Huang 慕容皝 succeeded him. Unfortunately for Huang, his brothers distrusted him and soon rebelled. Murong Ren occupied Liaodong and held out for three years in his headquarters at the city of Pingguo 平郭. Those officials of Liaodong who remained loyal to Huang fled the commandery, which became further depopulated. Xuantu appears to have been abandoned at this time, which gave Koguryŏ an opportunity in 335 to build the mountain fortification of Sin-sŏng 新城 near the commandery seat at modern Fushun.74 In 336 Murong Huang (297–348) retook Liaodong. He began to turn his efforts toward re-establishing his territorial control, and by the following year he was secure enough in this position to proclaim himself King of Yan. In 339 Huang sent his army against the new Koguryŏ stronghold at Sin-sŏng, but its king Sayu 斯由 (Kogugwŏn 國 原王, r. 331–71), who was Ŭlbul’s son, sued for peace and Huang withdrew. At the end of 342, however, Huang sent his armies forth in a major campaign directed at the heart of Koguryŏ.75 Huang overran the Koguryŏ capital at Hwando, plundered its treasuries, 72. Jinshu 108:2807 (Biography of Murong Hui); Zizhi tongjian 91:2890 (Yuandi, Taixing 4/12). In 322 Hui was appointed as Regional Inspector of Pingzhou, a region that included Liaodong, Changli, and Xuantu. The commanderies of Lelang and Daifang were nominally included under the jurisdiction of Pingzhou, though both commanderies had been overrun by Koguryŏ during the previous decade. Hui appears to have established token administrations using the names of the lost commanderies, but they were located in the Liaoxi or Changli territories. When Xuantu was lost to Koguryŏ around 333 it too was re-established in name only, much farther to the west. 73. Samguk sagi 17:162–63 (Koguryŏ Annals, Mich’ŏn, Preface). 74. For the construction of Sin-sŏng see Samguk sagi 18:164 (Koguryŏ Annals, Kogugwŏn 5/1). Scholarship is in general agreement that Koguryŏ’s Sin-sŏng fortification is to be identified with walled remains in the northern part of Fushun called Gaoershan Mountain Fortress 高尔山山城. See Mikami Tsugio and Tamura Kōichi 1993. 75. Huang’s motivations for attacking Koguryŏ were numerous. Koguryŏ had engaged as an ally the leader of the Xiongnu state of Later Zhao, Shi Hu 石虎 (295–349), who was a sworn enemy of the Murong. Huang was moreover convinced that he could not commence his planned aggressions against the neighboring Yuwen Xianbei until he had secured his eastern frontier against the increasing threat that Koguryŏ represented.

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razed the capital city, took over fifty thousand captives, and stole the corpse of the king’s father Ŭlbul from its tomb. With this unusually aggressive strike, Huang rendered Koguryŏ harmless in a single blow. Immediately after the withdrawal of Huang’s forces, Sayu sent his younger brother to Jicheng to submit to Huang and to begin negotiations for the return of Ŭlbul’s corpse and of the king’s mother, who had been among those taken captive.76 Koguryŏ appears to have retained control over most of its territories, though it is likely that Huang retook the Xuantu region and occupied Sin-sŏng. In 345 Huang sent an army forth to attack Koguryŏ’s Namso Fortress 蘇城, located near the confluence of the Hunhe and Suzi rivers to the east of Fushun.77 Huang’s forces took the fortress and posted an occupation army there, which gave Huang control over the northeastern route into central Manchuria. The stage was now set for the final assault on Puyŏ that would terminate its existence as an independent polity.

The Fall of Puyŏ There are no surviving records of contacts between Puyŏ and Jin following the restoration of Puyŏ in 286. The chaos and uprisings in the Jin heartland and Murong Hui’s gradual takeover of Pingzhou, both beginning in the 290s, would have greatly hindered any attempts on the part of Puyŏ to make contact with the Jin court. Hui’s dominance in Liaodong as a recognized client of Jin would have rendered any such relationship between Puyŏ and Jin impractical unless Hui’s own relationship with Puyŏ had undergone a dramatic revision. There is no evidence that formal relations had ever commenced between Puyŏ and any of the Murong leaders of Liaodong, though the surviving historical record for this period is extremely sparse. By 340, however, Murong Huang had taken effective control of what was left of Liaodong, and Koguryŏ was celebrating its recent conquests of the former commanderies of Lelang, Daifang, and Xuantu. Puyŏ’s traditional adversaries were both in flourish, and contact with its one longtime ally in the Central Plains was effectively blocked. Such an arrangement left Puyŏ in a precariously vulnerable position. The hostility between Koguryŏ and Yan may have prevented either from venturing against Puyŏ for fear that the other would take advantage of the absence of its enemy’s

76. The corpse of Ŭlbul was returned immediately after a sizable ransom had been delivered. Sayu’s mother was not returned until 356, after having remained a hostage for fourteen years. Her return was the result of the forging of a treaty between Koguryŏ and Former Yan in 355, which effectively ended their ongoing hostilities and permitted Koguryŏ to turn its military focus to the south. See Yŏ Ho-gyu 2006. 77. Koguryŏ’s Namso Fortress must have been located on the lower reaches of the Namso (Ch. Nansu) River, which may be reliably identified with the modern Suzi River in Xinbin County. At least three walled ruins have been suggested as the remains of Namso Fortress, all of which are located near the confluence of the Suzi and Hunhe rivers to the east of Fushun. As noted above, Sin-sŏng is convincingly identified with Gaoershan Fortress in the northern suburbs of Fushun, which was the center of the commandery of Xuantu prior to 333. For the Yan armies to attack Namso Fortress, they would first need to get past Sin-sŏng. It is therefore likely that between the construction of Sin-sŏng around 335 and Huang’s attack in 342, Yan had managed to regain control of the Sin-sŏng fortifications.

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forces, but Murong Huang’s military strike on the Koguryŏ capital in 342 temporarily eliminated any threat Koguryŏ may have posed against Puyŏ. Huang’s victory over the Yuwen in 344 and his seizure of the Namso Fortress in 345 secured his frontiers and opened the routes to the north and northeast. With no military threats remaining in the north and east to divert Huang’s armies, Puyŏ lay completely exposed to attack. This attack came the next year, in 346, and utterly destroyed the last vestiges of the Puyŏ state.78 Interestingly, the historical record further reveals that the Murong attack came on the heels of an earlier disaster that had resulted in the loss of the Puyŏ capital. The most complete account of these events appears in a passage dated to the first month of the Yonghe reign (346) in the Zizhi tongjian: Previously the Puyŏ dwelt at Nok-san 鹿山 [Deer Mountain], but when they were invaded by Paekche their villages dispersed and scattered. They moved westward near Yan but did not set up defenses. [In 346] the King of Yan, [Murong] Huang, sent his crown prince Jün 儁 in command of the three generals Murong Jun 慕容軍, Murong Ke 慕容恪, and Muyu Gen 慕輿根, and with a cavalry force of seventeen thousand launched a surprise attack against Puyŏ. Jün 儁 remained in the midst of the army and gave directions and delegated the army affairs to Ke. Presently they defeated Puyŏ, captured its king Hyŏn 玄, and returned with over fifty thousand people from the villages. Huang made Hyŏn Garrison Army Commander and gave him one of his daughters to take as wife.79

Thus, by the time Huang had secured his borders and dispatched his son Jun on the campaign of 346, the Puyŏ leadership had already been driven from its traditional center of government by an invader identified as Paekche. The date of this earlier event is not given, but since the Puyŏ king had not had an opportunity to set up defenses before the Yan attack, the fall of the Puyŏ capital must have occurred no more than a few years prior to 346. The most puzzling aspect of the pre-346 invasion concerns the identity of the invaders. Since Paekche was, by the late fourth century, located in the Han River basin near modern Seoul, as is well attested by numerous reliable sources, the majority of scholars today, noting that Paekche could not have attacked Puyŏ over such a great distance, assume that the Zizhi tongjian account must be in error. Instead, they often suggest a variety of identities for the aggressor, including Koguryŏ, the Murong, and the Yilou. Although it is unlikely that the Puyŏ ruler would have moved his government closer to Yan if Yan had driven him from his former capital, it is conceivable that Koguryŏ could 78. Brief descriptions of the attack are to be found in the biographies of Murong Huang (Jinshu 109:2826 [Biography of Murong Huang]) and Murong Ke (Jinshu 111:2859 [Biography of Murong Ke]). 79. Zizhi tongjian 97:3069 (Mudi, Yonghe 1): 初, 夫餘居于鹿山, 為百濟所侵, 部落衰散, 西徙近燕, 而 不設備. 燕王皝遣世子儁帥慕容軍、慕容恪、慕輿根三將軍, 萬七千騎襲夫餘. 儁居中指授, 軍事皆 以任恪, 遂拔夫餘, 虜其王玄及部落五萬餘口而還. 皝以玄為鎮軍將軍, 妻以女. The Zizhi tongjian and the Jinshu are the most reliable sources for the history of the Jin period. Although the Zizhi tongjian, an eleventh-century work by Sima Guang 司馬光 (1019–86), is a much later compilation, it drew from earlier works now no longer extant, and it contains much material not included in the Jinshu. For a discussion of these sources of Jin history, see Schreiber 1949–55, 380–87.

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have struck northward to central Jilin in the years before its own capital was leveled by Murong Huang in 342. Neither Chinese sources nor the fragments of Koguryŏ’s own historical records, however, mention any such movement against Puyŏ during these years. If the invasion had come from the Yilou or one of their neighbors to Puyŏ’s northeast, the westward flight of the Puyŏ king would have been a reasonable result (the same might be said if the attack had come from Koguryŏ). Extant historical sources shed little light on this puzzle. Since Koguryŏ had in fact occupied the former territory of Puyŏ by the end of the fourth century, it might be most useful, given the lack of more evidence, to assume for the purposes of the present study that the invader who drove the Puyŏ leadership from its capital just prior to 346 was indeed Koguryŏ.80 Upon losing their capital city, the Puyŏ leadership fled to the west for refuge. Although it is difficult, if not impossible, to determine the precise location of this refuge (beyond that it lay west of the modern city of Jilin), we can state generally that it was most likely somewhere within the boundaries of the present municipalities of Siping and Liaoyuan or in the adjacent regions of Liaoning. Scholarship of the past century has tended to refer to the location of this exiled Puyŏ court as its second capital, but since it was neither fortified nor the center of any existing state, referring to this temporary refuge as a capital seems unwarranted and inaccurate. The number of displaced Puyŏ elites seems nevertheless to have been quite large, though the vast majority of the fifty thousand Puyŏ people said to have been taken captive in 346 would have been village populations either displaced from the capital region or native to the region of refuge in the west. Since Puyŏ in 346 could not possibly have constituted a military threat to Murong Huang, his motivations for attacking the remnants of the Puyŏ state could not have been defensive. Neither would his goal have been territorial expansion to the northeast, as evidenced by the fact that his forces withdrew after their victory and did not occupy the won territory. Rather, his primary motivations appear to have been the acquisition of docile populations for his state and, more significantly, the formal conquest of the vestiges of Puyŏ through the capture of its king. The symbolic importance of the capture of the king, a goal that had eluded Murong Hui in 285, may have been considerable given the longevity of the state and its traditional role as an independent client of Han and the frequent recipient of Han favor. As a symbol of longstanding political legitimacy among the peoples of central Manchuria, the person of the Puyŏ king must have represented to Murong Huang a prize for the taking. Huang’s cordial treatment of King Hyŏn, and the forging of ties symbolized by the marriage of Hyŏn to Huang’s daughter, suggest that Huang wished to create the impression that he had inherited the mantle of political legitimacy over lands beyond Han’s frontier that had once been the exclusive province of the Puyŏ king. Such an interpretation presupposes that Murong Huang chose, consciously or other wise, to construct his state within a distinctly “Chinese” paradigm and to generate thereby an image of a legitimate polity using a language of statecraft that had come to be shared to some extent among all states within a Sinitic cultural sphere. This image of Former Yan as a Sinitic state could be more of a reflection on the later compilers of the 80. This matter will be discussed further in chapter 7.

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Yan history, but there are indications that Murong Hui was educated and steeped in Chinese learning and would have been concerned with Chinese notions of political philosophy and what constitutes a legitimate state. Hui was greatly concerned with earning imperial recognition of his hard-won position in the northeast and persisted in operating within that framework even when he might easily have renounced Jin and flaunted the independence that was his de facto reality. He was determined to prove himself as a legitimate authority within the Sinitic political worldview, and he took pains to build his career carefully within that context. The importance of such a guiding philosophy, under which Hui laid the foundations of the state, would not have been lost on Huang. Given the context within which Murong Huang further expanded his state, the assimilation of Puyŏ, by force or otherwise, would have carried much symbolic meaning. Although other states had emerged in the regions northeast of Han, Puyŏ was the only Han client state to be recognized as a completely independent polity. Puyŏ flourished throughout the Han period and remained independent even when the campaigns of Emperor Wu of Han relegated polities and peoples farther south to existence as directly or indirectly governed dependencies of Han. The Han-Puyŏ alliance effectively held in check the activities of the Xianbei and Koguryŏ and further enhanced the prestige of Puyŏ rulers on both sides of the frontier. As the first centralized state to emerge in Manchuria, and as a long-time recipient of Han recognition, Puyŏ would have enjoyed a position of considerable distinction as a powerful non-Chinese state playing a decisive role in the interregional politics of northeast Asia. Even though Puyŏ’s authority entered a decline from the early third century and was gradually eclipsed by that of other emergent states, its former eminence was by no means forgotten, especially among those newer regimes struggling for hegemony in the regions northeast of China. Murong Huang’s symbolic inheritance of the Puyŏ legacy through the capture of the Puyŏ king and the forging of marriage ties with the Puyŏ ruling house can be viewed in this light as an act vested with considerable political significance. We will see in the coming chapters that the Murong were by no means the only state-builders in East Asia to lay a claim to the Puyŏ mantle.

Puyŏ in Koguryŏ History There is a significant portion of Puyŏ’s history—namely, its domestic history—that has not survived in written form and which may be forever lost. The aspect of Puyŏ history that has survived in Chinese historical records concerns Puyŏ’s role in Han frontier policy, and it is through this admittedly distorted lens that I have attempted above to reconstruct a portion of Puyŏ’s history and to assess its place in the history of East Asia. A more provincial but still external view of Puyŏ has survived in fragments of the written historical records of Koguryŏ, the majority of which appear in the pages of the Koguryŏ Annals of the Samguk sagi. The Koguryŏ Annals as they have been received date to the 1145 compilation of the Samguk sagi, but much of the material in the early chapters of the Koguryŏ Annals can

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be shown to have been derived from a much earlier Koguryŏ literary tradition. The extant editions suffer from what appears to be a chronology that has been forced onto an original narrative that was not written in a chronological annals format. Although the dating of events in the earlier chapters of the Annals is generally untrustworthy, most of the events described appear to be misdated by only a few years, perhaps reflecting a later compiler’s efforts to create as accurate a chronology as possible given material representing undated but serially sequenced events. In some cases the general accuracy of the Annals’ narrative may be checked by comparison with Chinese sources or, in rare instances, with inscriptional evidence. This section will comprise an analysis and evaluation of the Puyŏ-related material in the early chapters of the Koguryŏ Annals, which may be divided into material treating the Koguryŏ foundation myth and material describing Koguryŏ’s early wars with Puyŏ.

The Koguryŏ Foundation Myth Although it is a complex and fascinating subject for analysis, for the purposes of the present study the foundation myth of Koguryŏ will receive only a brief treatment, focusing on the role of Puyŏ in Koguryŏ accounts of its own state foundation. In all extant versions of the Koguryŏ foundation myth, which in its most basic form was adapted from the founding myth of Puyŏ, the legendary figure of Chumong 朱蒙 is portrayed as a refugee from Puyŏ who flees to the south and founds a new kingdom beyond the fringes of Puyŏ territory.81 The tale evidently evolved through time, picking up new elements and discarding others through multiple retellings, but the claim that the Koguryŏ leadership traced its origins to Puyŏ remains constant. The earliest version of the tale appears in the inscription, dating to 414, on the stele dedicated to King Kwanggaet’o 廣開土王 (r. 391– 413) located at Ji’an on the northern banks of the Yalu River.82 The inscription describes the Koguryŏ progenitor Ch’umo 鄒牟 (a variation of Chumong) as having come south from Northern Puyŏ. A slightly later inscription written in ink on the wall of the tomb of a Koguryŏ official named Moduru 牟頭婁, also at Ji’an, likewise identifies the founder’s original home as Northern Puyŏ.83 The usual assumption among scholars today is that this Northern Puyŏ is to be identified with the Puyŏ state that made its capital at Jilin on the Songhua River. Virtually all later versions of the tale, however, state or imply that Chumong was a native of Eastern Puyŏ before he fled that state to found Koguryŏ. The earliest known version of this more elaborate tale appears to have been that in the so-called Ku Samguksa 舊三國史 employed as a source by Kim Pu-sik in the Samguk sagi and preserved with a more complete text by Yi Kyu-bo 李奎報 (1168–1241) in his 1193 “Tongmyŏng Wang p’yŏn” 81. For an exhaustive survey of extant versions of the Puyŏ and Koguryŏ foundation myths, see Yi Pok-kyu 1998. 82. Studies of this inscription abound. The most comprehensive studies appear in Pak Si-hyŏng 1966; Wang Jianqun 1984; Yi Chin-hŭi 1987; Takeda Yukio 1989; and Geng Tiehua 1994. 83. Analyses of this inscription appear in Takeda Yukio 1981; and in Han’guk Kodae Sahoe Yŏn’guso 1992a, 91–102.

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東明王篇 (Essay on King Tongmyŏng). These versions of the tale begin with a divine figure called Hae Mosu 解慕漱, who drives the king of Puyŏ, named Hae Puru, out of his capital to a coastal region that becomes known as Eastern Puyŏ. It was in this coastal Puyŏ that Chumong was born and from which he fled to establish a separate state. Since other passages in the Koguryŏ Annals refer to the Puyŏ from which Koguryŏ’s leaders claimed to trace their ancestry as located north of Koguryŏ rather than on the coast to Koguryŏ’s east, it is perhaps best to view the Eastern Puyŏ myth as a later introduction and focus here instead on the earlier version of the myth. Before proceeding with an analysis of the myth, however, it will be useful to say something about the historicity of Eastern Puyŏ. The earliest reference to Eastern Puyŏ appears in the Kwanggaet’o stele inscription, but it is there described not as the childhood home of Chumong, but rather as a rebellious state populated by people who were formerly subjects of Chumong. The stele inscription specifically states that Chumong fled from Northern Puyŏ, which demonstrates that by the time the stele was inscribed in 414 Koguryŏ distinguished between two Puyŏ states, one in the north and one in the east. The people of Eastern Puyŏ are said to have bowed before the armies of King Kwanggaet’o in 410 and were incorporated into the Koguryŏ state. Given the later descriptions of Eastern Puyŏ in the Hae Mosu myth as having been located “on the shores of the Eastern Sea” 東海之濱, some modern scholars have postulated that this Eastern Puyŏ was in fact a polity established by the exiled Puyŏ court that fled to Northern Okchŏ following the Xianbei invasion of Puyŏ in 285.84 This interpretation implies that the Puyŏ court maintained a government in Northern Okchŏ, located on the middle and lower reaches of the Tumen River, even after Puyŏ was re-established at its former capital with Jin assistance in 286. Another possibility is that the populations of Eastern Puyŏ included refugees who fled the destruction of the Puyŏ capital prior to 346. These interpretations would explain why the Kwanggaet’o stele states only that the people (as opposed to the territory) of Eastern Puyŏ had formerly belonged to Chumong. It would also offer a partial explanation of why Okchŏ no longer appears in historical works after the middle of the third century. This interesting theory suggests that some vestige of the Puyŏ state survived in Eastern Puyŏ until it was absorbed by Koguryŏ in 410. Such a theory identifying Eastern Puyŏ with the hypothetical Puyŏ polity in Northern Okchŏ works well in most contexts, but it has yet to be corroborated by independent textual or archaeological evidence. The relationship between this Eastern Puyŏ and that of the Hae Mosu myth remains unclear. Nevertheless, the theory does offer an elegant explanation for the sudden appearance of Eastern Puyŏ and provides a theoretical framework within which may be posited an explanation for the contradictory origin myths of Koguryŏ. One possibility is that at some point Koguryŏ redefined its foundation myth to place emphasis on Eastern Puyŏ for reasons that may have been political and ideological. I will propose an explanation below for why such a modification of the foundation myth might have been implemented, but let us first continue with an analysis of the earliest account of Koguryŏ’s origins in Northern Puyŏ. Assuming that the core of the Chumong tale as preserved in the Koguryŏ Annals has not been significantly altered by the later introduction of the Hae Mosu and Eastern Puyŏ 84. Ikeuchi 1932a.

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elements, the narrative would appear to be a detailed version of the same foundation myth that is related in briefest form in the Kwanggaet’o and Moduru inscriptions, as well as in the longer version preserved in the sixth-century Weishu 魏書 (History of Wei).85 The narrative begins with a description of Chumong’s divine parentage and an account of his trials in Puyŏ as an adopted child of King Kŭmwa. Chumong’s rivalry with Kŭmwa’s seven legitimate sons, including the crown prince Taeso, results in his flight to the south and the establishment of the Koguryŏ state. Chumong’s mother, the daughter of the river deity, figures prominently in the foundation tale, and she appears later in Chinese records as a divinity venerated by Koguryŏ leaders. The figure of Taeso also reappears in the Annals as the later king of Puyŏ, with whom Chumong’s grandson would do battle. In none of the versions of the foundation tale is Chumong’s relationship with Puyŏ rulers described as consanguine—he is rather depicted as an adopted child of divine parentage. His father is identified variously as the Heavenly Emperor (Kwanggaet’o stele), a sunlight deity (Moduru and Weishu), or as Hae Mosu (later versions). His mother is always identified as the daughter of the river deity, named Yuhwa 柳花 in some sources. In none of the versions is Chumong described as having been in any way the product of a human union; rather his presence in the household of the Puyŏ king is presented as incidental, and sometimes as the result of his mother’s fall from divinity. If Koguryŏ’s first king had no Puyŏ blood in his veins, the same cannot be said for his descendents. In the Koguryŏ Annals Chumong’s son and heir is depicted as the product of Chumong and a Puyŏ woman of the Ye 禮 house, for which no claims of exceptional pedigree are offered. This child was born before Chumong’s flight to the south, and as he grew to manhood in Puyŏ he decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and fled to the south, where he was welcomed as Chumong’s heir apparent. This king, named Yuri 類利 or Yuryu 儒留 (trad. r. 19 bce–18 ce), married in turn the daughter of a man who had been the leader of the territory prior to Chumong’s arrival, and produced a child variously named Muhyul 無恤 or Churyu 朱留 (trad. r. 18–44 ce). As Koguryŏ’s third king this son would become best known for his successful wars against Puyŏ. Finally, the sixth king, Kung, who is the first Koguryŏ king to be attested by name in Chinese sources, is described as the product of one of King Yuri’s sons and a woman of Puyŏ, who though unnamed is said to have held the real reins of power until the adulthood of her son, who had become king at the age of seven. Although Chumong could claim no blood relations with Puyŏ clans, the mothers of some of Koguryŏ’s later kings are associated with Puyŏ, though not with its ruling house. The various sources provide different names for the site of Koguryŏ’s foundation, but they all seem to indicate a single location. The Weishu is unique in referring to Chumong’s capital by the name of a city, called Hŭlsŭng-gol 紇升骨城.86 The Kwanggaet’o 85. Weishu 100:2213–14 (Account of Koguryŏ). 86. Weishu 100:2214 (Account of Koguryŏ). The postfix “-gol” 骨 appears to be a variant rendering of a common Koguryŏ word indicating a town, expressed with the characters 溝漊 in Sanguozhi 30:843 (Account of Koguryŏ): 溝漊者, 句麗名城也. The Chinese postfix 城 appended to this place name in the Weishu (紇升骨城) is therefore redundant. The Zhoushu (49:884 [Account of Koguryŏ]) uses the reading 紇斗骨城. The second character may be erroneous in both cases, for some have argued that both 升 and 斗 are copy errors for the character 本 and that the name (紇本骨 = Hŭlbon town) is yet another

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stele states that Chumong built his city on top of a mountain to the west of Holbon 忽本 in the valley of the Piryu River 沸流水.87 The Koguryŏ Annals as well as the “Koguryŏ” section in the thirteenth century Samguk yusa identify the site as Cholbon (a variation of Holbon) or Cholbon-Puyŏ 卒本夫餘, sometimes associated with the Piryu valley.88 The association of Holbon with Puyŏ suggests that the populations of Holbon prior to Chumong’s arrival had identified themselves with Puyŏ or had come under Puyŏ’s political influence. Chumong’s accomplishment, as far as it reflects any historical reality, may have consisted of his flight from one part of Puyŏ to another remote location on the southern fringes of Puyŏ’s territories, which he brought under his domination and broke away from Puyŏ’s control. The location of Holbon and Piryu may be estimated with a fair degree of confidence. The Piryu River is most likely to be identified with the Fuer River 富尔江, which flows southward from Xinbin and enters the Hun River north of Huanren. Holbon, a name often associated with a valley, appears to represent the valley of the Hun River as it passes through Huanren.89 Here abundant early Koguryŏ remains have been archaeologically documented, and the early Koguryŏ fortress atop imposing Wunü Mountain 五女山 north of Huanren is an excellent candidate for Chumong’s mountaintop citadel “to the west of Holbon in the valley of the Piryu.”90 The foundation of Koguryŏ as described in the myth, therefore, appears to depict the flight of Chumong from some location in Puyŏ, possibly but not necessarily its capital at Jilin, southward to the Huanren region, which had come under nominal Puyŏ control. If some of the obvious mythological elements are removed, one might rationalize the account and read it as a stylized depiction of a localized assertion of independence whereby the early Koguryŏ people broke away from an earlier association with Puyŏ. This hypothetical event might have involved a small-scale migration to the Huanren region, but this need not have come from the Puyŏ core at Jilin. At any rate, it seems hazardous to attempt to retrieve a trace of historicity from these accounts, and I will suggest in the concluding chapter that there are better ways to interpret the meaning of these early myths rather than trying to read them as history. Even if the basic idea of a southward migration is accepted, there are problems, both historical and archaeological, with the suggestion that Puyŏ might have asserted any significant influence over the early Koguryŏ populations in the Huanren vicinity. First, Han’s Xuantu Commandery must have remained interposed between Koguryŏ and Puyŏ variant of the “Holbon” 忽本 seen in the Kwanggaet’o stele inscription and the “Cholbon” 卒本 seen in the Annals and elsewhere. 87. See Han’guk Kodae Sahoe Yŏn’guso 1992a, 8: 於沸流谷忽本西, 城山上而建都 . 88. Samguk sagi 13:130 (Koguryŏ Annals, Tongmyŏng, Preface); Samguk yusa 1:32–33 (Kii 1, Koguryŏ). 89. The identification of the Piryu River with the modern Fuer River, which flows into the Hun River north of Huanren, is today widely accepted among East Asian scholars. For an example, see Sun Jinji and Wang Mianhou, eds. 1989, vol. 1, 260–62. 90. See Wei Cuncheng 1994, 12–14. More recent archaeological excavations have shown that the majority of the structures at this site appear to have been built and used during Koguryŏ’s middle period, though it is still considered to be the most likely site of the state’s earliest capital and its associated defenses. See Liaoningsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 2004.

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at the time of the supposed breakaway, which should have obstructed Puyŏ’s assertion of authority south of the headwaters of the Fuer River. Second, the archaeological culture of early Koguryŏ is in many important respects radically different from that of the Puyŏ core, which of course does not preclude Puyŏ’s having exercised political control over early Koguryŏ, but would tend to speak against any long-term sense of cultural affiliation that early Koguryŏ populations might have felt toward Puyŏ. A study of the archaeological remains in the region between Siping and Tonghua may shed some light on the matter of whether Puyŏ and Koguryŏ were culturally related. The problem of whether Koguryŏ’s leaders could really trace their ancestry to the Puyŏ ruling clan will not be resolved here, nor is it necessary to do so if we wish simply to analyze the political significance of Puyŏ origins in Koguryŏ’s state ideology. Clearly, by the early fifth century and probably from a much earlier time, Koguryŏ’s leaders claimed spiritual descent from superhuman agencies as well as political legitimacy from the ruling house of Puyŏ. This is perhaps best reflected in the observation preserved in the Zhoushu 周書 (History of Zhou) regarding the Koguryŏ people of the sixth century: “They have two spirit shrines, one for the Puyŏ Spirit, in which they carved wood into the figure of a woman, and the other for the High-Ascending Spirit, which they say is their progenitor and the son of the Puyŏ Spirit . . . [they represent] the daughter of the river deity and Chumong.”91 Clearly, Puyŏ figured prominently in Koguryŏ state ideology, and the political implications of the emphasis on legitimacy stemming from Puyŏ are obvious. Although Puyŏ might have been a source of spiritual identity for Koguryŏ’s kings, their political relations with their “cousins” to the north were far from cordial.

Warfare between Koguryŏ and Puyŏ Koguryŏ tradition of the early fifth century maintained that one of its early kings had achieved notable military victories in his wars with Puyŏ. In the Koguryŏ Annals this king is identified as Churyu 朱留, who also appears by this name on the Kwanggaet’o stele, listed as the third king in the lineage. The Annals also refers to him by the posthumous title of the Divine King Taemu 大武神王 (trad. r. 18–44 ce).92 A comparison of the texts of the Annals and the annotation to Yi Kyu-bo’s “Tongmyŏng Wang p’yŏn” indicates that the narrative describing the Puyŏ campaigns had at some point become an integral part of the extended foundation tale.93 This is most evident in the reappearance of certain 91. Zhoushu 49:885 (Account of Koguryŏ): 又有神廟二所, 一曰夫餘神, 刻木作婦人之象, 一曰登高 神, 云是其始祖夫餘神之子 . . . 蓋河伯女與朱蒙云. See also Beishi 94:3116 (Account of Koguryŏ), and Samguk sagi 32:315 (Miscellanea 1, Ritual). 92. The texts on the stele and in the Annals describe Churyu as the grandson of Chumong, though the account in the Weishu (100:2214 [Account of Koguryŏ]) makes him the fourth king in the lineage and refers to him by the name Mangnae 來. 93. The “Tongmyŏng Wang p’yŏn” is a poem written by Yi Kyu-bo based on a work referred to as the Ku Samguksa (Old history of the Three Kingdoms), which Yi had consulted in 1193 and which is now lost. Fortunately, Yi copied much of the text from this work and included it as a gloss to his poem, which approximates the narrative of the Ku Samguksa and recounts the tale of Chumong and his foundation of

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figures, such as the Puyŏ king Taeso, in the depictions of the foundation as well as those of the later campaigns against Puyŏ. Therefore, even though the campaigns do not appear in Yi Kyu-bo’s annotation (his coverage breaks off with Yuri’s establishment as king), one may infer that the accounts of the wars in the Annals represent the fragments of an earlier and longer narrative forced into an artificial chronological framework. Although the chronology should not be accepted at face value, the reappearance of key figures and the progression of the narrative suggest that there is a certain logic to the view that the Puyŏ campaigns occurred sometime in the first century, when Koguryŏ had entered its first phase of consolidation and expansion. Of particular significance is the fact that the major events of the campaigns as described in the Annals are assigned to the period between the Yemaek revolts against Wang Mang in 12 ce and the reassertion of Han control in the region under Emperor Guangwu in the early 30s. This is important because such a campaign would not likely have been undertaken if Han had been able to maintain a strong presence in Xuantu, which previously had contained Koguryŏ and prevented it from taking any military action against Puyŏ.94 It may be safely assumed that Xuantu was rendered powerless for much of the period from 12 to 30 ce. This is evident from the statements in Han records that Yemaek (Koguryŏ) attacks on the commanderies became increasingly severe after Wang Mang ordered the execution of the Koguryŏ king in 12 ce. Hints that Koguryŏ had overrun Xuantu also appear in the Annals, seen in records that describe very briefly what appear to have been Koguryŏ attacks on two of the three districts of Xuantu. The first record describes the Koguryŏ seizure in 14 ce of the Xuantu administrative headquarters at the district of Gaogouli 高句驪縣, and the second notes the defeat in 26 ce of the Kaema 蓋馬 kingdom, which may indicate the collapse of the Xuantu district of Xigaima 西蓋馬縣.95 These events are not corroborated by independent sources, but their historicity is consistent with the state of unrest in the region implied in Chinese histories, and the Koguryŏ state. Since the Ku Samguksa is believed to have been a principal source for Kim Pu-sik’s Samguk sagi, its surviving fragments are invaluable as an illustration of the editing processes that produced the Koguryŏ Annals of the Samguk sagi. See Tongguk Yi Sangguk chip 33–37. See also Suematsu Yasukazu 1966. 94. Note, however, that the record of Wang Mang’s rough handling of Koguryŏ in 12 ce suggests that Koguryŏ and Puyŏ might have joined forces against Han or Wang Mang previous to this episode. 95. Samguk sagi 13:135–36 (Koguryŏ Annals, Yuri 33/8) and 13:139 (Koguryŏ Annals, Taemu 9/10). A campaign against the Yangmaek 梁貊 people immediately precedes the attack on Gaogouli District, the two events comprising a single military action. This is a reasonable strategy if the Yangmaek occupied the headwaters of the Liang River 梁水 (now the Taizi River) just to the south of the remains of Gaogouli District at Yongling. The Koguryŏ army would have marched westward from their base near Huanren, following the valley of the Daer River 大二河, striking first at the Maek groups on the Liang River, which would then expose the heart of Xuantu to attack. In the disorder following the Koguryŏ uprisings resulting from the Wang Mang affair, Xuantu would have been an inviting target for Koguryŏ attack (it was there that the Koguryŏ leader Ch’u was beheaded). The overthrowing of Xigaima (probably located in the vicinity of Tonghua in the Hun River valley) several years later may be implied in the conquest of the Kaema kingdom, though Han control over the district and its indigenous inhabitants may have lapsed prior to the campaign described in the Annals. For the location of Xuantu based on archaeological remains, see Byington 2001; and Byington 2013, 320–32.

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the temporary lapse of Han control over Xuantu would explain how Koguryŏ had been capable of launching a campaign northward against Puyŏ during this critical period.96 The first indication of enmity between Koguryŏ and Puyŏ appears in a record of an attack against Koguryŏ sent by the Puyŏ king Taeso, described as retribution for Koguryŏ’s failure to send a prince to Puyŏ as a hostage.97 The narrative continues with the relocation of the Koguryŏ capital, probably to another location in the Huanren region. Puyŏ does not figure in the next several records, but Taeso reappears in the later years of Yuri’s reign, making futile attempts to bring Koguryŏ under his control.98 The chronology of the Annals places these events prior to the Wang Mang incident and the subsequent Yemaek uprising, though such acts of aggression between Koguryŏ and Puyŏ are not likely to have been possible until after 12 ce. The account of the uprising in the Annals was drawn directly from Chinese records, though it was altered so that Marquis Ch’u becomes an otherwise unknown Koguryŏ commander. This alteration suggests that Wang Mang’s execution of the Koguryŏ ruler did not become part of Koguryŏ’s own historical tradition. The chronological placement of the event in the Annals corresponds to that in the Chinese sources, but it is definitely an intrusive element in the extended foundation narrative. The chronology of the records surrounding it is demonstrably inaccurate, and its artificiality has already been addressed. It therefore seems acceptable to reassign the accounts of active military hostilities between Puyŏ and Koguryŏ to the period after 12 ce, when the loss of Han control over Xuantu would have permitted the occurrence of such activities. Although Yuri’s rule is said to have continued for six years (again by inaccurate chronology) after the Wang Mang incident, the major events from this point center around Yuri’s son Muhyul, who is identified as the king elsewhere named Churyu.99 In 13 ce Muhyul is depicted as leading a successful resistance against a Puyŏ invasion, an event which is followed in the next year by the assaults against the Yangmaek and Xuantu.100 Subsequent records describe further frictions between Muhyul and Taeso, which 96. It is not clear whether the accounts in the Annals of the Koguryŏ attacks on Xuantu had formed part of the Puyŏ campaign narrative or were derived from other sources. Nevertheless, the two commanders of the campaign sent against the Yangmaek people are figures who appear also in the tale of Chumong’s flight from Puyŏ (the half century separating these events hints at the chronological problems inherent in the text of the Annals), suggesting that the attacks on Yangmaek and Xuantu had become integrated into the foundation narrative prior to the compilation of the Annals as they exist today. The account of the Koguryŏ conquest of the Kaema kingdom forms part of the general description of Koguryŏ’s early expansion and must originally have formed part of an early Koguryŏ tradition. 97. Samguk sagi 13:133 (Koguryŏ Annals, Yuri 14/1). 98. Samguk sagi 13:134–35 (Koguryŏ Annals, Yuri 28/8). 99. The faulty chronology is again evident in the description of Muhyul’s accession as king. Muhyul is said to have become crown prince in Yuri’s thirty-third year of reign (equivalent to 14 ce in the Annals chronology) at the age of eleven, which places his birth in 4 ce. The woman identified as Muhyul’s mother, however, is said to have died in the third year of Yuri’s reign, which in the Annals is equivalent to 17 bce and is fully twenty-one years before Muhyul is said to have been born. The chronology of Yuri’s reign would need to be collapsed into a shorter time span to be viable, which provides further justification for assigning the earlier accounts of hostilities with Puyŏ to a later period. 100. Samguk sagi 13:135 (Koguryŏ Annals, Yuri 32/11).

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culminate in a major Koguryŏ campaign under Muhyul directed at the heart of Puyŏ. The Annals describe the process of this campaign in some detail, much of which is clearly fanciful and appears to represent the ancestral myths of some Koguryŏ clans who gained prominence by their ancestors’ participation in the Puyŏ campaigns. The core of the description involves the Koguryŏ army’s march northward to the region south of the Puyŏ capital, where the army engaged the forces of King Taeso in battle.101 The Koguryŏ troops descended upon the Puyŏ army, which had become trapped in a marsh, and quickly defeated it and beheaded its king. After this initial victory the Koguryŏ army became hemmed in when Puyŏ troops surrounded and besieged them, so they retreated under the cover of darkness and returned to the Koguryŏ capital. The remainder of the account describes the disposition of some members of the Puyŏ ruling clan who fled the invasion and eventually fell under Koguryŏ control. Immediately following the description of the Puyŏ campaign are found some brief records describing Koguryŏ’s conquests of various other groups, including the “kingdom” of Kaema.102 Puyŏ never again appears as a threat to Koguryŏ, though Han soon reappears on the scene with a campaign against Koguryŏ led by the governor of Liaodong.103 This event is not recorded in Chinese histories, but it is a likely step in the process of Han’s reassertion of authority in the commanderies. A logical order of events is evident also in the subsequent records of Koguryŏ’s maneuvers against Lelang, followed by Emperor Guangwu’s re-establishment of the commandery a few years later. Chinese records do not describe these exact events, but they do indicate Han’s loss of control over Lelang from 25 ce until Guangwu reclaimed it around 30 ce.104 This confirms that the records in the Annals are historically viable, though their chronology is evidently displaced by a few years. Given the viability of a Koguryŏ campaign against Puyŏ during the years of Han weakness, how should the details in the Annals account be evaluated? Even with the likely assumption that Xuantu was effectively disabled for several years following the events of 12 ce, certain aspects of the narrative tend to stretch credibility. The magical elements may be interpreted as later embellishments associated with clan origination myths, leaving an otherwise logical sequence of events. In assuming that the campaign narrative contains a historical core, which I believe is a justifiable assumption, there is still the problem of ascertaining which elements of the narrative are historical and which are not. Given these uncertainties, all conclusions should be considered as tentative since it is difficult or impossible to determine precisely how Kim Pu-sik might have altered the narrative by excising material that cannot be examined today. The historicity of certain key figures in the campaign tale cannot be corroborated by other sources. The figure of King Taeso is one such example. Chinese records do not name any Puyŏ king for this time period, though there is no clear reason to question the 101. Samguk sagi 14:137–38 (Koguryŏ Annals, Taemu 4/12). 102. Samguk sagi 14:139 (Koguryŏ Annals, Taemu 9/10). 103. Samguk sagi 14:139 (Koguryŏ Annals, Taemu 11/7). 104. For a study of the Wang Diao rebellion in Lelang, see Kwŏn O-jung 2007. See also Hou Hanshu 76:2464 (Biography of Wang Jing).

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existence of a Puyŏ ruler named Taeso in the early first century. On the other hand, Taeso’s role in the foundation myth (as Kŭmwa’s eldest son who hated Chumong), which if based on genuine events must at least be acknowledged as having become shrouded in a heavy veil of legend, would tend to bring his historicity into question. This question will not be pursued further, since I do not believe it can be satisfactorily resolved, but the problem is instructive as it illustrates some of the difficulties involved in interpreting the material in the Annals and justifies a certain degree of caution. Perhaps the most problematic issue in evaluating the historicity of the Puyŏ campaign is the question of whether Koguryŏ could have sent a significant military force into the Puyŏ heartland in the early first century. The site of the battle is described as somewhere to the south of Puyŏ’s capital, which suggests that the Koguryŏ force did not penetrate as far as the capital site at Jilin. Given the considerable distance between Huanren and Jilin and the difficulty of travel due to rough intervening terrain, as well as the unlikely potential of a large Koguryŏ force passing unimpeded through Puyŏ’s outer defenses, it is most likely that the battle would have taken place in Puyŏ’s southern regions far from the capital. The Koguryŏ force is said to have passed by the Piryu River and the Imul Forest 利勿林 on its way northward. Though the Imul Forest is otherwise unknown, the Piryu is identified with some reliability with the Fuer River, as discussed above.105 If the Koguryŏ force marched up the Piryu valley it would have passed through the northern frontier of Xuantu at Wangqingmen 旺清门. From there the most direct route into Puyŏ’s interior would have been the valley of the Yitong 一统河 and Huifa 辉发河 rivers, which flow to the northeast and converge with the Songhua northeast of Huadian at a point about 150 kilometers south of Jilin. Since Puyŏ would probably have maintained some form of defense in its southern regions, it is unlikely that the Koguryŏ force could have penetrated very far into the Yitong and Huifa valleys. Therefore, the most likely site for the battle is the region now comprising the northernmost portions of the municipality of Tonghua, perhaps in the region between the cities of Liuhe and Huinan, in Puyŏ’s southernmost reaches.106 To summarize this brief analysis of early warfare between Koguryŏ and Puyŏ, although there is little explicit corroborative evidence outside of the Koguryŏ Annals for 105. Since the Koguryŏ troops are said to have paused in their retreat only upon reaching Imul Forest, it is likely to have been a place close to the Koguryŏ capital and relatively safe from Puyŏ intrusion. This most likely indicates a region on the headwaters of the Fuer River, or perhaps a location south of the Xuantu frontier fortifications. 106. A hilltop fortification located on the Yitong River near Liuhe, called Diaoyutai Fortress 钓鱼台古 城, may have been part of Puyŏ’s southern frontier defense system. About forty kilometers to the southwest, also in the Yitong valley, is the site called Wangbabozi 王八脖子, the remains of which are nearly identical to those found at Diaoyutai. It appears to have been the site of a major battle based upon finds of bronze arrowheads (some attached to iron shafts), which are similar to types often found in Koguryŏ territory to the south. Curiously, two bronze arrowheads of a different make bear inscriptions identifying them as products of the state of Zhao of the Warring States period. How they came to this site is unknown, but since the majority of arrowheads are not of Chinese provenance, it is unlikely that Zhao (or other Chinese) forces engaged in battle at this site. It is possible that the Zhao arrowheads were used by Koguryŏ or Puyŏ soldiers in these battles (other Zhao weapons have been found in early Koguryŏ tombs). See Liuhexian wenwuzhi 1987, 67–69, 76–79.

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a Koguryŏ victory over Puyŏ in the early first century, the timing of the campaign coincided with the brief period of Han weakness in its northeastern commanderies. This incapacity of Xuantu would explain both how such a campaign might have been possible and also why Han historians might not have known about it.107 The account as described in the Annals is without doubt heavily laden with folktale and myth, but in it can be discerned an underlying historical element. Although the campaign tale probably describes an actual Koguryŏ military action against Puyŏ in the early first century, it is unlikely that the Koguryŏ force penetrated much farther than Puyŏ’s southernmost regions. The claim that the Koguryŏ force killed the Puyŏ king cannot be easily evaluated, and it may well have been a later exaggeration. Similarly, the fragmentation of the Puyŏ state is an unlikely result of the Koguryŏ attack and should not be taken at face value. The account of the Puyŏ campaign may be best viewed as a description of a major Koguryŏ attack on Puyŏ’s southern territories, representing a significant victory for an emerging Koguryŏ state undergoing a process of rapid centralization of authority. No further Koguryŏ attacks on Puyŏ appear in the Annals, and the only remaining instances of interchange with Puyŏ (besides accounts culled from Chinese records) are two brief references to Puyŏ envoys presenting goods to the court of the Koguryŏ king Kung in years corresponding to 77 and 105 in the Annals chronology.108 For information on Koguryŏ’s later dealings with Puyŏ we must turn to other sources, an analysis of which will follow below in chapter 7.

Koguryŏ’s Claim to Puyŏ Heritage Since much of the tale of Chumong is obviously fantastic, it is difficult to determine how much of it (if any) might be based on genuine historical events. The persistence of the Koguryŏ claim to Puyŏ origins, however, suggests the possibility that at least a portion of the ruling stratum of the incipient Koguryŏ state had broken away from some association with Puyŏ. It is unlikely that Koguryŏ’s rulers were descended from the Puyŏ ruling house, but they might easily have migrated to the Huanren region from some location on Puyŏ’s southern fringes. Although the archaeological cultures found in the Huanren and central Jilin regions are vastly different, further work on the complex archaeological remains in northeastern Liaoning and southwestern Jilin may eventually shed more light on the question of Koguryŏ’s origins.109 Leaving aside the problematic nature of Koguryŏ’s 107. The Weishu (100:2214 [Account of Koguryŏ]) notes that the early Koguryŏ king Mangnae 來 gained a military advantage over Puyŏ, but this knowledge was most likely derived from accounts told by later Koguryŏ informants. 108. Puyŏ envoys are said to have presented auspicious animals (deer and rabbit) in 77 and a tiger in 105. See Samguk sagi 13:143 (Taejo 25/10), and 13:144 (Koguryŏ Annals, Taejo 53/1). Since Kung is described as making a royal progression to Puyŏ in 121 (Samguk sagi 13:145 [Koguryŏ Annals, Taejo 69/10]), which cannot have been the Puyŏ state centered at Jilin, the Puyŏ in the two earlier accounts may likewise refer to some other polity or location. 109. In 2004 excavations at the Wangjianglou 望江楼 cemetery in Huanren yielded beads and a bronze bell nearly identical to specimens recovered from the Puyŏ cemeteries at Xichagou and Laoheshen. Since the burials of Wangjianglou appear to be very early Koguryŏ stone-piled tombs, some scholars

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claims of Puyŏ derivation, it is possible to examine the political implications of those claims themselves, regardless of whether they have a basis in fact. The earliest specific reference to any connection between Koguryŏ and Puyŏ appears in the Sanguozhi, which notes that the indigenous groups of Manchuria and Korea had long viewed the people of Koguryŏ as ethnically related to those of Puyŏ.110 Although the precise meaning of this statement is unclear, the Wei writers who experienced the conditions of Koguryŏ and Puyŏ firsthand remarked on the similarity in their languages and customs, though the two peoples differed significantly in their modes of attire and their personal dispositions. The Wei observers made no comment on any Koguryŏ claim to descent from the Puyŏ ruling house, however. The earliest extant record of such a claim appears on the Kwanggaet’o stele, inscribed in 414, which states only that Ch’umo (Chumong) came from Northern Puyŏ.111 The more detailed account in the Weishu (completed in 554) probably also dates from around the early fifth century and represents the contemporary Koguryŏ leadership’s account of its own origins. From no later than the reign of King Kwanggaet’o (391–413), therefore, Koguryŏ’s leaders made a specific claim to Puyŏ heritage. Regardless of whether Kwanggaet’o’s predecessors had made similar declarations, by the middle of the fourth century the fact that the Puyŏ state had fallen would have imbued such a claim with added significance. With the sacking of the Puyŏ capital followed by Murong Huang’s capture of the Puyŏ king in 346, the independent Puyŏ state came to an ignominious end. Within a few years Koguryŏ had incorporated the Puyŏ heartland as a garrisoned dependency governed by its own appointed officials. Murong Huang was evidently satisfied with the capture of the Puyŏ king and several thousand of his people and made no concerted effort to secure Puyŏ’s former territories. This presented Koguryŏ, still recovering from its own humiliating defeat before Huang’s armies, with the opportunity to claim those territories for itself. Whatever glory Murong Huang might have gained in flaunting his captive Puyŏ prize, he could make no claim of ancestral descent from Puyŏ’s kings and had to satisfy himself with making the captive Puyŏ king his son-in-law. Koguryŏ’s kings, on the other hand, had claimed some ancient association with Puyŏ and may have claimed blood descent from Puyŏ kings since long before 346. After 346, however, the implications of that association with Puyŏ changed drastically, and a claim to the Puyŏ heritage came to mean a claim to the people, territory, and political legitimacy of the most ancient of the non-Chinese kingdoms of the Manchuria-Korea region. have speculated that a link with Puyŏ is indicated, even suggesting that such finds represent evidence for a migration in line with the Koguryŏ foundation myth. Although based on very sparse evidence, this approach has given rise to the so-called “Cholbon-Puyŏ theory” of Koguryŏ state formation, which would appear to be very preliminary. See Kang Hyun Sook 2008. 110. Sanguozhi 30:843 (Account of Koguryŏ). 111. The “discovery” of a set of three inscribed clay tablets, purportedly Koguryŏ products dated to 246, was announced in Seoul in March of 2000, with a fourth announced in April 2005. The text of one tablet appears to credit one of Chumong’s descendents with capturing a former Puyŏ city. If genuine it would be not only the earliest record of Koguryŏ’s connections with Puyŏ but also the earliest known written document of Koguryŏ. Since the provenance of the tablets is unknown and the content of the inscriptions is problematic, scholars in South Korea have been reluctant to approach them as genuine artifacts.

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A detailed analysis of the significance of the Puyŏ heritage in Koguryŏ political thought will be deferred to the concluding chapter, but it may be useful to point out here that in the late fourth century the Koguryŏ state underwent a rapid and profound transformation from a resilient regional authority struggling to preserve its sovereignty to a stable bureaucratic state playing an active role in the interregional politics of the time. During these decades Koguryŏ’s leaders imported Chinese forms of religion, philosophy, and statecraft, adapting them to their own specific needs while working to define the state’s new identity. From the 370s Koguryŏ began to engage regularly in diplomatic interchange with Chinese states and learned how to communicate in the politico-cultural language peculiar to the idealized form of Chinese tributary relations. The Koguryŏ state had, in a sense, come of age and had entered the greater world of East Asian politics as an active participant. As a state among states, Koguryŏ kings would need to bolster their perceived authority as much as possible, which in the Sinitic worldview demanded the inclusion of respectable political credentials, or historical proof of pedigree in the form of legitimate succession to a previous acknowledged state. By emphasizing long-held claims to Puyŏ descent, buttressed by a real and visible possession of Puyŏ’s former territories, Koguryŏ’s kings could effectively establish their state’s legitimacy in the Sinitic world by linking themselves politically and spiritually to Puyŏ, a formidable ancient state that Han had recognized as a valuable ally. Koguryŏ kings would not be the last to claim the Puyŏ heritage.

Summary The surviving history of the Puyŏ state was written from the perspectives of other states, namely those contemporary polities in the Central Plains of China and the Koguryŏ state neighboring Puyŏ to the south. Although this does not afford clear access to the affairs internal to the Puyŏ state, it does facilitate an analysis of Puyŏ’s interregional relations. Puyŏ’s kings maintained a close alliance with the Han court and its successors, which from the first century ce created a functional axis that effectively checked the threats posed by the rising Xianbei and Koguryŏ states flanking that axis. Han emperors placed great value in their alliance with Puyŏ, and Puyŏ kings derived much benefit from this relationship as well, particularly in the form of Han recognition of their legitimacy and the flow of Han luxury goods into Puyŏ coffers. Puyŏ leaders also valued their alliance with Han as an effective means of safeguarding their southern frontier, but the perception of that value was always dependent upon the degree to which Han or its successors maintained the stability of the commanderies of Liaodong and Xuantu. When the political situation in the Central Plains allowed the Murong Xianbei to assert their own authority in Liaodong, the old alliance became impracticable. The dissolution of the Puyŏ-Han axis, along with internal decline, left Puyŏ vulnerable to attack. By 346 the Puyŏ state had been destroyed, and its former Xianbei and Koguryŏ rivals rushed in to lay claim to Puyŏ’s legacy. The Murong Xianbei based their claim on their possession of the Puyŏ king and members of the ruling clan. They preserved these

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institutions under their own aegis and appear to have placed special significance in the fact that the Puyŏ king was now the subject of the Murong leader. Koguryŏ kings staked a claim to the Puyŏ legacy in a different way, by placing emphasis on a state myth that portrayed Koguryŏ kings as descendents of a Puyŏ refugee. By incorporating Puyŏ into the foundation myth of the Koguryŏ state and its ruling clan, Koguryŏ leaders established their own claim to political legitimacy. They reinforced this claim ultimately by asserting their direct authority over the former territories of the Puyŏ state. By the time of its collapse, the Puyŏ name had thus come to be vested with a cachet of considerable authority and legitimacy, which the leaders of rising states were eager to make their own.

Plate 1 (top). Bronze buckle from Laoheshen. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology. Plate 2 (bottom). Gilt-bronze hook ornament from Laoheshen. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 3 (top). Gold earrings from Laoheshen. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology. Plate 4 (bottom). Bronze wrist ornaments from Laoheshen. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 5. Bronze cauldron from Laoheshen. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 6. Bronze mirror from Laoheshen. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 7. Tomb 15 in Area 1 at Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 8 (top). Dou pedestal vessel from Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology. Plate 9 (bottom). Guan vessel from Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 11 (right). Silver earring from Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 10 (left). Gold ornament from Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 13 (right). Bronze cauldron from Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 12 (left). Beads from Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 14. Lacquerware bowl from Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 15 (top). Axle cap and linchpin from Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology. Plate 16 (bottom). Face-shaped finial cap from Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 17. Silk from Maoershan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 18. Swords from Xichagou. From Liaoningsheng Bowuguan and Liaoningsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 2006, 102. Reproduced courtesy of the Liaoning Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 19. Earrings from Xichagou. From Liaoningsheng Bowuguan and Liaoningsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 2006, 106. Reproduced courtesy of the Liaoning Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 20. Face mask from Lamadong. From Liaoningsheng Bowuguan and Liaoningsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 2006, 115. Reproduced courtesy of the Liaoning Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 21. Dongtuanshan viewed across the Songhua River. Photograph courtesy of the author.

Plate 22. Nanchengzi walled site viewed from the top of Dongtuanshan. Photograph courtesy of the author.

Plate 23. Breach in the Nanchengzi wall. Photograph courtesy of the author.

Plate 24. Interior of the Nanchengzi wall. Photograph courtesy of the author.

Plate 25. Exterior view of Nanchengzi. Photograph courtesy of the author.

Plate 26. Exterior of the Nanchengzi wall. Photograph courtesy of the author.

Plate 27. Hu vessel from Dongtuanshan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 28. Dwelling site at Dongtuanshan. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Plate 29. Excavation of the Dongtuanshan wall. Photograph courtesy of the Jilin Province Institute of Archaeology.

Plate 30. Gilt-bronze face mask. Lüshun Museum, Dalian, Liaoning Province (found near Maoershan; see also fig. 6.3). Photograph courtesy of the Lüshun Museum.

Plate 31. Gilt-bronze face masks from the Maoershan vicinity. National Museum of Korea, Seoul, Photograph © National Museum of Korea.

Plate 32 (top). Exterior of the Dongjiatun walled site at Shanghewan. Photograph courtesy of the author. Plate 33 (bottom). Interior of the Dongjiatun walled site at Shanghewan. Photograph courtesy of the author.

Plate 34 (top). The Gaolifang Nanshan walled site at Shanghewan, seen from the top of the wall. Photograph courtesy of the author. Plate 35 (bottom). Wall of the Gaolifang Nanshan site at Shanghewan, visible as a ridge along the top of the hill in the distance. Photograph courtesy of the author.

Plate 36 (top). The Xiaochengzi walled site in Shulan County, with the wall visible along the top of the hill in the middleground. Photograph courtesy of the author. Plate 37 (bottom). Wall of the Xiaochengzi site in Shulan County, which extends from the left, curving toward the center and enclosing the site to the right. Photograph courtesy of the author.

Ch a p t er Si x

Society and Territory of the Puyŏ State

T

he previous chapter presented a summary history of the Puyŏ state based on the interpretation of textual records guided by information derived from archaeological advances of the past few decades. The present chapter will complement this description of political history by employing both historical and archaeological data in a comparative analysis to describe the culture and society of the Puyŏ people. The analysis reveals that, with a few exceptions, archaeological data provide strong support for historical descriptions of Puyŏ social customs and organization. The discussion will then turn to an examination of the layout and distribution of urban and defensive remains associated with the Puyŏ state. The study of fortifications provides data concerning the territorial extent of the Puyŏ state and suggests ways in which Puyŏ’s territorial claims were negotiated with surrounding peoples and polities. Such analyses are intended to provide a cultural and geographical dimension to the historical framework already presented, and will enable us better to understand the people of Puyŏ and the places they lived.

The Puyŏ Foundation Myth This analysis begins with a study of Puyŏ culture and society based on the earliest form of Puyŏ self-representation to survive in written records—its foundation myth. As the topic has been thoroughly treated in several works and in various languages, the present analysis will be brief and will concentrate on the essential elements of the myth.1 As an account of the origins of the Puyŏ ruling class, it is significant that this brief tale attracted 1. For treatments in English see Gardiner 1982. For Japanese studies translated into English see Ikeuchi 1932b and Shiratori 1938. For an exhaustive study in Korean of the foundation tales of both Puyŏ and Koguryŏ, see Yi Pok-kyu 1998.

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the early attention of Chinese writers, for this suggests that the account represented a face of the Puyŏ state that its leaders wished to share with those external to their state. The earliest extant version of this story appears in the first-century Lunheng, written by Wang Chong (27–ca. 100 ce), who presents the legend in brief fashion and then draws from it certain moral lessons to illustrate his political arguments. Wang does not cite a source for the myth, but it is significant that he recorded this story shortly after the formalization of relations between Puyŏ and Han in 49 ce, suggesting that the information might have come to Han by way of Puyŏ envoys. Later versions of the tale appear in the late third-century Weilüe (cited in Pei Songzhi’s commentary on the Wei chapters of the Sanguozhi), in the fourth century Soushenji 搜神記 (Records of searches for spirits), the sixth-century Xinlun 新論 (New discussions), and in the Fayuan zhulin 法苑珠琳 (Forest of pearls in the garden of the Dharma), which dates to 668.2 Additionally, several versions appear in the Chinese dynastic histories.3 In all of these later versions the myth represented is essentially the same throughout, with only minor variations in place names and level of detail, and all seem to be based directly or indirectly on the same source used in the Lunheng or its derivative works. Only the account in the Fayuan zhulin adds additional elements not found in the earliest version, but these do not affect the general content of the tale.4 It is therefore likely that the version cited in the Lunheng represents an account transmitted from Puyŏ in the first century, whereas all other versions, with the possible exception of that in the Fayuan zhulin, are derivatives of this one instance of transmission and contain no new information not included in the original. Most of the versions listed above contain all of the basic elements of the myth. These begin with the impregnation of a maidservant of the king of a northern state, referred to in the Lunheng as T’angni 橐離 (Ch. Tuoli).5 The enraged king wishes to have the girl put to death, but she explains that a vapor from the heavens descended into her and that she was thereby impregnated. The king spares her, and she subsequently gives birth to a male child. The king attempts to destroy the infant by placing him unguarded among pigs and horses, but the beasts protect the child and allow him to survive. The king relents and eventually sends the boy off to herd cattle and horses. The boy, named Tongmyŏng, grows into manhood and becomes known for his skill with the bow. The anxious king finally drives his nemesis away from T’angni. Tongmyŏng flees to the south, and when his path 2. Sanguozhi 30:842–43 (Account of Puyŏ); Soushenji 14:169–70 (King of Puyŏ); Xinlun 25:60 (Mingxiang 命相); Fayuan zhulin 21:8B (Guixin 歸信). 3. These include Hou Hanshu, Liangshu, Suishu, and Beishi. See Yi Pok-kyu 1998 for a convenient collation of the texts of all versions of the myth. 4. This version includes a soothsayer who warns the king that Tongmyŏng represents a threat. Curiously, the kingdom in this version is named Yŏngp’umni (Ch. Ningbingli 寧稟離). The second character 稟 is probably a copyist error for t’ak / tuo 橐, whereas the first character 寧 must be spurious as no other version provides a three-character name for the kingdom. This version is also cited in the thirteenth-century Korean Buddhist work Samguk yusa (1:33 [Kii 1, Koguryŏ]). 5. The name of the kingdom appears in a variety of renderings among the various sources. Although the second character is always li 離, the first character appears variously as t’ak / tuo 橐, sak / suo 索, ko / gao 高, p’o / bao 褒, and other variations, all of which represent copyist errors for an unknown original.

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is blocked by a river, the fish and turtles of the river form a bridge that allows Tongmyŏng to escape his pursuers. Tongmyŏng at last reaches the land of Puyŏ and becomes its king. Much speculation has been generated with regard to the apparent relationships between specific elements of the Puyŏ foundation myth, as related in Chinese-language sources, and similar elements in the mythological traditions of states in the Central Plains and southern China.6 An example of this is the description of the infant Tongmyŏng surviving by virtue of the protection provided by beasts. Such an element appears prominently in the “Shengmin” 生民 ode in the Shijing 詩經, wherein the birth of Hou Ji 后稷 is related in phraseology nearly identical to that in the Tongmyŏng myth.7 Although it is possible that Puyŏ shared certain aspects of its mythological tradition with other East Asian cultures, it may be ill advised to draw too close a parallel between those traditions. All known versions of the Puyŏ myth were written in Chinese by Chinese writers, who were in the first instance attempting to translate a Puyŏ concept into terms that would make sense to Chinese readers. Since those Chinese writers would have been familiar with the written forms of myths such as the Hou Ji tale, the resemblance between the two traditions may have been largely an artifact of this process of translation and interpretation. This is, however, clearly not the case when we draw a comparison between the Puyŏ myth and that of Koguryŏ. The two foundation tales are so close in their details that one may be certain that a single myth has been invoked, and it is quite likely that the Koguryŏ tale was derived from that of Puyŏ. It is even possible that the names Tongmyŏng and Chumong are cognates—different renderings in script of the same non-Chinese name (meaning a skilled marksman in the Puyŏ and Koguryŏ languages)—suggesting that the Puyŏ and Koguryŏ ruling houses share a common mythological progenitor. Nevertheless, though the two tales share many elements, the Koguryŏ tradition survives in much richer form and includes important features, such as the egg birth, that do not appear in the extant Puyŏ versions. Both traditions emphasize the external origins of the progenitor of the ruling house, described as a figure of divine pedigree who is forced to flee south from his adopted home and establish a new kingdom. In the Puyŏ case, the progenitor’s place of origin is an obscure polity named T’angni. Nothing else is known of this polity, and it is possible that it never existed, though the name later appears in geographical treatments of the Parhae and Khitan states. Assuming that it did exist, it must have been located to the north of Puyŏ since Tongmyŏng is always said to have fled south from T’angni. Scholars in the twentieth century, assuming that a state named T’angni actually existed, have proposed a number of locations for that state, though none of these theories can be verified by hard evidence. Some scholars point to an early walled site at Bin County near Harbin as the site of T’angni, but this is based solely on the site’s presumed

6. A classic example of this is the work of Fu Sinian (1896–1950), who drew numerous parallels between the social customs of Puyŏ and of Shang. See Fu Sinian 1980. 7. See Legge’s translation of the Shijing (Legge 1960, vol. 4, 465–72). After a divine conception, Jiang Yuan gave birth to the infant Hou Ji: “He was placed in a narrow lane, / But the sheep and oxen protected him with loving care. / He was placed in a wide forest, / Where he was met with by woodcutters. / He was placed on the cold ice, / And a bird screened and supported him with its wings.”

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early date and its location north of Jilin.8 The context of the site is not well understood, and much more analysis is necessary before such an identification can be considered. Other scholars attempt to locate T’angni by tracing the archaeological origins of the postXituanshan culture, and one such attempt focuses on the Baijinbao and second-phase Hanshu cultures 汉书二期文化 of northwestern Jilin and southwestern Heilongjiang as the archaeological correlate of T’angni.9 The study in question, however, makes a very weak argument for linking the Hanshu and Xituanshan cultures, which in most respects appear to be entirely unrelated. There is furthermore little evidence other than its northern location to associate this culture with the polity of T’angni. Still other scholars attempt to locate the site of T’angni by first establishing the location of the regions named T’angni (Tuoli) under the Parhae and Khitan states, assuming a continuity implicit in the toponym.10 Such a methodology appears to point to a location near Changling in northwestern Jilin (to the west of the cities of Changchun and Jilin), but there are serious problems involved in interpreting the pertinent geographical texts, and they cast significant doubt upon the validity of the methodology employed. These same difficulties bear on the problem of locating the capital of Puyŏ itself, analyzed in detail in appendix A at the end of this volume. Ultimately the location of T’angni remains a mystery, and there lingers a suspicion that the kingdom may lack historical substance outside of the Puyŏ foundation myth itself. This overview of the Puyŏ foundation myth concludes with an attempt to identify certain prominent themes featured in the myth that also pertain to the archaeological and historical analyses of the previous chapters. Of particular importance is the fact that Puyŏ tradition included a memory of an ancient migration. This fact is evident in the foundation myth and in the statements of Puyŏ elders to Wei observers, who noted that those elders “claimed to be descendents of refugees from long ago.”11 This concept of alien origins of the ruling elite would later appear in the foundation accounts of Koguryŏ, Paekche, and several other East Asian states. The Puyŏ myth further suggests a belief in an ascending and descending spirit, which also appears later in other East Asian traditions and figures prominently in the myths of Hae Mosu, Tan’gun, and others. Another interesting element is the concern with archery, pigs, and especially horses and horse riding, for these all appear in the archaeological record associated with the Xituanshan and post-Xituanshan cultures. The horse is of special significance as archaeological studies 8. Wang Mianhou 1990a. The site is called the Qinghua site 庆华 址. It includes a walled compound in an oval aspect and is thought to date to the Han period or earlier. For a site report see Heilongjiangsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1988. The site was once thought to have been the capital city of Puyŏ. More recently, excavations conducted in 2003 at the Suoligou 索离沟 site in Bin County have yielded early remains interpreted as those of the ancient Suoli kingdom, Suoli 索離 being a known variation of the name rendered T’angni 橐離 in this study. The association is based primarily on the name of the site and a local tradition that it was anciently the home of the “Suoli people” (the archaeological culture has recently been referred to as “Suoliguo-Qinghua culture” based on these finds). Such an interpretation seems overly speculative, however. See Heilongjiangsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 2010. 9. Gan Zhigeng 1993. 10. Sun Jinji and Wang Mianhou, eds. 1989, vol. 1, 256–57. 11. Sanguozhi 30:841–42 (Account of Puyŏ).

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have suggested that it was introduced along with horse riding late in the Xituanshan period or early in the post-Xituanshan period and may indeed have been closely associated with the emergence of the Puyŏ state. The high estimation accorded horses among Puyŏ people may be inferred from the placement of horse pits in the center of the Laoheshen cemetery and the prominence among tomb goods of riding gear and weaponry designed for mounted warfare. The foundation myth, therefore, reflects several cultural elements that we have already observed in the archaeological record of early Puyŏ. It also presents us with other elements that are not preserved archaeologically, but which reflect the concerns and beliefs of the Puyŏ populations. Perhaps most importantly, the myth places special emphasis on the alien origins of the ruling elite of Puyŏ, the significance of which will be discussed in detail in the concluding chapter. This analysis of Puyŏ culture and society continues in the next section with an analysis of the recorded observations of thirdcentury Wei visitors to the Puyŏ heartland, as preserved in the account of Puyŏ in the Sanguozhi.

Puyŏ Society and Culture—The Wei Chronicle As noted previously, the only known instance of a Chinese visit to the Puyŏ heartland occurred during the return journey of the army of the Wei commander Wang Qi, who in 245 pursued the fleeing Koguryŏ king to the Okchŏ region. The Wei army continued northward as far as the southernmost territories occupied by the Yilou, where they then turned westward and returned to Xuantu on a route that took them through Puyŏ territory. The army received provisions from the Puyŏ aristocrat Wigŏ and evidently rested for some time before continuing on to Xuantu (located at that time near modern Fushun). The observations of the Wei troops were recorded, and an account of Puyŏ society, customs, and culture based on these records was included in the Wei chronicles of the Sanguozhi.12 The fact that all subsequent Chinese treatments of Puyŏ domestic affairs were derived from this single record speaks to its value as a window into the world of Puyŏ culture. Although it spelled disaster and a long-term period of eclipse for Koguryŏ, if not for the Wei expedition of 245 our knowledge of Puyŏ culture outside of archaeology would be practically nonexistent. The specific observations preserved in the Wei chronicle reflect the interests of the Wei court and are primarily concerned with military strategy, high-level social organization, natural resources, and geography. The Wei were also interested in quaint differences in ritual practice and manner observed among the non-Chinese people visited and often noted practices deemed exotically different from those of the Chinese. In some instances the descriptions provide valuable comparative data that suggest the extent to which different non-Chinese groups were related. Such sources of bias must of course be kept in 12. The accounts of Puyŏ in the Sanguozhi were themselves most likely taken from the Weilüe, a slightly earlier work by Yu Huan that survives only in fragments.

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mind when analyzing this account. Additionally, the description of Puyŏ that follows may have served as a stock state profile for many centuries of Chinese historical works, but it should be understood as a depiction of Puyŏ society current in the mid-240s. On the other hand, many characteristics of Puyŏ culture detailed in the Wei chronicle reflect conditions evident from our earlier analysis of the archaeological record. The two types of analysis will therefore serve as complementary sources of data and provide a useful lens through which to obtain a clearer image of Puyŏ culture. The data in the Wei chronicle presented below are organized under general subject headings to facilitate analysis.

Geography Each of the treatments of non-Chinese peoples in the Wei chronicle first establishes the geographical setting for the account. The Puyŏ account describes the center of that state as lying in a location one thousand li from Xuantu to the north of the long wall.13 The round figure is of course a convention indicating a non-specific distance more or less equivalent to one thousand li. The long wall referred to must indicate the recently discovered line of border defenses running north of Fushun and along the length of the Suzi River and extending as far as Tonghua in Jilin Province, which formed the northern border of the Xuantu commandery (refer to fig. 2.8). The territories of Puyŏ are estimated at around two thousand li square and are said to have been occupied by a population of some eighty thousand households. The bounds of its territories are defined only by relation to neighboring groups, identified as Yilou to the east, Koguryŏ to the south, and Xianbei to the west. This arrangement could have been surmised from common knowledge combined with general information derived from a description of the route followed during the 245 campaign. The account mentions no northern neighbors of Puyŏ, suggesting that the information was not necessarily derived from the testimony of Puyŏ informants. Nevertheless, the account does note to the north of the Puyŏ capital a river called the Ruo 弱水, which many scholars identify as the east-flowing Songhua River of today.14 The syntax of the account does not specifically describe the Ruo as a territorial delimiter of any kind, but it is clear that Puyŏ people knew of the river and considered it to be a prominent feature of the north. Only Puyŏ informants could have provided such information since the Wei army could not have traveled close enough to the east-flowing Songhua 13. Sanguozhi 30:841 (Account of Puyŏ). The Hou Hanshu (85:2810 [Account of Puyŏ]) abridges this statement to “Puyŏ lies one thousand li north of Xuantu,” thereby introducing possible inaccuracy since “one thousand li north of Xuantu” and “north of the long wall at a distance of one thousand li from Xuantu” do not necessarily indicate the same location. 14. In Chinese usage the term ruoshui 弱水 can also be used as a general term for a west-flowing river, in which case the Lalin River, which today forms part of the border between the provinces of Jilin and Heilongjiang, could have been intended. This is unlikely, however, since the account of the Yilou (referred to as the Sushen in the Jinshu 97:2534 [Account of the Sushen]) notes that the Ruo River formed the northern boundary of Yilou territory. Since the Yilou occupied the valleys of the Mudan River, which enters the Songhua at the city of Yilan, only the east-flowing Songhua fits the description of a river flowing to the north of Puyŏ and forming the northern bounds of Yilou (see Lin Yun 1999, 58).

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to observe it. If the Wei troops lodged at the Puyŏ capital in the modern city of Jilin, which is not necessarily the case, a curious omission is evident in the lack of any mention of the north-flowing Songhua, as it would have been the dominant natural feature of the capital region. This suggests the possibility that the Wei army’s route did not take it through the Puyŏ capital, but rather through a city in Puyŏ’s southern territories.15 Other descriptions in the account, however, appear to refer specifically to the capital city (an example being a reference to a specific hill south of the capital, which will be described below). The Wei observers describe the terrain of Puyŏ as predominantly flat, though punctuated in places with hills and marshes. Such a description would apply more accurately to the central or northern regions of Jilin province, and especially to the region north of the Jilinhada range, which runs between Jilin and Huadian. Although the city of Jilin is itself surrounded by a mountain fastness that serves as a natural protective bulwark, much of the terrain immediately beyond this is quite flat. The drainage from the mountains creates conditions in the surrounding alluvial plains favorable for the formation of broad marshes as described in the Wei text. Such terrain is superbly conducive to agricultural exploitation, and the richness and potential of this Puyŏ resource seem to have impressed the Wei observers.

Natural Resources The advantageous terrain of the Puyŏ heartland fostered a thriving economy founded substantially on agricultural production. The Wei account comments on the richness of the soil and its suitability for the production of cereal crops, though it notes too that fruits were not cultivated. Animal husbandry constituted another major component in the Puyŏ economy, and its people were noted for their skill in this area as well. The description does not list the varieties of livestock, but from references elsewhere in the account we may surmise that the pig, cow, dog, and horse were domesticated, and at least some formed part of the Puyŏ diet, whereas others were exploited as draft animals. The horse was also used in warfare. The Puyŏ people produced textiles and are described as preferring simple white clothing when at home and wearing silk-embroidered fabric when abroad. They also utilized the fur and hides of certain animals as clothing, and sable pelts were almost certainly among the most popular export items in Puyŏ’s trade with Chinese states. Puyŏ metallurgical skills were evidently refined, for its elites are described as taking pleasure in adorning their headgear with gold and silver ornamentation, which may further indicate a skill in the mining and processing of those precious metals.16 An active industry 15. This possibility further suggests that Wigŏ, the nephew of the Ox ka who is said to have received the Wei troops, was himself based at a population center located in Puyŏ’s southern regions. 16. Gold mining in the Puyŏ region is inferred from an early sixth-century historical reference, which notes that Koguryŏ had previously extracted gold from its Puyŏ territories until invaders from the north seized those territories and denied Koguryŏ access to their resources (Weishu 100:2216 [Account of Koguryŏ], Samguk sagi 19:174 [Koguryŏ Annals, Munja 13/4]). Admittedly, this account does not indicate whether the gold was newly mined and processed or simply derived by other means, such as the plunder of the tombs of Puyŏ elite.

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in the smelting and casting of iron is indicated as well, for each family is said to have possessed its own armor and weaponry, which consisted of swords, lances, and the bow and arrow. Finally, the Wei account describes Puyŏ as a producer of fine horses, red jade, sables, and pearls. This observation may have been derived not from the Wei expedition but rather from Chinese knowledge of trade conducted between Puyŏ and the Chinese states of Han and Wei. These are all luxury items that commonly appear in all periods of history as trade or “tribute” goods transported from peoples in Manchuria to the courts in the Central Plains, where they were highly valued and always in demand.

Social Organization The Wei chronicle describes Puyŏ society as hierarchical and authoritarian. The state was ruled by a king, who at the time of the Wei campaign would have been the figure named Mayŏ. The kingship appears to have been hereditary in general, though the ka seem to have been able, under certain circumstances, to depose the king and replace him with someone of their choosing. The Wei observers had an opportunity to examine an old seal conferred upon a past king by a Han emperor and discovered that the inscription bore the legend “seal of the Ye king” 濊王之印. The observers interpreted this to mean that the Puyŏ capital was once the center of the Yemaek tribes of antiquity, but the term “Ye” appears frequently and in the same context in seals conferred upon leaders of several groups in the Korean peninsula and Manchuria during the Han, Wei, and Jin periods.17 Nevertheless, the other Han-period seals were issued to “Ye lords” 濊君, and the Puyŏ example is the only recorded case of a “Ye king” prior to the Wei period, which suggests that the Puyŏ ruler had been given priority among the “Eastern Yi” in the eyes of the Han court. This is hardly surprising given the long and mutually beneficial relationship that Han and Puyŏ enjoyed. Such a relationship would certainly have elevated the prestige and authority of the Puyŏ king, and the old seal mentioned in the Wei chronicle illustrates one means by which the Han emperor tangibly expressed his endorsement of the Puyŏ leader’s privilege. The king ruled the state from its central capital, but the outlying regions fell under the purview of a class of noblemen who were subordinate to the monarch. The members of this group were known by the designation of ka 加, each of which was associated with a specific totemic emblem. The chronicle mentions a horse ka 馬加, an ox ka 牛加, a pig 17. There are several references to Ye lords or Ye kings. Besides the Wei-period reference to a “Ye king 濊王 of Puyŏ” seal, there is the “Ye lord of Okchŏ” 夭租薉君 seal recovered from a tomb at Pyongyang (Tong Zhuchen 1987); mention of “Namyŏ, Ye lord of the Eastern Yi” 東夷薉君, 閭 during the Western Han period (Hanshu 6:169 [Wudi, Yuanfeng 1]); a Wei-period Ye king of Pullae 不耐濊王 (Sanguozhi 30:849 [Account of Ye]); and a reference to a “Ye king” 濊王印 seal presented to the Silla court (Samguk sagi 1:4 [Silla Annals, Namhae 16/2]). There is also the Jin-period seal discovered in the 1930s in Yŏngil Prefecture, North Kyŏngsang Province, which bears an inscription naming the “Ye Leader of One Hundred” 晉率善穢佰長 (Han’guk Kodae Sahoe Yŏn’guso, ed. 1992b, 217). In each case the term “Ye” is placed before the title of the seal’s bearer (lord or king) and after the regional identifier, indicating that the bearer was not understood to be the ruler of the Ye people, but was rather associated with a people known generally and vaguely to the Chinese courts as the Ye.

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ka 豬加, and a dog ka 狗加, though it is unclear how many ka there were at a given time.18 Some of them ruled over several thousand households, and others controlled several hundred. These individuals were extremely influential within their realms and, at times, in the capital, and their positions were most likely hereditary. For example, as discussed in the previous chapter, Wigŏ was a high-ranking nephew of the ox ka, and his authority had even come to rival or eclipse that of the king (recall that it was Wigŏ rather than the king who dealt with the Wei army and sent tribute to the Wei court). The meaning of the term ka is unclear, but it would seem to indicate a local nobleman of the first order, and it was employed in such a fashion in Koguryŏ as well. In addition to the ka, the Wei account mentions three titles that were held by highranking leaders, including the taesa 大使, taesaja 大使者, and saja 使者. These are all Chinese-style titles and were used by the writers of the chronicle either to approximate the function of the Puyŏ offices by comparison to their Chinese equivalents or, less likely, to approximate the pronunciation of Puyŏ terms by rendering them in Chinese characters that convey the impression that official titles are intended. Such titles were also used in Koguryŏ, but it is not clear whether their function resembled their Puyŏ or Chinese counterparts. The function of the Puyŏ offices referred to by these names is unknown (nor indeed is it clear whether they refer to ranks or to offices), but they evidently marked positions of some consequence since Wigŏ (the nephew of the ox ka) is said to have held the title of taesa. Although surviving references to Puyŏ or Koguryŏ individuals bearing this title or office are all quite vague, it is possible that they were titles conferred by Chinese courts upon foreign officials or noblemen. Below the ka in social hierarchy were those residing in the villages, who fell into two economic classes: the wealthy gentry 豪民 and the peasantry 下戶, who were a servile class.19 The terms used in the account were employed in Han-period China to refer to landed gentry and the unlanded peasants who tilled their fields, but it is not clear whether the terms as used here were intended to imply such a specific distinction. The term for peasantry (下戶, literally lower households) occurs frequently in the Wei chronicle’s account of the Eastern Yi as a class indicator for the servile social strata of several groups,

18. As seen above, there is some evidence that the ox ka resided in the southern part of Puyŏ territory. It is unclear whether the totemic designations refer to geographical distinctions or to a general rank system, though the meager evidence seems to indicate the former, implying that there was, for example, only one horse ka at a given time, and that this title would in time pass to another, perhaps through hereditary succession. Such a horse ka, then, would have governed a certain portion of Puyŏ territory, and the remaining ka would have governed other regions. 19. The syntax of the phrase in question (邑落有豪民, 名下戶皆為奴僕) presents an ambiguity that obfuscates the relationship between the two classes. Interpretations indicating that the peasants were servants of the gentry or, alternately, that both were servile are both syntactically plausible. The text may be corrupt. The term for servitude 奴僕 can mean “to perform menial tasks for the wealthy.” Yan Shigu’s 顏師古 641 commentary on the Hanshu (24a:1138 [Shihuo 4a]) notes that “the peasants 下戶 and impoverished people have no land of their own, so they till the fields of the wealthy gentry” 言下戶貧 人, 自無田而耕墾豪富家田. In the Wei chronicle, however, the term 下戶 appears only in the account of the Eastern Yi, and seems to indicate the lower classes in general.

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including Koguryŏ, Ye, Han, and Wa.20 It is unclear whether the members of this class were free or bound, though there is evidence elsewhere in the chronicle for the existence of slavery in Puyŏ. The account of Puyŏ notes that when the ka mobilize for war, members of the peasant class function as provision bearers to supply them. Although specific relationships remain elusive, the chronicle unquestionably depicts Puyŏ society as a hierarchical organization with clear class divisions based on economic means and ascribed status. The majority of the Puyŏ population appears to have resided in agricultural villages, but some lived in walled urban settlements. The Wei chronicle describes Puyŏ walled towns and palisades as being circular in plan. This must have struck the Wei observers as odd since Chinese cities were constructed on rectangular plans, and in fact the account likens the Puyŏ towns to Chinese prisons, which were built in the round. Although it is unclear as to what Puyŏ towns the Wei observers visited, the account mentions an ancient walled town in the Puyŏ capital called Ye-sŏng 濊城 (the Ye city), which the chroniclers supposed to be the city of the ancient Ye people. This walled town is very likely to be identified with the remains of the Dongtuanshan complex in Jilin, which will be described in detail later in this chapter.

Social Customs and Law The Wei observers recorded aspects of Puyŏ social behavior that they thought noteworthy. As described above, the Puyŏ people favored a simple white garment when at home, but they dressed in fine embroidered fabrics and sable furs when visiting abroad. Further, their aristocrats decorated their headgear with gold and silver ornaments. Such practices suggest a simple frugality in normal practice, but a desire to display affluence to outsiders. The Wei observers were particularly impressed with the etiquette to which the Puyŏ people adhered when taking food. The chronicle notes that they observed a manner of respectful deference when toasting, which the Wei recorders associated with the most formal court ritual behavior in China. They also conducted themselves with ceremony when dining. The preface to the account of the Eastern Yi may have intended this episode when it states that “even in the land of barbarians the expression of civil behavior is preserved—when ritual propriety is lost in the Middle Kingdom, seek it among the barbarians.”21 Complementing this disciplined formality is the Puyŏ fondness for song, and the chronicle notes that those traveling the roads sing day and night, and that there is no time that the singing cannot be heard. 20. In Koguryŏ the peasants are described as laboring to transport provisions to the elites, and the ka of the Yŏnno tribe is said to have had at least thirty thousand peasants under his authority (Sanguozhi 30:843, 845 [Account of Koguryŏ]). Among the Ye groups on the east coast of the Korean peninsula, the peasants are depicted as subordinate to the tribal leaders who received Han titles (30:848 [Account of Ye]), and among the Han groups in the southern parts of the peninsula, the peasants were the bearers of tribute to the Wei governors of Daifang (30:851 [Account of Han]). The peasants appear also in the account of the Wa of Japan as a lower class subordinate to the “great men” (30:856 [Account of Wa]). 21. Sanguozhi 30:840–41 (Accounts of the Eastern Yi, Preface): 雖夷狄之邦, 而俎豆之象存. 中國失 禮, 求之四夷, 猶信.

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With regard to marriage practice, the account reveals only that the levirate was practiced in Puyŏ, which it notes was a custom they shared with the Xiongnu. Records in the Samguk sagi indicate that in Koguryŏ too a widowed wife could marry her deceased husband’s brother.22 There is little else concerning Puyŏ marriage in the Wei chronicle, except perhaps the statement that fidelity was highly valued. Puyŏ punishments are described as harsh; marital infidelity and jealousy on the part of the woman were punished by death. A woman put to death for such crimes suffered an additional humiliation, for her body was exposed on a hill to the south of the capital until it had decomposed, perhaps as a warning to others. Her family was permitted to retrieve the corpse only after paying a ransom in horse and cattle, an indication of the perceived importance of burial after death. Other crimes were treated with similar severity—murderers were executed and their families forced into slavery, and thieves were made to pay an indemnity twelve times the value of the stolen goods. Not all crimes were punished by death, however, for the chronicle notes that there were prisons in Puyŏ and that prisoners were granted a general amnesty during an annual celebration.

Ritual Practices The Wei chronicle includes much information concerning the spiritual beliefs of nonChinese peoples. The account of Puyŏ describes an annual festival called yŏnggo 迎鼓, or “welcoming drums,” which was held over a period of several days in the early winter months.23 The Wei observers drew a connection between the timing of the Puyŏ ceremony and the first month of the Yin calendar (superseded in 104 bce by the Xia calendar).24 It is, however, quite possible that such a correlation was nothing more than coincidental, perhaps due to the Wei writers’ imagined association of the rite with a first-month ritual in China and their observation that it occurred in a month corresponding to the first month of the old Chinese calendar. Similarly, the Wei observers interpreted the ceremony (and many other ceremonies among the groups in the Eastern Yi account) as representing a sacrifice to heaven, but there is no substantiation for this suggestion elsewhere in the Wei material.25 The yŏnggo ceremony is described simply as a great gathering in 22. See for example the case of King Yŏnu 延優 (Sansang 山上王) in Samguk sagi 16:152–54 (Koguryŏ Annals, Sansang, Preface). 23. It is unclear whether yŏnggo represents a translation of a Puyŏ name into Chinese characters meaning “welcoming drums” or was instead a phonetic approximation of a Puyŏ word, the original meaning of which is now lost. 24. The Xia calendar is the lunar system still used unofficially today in some East Asian countries. The first month of the Yin calendar is equivalent to the twelfth month of the Xia calendar, which according to the Gregorian system would have lasted from January fifth to February third in the year 246, a period during which the returning Wei army might have been present to observe the Puyŏ ritual firsthand. 25. The understanding of a state ritual like the yŏnggo as a heaven sacrifice might have seemed natural to the Wei observers. The sacrifice to heaven was one of the most important rituals conducted by Chinese emperors and was held on the winter solstice from the establishment of the ceremony as the principal imperial cult under Wang Mang in 5 ce (see Loewe 1986, 663–64). However, the winter solstice occurred in the eleventh month and not the twelfth. The Hou Hanshu (85:2811 [Account of Puyŏ]) rephrases the account of Puyŏ slightly to note that the yŏnggo ceremony occurred in the la 臘 month,

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the capital, during which the people took food and drink and enjoyed song and dance. During this festive occasion outstanding criminal cases were settled and prisoners were granted amnesty. Another occasion for sacrifice (again interpreted as a heaven sacrifice in the chronicle) was preparation for warfare. This ritual involved the slaughter of an ox, after which its hooves were examined. The condition of the hooves—whether the halves pull together or draw apart—was believed to portend success or failure in the coming campaign. Such divination practices are suggestive of a belief in a spiritual realm, though lack of further detail in the practice obstructs any analysis of this belief. The Wei record also mentions an old Puyŏ belief that held the king accountable for the success or failure of the crop, to the extent that the king could be deposed or even killed in the event of a weak harvest.26 This implies a perceived connection between the natural forces and the person of the king, or perhaps a belief that the behavior of the ruler elicits portents in the natural world, similar to certain Chinese cosmological notions such as those concerning the Mandate of Heaven. A concern for an afterlife is evident in the descriptions of Puyŏ funerary practice, though the Wei record discusses only practices associated with the interment of elites or kings. The account describes a case (either hypothetical or observed) wherein one of the ka dies on the battlefield. If this should happen when the season is warm, ice would be packed around the body to retard decomposition until it had been returned for formal burial.27 At the time of interment a number of people, probably servants of the deceased, would be immolated and buried with the deceased. The number of people immolated in this fashion at times exceeded one hundred. The practice implies that those so immolated were expected to continue to serve the deceased in the afterlife. A formal ceremony followed, wherein the deceased was presented with rich offerings and interred in a burial chamber, which may be a further indication that one’s material wealth could continue to be enjoyed after death. The Wei record describes such a burial as consisting of an outer coffin but no inner coffin, drawing a comparison with the Chinese system of burial wherein a wooden casket (the which was equivalent to the twelfth month of the Xia calendar and was associated with the Chinese la ceremony. During the Han and its succeeding dynasties, the la was considered to be the true beginning of the new year and constituted one of the most important annual rituals. The festival involved communal feasting and sacrifice to the many spirits and commenced on the third xu 戌 day after the winter solstice (falling between January sixteenth and twenty-seventh by the Gregorian calendar). It is more likely that jitian 祭天 is used in the Wei chronicle in the general sense of a solemn sacrifice and that the writers likened the yŏnggo to the la ceremony of China. There is, however, not likely to have been any relationship between the yŏnggo and the la beyond some general association with the beginning of winter. See Bodde 1975, 45–55, 313–14. 26. Refer to the discussion of this practice in chapter 5. A similar concern may be reflected in the description of the Silla king Pŏrhyu 伐休尼師今, who is said to have been capable of predicting the harvest and the coming of flood or drought (see Samguk sagi 2:15 [Silla Annals, Pŏrhyu, Preface]). For a brief discussion of such abilities attributed to early kings, see Kidong Lee 2004, 50–54. 27. An extract from the Weilüe in the Wei chronicle notes that funeral ceremonies were held in the fifth lunar month and that there were different degrees of ritual refinement. This source also states that those engaged in such rituals removed personal adornments and wore white clothing and that they considered longer ceremonies to be preferable.

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inner coffin) is placed within a larger chamber (the outer coffin) that actually forms the walls of the burial pit. This description brings to mind the burials at Maoershan, wherein the body was placed in a large coffin that was built into the ground (essentially a woodlined pit), which to Wei observers would have resembled a Chinese “outer coffin.” The Wei account includes no description of the funeral ceremony for the Puyŏ king, but it does note that some Puyŏ kings were interred wearing suits of jade 玉匣. This observation originated not from the campaign of Wang Qi but rather from an account of the warehouse contents of Xuantu Commandery when Wei forces overran it in 238. A jade suit discovered there was being held for the Puyŏ king, upon whose death the suit would be delivered to the Puyŏ capital for burial. Such a suit was a mark of very high status in Han China, a privilege reserved only for the highest aristocrats and emperors, indicating the very high estimation accorded the Puyŏ leader in the Han court. The suit consisted of a number of jade strips of prescribed dimensions, linked together with gold wire to form a suit enclosing the entire body. Although employed in the Han period, their use was prohibited by decree in 222 when the Wei emperor Cao Pi (187–226), observing that the richness of elite burials almost guaranteed their eventual plunder, called for austere burial practices.28 The use of the jade suit in Puyŏ royal burials is of course more a reflection of the position of the Puyŏ king in the eyes of the Han court than an indication of Puyŏ practice, but it may echo the concern with the continued enjoyment of material wealth in the afterlife as seen above in the case of the ka burials.

Character and Values The Puyŏ people are depicted in the Wei chronicle as being fierce and yet honest in character, with a sense of refinement and an appreciation for rare and precious objects. As individuals they are portrayed as rugged and large, their warriors being notably brave, and as a social group they are depicted as bound by a keen sense of justice and a harsh penal code, such that they would not steal from one another. In polite social interchange they would bow and defer to one another, and their interpreters would prostrate themselves and speak in humble tones when conveying messages to Chinese envoys. They were people who honored moral behavior and fidelity, especially with regard to married women, and their harshest punishments were designed to uphold these values. Their state treasuries were full of precious objects, such as jade ritual items, some of which were the gifts of generations of Chinese emperors, and their elites adorned themselves with ornaments made of precious metals. Such descriptions speak very favorably of Puyŏ people and society from the Wei perspective, and indeed the highest praise offered in the Wei account of the Eastern Yi is reserved for the people of Puyŏ. Other characteristics of the Puyŏ people that can be inferred from the Wei descriptions include an appreciation for the power of warfare. This is evident from the comment that each house stocked its own armor and weaponry, which suggests that a considerable expenditure was reserved for such military equipment. Descriptions of the Puyŏ skill at 28. Sanguozhi 2:81–82 (Wendi, Huangchu 3/10). For an English discussion on jade suits, see Kao and Yang 1983.

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mounted warfare, along with similar indications derived from archaeological remains, indicate that iron and the horse were considered to be precious commodities. The reader will recall that these were the two primary resources introduced during the period of transition that resulted in the formation of the Puyŏ state, and their introduction undoubtedly contributed significantly to the formation process.

Correlating Textual and Archaeological Data When comparing the profiles of Puyŏ culture drawn from analyses of archaeological data and the historical record, it is not surprising that the two profiles share a great number of features, though the overlap of features is not complete. Many characteristics of Puyŏ culture described in the Wei chronicle did not survive to appear in the archaeological record, and much of the archaeological data concerns elements of Puyŏ culture that did not attract the interest of the Wei observers. Together the two profiles will allow us to reconstruct a more complete picture of Puyŏ culture. The analysis below will highlight the similarities and differences between the twin legacies of Puyŏ history and archaeology, subject to the limitations inherent in the current incompleteness of the archaeological record. The Puyŏ populations are described as indigenous and sedentary, which well reflects the findings of archaeology. Nevertheless, among the Puyŏ elites there was a strong identification with alien refugees of the distant past, as reflected in the foundation tale and in the testimony of Puyŏ elders before the Wei observers. Based on such evidence and on the presence of the seal of the “Ye king” and the remains of the “Ye-sŏng” city, the Wei writers speculated that ancient refugees had come to the land of the Yemaek and there established the Puyŏ state. If so, those refugees seem to have brought little of their original language or culture, for the Wei chronicle notes that the Puyŏ language was similar to those spoken in Koguryŏ, Okchŏ, and Ye (meaning the Ye tribes on the eastern coast of the peninsula), though it differed markedly from that of the Yilou. It is, however, possible that traces of an original distinct language or culture of the ruling elite would have been rendered indistinct over generations of acclimation. Another possibility is that such a migration was imagined instead of real, and that the notion of the ruling class as having external origins was somehow significant—this will be examined in a later chapter. The prevalence of agricultural production and animal husbandry noted in the Wei chronicle is verified in the archaeological record of the Xituanshan period. A particular reliance on agriculture is evident in the description of the king being held responsible for the success or failure of the crop. There is evidence for the cultivation of domesticated soybeans as well as indications of the domestication of the pig and other animals. In the post-Xituanshan period the horse also appears, and it was probably used as a draft animal as well as for mounted warfare. The large number of pieces of iron armor and weapons found in the burials at Laoheshen and Maoershan attests to the importance among the Puyŏ people of military readiness. Descriptions of Puyŏ cities as surrounded by walls in a round plan appear to correspond to archaeological remains of Puyŏ cities, a topic discussed in the next section. The Dongtuanshan complex at Jilin is the most prominent example of this, as its earthen walls were built in a roughly ovoid layout. Other mountaintop fortifications, probably

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defensive positions rather than permanent settlements, were also constructed in the round. The mountain to the south of the capital, upon which the bodies of executed women were exposed, may have been Maoershan or perhaps Nanshan or Guigaishan, all of which form part of the greater Maoershan cemetery of the post-Xituanshan period. The burials in that cemetery, and those in the Laoheshen cemetery, might also be described as consisting only of an “outer coffin” without its expected interior component as per the description of the Wei observers. The burial goods recovered from the Maoershan and Laoheshen burials also confirm the Puyŏ appreciation for rare and precious ornaments. Finally, the harshness of Puyŏ law concerning jealousy among women has been interpreted as evidence of polygamy in Puyŏ society.29 Although no unambiguous proof has yet emerged, the frequency of triple burials in the post-Xituanshan society is suggestive of a prevalence of a polygamous marriage practice.30 Conspicuously absent from the archaeological record is any evidence of ox-hoof divination, burials involving human immolation, or rich burials with jade suits. The divination practice may not have left any identifiable record, as the hooves may have been discarded after use or stored in some as yet unexcavated location. Although the typical elite burial of the post-Xituanshan culture has yielded no evidence of substantial human immolation, the textual record suggests that this practice was reserved for burials of the highest class of nobility—the ka—whose tombs would account for only a tiny percentage of the total number of Puyŏ burials. Similarly, the lack of evidence of a jade suit merely reflects the fact that no burials of Puyŏ kings have yet been identified. In fact, such rich burials as those of the kings and ka of Puyŏ are not likely to have survived the centuries unlooted, so it is quite possible that such tombs will never be located.

In general there is considerable agreement in the descriptions of Puyŏ culture as derived from the archaeological and historical records. As a more detailed analysis would introduce much redundancy, I will present here only the above observations and continue with an examination of another facet of the Puyŏ state previously mentioned, namely a study of its geographical extent and layout based on the distribution of walled settlement sites. This study will attempt to situate Puyŏ geographically and demonstrate how such an understanding aids in interpretation of the key issues in the formation of the Puyŏ state, its history, and the history of its neighboring peoples.

Walled Sites Associated with the Puyŏ State As noted in chapters 3 and 4 above, very few sites associated with the Puyŏ state have been systematically excavated, which limits our current ability to provide a more comprehensive description of that state. We may, however, compensate for this shortcoming somewhat 29. See for example Yi Pyŏng-do 1985, 223. 30. See Pak Yang-jin 1998b.

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by turning to an examination of above-ground archaeological remains, particularly walled urban and defensive sites, the traces of which tend to survive natural erosion factors much more effectively than do those of farming villages. Such an analysis will improve our understanding of the population distribution, defensive layout, and territorial extent of the Puyŏ state and will provide valuable clues as to how the state itself formed. These walled sites fall generally into two categories: walled urban centers, of which very few examples are known, and small hilltop fortifications, which are much more numerous. The conclusions resulting from the following analysis must be considered provisional since the ascription of walled remains to Puyŏ is for the most part based on inference rather than hard material evidence. When the sites are jointly subjected to comparative analysis, however, I believe that based on their structural characteristics and spatial distribution there is a very high probability that they are in fact constructs of the Puyŏ state. Two surmountable obstacles hamper this analysis. The first hindrance is the fact that with very few exceptions these walled sites are not explicitly associated with the Puyŏ state in contemporary Chinese scholarship, and to my knowledge the present study is the first to treat these sites collectively as Puyŏ constructs.31 The second obstacle, which is partially responsible for the first, is the fact that the data and analytical treatment of these sites are extremely uneven among the reports generated by the responsible offices of the various districts in which these remains are located.32 Nevertheless, I believe that published data are sufficient both to demonstrate a commonality in structure and function linking these walled sites and to permit a chronological assignment of the sites to no later than the early centuries of the Puyŏ state. Verification of my provisional conclusions must, of course, await further archaeological progress. 31. Scholars treating some of these sites occasionally speculate on a possible relationship with Puyŏ, but no comprehensive study of these sites has yet appeared in print. In the analyses that follow, I note whenever such speculation has appeared with regard to a given site or set of sites. 32. This variability is due largely to the organizational structure of archaeological resource management in China, wherein each district or municipality of a province is responsible for providing its own reports and analyses of the archaeological sites within its own jurisdiction. This results in very little communication or collaborative effort among districts (especially among districts belonging to different provinces) and few binding standards for reporting. Recent efforts to remedy this recognized problem have inadvertently introduced further complications. The Zhongguo wenwu dituji 中国文物 地图集 (Atlas of Chinese cultural relics) series is an ambitious project focused on providing comprehensive catalogs of archaeological sites by province, with each province represented by its own bound volume (to date volumes for Jilin and Liaoning have been published). Although this project has greatly facilitated archaeological research, the format requires that each site be assigned to one of several predefined time periods so that it may be marked with a color-coded symbol on the appropriate map. This requirement has forced compilers to assign a time period even to those sites for which no chronological data are available, thereby introducing unnecessary confusion and misinformation (many such sites of uncertain date in the Jilin volume have been assigned to the Liao-Jin period by default). Since the published volumes of the series are readily available (unlike the county gazetteers, the circulation of which is restricted), many scholars have come to treat them as an authoritative source and consequently risk being misled by the unintentional deceptions inherent in the series editors’ data compilation methods. The common features exhibited by the hilltop fortifications examined in this study are among the many relationships rendered almost invisible by this process.

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Early historical texts provide only very general information on the location of Puyŏ. The description of that state in the Sanguozhi places the Puyŏ capital “north of the long wall at a distance of one thousand li from Xuantu” and notes that Puyŏ had a geographical expanse of some two thousand li square.33 For a more precise estimate of the territorial extent of the Puyŏ state one must rely on inferences based on historical records and knowledge of the territory of Puyŏ’s neighbors. For determining the extent of Puyŏ territorial control, the fruits of archaeological research are of enormous benefit. The study below attempts to estimate Puyŏ’s territorial extent based on an analysis of its capital city and its border defense organization, both of which are marked by the remains of walled sites visible above ground. This analysis begins with the capital city and continues with the fortified periphery.

The Dongtuanshan Complex The location of the capital of the Puyŏ state remained a topic of scholarly debate for most of the twentieth century, but from the early 1980s an increasing number of Chinese scholars began to point to ancient ruins around the city of Jilin as the site of the Puyŏ capital. The vicinity of Jilin had long been recognized as a region rich in archaeological remains, and the many finds of artifacts attributed to the Han dynasty led some scholars to view the ruins as those of a Han-period commandery.34 As the archaeological record of central Jilin became better understood, however, it became clear that an indigenous society was represented along the middle reaches of the north-flowing Songhua River, whereas the Han artifacts represented evidence of an active trade with the Han court. Given the location, the dating, and the composition of the region’s material remains, scholars recognized that they could be attributed only to Puyŏ, for Puyŏ is the only state described in Chinese and Korean historical records that could possibly correspond to the society and polity represented archaeologically at Jilin.35 Believed to be the remains of the Puyŏ capital city itself, the walled sites at Dongtuanshan (on the eastern banks of the Songhua River as it passes through the city of Jilin) mark the center of the zone of heaviest known concentration of post-Xituanshan and Han Chinese remains in the province of Jilin. I refer to these walled sites and the immediate vicinity collectively as the “Dongtuanshan complex,” which appears to approximate the extent of the Puyŏ capital city and its defensive networks. The site is dominated by a rocky hill called Dongtuanshan, or Eastern Promontory, which forms a pair with Xituanshan (Western Promontory), the two hills having flanked what were once the western and eastern suburbs of the old city of Jilin. Although a paved road and a railroad branch pass just to the east of the walled sites of Dongtuanshan, the area has experienced minimal urban development in recent years, and the immediate vicinity of the site is occupied

33. Sanguozhi 30:841 (Account of Puyŏ). 34. See for example Li Wenxin 1992 [1946] and Zhang Boquan 1985, 63. 35. Li Jiancai 1982; Wu Guoxun, 1983.

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by plowed fields and a few small houses.36 The lack of extensive development has permitted the preservation of a portion of the walls, and the plowing activity has brought to the surface a complex assortment of ceramic and stone artifacts representing over two millennia of occupation. Dongtuanshan itself is a rocky hill projecting into the flow of the Songhua River, its peak rising 252 m above sea level (plate 21). With the river to its west, the hill is surrounded on three sides by broad plains, which are in turn enclosed by a semicircle of hills and mountains. Dongtuanshan is ringed by a series of three concentric walls constructed of mixed earth and stone, each tracing an oval plan conforming to the natural formation of the hill (fig. 6.1). The ten-meter-high outer wall encloses an area with maximum dimensions of approximately 230 m in length and 115 m in breadth, and the twelve-meterhigh middle wall encloses an area of about 170 by 62 m. The inner wall is said to have been mostly destroyed in the late 1940s, but it is believed to have enclosed a small area of about 85 by 15 m.37 Measured along the southeastern slope of the hill, the inner and middle walls are about 53.5 m apart, and the middle and outer walls are about 35.2 m apart.38 Although Qing-period records describe the site as having had the remains of two gates (in the east and the north), no traces of gates are visible today.39 Within these walls numerous tile sherds are visible on the surface, many of which appear to be the soft reddish variety typical of Koguryŏ. Because of this many scholars believe the walls to have been Koguryŏ constructs, though it is just as possible that the site was simply reused and rebuilt after Koguryŏ occupied the region.40 36. The site was designated a provincial-level protected site in 1961, and in 1996 the designation was increased to state level. 37. According to Dong Xuezeng (1982, 85) the inner wall was destroyed during the warfare of the late 1940s when the Kuomintang dug trenches on the hilltop. Yet Mikami Tsugio (1939, 16), writing a decade before these battles took place, noted the presence of trenches on top of Dongtuanshan. Although he acknowledges a local tradition claiming that the trenches were dug by Russian troops during the Russo-Japanese war of 1905, Mikami seems hesitant to accept this as fact. 38. These figures are based on Dong Xuezeng 1982. 39. The 1784 edition of the Shengjing tongzhi 盛京通志 (27:6a [Shanchuan 山川 3, Jilin 吉林, Yilanmoushan 伊蘭茂山]; 31:29b–30a [Chengchi 城池 3, Jilin 吉林, Yilanmoushan 伊蘭茂山]) makes note of a hill called Yilanmoushan 伊蘭茂山 (Yilanmou is interpreted as ilan moo, meaning “three trees” in Manchu) located about seven li to the southeast of the old city of Jilin on the east bank of the Huntong 混同 (Songhua) River. On top of this hill is a walled site called Yilanmoucheng 伊蘭茂城, which is described as having a circumference of over one li, with a gate in the east and north walls. The report also notes that to the east, west, and south of this hilltop fortress is an outer wall about two li in length and with a single gate. Despite the slight differences in cardinal direction, the Yilanmou site closely resembles the Dongtuanshan and Nanchengzi sites. The Yongjixian zhi 永吉縣志 (compiled 1927–31) makes this identification explicit. In Volume 20 (334) that work states that Yilanmoushan and Dongtuanshan are identical and then proceeds to describe the walled site by paraphrasing the Shengjing tongzhi data: “The hill is about three li in circumference, and on its east, west, and south is an outer wall about two li in circumference with a gate to its south. On the hilltop is an inner wall with one gate to its east and one to its north.” Li Wenxin (1937) also makes reference to a gate in the hilltop wall, but more recent site reports have failed to describe such gates. 40. The cultural relics gazetteer for Jilin suggests that walls date to the late Koguryŏ period. See Jilinshi jiaoqu wenwuzhi 1983, 93–94. This assignment is not based on archaeological analysis, however, but on

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Fig. 6.1. Layout of the Dongtuanshan site.

At the southeastern base of the hill is an earthen ridge that extends in a wide arc to the northeast of the hill. Although this structure is not mentioned in most of the site reports I have consulted, it does not appear to be a natural formation and may be the remains of another wall.41 The ground enclosed by this ridge is level and raised several meters higher than the surrounding plain. Another structure much farther from the hill to the southeast is recognizably artificial in construction. It is called Nanchengzi 城子 (South Wall) and was built to enclose the plain to the east and southeast of Dongtuanshan (fig. 6.2; plate 22). Much of this wall is well preserved today, the southeastern stretch being especially notable as it rises as much as 6 m above the surrounding field. The original wall appears to have run parallel to the shoreline from the base of Dongtuanshan to a distance of about 180 m, from which point the portions of the

the unsupported (and unlikely) assumption that the site represents the ruins of eastern Puyŏ, which fell under Koguryŏ control in the early fifth century. 41. The structure is mentioned in Li Wenxin 1937. Li believed it to be an earthen wall enclosing level ground to the east of the hill. This opinion is in agreement with my own observations, though more recent site reports make no mention of the feature, nor does it appear on any of the layout diagrams of the site.

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Fig. 6.2. View of Nanchengzi from Dongtuanshan. A: Maoershan; B: Nanchengzi wall; C: earthen terrace; D: hill-skirting wall.

wall visible today emerge. The wall continues to the east for about 130 m and then curves gently toward the north. After more than 100 m the remains of the wall begin to vanish into the plowed fields, though traces still visible indicate that the wall continued to the northwest running parallel to the railroad tracks nearby. After another 550 m the traces of the wall reemerge and join with the earthen ridge mentioned above, and the structure continues in a curve to the west until it joins with the northern base of Dongtuanshan. The entire wall traces an incomplete circuit of 1,050 m, the open portions in the northwest being occupied by the walls of Dongtuanshan. Archaeological reports estimate that it was constructed during the Western Han period, or prior to the first century (plates 23–29).42 There are two gate sites at Nanchengzi. The first is marked by a 16-meter-wide gap in the southern wall, where a slight depression extends into the interior of the wall. The second gate site is in the northern wall close to the point where the Nanchengzi wall merges with the earthen ridge. There is an additional break in the southeastern stretch of the wall, though this appears to have been cut through in recent decades (see plate 23). Just to the east of this break is a smaller earthen structure on the outside of the wall, but 42. This is reflected in the description of the site in the Jilin volume of the Zhongguo wenwu dituji (Guojia Wenwuju 1993, 52) and in Jilinshi jiaoqu wenwuzhi 1983, 94–96. For the dating of the walls, see Tang Yin, Ding Hongyi, and Liu Li 2003.

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its function is unclear. A depression tracing the exterior of parts of the Nanchengzi wall has been interpreted as remains of a city moat. Just inside the southern gate is a roughly rectangular terrace raised about 1 meter above the surrounding fields. Extending about 150 m to the north and with a width of 73 m, this terrace is thought to have supported a palatial structure, though archaeological evidence for such a claim has yet to be documented. The interior of the Nanchengzi site is littered profusely with tile and pottery sherds and stone implements. Among these remains one may identify elements of the Xituanshan and post-Xituanshan cultures, Koguryŏ and Parhae remains, and later ceramic fragments dating from the Liao to the Qing periods. Most plentiful are sherds of a particular type, characterized by an impressed lattice pattern on a thin gray surface. These are representative of the Puyŏ period. They are found both within the walls of Nanchengzi and in the surrounding plains and appear to represent a vessel widely used in the domestic context, for their distribution outside of the walls coincides with areas thought to have been the sites of private domiciles.43 The area within the walls of Nanchengzi has undergone several excavations, but to date no full reports have been published. Five trenches were cut in 1973 but apparently yielded little of value.44 In the summer of 2001 the Jilin Institute of Archaeology conducted an excavation in two sections of the site. On the hill five cultural layers were identified, Level 5 belonging to the bronze period and Levels 3 and 4 belonging to the Han-Wei period (ca. first century bce to third century ce). The Han-Wei level yielded a building site, seven ash pits, and an ash trench. Artifacts included ring-handled hu, deep-bellied cylindrical guan, and post-handled dou vessels, along with bricks with floral, lattice, and cord designs. Within the Nanchengzi compound five cultural layers were identified, Level 4 dating to the Han-Wei period (later levels yielded Ming-period remains, including tombs). Artifacts recovered from Level 4 included deep-bellied cylindrical guan, gray ware bowls, and sherds with lattice and cord impressions. In all over four hundred artifacts were collected from all levels during this excavation.45 In the summer and fall of 2002 excavations continued in three areas of the site. On the hill (Area A) five cultural layers were found, of which Levels 2, 3, and 4 belong to the Han-Wei period, and Level 5 to the late bronze period. In the Han-Wei levels, some twenty-one features were excavated, being primarily a dwelling and ash pits. The dwelling was a shallow pit in square aspect, measuring 4.2 m per side (plate 28). In the center section of the south wall was an opening 0.6 m in width with round post holes on either end, between which were the remnants of an entrance path measuring 1.2 m. 43. In 1998 Shao Yufeng surveyed the area and discovered the exposed remains of a dwelling site on the slopes of a hill some 700 m to the north of Dongtuanshan. He found numerous ceramic fragments and a complete hu vessel, spindle whorls, and a small clay dog figurine. Many of the sherds were covered with the impressed lattice pattern. See Shao Yufeng 2001. 44. See Yang Chuang 2001. No report of the 1973 excavation has been published, though a brief description of some of the finds (mostly roofing tiles and pottery sherds and a bronze bell-shaped ornament) appears in Jilinshi jiaoqu wenwuzhi 1983, 57. 45. See the summary report in Tang Yin, Zhai Jingyuan, and Zhang Hanbing 2002.

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Furnace facilities were found on the eastern end of the dwelling, with stove and smoke channel remains all well preserved. On the floor were numerous gray pottery sherds with impressed lattice designs, along with a few pieces of iron armor plating. Vessels recovered from these levels resembled those contemporary specimens found the previous year. An assemblage dating to the early Han period (ca. second century bce) included a drum-bellied hu vessel with twin handles (and some without handles), a deep-bellied guan, a single- or multi-hole steamer, and the post-handled dou. These vessels were made of fine clay, and many of the larger vessels had cord or lattice patterns impressed on the surfaces. A later assemblage dating from Eastern Han to Wei-Jin periods included a deep-bellied pen basin, a basin-shaped steamer, a weng urn, a roundbellied guan, and a bo bowl. These vessels had designs consisting of incised lines and dotted patterns. In the Nanchengzi area (Area B) excavations were conducted in two locations, which included the cutting of cross-sections in the Nanchengzi wall in an effort to determine its chronology and its method of construction. The results suggest that the majority of the extant wall was built in two different periods. The earlier construction utilized the rammed-earth method, with layers measuring an average of 6-8 cm in depth. These layers contained sherds of a sandy ware hu (or guan) type of vessel and the post-handled dou pedestals. The later construction was accomplished by piling loess, and it contained sherds of cord-marked gray ware vessels made of fine clay. These excavations are important in that they indicate that the walls were built and used during the Western Han to Wei-Jin periods.46 The Dongtuanshan and Nanchengzi sites together form a unit that provides both functional space for a living city and an easily accessible defensive redoubt, making the place nearly ideal for a capital city. The region within the Nanchengzi walls would have provided space enough for palatial structures, government offices, and perhaps some residential quarters, but the majority of the capital residents must have lived in the plains outside the walls. The possibility of a considerable population may be inferred from the fact that the plains surrounding Nanchengzi, which might otherwise have been ideal for agricultural cultivation, are instead marked by the remains of domiciles. The walls of Nanchengzi may have surrounded a special precinct reserved for the king and top officials. Significantly, the path traced by the Nanchengzi walls is today described as curved or even circular, recalling that observation made by the Wei-period visitors and recorded in the Sanguozhi, which notes that Puyŏ city walls were constructed in circular layout. Many scholars in China believe Nanchengzi to be that site described in the Wei chronicle as the ancient city of Ye-sŏng (Huicheng), which the Wei observers imagined as linking Puyŏ with the ancient Ye (Hui) people. The fields surrounding Dongtuanshan are delimited by a chain of mountains and hills (fig. 4.12). To the north at a distance of about 3 km is the prominent mountain called Longtanshan 龙潭山. This mountain dominates the region (its highest peak rises 388 m above sea level) and overlooks the Songhua River as it curves to the west around Jilin. The mountain served as an important Koguryŏ fortress (probably Puyŏ-sŏng; see 46. See the summary report in Tang Yin, Ding Hongyi, and Liu Li 2003.

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appendix B) as indicated by the extensive earthen walls and the stonework remains within the walls. But the site was undoubtedly of significant importance to the Puyŏ leaders as well, due primarily to its strategic facility. From the western summit of Longtanshan one may observe the entire run of the Songhua as it passes what is now Jilin. Dongtuanshan is easily visible to the south, and to the northwest the mountain fortification at Sandaoling 三道岭 may be seen. The Sandaoling fortification overlooks the Songhua as it curves once again to the north. Extensive quarrying has obliterated its remains, but it has been described as a small fort probably constructed during the Koguryŏ occupation, though it might easily have been used prior to this time.47 Given their strategic value as prominent positions overlooking the river, the Dongtuanshan, Longtanshan, and Sandaoling fortresses provided an effective defensive network capable of surveying a broad area along the Songhua valley in the vicinity of the Puyŏ capital (and later Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng). The broad plain between Longtanshan and Dongtuanshan must have served as residential wards for the capital’s residents and is ideally located to support an urban population. To the east of Dongtuanshan at a distance of about 1.5 km are the hills of Xishan 西山 and Maoershan 帽儿山, on the slopes of which many tombs dating to the Puyŏ period have been excavated, as described in chapter 4. To the west of the cemetery area the remains of several dwelling sites can be discerned by the presence of sherds on the surface. To the south and southwest of Maoershan are the hills of Nanshan 山 and Guigaishan 龟盖山, to the south of which rises the mountain of Paotaishan 炮台山. These hills also yielded many Puyŏ-period tombs, and surface scatter suggests that residential areas were interspersed among the burial precincts.48 Although the systematic excavations have concentrated on the cemetery, occasional finds of artifacts outside of the mortuary context have been made public. These typically consist of random finds of gold or jade ornaments or of decorative ceramic fixtures. Perhaps the most unusual finds, and those that may be most expressive of a Puyŏ ethnicity, are the gilt-bronze face masks found during the period of Japanese domination. In the early 1920s five bronze faces were found in the Dongtuanshan vicinity by a Japanese pawnshop owner resident in Jilin. Two of these masks were sold to the Chōsen Government-General Museum in 1923, but the remaining three were lost before an analysis could be made. One mask among the holdings of the Lüshun 旅顺 Museum, which was retrieved from the Dongtuanshan site, appears, however, to be one of the five discovered in the 1920s (fig. 6.3; plate 30).49 This mask is approximately 16 cm in length 47. Dong Xuezeng 1986. 48. It is worth noting that no associated sites are known to exist in the area to the west of the river where the city of Jilin now centers. It is likely, however, that Puyŏ sites did exist in this area but were covered over by the modern city before any archaeological surveys were conducted there. 49. Yagi Shōzaburō 1926, 340–42. Yagi recounts how the five masks wound up in a pawn shop of Sunazuka Teizō 砂塚貞蔵 in Jilin and how, when he inquired there, he found that two had been sent to the Chōsen Government-General Museum whereas the other three had been placed in the possession of a Japanese woman in Jilin named Takahashi Yasuko 高橋安子, who appears to have lost them by the time Yagi called on her. Yagi describes the bronze face in the Lüshun Museum and speculates that it may have served originally as ornamentation on a building structure.

Fig. 6.3. One of the gilt-bronze masks found near Maoershan, presently in the Lüshun Museum, Dalian, Liaoning Province (see also plate 30). From Ryojun Hakubutsukan 1940.

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[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

and depicts a highly stylized human face. The eyes and nose are pronounced, and the mouth is agape. Incised lines represent a beard and a furrowed brow. The ears are very stylized and feature pierced lobes. A knob on the top of the head has been interpreted as a topknot, though it may have represented a cap.50 The two masks that were sent to the Chōsen Government-General Museum in 1923 have recently turned up in the collection of the National Museum of Korea in Seoul and are currently on display there (plate 31). These masks closely resemble the one from the museum in Lüshun.51 In the 1930s Li Wenxin discovered a sixth bronze face mask along with some bronze clothing ornaments and agate beads in the fields at the base of Maoershan in an apparently disturbed mortuary context. This mask resembles the ones in the museums in Lüshun and Seoul, though it clearly represents a different male face (the topknot / cap and one of the ears are missing).52 It measures 13.5 cm in length and 9 cm in width (fig. 6.4). As already noted in chapter 4, bronze faces of this type were also found at the Lamadong cemetery in Beipiao, suggesting that most of the interred in this cemetery were displaced Puyŏ people.53 The distinctive features characterizing these masks appear also on the heads of the bronze linchpins discovered in tomb M3 at Longtanshan Area II during the 1991 excavation. In recent years comparable specimens of such linchpins have been found

50. A photograph of this mask appears on plate 45 in the 1940 edition of the Lüshun Museum pictorial catalog (Ryojun Hakubutsukan 1940). Linchpins topped by faces with similar features found at the sites of altars connected to Koguryŏ royal tombs suggest that these protuberances are in fact caps rather than topknots. 51. After learning that two of the masks found in the 1920s had been sent to the Chōsen GovernmentGeneral Museum shortly after their discovery, I visited the National Museum of Korea in 2008 and requested a search for these artifacts, which were then not in the museum’s regular catalog. In 2014 these masks were finally located, having apparently been in storage since shortly after their acquisition on April 18, 1923. They were placed on display at the museum in October 2014, over nine decades after their discovery. 52. Li Wenxin 1938b. A photograph of this mask appears as the frontispiece of this volume. See also Jilinshi jiaoqu wenwuzhi 1983, 151. The mask was stored in the Jilin Provincial Museum in 1983 at the time of the volume’s publication. 53. I examined these masks and other objects from Lamadong on 4 June 2008 and found them to be relatively crude, but unmistakably related to the masks found at Maoershan in Jilin. The masks I examined were about twelve in number, but many more are known to have been recovered during the excavations. For his analysis of Lamadong masks, Kurosaki Tadashi was allowed to examine eleven masks, though his report accounts for two others also recovered from the cemetery and reported in other publications (see Kurosaki Tadashi 2010). Certain tombs are known to have yielded multiple masks (at least five were recovered from M17). The masks were typically found near the head and upper body, lying on both sides of the corpse. Although Lamadong has been described as a cemetery belonging to the capital of the Murong Xianbei state of Former Yan, scholars have already observed that the majority of the graves appear to belong to some group other than the Xianbei. Tian Likun, in particular, has proposed that they may belong to Puyŏ elites who were captured in 286 and brought back to the Xianbei capital. There is some basis for this claim, and in fact these tombs do seem to date to the late third and early fourth centuries. See Tian Likun 2003. For a color plate and description of one of the masks, see Liaoningsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo, ed. 2002, 91, 142.

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Fig. 6.4. The gilt-bronze mask found by Li Wenxin. After Li Wenxin 1938b.

at the Koguryŏ capital site in Ji’an.54 The Maoershan cemetery has also yielded bronze ornaments, possibly finials, composed of faces with similar features. Although some scholars attribute the bronze faces to the Koguryŏ occupation, the context of Li Wenxin’s 54. A pair of bronze linchpins 18.6 cm in length was found by farmers in June 1983 as they were digging a pit just to the east of the large stone-piled tomb JYM2110, quite probably a Koguryŏ royal tomb. See Gao Yuanda 2000. Another very similar pin, measuring 17 cm in length, was found in Ji’an in 2003

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find (with bronze buttons and jade beads) and the tentative dating of tomb M3 to the late Puyŏ period suggest that they are rather products of Puyŏ hands.55 If the publication of the Maoershan excavation report demonstrates that these gilt-bronze visages are indeed Puyŏ products, they would seem to be a cultural expression unique to Puyŏ.56 The Dongtuanshan vicinity has also yielded a large quantity of items imported from the Central Plains, though nearly all reported finds were taken from surface scatter and lack a more useful context. Li Wenxin reported finds of several artifacts from tombs disturbed by railroad work in the plains north of Dongtuanshan.57 Among these finds are over fifty specimens of Western Han wuzhu 五銖 coins, a fragment of a bronze mirror, a broken piece of a tile end bearing the character chang 長 (the complete tile end is thought to have contained the slogan changle weiyang 長樂未央), an eared cup, and a ceramic stove. All of these items are unmistakably typical Han types and were certainly introduced from outside of the Jilin region. Although Li declared dramatically that such items prove the existence of a sizable Han population in the Dongtuanshan vicinity during the Han dynasty, such items are frequently found in regions outside of Han occupation and are more indicative of an active trade between Han and the local populations. The Dongtuanshan complex may be described as consisting of the walled sites of Dongtuanshan and Nanchengzi, the surrounding residential area, the Maoershan cemduring the excavation of tomb JYM0042, popularly called the “River-Viewing Tomb” 临江墓 and also believed to be a royal tomb. This pin was found on the remains of the so-called “altar,” thought to be a space reserved for ritual associated with the royal tomb. Such “altars” are always found to the east of the tomb, and it is likely that the pair of linchpins discovered in 1983 were also found in the altar space associated with tomb JYM2110. For information and illustrations of these linchpins, see Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo and Ji’anshi Bowuguan 2004, 58–59, 74–75. Although these two royal tombs are said by some to date to the late second and early third centuries, there is little support for this, and dates in the third and fourth centuries are quite possible. Unlike the pins found at Maoershan (at least those for which photographs have been published), those found at Ji’an also have rounded projections on either side to represent arms. Such features recall those on a rock carving of a human figure in Ji’an located beside tomb JYM3319, which is not thought to be a royal tomb. However, the date of the rock carving and its relationship with the tomb are unknown. For an analysis of these linchpins, see Wang Zhao 2006, who compares them with those found at Maoershan and speculates that there is some unspecified connection between them. It is possible that the pins found at Ji’an are products of Puyŏ or that they represent a practice inherited from an earlier Puyŏ tradition. 55. For the Koguryŏ hypothesis see Dong Xuezeng 1982, where Dong rather arbitrarily assigns bronze ornaments similar to those found by Li Wenxin to the Koguryŏ period. Li himself associated these artifacts with Puyŏ (Li Wenxin 1992 [1946]). See also Mikami Tsugio 1939 for a discussion of the masks and a Koguryŏ ascription. For the Wei-Jin-period dating of tomb M3 I am indebted to Liu Jingwen (personal communication, June 2001). 56. Context allows us to do little more than speculate with regard to the function of the masks. They are too small to have served as death masks for the interred, nor is it clear that they have been recovered from mortuary contexts alone. They may represent a single iconic figure, or the representation may be more complex. The face masks found at Lamadong (as described in chapter 4) were found in large numbers, with several masks in a single tomb. One researcher speculates that these may represent clan totems donated by funeral attendees and that they were sewn onto a cloth used to wrap the body prior to inhumation. Whether this or a similar practice is reflected at Maoershan remains to be seen. See Kurosaki 2010. 57. Li Wenxin 1992 [1946].

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etery complex, and the defensive works at Longtanshan and Sandaoling. Together these features represent the functional core of the Puyŏ state—the seat of the king and government, their living space, and their means of defending their positions. Material remains recovered from the various components of this capital complex reveal a rich indigenous tradition mixed with substantial cultural input from Han China. The Han element primarily represents an assemblage of prestige goods and adapted technologies. Such introductions did not supplant the local traditions but merely enhanced them. This is indicated by the continuation of cultural elements from the Xituanshan period and later by such strong local cultural expressions of identity as the gilt-bronze masks. The core components of the complex—the Dongtuanshan and Nanchengzi walled sites—will undoubtedly reveal a great deal about the Puyŏ state when they are systematically excavated.58 The archaeological remains visible on the surface hint at the wealth of data still awaiting discovery beneath the ground. If the earthen terrace in the southern part of the Nanchengzi enclosure is in fact part of a palatial structure, its excavation should prove to be especially rewarding. Knowledge of the layout and composition of the residential areas outside of the walls will likewise be useful for reconstructing the organization of the Puyŏ capital. The results of the excavations at Maoershan will provide much useful data once they are published, and through continued excavations at Dongtuanshan our understanding of the composition of the capital site should be greatly enhanced. In the meantime, descriptions of the surface remains will have to suffice. The Dongtuanshan complex is a fairly well-preserved example of a walled urban center combined with an adjacent hilltop fortification. Walled towns appear to have been a rarity in the Puyŏ state, for very few examples of such remains are known today, though considerable work has yet to be done on the identification of the many ancient walled remains in the central regions of Jilin. There were, in fact, at least two other walled towns in the vicinity of Dongtuanshan, though their surface remains have long been leveled, and they are usually thought to date from no earlier than the Parhae period. The first is called Guandicheng 官地城, located on the riverbank between Dongtuanshan and Longtanshan. Though its surface traces are no longer visible because of construction work, archaeological surveys determined it to be a rectangular structure with dimensions of about 200 by 380 m. Material remains found in the area include those dating to the Xituanshan, Puyŏ, Koguryŏ, Parhae, Liao, and Jin periods.59 The second walled site lies on the north bank of the Songhua about 5 km northwest of Longtanshan at a site called Tuchengzi 土城子, which also yielded important Xituanshan and post-Xituanshan remains as discussed in chapters 3 and 4. The walled site is no longer visible on the surface; however, archaeological reports describe it as a small earthen enclosure in a nearly square layout approximately 348 m in circumference.60 Material remains associated with 58. Excavations conducted to date have been small in scale and have yielded only modest results. 59. See Jilinshi shiqu wenwuzhi 1983, 19–20. 60. Jilinshi shiqu wenwuzhi 1983, 19. The Yongjixian zhi 永吉縣志 (20:18a–18b) contains a curious reference to this site, which the compilers of the wenwuzhi appear to have overlooked: “The walled site of Tuchengzi . . . is divided into inner and outer walled compounds with walls over one chang in height. The outer wall has long been leveled, but the inner wall is square in plan, with each wall measuring some twenty chang in length. At its northern end is [now] a Guandi shrine 關帝廟, but the rest [of the

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the site range from the Xituanshan to the Liao and Jin periods, though the chronology of the walled site’s construction has yet to be determined. Catalogs of archaeological sites in Jilin assign the Guandicheng and Tuchengzi walled sites to the Liao-Jin period, but this classification is based on very incomplete data and cannot be corroborated without additional archaeological work at the sites—it is possible that several walled sites thought to date to later periods were originally constructed in the Puyŏ period.61 At present only two walled urban sites other than Dongtuanshan are believed to date to the Puyŏ period. Both sites are located on the western banks of the Jiao River in Jiaohe County, about sixty kilometers to the southeast of Jilin. These small walled sites are associated with a series of hilltop fortifications, and together they seem to form part of a frontier defense network.

The Jiaohe Walled Sites The banks of the Jiao 蛟河 and Lafa 拉法河 rivers and their tributaries are rich in ancient remains and represent a region of especially dense concentration of sites belonging to Xituanshan culture. Many of these sites have also yielded artifacts dating to the postXituanshan period, indicating that the Jiaohe valleys had also sustained substantial Puyŏ settlements. The densest concentration of sites is found on the plains to the west of the Lafa and Jiao rivers, and this cursory study will focus primarily on remains to the west of the Jiao River as it flows southward from the city of Jiaohe and enters the Songhua fortyfive kilometers to the south. Although most of this valley now floods regularly in wet seasons when the Songhua Reservoir is fullest, the river is at other times flanked by broad and level plains punctuated by low hills. Such an environment would have provided nearly ideal conditions for communities sustained by an economy based primarily on agriculture and fishing, though the nature of certain sites demonstrates that an additional concern of the populations was military defense—the valleys are heavily fortified. The most interesting evidence of Puyŏ settlement in this region is to be found in a pair of small-scale walled towns. The first is the walled site at Xinjie 新 , located to the southeast of the town of Chishuidi 池水地 in an open plain on the west bank of the Jiao River (fig. 6.5). This site was investigated by Japanese archaeologists in 1938 and was revisited by Chinese scholars in 1960 and 1985. It consists of an earthen terrace raised 1.5 to 2 m above the surrounding plain, around the perimeter of which earthen walls were raised to form a walled compound. The 1938 survey noted that there was no sign of the site] is covered with vegetable gardens. Local tradition maintains that the walled site was once the residence of Koreans, but when Chinese people came to this place they dug into the ground and found a porcelain jar filled with copper coins. In the sixth year of Xianfeng (1856) there were severe floods, so the people of the village sought refuge within the walled compound for several days, where they were able to evade the calamity.” The walled site described in the wenwuzhi appears to correspond to the inner walled compound of the Yongjixian zhi account, the outer wall having gone unnoticed in the archaeological descriptions. 61. The entries for these two sites in the Jilinshi shiqu wenwuzhi 1983 (19–20) appear to assign them to the Liao-Jin period by default given the lack of more determinate data—the author of the Guandicheng entry seems particularly hesitant to make this assignment.

Fig. 6.5. Distribution of sites in the Jiaohe valley.

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southern and eastern parts of the wall, though the northern and western sections were then raised substantially higher than the terrace itself. 62 By 1985, after the site had been repeatedly flooded by the waters of the Songhua Reservoir, these walls rose no more than 30 cm higher than the terrace base. The site was then determined to have a north–south diameter of 46 m and an east–west diameter of 48 m, with a circumference of 184 m. The walls are described as forming a roughly square aspect with rounded corners, with the west wall oriented about 30 degrees to the east.63 About 40 m to the east of this site is a smaller walled compound of similar construction. The walls of this compound measure 30 m on the south, 12 m on the north, and 24 m on the east. The west wall had been destroyed before the 1985 survey. The surface within and surrounding the walls is scattered with sherds and stone tools belonging to the Xituanshan and post-Xituanshan cultures. Of particular interest are the finds of ceramic sherds bearing the impressed lattice pattern so prominent in the plains surrounding Dongtuanshan. These sherds reveal the Puyŏ presence at the Xinjie site and suggest interaction between this peripheral site and the Puyŏ core at Dongtuanshan. About 9 km to the south of Xinjie is the Fulaidong 富来东 walled site near the township of Songjiang 松江乡.64 Located in the fields about 2.5 km southeast of Fulaidong village, this walled site is similar to that at Xinjie. It is of earthen construction consisting of a terrace with a walled perimeter, and is nearly round with a diameter of about 40 m. The site has been repeatedly flooded by the reservoir, and as of 1985 only a raised terrace with a depression in the center could be observed in dry seasons. The terrace and walls were apparently over 2 m higher than the surrounding plain before the flooding began, and there may have been a gate in the southern part of the wall. The surface scatter in the area consists mostly of post-Xituanshan sherds, the impressed lattice pattern also appearing in substantial quantity. The Xituanshan-period remains indicate that the occupation of these sites was one of long duration, and their chronology suggests the possibility that the construction of the walled sites was associated with the emergence of the Puyŏ state. Yet the walled compounds are too small to have been heavily populated cities. It is more likely that they were either the exclusive domains of the community leaders or served a military or ritualistic function. These compounds were constructed in the river plain, but the hills surrounding them were also the sites of walled compounds of a sort different from those discussed thus far. These sites recall the hillside residential areas common to Xituanshan communities, but unlike their counterparts in the Jilin region, the sites along the Jiao River are walled. The significance of these peculiar sites, of which at least ten are known in the eighteen-kilometer stretch covered in this study, was first set forth by Dong Xuezeng in a 1988 report (based on a 1985 survey) on a major Xituanshan-culture site at Bashangdi 八晌地, between Chishui and the city of Jiaohe.65 62. 63. 64. 65.

Yamamoto Mamoru 1943. Jiaohexian wenwuzhi 1986, 130–34. See Jiaohexian wenwuzhi 1986, 134–36. Dong Xuezeng 1988.

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The Bashangdi site is a fairly typical example of an early Xituanshan-period community. The site centers on a hilltop about 20 to 30 m above the surrounding plain. The surface is scattered with Xituanshan sherds, covering an area of 100 by 500 m. Over several years a number of stone-lined pit tombs were accidentally exposed within this site, and several typical Xituanshan-period vessels were retrieved from them. From one of the tombs an unusual bronze spearhead was recovered. This spearhead features wide flanges that recall the shape of the Liaoning bronze dagger, and it bears some resemblance to the spearheads found at Changsheshan (57F2) and Xingxingshao (AM11 and DM13). Although mortuary data are far too scarce to permit a useful survey, the spearhead find has prompted speculation that its owner was a chief of a large community that was culturally akin to those Xituanshan populations in Jilin. Based on comparison between the spearheads, Dong Xuezeng estimates the date of the Bashangdi burial to lie between the late Xingxingshao burials and those of Changsheshan, or to Period III in Zhu Yonggang’s chronology. The unusual feature of this site is the presence of what Dong Xuezeng terms an “earthen perimeter” 土棱子, which refers to the terracing of the hilltop to create an enclosure surrounded by an embankment formed by removing a channel of earth and piling the fill along the interior edge. In the case of Bashangdi, the oblong enclosure measures from 22 to 40 m in diameter, and the “walls” rise about 1 meter high and are about 2 m thick.66 In his 1988 report, Dong lists nine other similar walled sites in the Chishui and Songjiang regions. The 1987 cultural relics gazetteer for Jiaohe County provides data for each of these sites, including the dimensions of the walls. With the exception of one large site, the remaining nine compounds included in Dong’s survey have an average diameter of only 22.5 m. The diameter of the large compound (called the Paoziyan Beigang 泡子沿北岗 site) varies between 100 and 150 m. With such a limited average area, the hilltop compounds could not have sustained a large permanent population. It is possible, however, that the compounds were either military outposts staffed by a small contingent of soldiers or retreats to be entered in the event of invasion. Such views find support in the fact that the walled sites are surrounded by otherwise unprotected Xituanshan settlements and associated cemeteries. Unfortunately, however, published archaeological data are insufficient to permit a rigorous analysis of the relationship between the walled and non-walled sites. Nor can we yet be clear as to the nature of the relationship between the walled compounds in the plains and those on the hilltops. Although Xituanshan-period sherds are found at all sites, the only clear presence of post-Xituanshan remains is at the plains compounds (though there are post-Xituanshan remains at other sites in Jiaohe County outside of our immediate area of interest). It is possible that Xituanshan-period vessels continued to be used at the hilltop sites even into the post-Xituanshan period, whereas the more advanced forms were restricted to the privileged precincts of the plains compounds (that is, the upper strata of the local society monopolized the new forms). Much more data are necessary before the question may be addressed with any certainty. The remains in the Chishui and Songjiang regions reveal a complex community organization spanning the Xituanshan and post-Xituanshan periods. Although sufficient 66. Jiaohexian wenwuzhi 1986, 24.

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control of the chronology of these sites is lacking, it is clear that the overall organization includes a defensive element that does not appear as prominently within the Puyŏ core at Dongtuanshan. Hilltop fortifications are found at other sites in the Jiao and Lafa valleys to the north of the region detailed in the present study.67 The distribution of forts reveals that the network was intended to defend against a southward penetration into the Jiao valley. To the east and northeast of this region (east of the Zhangguangcai 张广 才岭 and Weihu 威虎岭 mountain ranges that separate the counties of Jiaohe and Dunhua), Xituanshan and post-Xituanshan sites do not appear. Instead, those regions host a different set of archaeological cultures that have come to be identified with the historical Yilou people, who occupied the valleys of the Mudan River and its tributaries.68 Based on the distribution of fortified sites, the Yilou or their ancestors evidently posed a threat to the Xituanshan-period societies in the Jiao and Lafa basins. Those societies must have been closely associated with other Xituanshan groups in Jilin (as evidenced by a lack of distinctive regional variation in observed material remains), so it is possible to view the Xituanshan communities in Jiaohe as constituting the eastern periphery of a greater Xituanshan society, of which it formed an integral component. The threat posed by the Yilou may have contributed to the social mechanics that resulted in the emergence of the Puyŏ state, for the creation of defensive networks may necessitate the forging of complex social networks that transcend the channels that would otherwise adequately serve a society of a less complex order.69 Such a network would require, at a minimum, a close working relationship between the Jiaohe periphery and the Jilin core in order to defend against Yilou incursions. Historical texts reveal that at some point prior to the third century the Yilou adjacent to Puyŏ were rendered subject to that state. Such a subjugation would have resulted in a sharp decrease in the immediate threat posed to the Puyŏ communities in Jiaohe. It is therefore possible that as the Puyŏ state stabilized its eastern frontier, the hilltop fortifications were abandoned and the plains compounds were constructed. Such a possibility, though only conjectural, would explain the apparent lack of post-Xituanshan remains at the hilltop sites, whereas post-Xituanshan remains appear at less-protected plains sites.70 67. Dong Xuezeng mentions two other walled sites, at Fengmishan 蜂蜜山 north of Lafa village 拉法 乡, and at Liangkuaidi 两 地 near the headwaters of the Lafa River (Dong Xuezeng 1988). For descriptions of these sites see Jiaohexian wenwuzhi 1986, 77–78, 100–101. 68. For the archaeological remains of the Yilou see Lin Yun 1986b; Jia Weiming and Wei Guozhong 1989. 69. Such a threat could present the same sorts of pressures that circumscription theories of state formation view as the prime movers of social change toward higher degrees of complexity (for a general theory of circumscription and warfare as the agents of social evolution, see Carneiro 1970). A study of Puyŏ state formation must therefore ultimately include an analysis of the contemporary societies surrounding the incipient Puyŏ state. Unfortunately, however, publications describing the archaeological record for the regions immediately adjacent to the eastern extremes of the Xituanshan cultural sphere are as yet insufficient to permit a proper comparative study. 70. Two post-Xituanshan sites appear in open plains without apparent protection against invasion. These are the Zhuanxinhu 转心湖 site in southern Jiaohe about 5 km east of the Songhua River, and the Dongxiaohuangdi 东小荒地 site just to the southeast of Jiaohe city. The ceramic finds at these sites are nearly identical to those found at Dongtuanshan, and the iron implements are, like other postXituanshan specimens, compared to Yan and Han prototypes. See Jiaohexian wenwuzhi 1986, 110–13.

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As a final comment on the Jiaohe sites I would like to draw attention to some peculiarities of construction observed in all of the walled sites in Jiaohe. Although it is reasonable to imagine the fortification of a hilltop by means of digging a channel around the summit and piling the fill up around the interior of the periphery to create a high wall, one might not expect to find a similar technique employed to construct a walled compound in a plain. Nevertheless, the three plains compounds analyzed thus far have been described as artificial raised terraces, upon the peripheries of which earth was raised to create a high wall. Such a technique suggests that wall builders familiar with a long tradition of constructing hilltop fortifications used similar methods to build walled compounds in a flat plain, probably with the design not of defense, but rather of marking off a privileged precinct. Such a development suggests that the rounded, prison-like (to Chinese eyes) walled towns of Puyŏ had their origin in a pre-state tradition of constructing hilltop fortifications.

The Shanghewan Walled Sites The northernmost regions of the counties of Jiutai and Shulan are significant in understanding Puyŏ territorial distribution, for as the Songhua River flows northward beyond those two counties it leaves behind the mountain valleys of the Puyŏ core and enters the vast plains to the north. It is no coincidence that the Qing-period Willow Palisade, which separated Manchuria proper from the Mongol pasture lands, marks this natural division of environment and crosses the Songhua exactly at the northernmost point of contact between Jiutai and Shulan. Although both Xituanshan and post-Xituanshan remains are found north of this transitional region, their distribution is sparse and they bear characteristics that indicate the influence of cultures farther to the northwest. Nevertheless, the area surrounding the intersection of the Willow Palisade and the Songhua River was the site of a substantial Puyŏ occupation—the Laoheshen cemetery analyzed in chapter 4 is in fact located within sight of that intersection. To the west of the Songhua in the northern extremes of Jiutai is the northernmost concentration of hills and mountains in central Jilin. The Willow Palisade runs just to the north of these hills, separating them from the broad plains of Dehui and Yushu counties beyond. Enclosed between hills and palisade is the small town of Shanghewan 上河 湾, which is the site of a significant Xituanshan settlement and an even more substantial defensive network. This network consists of an array of hilltop forts similar to those of Jiaohe, and though the heaviest concentration of such forts centers on Shanghewan, the network is in fact much more extensive and covers both sides of the Songhua as far south as the northern suburbs of Jilin. The following analysis will focus first on the Shanghewan array and continue with a brief description of the more extensive network. The Xituanshan remains at Shanghewan (called the Bazhong site 八中 址) represent a typical Xituanshan settlement of medium size. Although it has not been excavated, the surface scatter covers an area of 100 m by 500 m on the west bank of the Shanghewan stream, which now flows northward into a small lake north of the Willow Palisade.71 This 71. For a brief description of the Bazhong site, see Jiutaixian wenwuzhi 1986, 19.

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Fig. 6.6. Distribution of walled sites at Shanghewan and in the Songhua valley.

stream originates in the high mountains to the south of the town. From the eastern mountains of this small range another stream flows eastward into the Songhua, and a third stream flows from the western mountains northward to the Mushi River 沐石河, which continues to the northwest until it flows into the Songhua. On the hilltops overlooking these streams and the plains to the north are a series of small walled fortifications, which may be divided into three clusters, each consisting of several forts, at least one of which is directly visible from each of the others (fig. 6.6). Directly to the south of the town, one enters the hills and reaches an area where three streams converge to form the Shanghewan stream. Overlooking the valley at this place are three walled forts. To the east of the convergence, on a northern extension of a mountain that rises 337 m above sea level, is the fort of Dongjiatun Dongshan 董家屯 东山 (fig. 6.7). This fort sits on a prominence along the mountain ridge with a view of the valley to the west. It is constructed of mixed earth and stone in an irregular oval plan (plates 32–33). Like the forts at Jiaohe, the walls of this fort were created by excavating a channel around the hilltop and piling the fill up along the interior of the channel. The walls rise about 5 m

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Fig. 6.7. Layout of the Dongjiatun site. After Jiutaixian wenwuzhi 1984, 85.

high on the outside and about 1 m on the interior, forming an enclosure with a north– south diameter of 37 m and an east–west diameter of 21 m. There is no sign of a gate. Within the enclosure at least ten circular depressions are visible in the ground and are thought to be the traces of semi-subterranean dwelling chambers. Each of the depressions measures about 4 m in diameter, and they are spaced evenly throughout the interior of the compound. About 1 kilometer to the northwest of the Dongjiatun site, on a hilltop rising to the west of the Shanghewan stream, is another fort at Shiyangling 石羊岭. This enclosure is structurally similar to the previous example, but it sits on a broader and less rocky hilltop at an elevation of 282 m, so it is built mostly of earth on less precipitous terrain. It is nearly round in aspect, with a diameter of 36 to 37 m. In its interior are eighteen depressions of various dimensions (diameters of 6 to 7 m) spaced evenly throughout. Although the hilltop is now heavily wooded, an observer could otherwise have a clear view of the Dongjiatun site directly across the valley. Directly to the south of the Shiyangling site, at a distance of about 1 kilometer, is the largest walled site in the Shanghewan region. Called the Huaidetang Houshan 怀德堂

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后山 site, this fort sits on a high precipice overlooking the valley to the east and south. The mountaintop rises to an elevation of 335 m and directly overlooks the Dongjiatun site across the valley. Its walls were constructed of mixed earth and stone, though the southwestern portions of the site are formed of the natural cliff rather than an artificial wall. The walled compound stretches 102 m east and west and 66 m north and south. Over fifty depressions are found in its interior. Very few artifacts are found on the surface of these sites, but those that have been recovered during archaeological surveys have included coarse sherds and vessel feet and stone implements typical of Xituanshan culture. Local residents have additionally reported finds of iron arrowheads and cauldrons at the sites.72 The three sites appear to date to the Xituanshan period and their occupation may have continued into the postXituanshan period. They may have been associated with the settlement in the plain to the north, but such a relationship has not yet been determined. The three hilltop sites were obviously meant to act as a unit, with the Dongjiatun site serving as the node of visual communication among the three. Huaidetang is clearly an important site based on its size and strategic location. The three sites together command the central valleys south of Shanghewan and overlook the settlement to the north. They also obtain an unobstructed view over the plains farther to the north. Strategically they are very well placed to guard the northern approach to the Puyŏ heartland. To the west of this trio of sites at least two other walled forts of similar construction are found overlooking the valleys that lead to the north by way of the village of Wutai 五台.73 A number of settlements of the Xituanshan period are scattered around the vicinity of these western forts. On the eastern end of the range are another four sites that guard the approach nearest the Songhua River. Of these the site at Gaolifang Nanshan 高丽房 山 is interesting in that it sits atop a high but gently rounded hill facing the plains to the north (plates 34–35). Though it was built on less harsh terrain than the other sites, its method of construction is identical to that seen elsewhere. To its southeast the site of Huashuzuizi 桦树嘴子 sits perched on a prominent ridge overlooking a wide vista to the north and east. Like the forts at Jiaohe, the Shanghewan defense array seems designed to maintain a watch on the plains to the north and forms a first line of defense against an attack from that direction. These forts are positioned along the entire northern face of the massif that stretches in an east–west direction across the northern parts of Jiutai. On the opposite shore of the Songhua, in Shulan County, a similar fortified hilltop is to be found at Huangyujuan 黄鱼圈, the site of an important Xituanshan settlement excavated in 1980 and 1981.74 Although the county gazetteer assigns it (apparently without evidence) to the 72. Jilinsheng Wenhuaju Qunzhong Wenhuachu 1961. A 1960 survey recovered tripod feet from the Dongjiatun site, coarse sherds and vessel handles from the Huaidetang site, and stone axes, coarse red sherds, and vessel feet and handles from the Shiyangling site. Local residents reported finding an iron cauldron, iron arrowheads, and ceramic bowls at the Dongjiatun site. 73. These are the sites of Houshan 后山 and Qian Huangtuyaizi 前黄土崖子. Other walled sites in this area are listed in Jilinsheng Wenhuaju Qunzhong Wenhuachu 1961, but these do not appear in the local gazetteer. 74. Shulanxian wenwuzhi 1985, 23–28, 43–44, 54–55.

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Liao-Jin period, the walled site is clearly of a kind with the Shanghewan forts, and its location in the midst of a recognized Xituanshan settlement should reinforce this view. The Huangyujuan fort sits atop a solitary prominence directly on the riverbank and appears to be the easternmost outpost of the northern defense line. Roughly 25 km to the south of the small mountain range at Shanghewan is another, much more extensive range that runs from the southwest to the northeast. This is the Daheishan range, which stretches from the north of Shenyang, passes just to the north of the Erlonghu site, and continues in a northeasterly direction, passing between the cities of Jiutai and Jilin. This range forms what would have been the second line of defense north of the Puyŏ capital, and it would not be surprising to find that portions of this range near the Songhua are heavily fortified. In the southern parts of Jiutai on the shores of the Songhua there are several hilltop forts overlooking the river and the broad valley to the north. One prominent example is the Songjiangshan 松江山 site, which sits on a hill rising sharply over the west bank of the Songhua, and which represents the easternmost prominence of the Daheishan range west of the Songhua. To the north and west of this site are several other walled forts of similar construction. Although several of these are listed in the local gazetteer as constructs of the Liao-Jin period, they were undoubtedly originally built in a much earlier time (though they may have been occupied during the later period). Similarly, several walled forts in Yongji County to the south appear to be parts of the Puyŏ defense network, though they are often assigned rather arbitrarily to the Liao-Jin period.75 To the east of the Songhua, in the southern part of Shulan, there is a single hilltop fort close to the riverbank. This is the Xiaochengzi 小城子 site on the low northern extension to the dominant Fenghuang Mountain 凤凰山 (plates 36–37). This walled site lies on a direct line traced by the propagation of the Daheishan array, but it appears to be the sole outpost of this defense line east of the river. It was built on a gently sloping hilltop overlooking the river valley to the north and west. Its construction resembles that of the Shanghewan forts, but there are two differences. First, its walls are constructed mostly of earth, which probably reflects the ready availability of loose soil in the vicinity. Second, there is clear evidence of a complex gate structure in the southeastern part of the wall.76 Within the compound is a site belonging to Xituanshan culture, and the usual assortment of ceramic sherds may be found there as surface scatter.77 The walls form a 75. Dong Xuezeng made a similar observation in his report on the Jiaohe sites (Dong Xuezeng 1988). The sites he indicates in Yongji are all said to date to the Liao-Jin period despite the clear presence of a Xituanshan context. One of these sites (the Liutiaogou 柳条沟 site) is part of the Daheishan array, and the others overlook the Yinma River 饮马河 (the Xinantun 西 屯 and Xishanwan 西山湾 sites) or sit close on the approach to the capital itself (the Piaoer 漂尔 and Huangzigou 榥子沟 sites). 76. Shulanxian wenwuzhi 1985, 52–54. 77. Shulanxian wenwuzhi 1985, 21–22. The compilers of this gazetteer resist assigning the walled compounds at Huangyujuan and Xiaochengzi to the Xituanshan period, preferring to see them as part of a Liao-period defense network they believe to have been in this area. Nevertheless, the descriptions provided in that work indicate that though a few Liao-Jin remains were found at Huangyujuan, they are secondary in quantity to the Xituanshan remains, and only Xituanshan remains are found at Xiaochengzi. Furthermore, the Liao defenses described in historical records, which the authors of the

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circuit with a partial circumference of 405 m, though part of the compound is bordered by a rocky cliff instead of an earthen wall. Within the compound are more than thirty depressions of various shapes and sizes. The network typified by the Shanghewan array represents a fairly sophisticated matrix of fortresses designed to serve as a first and second line of defense against penetration from the north. Historical texts provide no clear evidence as to what groups such defenses might have been designed to protect against. Given the environment of the region north of the Willow Palisade, however, it is evident that such lands were most likely the home of pastoral nomads such as the Xianbei of the first centuries ce.78 The meager archaeological data from these fortress sites suggest that their occupation spanned the late periods of the Xituanshan period and into the post-Xituanshan period. By the first or second centuries ce Puyŏ communities would be settled beyond the northernmost line of defense as far as the Lalin River 拉林河.79 This may indicate that as the Puyŏ state matured, it settled the lands beyond its old defensive line. On the other hand, it is equally possible that such settlements may have still required the protection of the old defense array—further archaeological work will help to answer this question. The Jiaohe and Shanghewan defense networks demonstrate the existence of regions of territorial circumscription and stress along the northern and eastern peripheries of the late Xituanshan and early post-Xituanshan cultural spheres. In these regions there is clear evidence of a need to defend against incursion from outside. Such incursion might have been motivated by a desire to raid the prospering agricultural communities in the Songhua and Jiao valleys for their resources. The regions to the northeast of Jiaohe were heavily forested and mountainous, which would have limited agriculture, and the regions north of Shanghewan would have permitted only a pastoral economy. Communities of either environment might have been tempted at times to encroach on the prosperity of the sedentary agriculturists in the valleys. As the political center in Jilin grew stronger and wealthier, the need for defense from outside incursion would have become more critical. The process of creating a stronger and more centralized military force would itself have furthered the process toward the creation of a centralized state. These defense networks concentrate on the northern and eastern frontiers of the Puyŏ state and its pre-state predecessors. Similar fortified remains may be found scattered throughout other regions to the south and west of the Puyŏ core, but there are only two other areas known to have concentrated remains of a similar network of forts. The location of the first area is surprising at first since it is far from the core at Jilin, but when we consider the historical events that are likely to have catalyzed evolutionary processes within the gazetteer equate with walled remains in the Shulan region, are much more likely, in my view, to have been located far to the northwest, in the Songyuan region. 78. Support for such an association with nomadic peoples such as the Xianbei can be seen in the Xianbei confederation under Tanshihuai in the second century ce, during which time it was noted that Tanshihuai’s territories extended eastward to Puyŏ. See Hou Hanshu 90:2989–90 (Account of the Xianbei). 79. These sites are all located in the county of Yushu. These include several settlement and cemetery sites south of the Lalin River as well as several other sites along the eastern banks of the Songhua, the cemetery at Laoheshen being a well-studied example. See Yushuxian wenwuzhi 1983, 27–31, 68–74.

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Xituanshan communities, the existence of this defense array is quite understandable. I am referring to a series of defensive networks arrayed in the region straddling the LiaoningJilin border, with a zone of concentration in the valleys of Qingyuan County in northeastern Liaoning.

The Qingyuan Walled Sites The distribution of hilltop defenses possibly associated with early Puyŏ in northeastern Liaoning is difficult to plot due to the extremely uneven reporting of archaeological sites in that province.80 Nevertheless, currently published reports reveal the existence of a number of hilltop sites in the county of Qingyuan. At least six of the walled sites listed in the county gazetteer are thought to date to the Han period or earlier based on analysis of surface remains, though three others of similar construction have not yet been assigned a date of construction.81 Although the gazetteer provides only a very brief description of the sites, they are clearly similar to the forts of Jiaohe and Shanghewan in terms of their scale, construction, and placement. They are all earth and stone constructions in oblong plan crowning the summits of low hills, ranging in circumference from about 150 to over 600 m. At least one (Zhangjiagou 张家沟) consists of inner and outer concentric walls. Descriptions of pottery sherds and other surface scatter reveal little without diagrams or analysis, but it is worth noting the existence of iron farming implements at one site (Shuanglazi 双砬子) and dou pedestal stems at another (Gaolicheng 高力城), both of which suggest dates from the Yan to Han periods. The walled sites at Qingyuan all fall within the geographical sphere of the Liangquan culture, though it is currently unclear whether the ceramic remains associated with the sites belong to that culture. A distribution diagram of the sites reveals that they were positioned to monitor the valley of the Hunhe River and its tributaries, the upper valleys of the Chai 柴河 and Qing 清河 rivers, and the headwaters of the Yangshu River 杨树河 (fig. 6.8).82 In other words, the forts were strategically placed to guard against incursion from the south and west, which would have been territories of the Liaodong commandery of Yan, Qin, and Han. Significantly, most of these fortifications are located on the northern face of Gunmaling 滚马岭 Mountain, south of which flows the Suzi River, which had marked the northern frontier of the second Xuantu Commandery from 75 bce to ca. 106 ce. The array of forts seems to have been deliberately 80. Unlike Jilin Province, Liaoning has yet to publish a uniform set of archaeological gazetteers for each county and municipality in the province. For this research I have consulted the cultural remains chapters of the official gazetteers of Changtu, Xifeng, Qingyuan, Xinbin, and Fushun (both the city and the municipality). Reporting among these volumes is inconsistent, ranging from fairly detailed to very summary descriptions of sites. The Liaoning volume of the Zhongguo wenwu dituji lists some of the hilltop walled site in Qingyuan, but it dates many of them to the Ming period, even though surface scatter consistently indicates a Warring States or Han-period chronology. 81. See Qingyuanxian zhi 1991, 534. 82. Fig. 6.8 is based on data provided in Qingyuanxian zhi 1991, 533–36, and on Xiao Jingquan 2000a, as well as my own research conducted in the Xinbin region. The placement of the Han defense towers in the figure is estimated based on Xiao’s report, but is only an approximation.

Fig. 6.8. Distribution of Qingyuan sites and Han fortifications.

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placed to form a protective front against Liaodong and, especially, Xuantu. Such hilltop forts do not seem to appear south of the Xuantu frontier marked by the valley of the Suzi River and by the middle reaches of the Hunhe River west of its confluence with the Suzi (see fig. 2.8). Although the construction dates and the specific archaeological context of these walled sites remain unclear, their structural similarity to the Jiaohe and Shanghewan hilltop forts and their strategic orientation guarding against northeastward incursions from Liaodong and Xuantu suggest that they were built to counter the military presence of Yan, Qin, and Han. If this interpretation is correct, the forts’ date of construction would lie between the third and first centuries bce, or in the early formative phase of the Puyŏ state. The presence of iron implements and dou stems would support this view. Further support comes from an analysis of other hilltop fortifications in regions to the north of Qingyuan. As these latter sites are located in Jilin Province, more detailed archaeological data are available.

The Dongliao Walled Sites The county of Dongliao encompasses the entire drainage system that forms the headwaters of the Dongliao River. The major tributaries converge at the city of Liaoyuan, which occupies the core of Dongliao County. Several fortified settlements overlook the valley at Liaoyuan, most of which date to the Koguryŏ occupation of the region, though some appear to have been major settlement sites associated with the Liangquan culture. At least six other hilltop forts in the surrounding county of Dongliao, however, date to the Liangquan period, as attested by the presence of Liangquan ceramic types and iron farming tools. Three of these sites lie in the valleys to the east of Liaoyuan, and all are associated with nearby settlements dated to the Liangquan period.83 Three other walled sites occupy the tributaries of the Dongliao River to the northwest of Liaoyuan, and their strategic placement makes them worthy of additional analysis (fig. 6.9). Of the three northwestern walled sites, information concerning the Majiagou 马家沟 site is relatively detailed (fig. 6.10).84 This fortification was constructed on a hill overlooking the Toudao River 头道河, which flows westward into the Dongliao River. The walls were built of mixed earth and stone in roughly circular plan. On the north and east an outer wall extends outward from the inner wall, affording additional protection. A single gate site is marked by an 8-meter gap in the southern part of the wall. The inner wall runs a circuit of some 220 m, its diameter ranging from 60 to 80 m, and the outer wall extends for 135 m, its distance from the inner wall ranging from 6 to 10 m. Material remains found on the surface within the walls include pottery sherds belonging to the

83. These are the walled sites at Kangning Houshan 康宁 后山, Changzhi Gaolishantou 长治 高丽山 头, and Zhoujia Dashan 周家 大山 (also called Dachengshan 大山城). For their locations and descriptions see Dongliaoxian wenwuzhi 1988, 183–84, 185–87, 187–88. 84. See Dongliaoxian wenwuzhi 1988, 180–83.

Fig. 6.9. Distribution of walled sites in the Dongliao valley. A: Erlonghu site; B: Chengzishan; C: Majiagou; D: Laodaolu.

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Fig. 6.10. Layout of the Majiagou site. After Dongliaoxian wenwuzhi 1988, 181.

Wanghua and Liangquan cultures.85 Significantly, two iron digging tools were also found, suggesting the influence of the Yan expansion into Liaodong (quite possibly via trade conducted with the nearby Yan settlement at Erlonghu). The report in the Dongliao gazetteer suggests that the walled site itself was constructed during the Yan to Han periods on top of an earlier Bronze Age settlement. The second fortified site is the Laodaolu 老道炉 hilltop fortress located about 12 km to the southwest of the Majiagou site, on a low hill overlooking the Dongliao River and

85. The gazetteer report identifies these sherds as falling into three different cultural groups. The first is associated with the Lower Xinle culture, which the report identifies as a Neolithic culture. The second is a bronze culture associated with a ceramic assemblage that includes dou pedestals, though I suspect that this culture actually encompasses both the Wanghua and Liangquan phases of the Liaoyuan region. The third culture is identified specifically with the “Culture Three” of central Jilin, which as we have seen is associated with the Paoziyan culture that succeeded the Xituanshan culture.

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its tributary Erdaohezi River 二道河子.86 This site is similar in construction to the Majiagou fort, consisting of a double wall. Since its southern and eastern faces adjoined rock cliffs, no walls were necessary in those areas. The northern wall has been leveled by plow, leaving only the western wall, which is 115 m in length. Material remains found at the site are similar to those found at Majiagou, including a fragment of an iron adz. The third site is located on the Chengzishan 城子山 hill at Kaoshan 靠山, about 4 km to the north of Majiagou.87 This badly damaged fort was also constructed in a nearly circular plan with inner and outer walls. The inner wall runs a circuit of 180 m, with a gate site in its western face. The outer wall is 270 m in circumference and lies at a distance of 10 to 15 m from the inner wall. The site was later occupied during the Liao and Jin periods, but an abundance of sherds testify to its occupation during the late Bronze Age. These three fortress sites all appear to date to a period ranging from the Yan expansion of the third century bce to about the first century ce. They demonstrate a continuation of local traditions with evidence of some infusion of iron technology introduced, directly or indirectly, from Yan, Qin, and Han. Although the double-walled construction differs slightly from the forts in Shanghewan, Jiaohe, and Qingyuan, they nevertheless closely resemble those sites in terms of scale, plan, chronology, and material remains. The three forts northwest of Liaoyuan lie on the northwestern perimeter of a dense concentration of sites associated with the Liangquan culture. Their location overlooking the Dongliao River and its eastern tributaries suggests they were so placed to guard against intrusion from the west. This is particularly significant in that the Erlonghu walled site lies on the Dongliao River just to the west of the hilltop fortresses at an average distance of only eighteen kilometers (fig. 6.9). The three forts are strategically positioned so that any eastward advance from the direction of Erlonghu could be monitored. Since the Erlonghu site dates from the late Yan to the Western Han periods, it is likely, given the geographical layout of sites, that the hilltop forts were constructed in response to the presence of the Yan town at Erlonghu. Such an interpretation seems more likely in that there is no evidence of any hilltop forts farther to the north or west. If the above interpretation is correct, then the sites in northwestern Dongliao represent clear evidence of a point of contact between the indigenous societies and the intrusive Yan occupation. Further evidence of interchange may be seen in the fact that the iron farming tools found at the Dongliao forts are nearly identical in form to those Yan specimens found in storage caches at the Erlonghu site. The presence of iron implements and Yan-style ceramic types is suggestive of trade relations, as already noted, but the placement of fortified settlements to guard the valleys east of Erlonghu implies that such relations had been negotiated on the basis of both parties’ potential for military force. The three forts were placed to guard the approach to the Liaoyuan region, where the various headwaters of the Dongliao River converge. This region hosted a particularly dense concentration of communities associated with the Liangquan culture, which suggests that the communities concentrated around Liaoyuan were among the first indigenous groups associated with Puyŏ to receive the influence of Yan technologies. The region’s importance 86. See Dongliaoxian wenwuzhi 1988, 184–85. 87. See Dongliaoxian wenwuzhi 1988, 190.

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during the later Puyŏ period is evident in the fact that the rich cemeteries at Shiyi lie along one of the southern headwaters of the Dongliao River only twenty kilometers south of Liaoyuan. Such evidence implies that the Liaoyuan region played a key role in the formation of the Puyŏ state and even suggests that the region may have served as an early locus of Puyŏ political authority.

Walled Defenses as Frontier Markers The fortified regions described above all concentrate in sensitive areas marking routes into what became the interior of the Puyŏ state, and all seem designed to defend against penetration from outside. The forts typically sit on the summits of low hills overlooking strategic valley routes, and often several forts may be arranged to interact as a network. Most of the walled compounds are small, sufficient in size to accommodate only a few soldiers, who most likely resided within the fort. Occasionally a large-scale fort dominates a region. Some of these larger forts could support a contingent of soldiers many times the size of that of the smaller forts. Most of the hilltop defenses lie near a plains settlement dating to the bronze period or later, and it is possible that the troops stationed in the forts drew their provisions from those settlements. The primary function of the forts appears to have been to monitor strategic routes into population centers and perhaps to provide an initial line of resistance in the event of invasion. The formidable mounted armies of the later Puyŏ state, attested both in historical texts and in archaeological evidence, are not likely to have been based at these small outposts. The hilltop forts do not easily reveal their date of construction, nor should we assume them all necessarily to have been constructed simultaneously. Pottery sherds associated with the forts are often described as dating to the Xituanshan or Wanghua periods, though other sherds clearly date to the later post-Xituanshan and Liangquan periods.88 Yan-style iron tools found at some sites indicate a terminus post quem corresponding to the time of Yan expansion in the third century bce, though the forts themselves could conceivably predate that period by a considerable margin. Judging from the defensive placement of the Qingyuan and Dongliao Fortress arrays, however, it is unlikely that their construction predates the Yan expansion, and the Qingyuan defenses could even date to the period after the second establishment of Xuantu Commandery in 75 bce. The construction dates for the forts at Shanghewan and Jiaohe are more difficult to determine since we lack substantiated evidence of any dated historical events that might have prompted their construction. Sparse ceramic evidence will be of little use in dating the construction of these forts since the use of early indigenous pottery types in these outlying regions may have continued long after the newer externally-influenced types became 88. It is important to note here that any transition from Xituanshan to post-Xituanshan, or Wanghua to Liangquan, is not likely to have been either rapid or total. A very gradual change over centuries is more likely to have been the case, with different areas undergoing change at different rates. It is also important to acknowledge that the two regional transitions, if indeed they occurred as such, were not necessarily contemporary events, though the processes are not likely to have been initiated much more than a century apart.

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prominent in the urban centers. Only systematic excavation of some of the fortress sites is likely to provide an absolute chronology for these defensive outposts. Establishing a chronology of the construction of these hilltop forts would greatly facilitate our understanding of the Puyŏ state-formation process. If the structures were all built as early as the third century bce, then social stratification and centralization of political authority are likely already to have developed to a considerable degree by the time of the Yan expansion. Even if the individual arrays represent regional efforts, their similarity of design and construction with no evident developmental prototype implies the direction of a central authority, or at least a closely coordinated effort over long distances. If, however, the different arrays were constructed at different times, a less broadreaching control over resources would have been sufficient.89 With a reliable chronology of these fortified sites one could address the question of how the two primary regions, provisionally represented by two different but related archaeological cultures, came to be subsumed under a single polity. We might then test the hypothesis proposed by some scholars that the locus of the Puyŏ polity shifted at some time prior to the first century ce from the Liaoyuan region to the Jilin region.90 Much more archaeological work will be necessary before such issues may be addressed. Publication of work already completed will most likely provide a specific range of dates for the Dongtuanshan and Maoershan sites, and the quickened pace of work within the Liangquan sphere promises a more accurate description of that poorly understood culture in the years to come. This study of defense arrays allows us to pose meaningful questions regarding the formation of the Puyŏ state, with the expectation that archaeological data to be provided in the near future will permit progress toward answering those questions. Furthermore, based on the distribution of walled defenses, it is possible to estimate the territorial scope maintained by the fully developed Puyŏ state. Such a method reveals a lozenge-shaped layout generally aligned along an axis stretching between Jilin and Liaoyuan, which resemble the two nodes of an ellipse drawn on the map (fig. 6.11). In the northeast defenses were established to guard the capital region against incursions from the nomadic groups to the north and from the forest-dwelling Yilou groups to the east. In the southwest arrays were placed to protect against military advances by Yan, Qin, and Han. The 89. For example, the Dongliao forts might have been constructed by a relatively small regional authority in the third century bce to counter the Yan expansion. The Qingyuan array could have been built based on the Dongliao model a century or two later by the same regional authority, now expanded to wield influence over that southern region. If the same authority eventually expanded to include the central Jilin region, the Shanghewan and Jiaohe arrays might then have been built upon the same model. This is little more than speculation, but it illustrates the impact of chronology upon our understanding of Puyŏ state formation. 90. See Sun Jinji and Wang Mianhou, eds. 1989, 257–60, where such a proposal is made based upon a different set of criteria. Such a scenario would explain many apparent historical anomalies, such as the question of how Koguryŏ could have attacked the Puyŏ core early in the first century (this might even suggest a motivation for a shift in the locus of Puyŏ authority). Elements of the Puyŏ foundation myth, such as the migration theme, might also be explained if such a shift had occurred. This is, of course, more speculation, but a better control over the chronology of the sites in question would easily allow us to test the hypothesis. For a more recent study that may shed light on early population movements northward away from the Liaoyuan region, see Zhao Junjie and Jin Xudong 2014.

Fig. 6.11. Distribution of sites and frontier defense networks of the Puyŏ state.

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evident lack of similar defensive structures in the northwest and southeast may reflect an absence of external threat in those regions, and the extent of Puyŏ influence in those directions is more difficult to determine.91 This proposed layout of Puyŏ territories finds support in the written record as well, as will be demonstrated in appendix A.

Summary There are certain advantages to be derived from a comparative analysis of how the Puyŏ people were depicted in historical writings and what the archaeological record reveals about their society and culture. As history and archaeology ask different types of questions and expect different kinds of answers, with some degree of overlap, it is useful to examine both aspects of a given society to derive complementary views of a single subject. This chapter has analyzed Puyŏ society from a variety of perspectives, ranging from social organization and custom to territorial distribution of settlements. The results permit a clearer image of Puyŏ society than would have been possible without this multidisciplinary comparative approach. A study of Puyŏ social customs and organization indicates that Puyŏ society was authoritarian and highly stratified, and its people were guided by a keen sense of morality and justice and adhered to a code of etiquette that even the Han and Wei Chinese found admirable. The Puyŏ kingship was hereditary and normally held throughout the monarch’s lifetime, but the king could be deposed in the event of natural calamity, illustrating Puyŏ belief in a connection between their leader and the cosmos. The perceived divinity of the king is apparent also in the foundation myth of the state, which both credits the king with divine ancestry and attributes to the king and the ruling elite an alien affiliation. The claim of the leadership to be the descendents of refugees from another place seems to have held much significance within Puyŏ society, a concept that was later shared by other states following in Puyŏ’s wake, as will be discussed in further detail in the concluding chapter. A study of the distribution of Puyŏ defense networks is useful in placing Puyŏ geographically and in revealing zones of stress marking territorial boundaries, control over which was based on shows of force and negotiation. From its political center at Dongtuanshan in Jilin, Puyŏ territory extended throughout central Jilin and included portions of northeastern Liaoning. The southwestern and northeastern frontiers of the Puyŏ state were guarded by networks of hilltop defense outposts, which appear to have been established during the state’s formative period. Their placement indicates that Puyŏ territorial 91. There are a few more hilltop fortresses similar to the ones treated in this study. They are located in the county of Panshi to the northeast of Dongliao, and most of them lie along the north-flowing Yinma River. Many of them are apparently associated with nearby bronze-period settlements, but there is little consensus regarding the dating of the forts themselves. They lie about midway between Liaoyuan and Jilin, and their function is not clear to me. They may represent a period of discord between the Jilin and Dongliao societies, or they may have had some other military purpose. They may date to a time later than the Puyŏ period.

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control was maintained against threats posed by the Yan and Han Chinese to the southwest, the nomadic Xianbei groups to the north and west, and by the Yilou to the east. This is suggestive of territorial circumscription, which is often discussed as a factor in state formation and also as a factor in the emergence of ethnic identity. I will argue in the final chapter of this study that such circumscription and long-distance trade constitute two significant factors involved in the development of Puyŏ as a secondary state.

Ch a p t er Sev en

Post-Conquest Puyŏ Survivals

T

he series of misfortunes culminating in the final Murong assault on Puyŏ in 346 shattered what remained of that state’s government structure and resulted in a widespread dispersal of its populations. Although the state itself ceased to exist as an independent polity at this time, its people and its name continued to appear in historical records in a variety of forms and circumstances for many centuries, down to the present. This chapter will explore these later historical manifestations of Puyŏ, focusing on three primary topics. These topics include the dispersal of the Puyŏ people, the struggle for control over former Puyŏ territory, and the persistence of the Puyŏ name as political cachet wielded by later state-builders asserting claims of political or cultural legitimacy in Manchuria and Korea. Although the foundation myths of some of these later states maintained that those states were founded by Puyŏ refugees, such claims cannot easily be demonstrated to have a historical basis. It is possible instead that the leaders of later states had much to gain by creating fictive associations between themselves and the legacy of Puyŏ.

The Dispersal of Populations The invasion of Puyŏ that preceded the 346 strike delivered by Murong Huang had already severely disrupted the Puyŏ social organization.1 The many captives carried away by the Xianbei armies would therefore have been for the most part groups who were

1. Zizhi tongjian 97:3069 (Mudi, Yonghe 2/1) notes that after the earlier assault the populations of Puyŏ’s villages dispersed and scattered, and some groups, including the ruling elite, “moved westward near Yan but did not set up defenses.” As noted previously, surviving sources do not specify the year of the pre-346 invasion.

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already displaced and disoriented prior to the Xianbei invasion. In addition to those Puyŏ remnants removed to Murong-held territories in 346, historical sources indicate that some Puyŏ groups fled to the north, whereas others appear to have withdrawn to the Okchŏ region in the east. Still other groups remained in the former Puyŏ territories and continued to live under Koguryŏ domination. In this section three instances of Puyŏ migration will be addressed, including the activities of Puyŏ elites in central China, the Damolou refugees in Heilongjiang, and the Eastern Puyŏ groups who withdrew to the Tumen valley.

Puyŏ Elites in the Central Plains As discussed above, in 346 the king of the Former Yan state, Murong Huang, sent his sons Jün and Ke against the vulnerable Puyŏ refugee encampments and quickly overwhelmed them. The Puyŏ captives, said to have numbered in excess of fifty thousand, constituted a very significant proportion of the total Puyŏ population, and though that number included the Puyŏ king Hyŏn and the remainder of his court, the far greater percentage must have represented peasant populations. These captives were removed to supplement the sparsely populated territories held by the Murong, which in 346 included the commanderies of Changli, Liaodong, and the northern part of Liaoxi, an area that approximates the extent of today’s Liaoning Province.2 Beginning in 349, however, the Murong surged southward and in less than half a decade had taken the North China plain, an event that brought into being the first of several Murong independent states headed by claimants for sovereignty over all of China. As the Murong moved into central China, the captured Puyŏ populations moved with them, and historical records allow us to trace the activities of a few Puyŏ elite individuals as their fortunes paced the vicissitudes of a succession of Murong states. Murong Huang did not long survive the destruction he wrought upon the remnants of the Puyŏ state, for he died in 349 and was succeeded by his son Jün 儁, who shortly afterward commenced the invasions of North China.3 In 350 the Yan capital was removed from Longcheng 龍城 to the city of Ji 薊 (Beijing) after the Later Zhao territories in the Central Plains had been secured. Murong Jün broke all pretense of loyalty to the Eastern Jin court in 353 by declaring himself to be emperor, and in 357 he moved his capital again to the city of Ye 鄴 (near Anyang) in central China.4 The fortunes of Former Yan turned upon the death of Murong Jün in 360, for the new emperor, Murong Wei 慕容暐, was an eleven-year-old child subject to the influence of competing factions within the Murong leadership. Yan’s authority was maintained for a time due to the effective regency of Murong Ke and the military prowess of his younger brother, Murong Chui 慕容垂 (326– 2. The portions of the old Liaoxi Commandery that lay to the south of today’s Shanhaiguan were in 346 still held by Later Zhao, which fell into disorder in 349 and collapsed the following year. Murong Huang’s territories in 346 were limited to an area somewhat lesser in extent than today’s Liaoning Province. 3. Jün had directed the 346 attack on Puyŏ. For a survey of the history of the Former Yan state in English, see Schreiber 1949–55 and 1956. 4. Ye had served as the capital of the Later Zhao state.

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396). With the death of Ke in 367, however, the regency fell to the less competent Murong Ping 慕容評. When factional disputes between Ping and Chui resulted in the flight and surrender of the latter to Fu Jian 苻堅, leader of the Former Qin 前秦 state (351–94) to Yan’s west, there remained little to forestall Qin’s military advances against Yan.5 In 370 Fu Jian’s armies laid siege to the Yan capital at Ye, and on the evening of December 11, the Yan leadership having fled and scattered, a group of hostages opened the northern gates of the city and received the Qin army, marking the end of the Former Yan state.6 Their leader was a Puyŏ man named Yŏ Ul 餘蔚, who is said to have led forth a group of more than five hundred hostages of Puyŏ, Koguryŏ, and Shangdang 上黨 to open the gates.7 The Xianbei had compelled influential leaders of non-Xianbei groups to lodge relatives as hostages at the Yan capital as a guarantee of loyalty, hence their presence at Ye and their readiness to surrender to Qin.8 Although the Zizhi tongjian account of the event reveals nothing more than Yŏ Ul’s name, the commentary of Hu Sanxing 胡 三省 (1230–1302), relying on unnamed sources no longer extant, identifies Ul as a son of the Puyŏ king and notes that he had been taken captive in 346.9 The presence of Yŏ Ul at Ye suggests that his father had been granted the title King of Puyŏ under Yan and had maintained a position of eminence, at least nominally, though he held his title at the forbearance of the Murong leader. The extant sources are not explicit with regard to whether Yŏ Ul was the son of the Puyŏ king Hyŏn taken in 346. However, since Hyŏn was married to the daughter of Murong Huang, from whom he was granted a title (General of the Garrison Army 鎮軍 將軍), he could therefore have enjoyed a position of dignity under Yan rule as long as he remained loyal to his captors. Such loyalty would be assured as long as his son and heir was kept as hostage in the Yan capital. It is therefore possible that Ul, who had been taken captive along with Hyŏn in 346, was in fact the scion of the last independent ruler of Puyŏ. Although Ul’s status under Former Yan seems to have been limited to that of hos-

5. See Jinshu 123:3078 (Biography of Murong Chui). Fu Jian is said to have restrained himself from military aggression against Yan because of the formidability of Ke and Chui. With the former now dead and the latter in his service, Fu Jian hastened to move against his eastern adversary. Fu Jian’s career is treated in Rogers 1968. 6. Dates given in Chinese texts cited here employ either the lunar month and day or the sexagenary cycle. I have converted them to the Gregorian calendar to provide a sense of the season and, when applicable, of the passage of time between sequential events. 7. Zizhi tongjian 102:3236 (Haixigong, Taihe 5/11): 戊寅, 燕散騎侍郎餘蔚帥扶餘, 高句麗及上黨質 子五百餘人, 夜開鄴北門納秦兵. Murong Ping fled northward and sought refuge with Koguryŏ. The Koguryŏ king, who can be expected to have had little affection for the Murong, promptly handed Ping over to the Qin troops. Ping was then lodged at the Qin capital at Changan. See Zizhi tongjian 102:3237 (Haixigong, Taihe 5/11); Samguk sagi 18:165 (Koguryŏ Annals, Kogugwŏn 40). 8. This is illustrated in Hu Sanxing’s annotation to the Zizhi tongjian account of these events: “When Yan sent its troops to garrison Shangdang, it seized the sons and brothers of its leaders and retained them as hostages in Ye” 燕蓋遣兵戍上黨, 取其子弟留於鄴以為質. See Zizhi tongjian 102:3236 (Haixigong, Taihe 5/11). 9. Zizhi tongjian 102:3236 (Haixigong, Taihe 5/11): 餘蔚, 扶餘王子, 故陰率諸質子開門以納秦兵; 108:3427 (Wudi, Taiyuan 21/5): 餘蔚, 夫餘王子也, 燕王皝破夫餘得之, 燕亡, 入秦, 秦亂, 復歸燕, 燕 主垂封為扶餘王.

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tage (indicating that his father was still living and subject to Yan), he fared better under Former Qin rule. There is evidence that he was granted the title King of Puyŏ under Qin, which suggests that his father either had died or had otherwise become unfit for the position.10 By 384 in any case, Ul had become Governor of Yingyang Commandery 滎陽郡 located near Zhengzhou between the Qin cities of Luoyang and Ye.11 With Murong Chui still in his service, Fu Jian led his state to prominence in northern China. In 383, however, a campaign against Eastern Jin forces was badly defeated at the Fei River 肥水; this loss sent the Former Qin state into a rapid decline. The only Qin army to survive the campaign intact was that of Murong Chui, who initially remained loyal to Fu Jian but soon rebelled against Qin. Chui had intended to march against Luoyang, but seeing that Luoyang was not defensible decided to lay siege to the city of Ye instead. On his way to Ye in early 384, Chui camped at Yingyang, where the governor Yŏ Ul and another Xianbei commander shifted their allegiance to Chui. On this occasion Chui declared himself to be the king of Yan and bestowed titles on his followers. Yŏ Ul received the titles General of Quelling the East 征東將軍 and Left Defender-in-Chief of the Court 統府左司馬 and was enfeoffed as King of Puyŏ 扶餘王. Ul thus secured a high office under Chui as the latter proceeded to regain control over the territories of the Former Yan, a process that culminated in his establishment of the Later Yan 後燕 dynasty (384–409) in 386.12 Yŏ Ul appears twice more in surviving records. In 392, in the city of Ye, Chui presented Ul, who had since 384 attained the title of Right Grand Master of Splendid Happiness 右光祿大夫, with the office of Left Vice Director of the Imperial Secretariat [尚 書] 左僕射.13 After the death of Murong Chui in 396, Chui’s heir Murong Bao 慕容寶 (355–98) succeeded him and conferred titles and offices, granting Ul the title of Grand Mentor 太傅 and reconfirming his enfeoffment as King of Puyŏ.14 The career of Yŏ Ul thus ranged from his incarceration as a hostage under Former Yan, to high office under Former Qin, and finally to a sequence of preeminent titles and offices under Later Yan. Under Murong Chui and his son Bao, Ul attained very high government positions usually reserved for princes of the ruling clan, which speaks to the regard with which he was held among the Murong rulers of Yan. After 396 there is no further record of Ul or of the King of Puyŏ, and it is likely that the title (and possibly Yŏ Ul) did not survive the dissolution of Later Yan after 398. 10. See Zizhi tongjian 105:3320 (Wudi, Taiyuan 9/1): 故扶餘王餘蔚為滎陽太守. When describing events concerning Murong Chui’s rebellion against Qin in 384, Yŏ Ul is referred to as the former king of Puyŏ, suggesting that he had been given this title under Qin auspices. 11. Zizhi tongjian 105:3320–21 (Wudi, Taiyuan 9/1). A significant proportion of the Yingyang population appears to have consisted of Koguryŏ groups who had been taken during the Wei campaigns of the 240s. See Jinshu 56:1534 (Biography of Jiang Tong): 滎陽句驪, 本居遼東塞外, 正始中, 幽州刺史毌 丘儉伐其叛者, 徙其餘種. 始徙之時, 戶落百數, 子孫孳息, 今以千計, 數世之後, 必至殷熾. 12. Some sources point to Chui’s 384 proclamation as marking the establishment of the Later Yan. The titles Chui took upon himself in 384 suggest a temporary position based upon the contingency of the times. It was not until 386 that Chui proclaimed himself as emperor. See Zizhi tongjian 105:3320–21 (Wudi, Taiyuan 9/1); 106:3358 (Wudi, Taiyuan 11/1). 13. Zizhi tongjian 108:3406 (Wudi, Taiyuan 17/7). 14. Zizhi tongjian 108:3427 (Wudi, Taiyuan 21/5).

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Another Puyŏ figure appears prominently in the emergence of the Later Yan state, but in a very different capacity. After the disastrous defeat of the Qin forces at the battle of the Fei River in 383, Murong Chui proceeded to restore Murong hegemony over the North China plain. In this enterprise his efforts were hampered by a number of rebellions of disaffected allies or regional authorities unwilling to submit to Murong control. Chui was long frustrated in his attempt to occupy the city of Ye, and he had to make his capital instead at Zhongshan 中山 farther north. The disaffection of Chui’s Dingling 丁零 allies proved to be a setback to his efforts to consolidate the Central Plains. Meanwhile, the collapse of Former Qin authority in the northeast prompted Koguryŏ, which had recovered from the devastation it had suffered under the Murong, to launch an aggressive campaign in the fifth month of 385 against Liaodong and Xuantu.15 The Yan commander sent to deal with the Koguryŏ invasion was defeated, and Koguryŏ successfully occupied the two commanderies. With major components of the defunct Former Qin state threatening to break away, yet another rebellion erupted in the Central Plains, this time led by a Puyŏ man named Yŏ Am 餘巖. Extant sources do not explain who Am was, but his surname and a comment in the Jinshu indicate that he was a Puyŏ man, probably a member of the ruling clan. He held the military title of General of Establishing Integrity 建節將軍, and the events to come demonstrate that he wielded influence over a great many people.16 Late in the summer of 385 Yŏ Am rebelled from his base at the city of Wuyi 武邑 (today’s Wuyi) and proceeded northward with over four thousand followers, many of whom may have been Puyŏ people, and entrenched himself in the vicinity of Youzhou 幽州 near modern Beijing.17 Murong Chui was occupied with quelling the Dingling rebellion, so he ordered his commander at Youzhou to keep Am at bay until the Dingling were pacified and he could direct his armies to the north. Nevertheless, the commander engaged Am, who quickly penetrated the Youzhou defenses and plundered the city of Ji (Beijing). Am, accompanied by his brother, took over one thousand households with him as he withdrew to the east and entrenched himself at the city of Lingzhi (Lulong) in Liaoxi.18 By the middle of October the Dingling were under control and Chui had occupied the city of Ye. With his forces freed up, Chui then sent his son Murong Nong 慕容農 northward with orders to proceed to Longcheng, where he would assemble an army to attack Yŏ Am.19 Nong’s route to Longcheng took him from the Yeweng Pass 蠮螉塞 northwest of Beijing through the mountainous territory west of Liaoxi, until he reached Longcheng (Chaoyang). The fact that Nong chose this difficult route indicates that Yŏ Am’s forces had occupied the broad region between today’s Beijing and Shanhaiguan (encompassing the commanderies of Beiping 北平郡 and Liaoxi 遼西郡) and had possibly begun to close 15. Zizhi tongjian 106:3346 (Wudi, Taiyuan 10/Intercalary). Xuantu was at this time located to the west of Liaodong near the center of Yan authority at Longcheng. 16. Jinshu 123:3091 (Biography of Murong Chui), see annotation. 17. Zizhi tongjian 106:3347 (Wudi, Taiyuan 10/7); Jinshu 123:3086 (Biography of Murong Chui). 18. The only reference to Am’s brother, who is never named, occurs in the Jinshu account of the rebellion, wherein Am and his brother are said to have been beheaded. See Jinshu 123:3086 (Biography of Murong Chui). 19. Zizhi tongjian 106:3349 (Wudi, Taiyuan 10/7).

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

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in on the coastal region farther north.20 With Koguryŏ occupying Liaodong and Xuantu and Yŏ Am’s forces occupying Beiping and Liaoxi, the old Murong heartland lay vulnerable and cut off from the Central Plains. Murong Nong’s caution during his campaign is thus understandable. By the end of 385 Nong and his forces had reached Longcheng. After resting his horses and troops for over ten days, he mobilized a force of thirty thousand foot and horse and marched southwestward. Nong’s forces penetrated Am’s defenses and laid siege to Lingzhi, terrifying Am’s followers, who gradually came out of the city and surrendered to Nong. Finally, Am and his brother capitulated in despair and were promptly executed. With Murong control now restored to the Beiping and Liaoxi regions, Nong turned his forces to the northeast and attacked Koguryŏ. He retrieved Liaodong and Xuantu and posted a governor in Liaodong. The northeastern territories of the Former Yan state were now secured for Later Yan. Yŏ Ul and Yŏ Am are the only two individuals specifically described as Puyŏ people in post-346 records in the Zizhi tongjian. Interestingly, the corresponding accounts in the Jinshu (completed in 646) give these two men the surname Sŏ 徐 (Ch. Xu) rather than Yŏ 餘. The context provided by the annotation of Hu Sanxing, however, indicates that the Yŏ form is correct and suggests that those people of Yan with the Yŏ surname were all Puyŏ people.21 This is obviously a shortened form of the name Puyŏ, which is often seen in the names of Paekche kings, who used the surname Puyŏ. The records concerning Ul and Am are, however, the only indication that the ruling clan of Puyŏ used the name as a clan name or surname, a practice similar to that of the Murong and other Xianbei groups.22 If the Yŏ clan of Yan represents the survivors of the Puyŏ ruling house, we still know nothing about Puyŏ refugees outside of this elite group and would have no way of identifying them as Puyŏ people in surviving historical documents. Nevertheless, assuming that those people of Yan with the rare Yŏ surname are indeed members of the Puyŏ ruling elite, there are still a few individuals mentioned in the record who may be regarded as Puyŏ émigrés. The only remaining individual surnamed Yŏ for whom substantial detail survives is a figure named Yŏ Sung 餘崇, who was a military commander and a close advisor to Murong Chui’s son and successor, Murong Bao. When Chui died in 396, the Later Yan state was embroiled in a war with the emerging northern state of Wei, established by the 20. Nong evaded Am’s forces by exiting the Yeweng Pass northwest of Ji 薊, passing through the Yanshan mountain range to the northeast to reach the town of Fancheng 凡城 (in southern Lingyuan County of Liaoning), from where he could follow the valley of the Daling River to Longcheng (Chaoyang). Nong evidently traversed this route with great speed, for when his troops asked the reasons for his haste he explained that he feared that Am, knowing of his presence, would pass over the mountains through which he traveled and molest the people who lived there. See Zizhi tongjian 106:3356 (Wudi, Taiyuan 10/10). 21. For a study of the Yŏ surname, see Yao Weiyuan 1958, 269–70. 22. It is possible that this practice was adopted late, or even after the conquest of Puyŏ in 346. The shortening of the name to Yŏ may have been an attempt to make the surname appear more “Chinese” and less like the very un-Chinese Xianbei names, such as Murong. It is curious that the names of Paekche kings are likewise abbreviated in many Chinese documents, a practice that may be entirely coincidental, as discussed below.

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Tuoba 拓跋 Xianbei. Bao succeeded Chui when the latter died while on a campaign but never had the chance to consolidate his father’s territorial holdings. The Later Yan state began to break apart due to pressures exerted by the Wei to the northwest and by internal divisions in the Yan leadership. Yŏ Sung, whose father had served Yan until his death in battle, first appears in the Zizhi tongjian in 397 as a General of Establishing Force 建威 將軍 successfully defending Yan’s northern territories against Wei incursions.23 Initially Sung had served Bao’s son, Murong Hui 慕容會 (373–97), in the north. When Wei forces threatened Zhongshan, Bao fled his capital on April 27 and proceeded to Longcheng. A series of events resulted in Hui’s disaffection, culminating in his assault on Bao’s forces within the walls of Longcheng. Bao’s troops, led by a Koguryŏ man named Ko Un 高雲 (?–409), defeated and killed Hui on May 20, after which Bao pardoned Hui’s followers, including Yŏ Sung, who received praise for his loyalty.24 Over the next several months Wei forces swept into the Central Plains, cutting Bao off from the Murong government in the south. This resulted in the creation of separate Murong states: Bao’s Later Yan court now withdrawn to Longcheng, and the Southern Yan state under the rule of Murong De 慕容德 (336–405).25 In March of 398, after hearing that the Wei forces in the Central Plains were in disarray, Bao organized an expedition to the south in an effort to reclaim the lost lands. Before the procession had reached the Wei-occupied region, however, the Yan army dissolved following an uprising instigated by a Yan commander acting in league with the Yan minister Lan Han 蘭 . A series of exchanges left Bao and his retinue outside of Longcheng, unsure of whether they should trust Lan Han, who had taken charge of the city. Finally Bao decided to return to Longcheng with Yŏ Sung at his side. When they met with Lan Han’s guard, however, Sung suspected a deception and advised Bao to turn back. Bao refused and continued forward, whereupon Han’s guard seized Yŏ Sung, who was executed after he vented his outrage. Bao was then taken to the walls of Longcheng and executed.26 The records concerning Yŏ Ul, Yŏ Am, and Yŏ Sung provide us with some idea of the fate of the members of the Puyŏ ruling house after their capture in 346. Although there are other men bearing the Yŏ surname in extant records of the period, very little is 23. Zizhi tongjian 109:3441–42 (Andi, Longan 1/3). Sung’s father, named Yŏ Sung 餘嵩, appears in Zizhi tongjian 108:3425 (Wudi, Taiyuan 21/1) as a General of Quelling the East 鎮東將軍, who died while on a campaign against the rebel commander Ping Gui 平規 (the same Yan commander who was sent against Yŏ Am in 385). 24. Zizhi tongjian 109:3449 (Andi, Longan 1/4). Yŏ Sung received a military title and was appointed as a resident guard, in which capacity he later served Bao as an advisor. The Koguryŏ man Ko Un 高雲, whose ancestors had been taken during Murong Huang’s attack on Koguryŏ in 342, was rewarded with the title Duke of Xiyang 夕陽公. Bao then adopted him as a son and conferred upon him the Murong surname. Ko Un would later serve briefly as ruler of Yan when Feng Ba 馮跋 killed Murong Xi 慕容熙 in 407 and placed Un on the throne. Two years later Ba killed Un and placed himself on the throne of the new state of Northern Yan, which ruled over the Liaoxi region until it was destroyed by Koguryŏ and Wei in 436. 25. For an analysis of the Southern Yan state, see Holmgren 1990. 26. Lan Han was eventually overthrown by Bao’s heir, Murong Sheng 慕容盛 (373–401), who in 401 passed the throne to Bao’s younger brother Murong Xi. The Later Yan state of the Murong came to an end with the murder of Xi in 407, and its legacy was taken up by the Northern Yan state created by Feng Ba.

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known about them other than their names.27 Nevertheless, these scant references to the three Puyŏ survivors described above indicate that the history of the Puyŏ ruling house after 346 was inextricably interwoven with that of the Murong house of Yan. All three Puyŏ men had attained high positions under Murong rule, and two of them were held in highest regard by the Murong rulers. The rebellion of Yŏ Am suggests some dissatisfaction with the Murong and perhaps a desire to return to the north, though many members of the Murong house itself behaved in like manner. After the eclipse of Murong authority in the early fifth century, nothing more is heard of Puyŏ survivors or their descendents in the Central Plains. This is perhaps due to the likelihood that the successors of the Murong would have had little reason to preserve the Puyŏ name or the institution of the Puyŏ king, which would have held more significance for the Murong than for the Tuoba. Those Puyŏ émigrés who survived the unrest of this period evidently faded into the landscape and in time lost their identity as people of Puyŏ.

Damolou—The Northern Refugees In the years immediately preceding and following 346, the Puyŏ core region was subjected to multiple incursions from various quarters, which caused the Puyŏ populations to disperse in all directions. Eventually Koguryŏ occupied the Puyŏ core, and a group of Puyŏ people fled to the north and established themselves north of the east-flowing Songhua River under the name Damolou 大莫婁.28 The Weishu 魏書, compiled in 554, 27. Besides the three men described above and the father of Yŏ Sung, the Jin section of the Zizhi tongjian mentions only three other figures with the Yŏ surname. Early in 384, after Murong Chui declared his government and made appointments, the name of a man of the “Eastern Yi” called Yŏ Hwa 餘和 appears as one of the low-ranking commanders in the service of Murong Nong (Zizhi tongjian 105:3321 [Wudi, Taiyuan 9/1]). A man named Yŏ Ch’o 餘超 is listed as a Yan minister 散騎常 侍 who had rebelled and, in 399, was executed along with another rebel, a commander named Gao He 高和 (Ko Hwa), who may have been a Koguryŏ man (111:3491 [Andi, Longan 3/4]). A Koguryŏ man named Ko Hwa is mentioned as the grandfather of Ko Un in the latter’s biography (as Murong Yun) in the Jinshu (124:3108 [Biography of Murong Yun]). Yŏ Ul 餘鬱 is the name of a high-ranking general 鎮 西大將軍 of Yan who was killed in battle in 406 (Zizhi tongjian 114:3593 [Andi, Yixi 2/8]). Given the scarcity of the surname and the positions these men attained under the Murong, it is likely that all three men, Hwa, Ch’o, and Ul, were Puyŏ émigrés or descendents of émigrés. This is particularly likely in the case of Hwa, who is described as a man of the Eastern Yi. Additionally, the Jinshu makes an oblique reference to a figure named Yŏ Ch’i 餘熾 in the biography of Lady Murong, the wife of Duan Feng 段豐 and the daughter of the Southern Yan ruler, Murong De. However, we know nothing of him other than that he held the title Duke of Shouguang 壽光公 under Southern Yan and that the Lady Murong apparently preferred suicide to marrying Yŏ Ch’i following the death of her husband (Jinshu 96:2525 [Biography of Lady Murong]). 28. This name is rendered into Chinese in various ways. The Weishu favors the version “Doumolou” 豆莫婁, though in one instance this is written “Damolu” 大莫盧. The Bei Qishu uses “Damolou” 大莫 婁, and the much later Xin Tangshu uses “Damolou” 達末婁. The Beishi incorporates the Wei and Northern Qi records as they appear in those histories and makes no attempt to standardize the usage. A comparison of all records featuring any of these versions demonstrates that a single name is indeed the source of all renderings.

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is the earliest extant work to mention Damolou and contains more information regarding that polity than any later work. The brief account of Damolou begins by placing the polity geographically—it lay to the north of Wuji 勿吉 (then located in the Puyŏ core in northern Jilin) and east of the Shiwei 室韋 (eastern Inner Mongolia) at a distance of some six thousand li (about three thousand kilometers) from the Wei capital at Luoyang. The account also notes that the people of Damolou were formerly of Northern Puyŏ. The remainder of the account, however, simply repeats portions of data from the third-century accounts of Puyŏ and reveals nothing applicable to Damolou.29 Other records in the Weishu note that though the people of Damolou had suffered under their oppressive Wuji neighbors, it was in the company of a Wuji mission to the Wei court in 486 that Damolou first made formal contact with a Chinese state. In another interesting passage the language of Damolou is described as having been similar to that spoken by the Shiwei, Kumoxi 庫莫奚, and Khitan groups to its west, though the Wuji language was distinct from that of these other groups.30 Damolou appears to have maintained relations with the Wei court, but no further information regarding Damolou during this period survives. The Bei Qishu 北齊書 (History of Northern Qi; completed in 636) records two tribute missions from Damolou in 567 and 569.31 A passage in the Beishi 北史 (History of the Northern Dynasties; completed in 659), however, indicates that by the early seventh century contact between Damolou and Chinese courts had lapsed.32 Despite the many political changes associated with the collapse of Koguryŏ in 668 and the rise of Parhae in 698, Damolou seems to have survived, for the final historical mention of Damolou occurs with a tribute mission sent to the Tang court in 723. The relevant passage in the Xin Tangshu 新唐書 (New history of Tang; completed in 1060) is worthy of notice: In the eleventh year of the Kaiyuan reign [723] the leaders of Damolou and Dagou 達姤 also came to court to present tribute. The Damolou say that they are the descendents of Northern Puyŏ, and that when Ko[gu]ryŏ vanquished that state its refugees crossed the Na River and thereby came to reside in this place. [The Na] is also called the Talou River, which flows northeast into the Hei River. The Dagou are members of the Shiwei, and they live to the south of the Na River and east of the Dongmo [Sumo] River, adjoining with the Huangtou Shiwei on the west and with Damolou lying distant to the northeast.33 29. Weishu 100:2222 (Account of Doumolou): 豆莫婁國, 在勿吉國北千里, 去洛六千里, 舊北扶餘也. 在失韋之東. 30. Weishu 100:2219–20 (Account of Wuji): 勿吉國 . . . 於東夷最強. 言語獨異. 常輕豆莫婁等國, 諸 國亦患之; 100:2220–21 (Account of Wuji): [太和] 九年, [勿吉國]復遣使侯尼支朝獻. 明年復入貢. 其 傍有大莫盧國 . . . 前後各遣使朝獻; 100:2221 (Account of Shiwei): 失韋國 . . . 語與庫莫奚、契丹、豆莫 婁國同. 31. Bei Qishu 8:100 (Houzhu, Tiantong 3/10): [天統三年] 冬十月, 突厥、大莫婁、室韋、百濟、靺鞨等 國各遣使朝貢; 102: [天統五年] 二月 . . . 癸酉, 大莫婁國遣使朝貢. 32. Beishi 94:3138 (Closing Commentary): 其豆莫婁 . . . 歷齊周及隋, 朝貢遂絕, 其事故莫顯云. 33. Xin Tangshu 220:6210 (Account of Liugui): 開元十一年, 又有達末婁、達姤二部首領朝貢. 達末婁 自言北扶餘之裔, 高麗滅其國, 遣人度那河, 因居之, 或曰他漏河, 東北流入黑水. 達姤, 室韋種也, 在 那河陰, 涷末河之東, 西接黃頭室韋, 東北距達末婁云.

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Despite its relatively late date, this passage provides us with the most specific extant account of the founding of Damolou and its location. The Na, Dongmo, and Hei rivers are easily identified—the Na 那河 includes the present Nen (Nonni) River 嫩江 and the east-flowing Songhua, “Dongmo” 涷末 is a misprint for “Sumo” 涑末, which refers to the north-flowing Songhua, and the Hei 黑水 is the present Heilong (Amur) River 黑龙江. The Dagou must therefore have lived in the region between the present north-flowing and east-flowing Songhua rivers, equivalent to the present city of Songyuan 松原 and the county of Fuyu in Jilin and perhaps the Shuangcheng region in Heilongjiang. Since Damolou is described as lying at some distance to the northeast of Dagou and north of the east-flowing Songhua, it must have been located in the vicinity of the Hulan River 呼兰河 valley to the north of Harbin. Assuming that they had occupied this region since the time of Koguryŏ’s northward expansion, the Damolou populations would have remained well beyond the reach of Koguryŏ, though the Wuji (discussed in detail below) would have begun to press in on Damolou from the end of the fifth century. If the passage above reflects an accurate historical memory regarding circumstances surrounding the establishment of Damolou, a preliminary attempt at dating those events may be possible. Chinese scholars have in recent years proposed at least three potential dates for the Koguryŏ expulsion of the Puyŏ remnant that fled northward to establish Damolou. In a 1986 study, Li Jiancai effectively refutes theories that suggest the founding of Damolou occurred after the Koguryŏ attack on Puyŏ in the early first century or after Wuji occupied the Puyŏ core region in 494.34 Noting that the first dated historical reference to Damolou is the 486 mission to the Wei court, Li suggests that Koguryŏ pressed northward early in the fifth century and forced the withdrawal of some Puyŏ populations to the north of the Na River. He points specifically to the events recorded on the 414 stele commemorating the deeds of the Koguryŏ king Kwanggaet’o and suggests plausibly that Koguryŏ’s subjugation of Eastern Puyŏ in 410 marks the beginning of Damolou history. This hypothesis, however, is based on the assumption that the Eastern Puyŏ in the stele inscription is identical to the historical Puyŏ state. As will be argued in the next section, it is likely that this Eastern Puyŏ was instead located on the Tumen River far to the southeast of the Puyŏ core region. It will further be argued that Koguryŏ’s occupation of the Puyŏ core probably occurred before the reign of Kwanggaet’o and was most likely not long after Murong Huang’s final assault on Puyŏ in 346. When Koguryŏ occupied the central regions of the defunct Puyŏ state in the mid- to late fourth century, some of the Puyŏ populations that had remained in this region after 346 fled to the north of the Na River and settled beyond the reach of Koguryŏ. Although it is known that Damolou maintained formal relations with the northern dynasties from 486 to at least 569, and sent at least one mission to Tang in 723, nothing further is known about the Damolou people except that they considered themselves to be the descendents of Northern Puyŏ and that they may have been linguistically related to groups farther to 34. Li Jiancai 1986, 25–40. Li points out that the early first-century Koguryŏ attack on Puyŏ involved only the southernmost regions of Puyŏ and did not result in the destruction of Puyŏ or Koguryŏ’s occupation of the Puyŏ core region. The 494 hypothesis is easily disproved by the record of a Damolou mission to Wei in 486.

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the west. In 486 Damolou appears to have been one of the many groups surrounding Wuji, and despite the statement in the Weishu that Damolou territory extended as far as the sea to the east, its territory probably did not exceed the vicinity of the Hulan River valley. One remarkable aspect of the brief history of Damolou is that even as late as 723 its people still identified themselves with the long-vanished Puyŏ state. Whether this indicates the perseverance of a Puyŏ identity or an attempt to impress Chinese courts with an assumed pedigree remains unknown. Damolou disappears from history after 723, its population most likely having been incorporated into the rising powers of the Khitan and Parhae.

Eastern Puyŏ Historical records describing Puyŏ occasionally employ a directional qualifier when referring to the state; thus, one often sees references to “Northern Puyŏ” or “Eastern Puyŏ” in addition to the unqualified name. A study of the various versions of the foundation myths of Koguryŏ and Paekche reveals irreconcilable contradictions in the usage of these terms, such that Chumong appears variously as originating in either Northern Puyŏ or Eastern Puyŏ.35 The only resolution to the problem is to acknowledge that the Koguryŏ foundation myth underwent numerous changes in different times and places. Such a “resolution” fails, however, to shed light on the historicity of the polities referred to as Northern and Eastern Puyŏ. Given the unreliability of the references to these polities in the foundation myths, I will focus primarily on those historical references found in sources other than the foundation myths. The inscription on the Kwanggaet’o stele contains specific references to both “Northern Puyŏ” and “Eastern Puyŏ,” demonstrating that they were distinct polities. “Northern Puyŏ” is described as that state from which the founder Chumong fled to establish Koguryŏ, and I believe that the term is intended to refer to the historical Puyŏ state based in Jilin. “Eastern Puyŏ” is the name of a polity that was forced into submission during Kwanggaet’o’s campaign in 410. The directional qualifiers should be viewed with Koguryŏ as the point of reference; that is, they referred to polities to the north and to the east of Koguryŏ.36 The terms “Puyŏ” and “Northern Puyŏ” are thus interchangeable in most respects as references to the historical Puyŏ state, though it is possible that the later Koguryŏ state included administrative regions referred to separately as “Puyŏ” and “Northern Puyŏ.” The single historical reference to “Eastern Puyŏ” occurs in the 410 campaign described in the stele inscription: “The Eastern Puyŏ were in ancient times the subject people of King Ch’umo, but they had since rebelled and did not pay tribute, so the king 35. For example, the inscription on the Kwanggaet’o stele states that Ch’umo (Chumong) came from Northern Puyŏ, whereas the account in the Koguryŏ Annals has Chumong active in Eastern Puyŏ. 36. Historical references to “Northern Puyŏ” and “Eastern Puyŏ” are found only in records of Koguryŏ origin or in other records based on Koguryŏ sources or a Koguryŏ perspective. There is no evidence that any other states, peninsular or Chinese, ever referred to those polities by those names outside of a Koguryŏ context (including the Paekche foundation myth, which was built upon that of Koguryŏ).

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personally led forth a campaign to smite them. When the army reached the [Pu]yŏ city, the [Pu]yŏ [people] [offered up their?] state and were terrified . . . and the king’s beneficence was everywhere manifest, whereupon [the Koguryŏ army] returned.”37 The text goes on to name officials of five regions of Eastern Puyŏ so taken by the civilizing influence of the Koguryŏ king that they returned with the Koguryŏ army. Ikeuchi Hiroshi suggested as early as 1930 that this Eastern Puyŏ lay in the vicinity of the Tumen River valley and was none other than the remnant of Puyŏ authority in Northern Okchŏ established when the Puyŏ court was forced to flee there after the first Murong invasion of 285.38 Although there is no historical reference to the formal establishment of an Eastern Puyŏ polity in Northern Okchŏ, this should not surprise us, considering the scarcity of information that has survived from that time and location.39 Nevertheless, the Okchŏ name ceases to appear in historical records from the late third century, and, as discussed below, Koguryŏ had indeed occupied the region before 435. An official of the Wei court sent to confer title upon the Koguryŏ king Changsu 長 壽王 (r. 413–91) in 435 visited the new capital at modern Pyongyang and inquired about the territorial extent of the state.40 He reported that to the south Koguryŏ’s territories reached to the small sea (Kyŏnggi Bay) and that they extended to former Puyŏ in the north and to Ch’aeksŏng 柵城 in the east.41 Ch’aeksŏng may be demonstrated historically and archaeologically to have been located on the lower reaches of the Tumen River, in the same region previously occupied by Northern Okchŏ.42 Although the name Ch’aeksŏng does appear in early records of the Samguk sagi, it is possible that the name at this time does not refer to the Tumen region, and even if it does, Koguryŏ does not seem to have exercised any control over that region after the mid-third century.43 Given the rapid military expansion under Kwanggaet’o and the statement of the Wei envoy 37. See Han’guk Kodae Sahoe Yŏn’guso 1992a, 14: 東夫餘舊是鄒牟王屬民, 中叛不貢, 王躬率往討, 軍 到餘城, 而餘□國駭□□□□□□□□□王恩普覆. 於是旋還. 又其慕化隨官來者, 味仇婁鴨盧, 卑斯 麻鴨盧, 瑞社婁鴨盧, 肅斯舍鴨盧, □□□鴨盧. Lacunae are represented with a □. 38. Ikeuchi 1932a. An English version appears in Ikeuchi 1932b, see especially 57–60. Yi Pyŏng-do, by contrast, believed that Eastern Puyŏ was what had formerly been called Eastern Ye, located on the peninsular east coast south of Wŏnsan Bay (see Yi Pyŏng-do 1985, 385–86). 39. This lack of specific reference to Eastern Puyŏ prompted Li Jiancai to dismiss Ikeuchi’s argument (Li Jiancai 1986, 31–32). There is, however, little reason to expect such references to have existed at all since Eastern Puyŏ seems never to have communicated with a Chinese court and its neighboring states would have had little motivation to document the event in their own records (which themselves survive only in a very fragmentary state). 40. King Changsu had removed the capital of Koguryŏ from Kungnae at modern Ji’an to modern Pyongyang in 427. 41. Weishu 100:2214–15 (Account of Koguryŏ): 東至柵城, 至小海, 北至舊夫餘, 民戶參倍於前; Samguk sagi 18:169 (Koguryŏ Annals, Changsu 23/6). 42. For a comprehensive study of Ch’aeksŏng, see Piao 1997. 43. References to Ch’aeksŏng in the Koguryŏ Annals of the Samguk sagi date to 98 (T’aejo 46), 102 (T’aejo 50), and 217 (Sansang 21) (Samguk sagi 13:144; 16:155). Although this Ch’aeksŏng is described as lying to the east of the Koguryŏ capital, there is no clear indication that it lay as far east as the Tumen valley. If we grant that these early references do indicate the same region referred to in the fifth-century account, Koguryŏ’s control over that region must have lapsed following the Wei campaigns against

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that Koguryŏ’s population had tripled since the late third century, it is reasonable to assume that the Tumen valley had only recently become incorporated into the Koguryŏ state, and it is therefore likely that the Eastern Puyŏ campaign of 410 refers to this acquisition. Since it is known that the refugee Puyŏ court of 285 had access to Northern Okchŏ, it is reasonable to infer that this regional association did not cease after the Puyŏ restoration of 286. The distance of the Tumen valley from the center of conflict before and after 346 suggests that some remnant of the Puyŏ state could have survived in that sequestered location. This detached polity could also have taken in refugees following the invasions of the mid-fourth century. That the Puyŏ people in Eastern Puyŏ were not in their ancestral home may be hinted at in the Kwanggaet’o inscription, which states that the people of Eastern Puyŏ, rather than the land they occupied, were formerly subject to the founder king. The 435 account reveals that by the time the Koguryŏ capital had been removed to modern Pyongyang in 427, Koguryŏ’s territories already included the Tumen valley and the former Puyŏ core region in central Jilin. As suggested in the next section, Puyŏ territories (Northern Puyŏ) came under Koguryŏ control in the mid to late fourth century. The Tumen valley (Eastern Puyŏ) was not incorporated into the Koguryŏ state until the 410 campaign, which signaled the end of the last vestige of the independent Puyŏ state (though there is little indication of what kind of polity Eastern Puyŏ was). At least some of its leaders were taken into the Koguryŏ capital, but no further references remain to shed light on the fate of the Puyŏ populations who had survived in the Tumen valley for over six decades after the collapse of the Puyŏ state itself.

The Struggle for Puyŏ Territory With the collapse of what remained of the Puyŏ government in 346, the former Puyŏ heartland became the object of contention among several parties. A semblance of the Puyŏ state survived for over a century as a dependency of Koguryŏ, but this mock Puyŏ polity dissolved late in the fifth century when it succumbed to the expansion of the Mohe peoples to its northeast. After having entrenched themselves in former Puyŏ territory for nearly a century, one group of Mohe provoked a military response from Koguryŏ by engaging the Sui court as an ally, which resulted in Koguryŏ’s reoccupation of Puyŏ territories. After Koguryŏ fell before a Tang-Silla military alliance, a group of displaced Mohe reconstituted Puyŏ as a prefecture under the new state of Parhae. In this section the history of the former territory of the fallen Puyŏ state will be traced as it repeatedly changed hands, and within this framework I will illustrate how each consecutive custodian of the Puyŏ heartland came also to incorporate the Puyŏ name and legacy into its own identity.

Koguryŏ in 244 and 245. If a Puyŏ group had managed to assert its authority over the Tumen region in 285, the 410 campaign could be seen as Koguryŏ’s reclamation of these lost territories.

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Puyŏ as a Dependency of Koguryŏ From shortly after the fall of the Puyŏ state in 346 until the end of the fifth century, a Puyŏ polity continued to exist as a dependency of Koguryŏ. The institution of the Puyŏ king was preserved under Koguryŏ supervision, but the actual government of the Puyŏ territories seems to have fallen initially to an appointed Koguryŏ official functioning as a garrison governor. During this crucial period, Koguryŏ emerged as a fully mature and functioning bureaucratic state, with native institutions augmented by bureaucratic, educational, and ritual institutions imported from states in China. Koguryŏ began to engage in simultaneous relations with multiple courts in the Central Plains, and after expanding its territories in all directions came to incorporate many different peoples. With the emergence of the peninsular states of Paekche and Silla in the latter half of the fourth century, Koguryŏ found itself involved in the continuous alliances and warfare that characterized what is now called the Three Kingdoms period of Korean history. This period also witnessed the formation of a Koguryŏ state identity centered on the ruling house, a project that, significantly, included the compilation of a state history. The history of early Koguryŏ that survives today thus originated in a vortex of vigorous activity and rapid change, and, as discussed below, a crucial factor shaping the state identity depicted in that history was Koguryŏ’s acquisition of the Puyŏ name and territory. Recall that the final Xianbei strike against Puyŏ in 346, which resulted in the capture of the Puyŏ king and many thousands of Puyŏ people, was preceded by an invasion of the Puyŏ capital that forced the Puyŏ leadership to flee westward. The aggressor in this episode is identified as Paekche, though we have seen that this is very likely a mistake and that the real aggressor was either Koguryŏ or one of the Yilou groups to Puyŏ’s northeast. Notwithstanding who drove the Puyŏ king from his capital, by the reign of Kwanggaet’o (r. 391–413) Koguryŏ had occupied the former heartland of Puyŏ. This is demonstrated in the lengthy but fragmentary inscription on the wall of the Moduru tomb in Ji’an, the text of which begins with the statement: “The Sage King Ch’umo [Chumong], the grandson of the river deity and the son of the sun and moon, originally came from Northern Puyŏ. The entire world knows of this state and its capital.”44 Moduru 牟頭婁 was a Koguryŏ official who lived during and a few years beyond the reign of Kwanggaet’o, under whose command Moduru had been placed in charge of the government of Northern Puyŏ. Though the ink inscription has suffered seriously over the centuries, some interesting details may still be discerned, particularly in the account of Moduru’s grandfather Yŏmmo 冉牟, who appears to have been an especially celebrated figure. The badly fragmented account mentions the Murong Xianbei, who “knowing the place from which the grandson of the river deity and the son of the sun and moon

44. 河泊之孫, 日月之子, 鄒牟聖王, 元出北夫餘. 天下四方知此國郡. The text of the inscription and interpretation thereof are based on the research of Takeda Yukio (Takeda 1981 and 1989). An earlier and different view regarding the subject of the inscription appears in Lao 1944, but it has been largely supplanted by Takeda’s view in current scholarship.

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had come, came and [attacked?] Northern Puyŏ.”45 Unfortunately, the character serving as the verb in the latter clause is illegible, though it probably described an aggression on the part of the Xianbei. The subsequent text appears to have described a Koguryŏ response in which Yŏmmo figured prominently, but it is unfortunately not readable. The brief account of Moduru’s father appears to credit him with government responsibilities in the north, though Puyŏ is not specifically mentioned. Nevertheless, the subsequent description of Moduru’s own appointment in Northern Puyŏ by command of Kwanggaet’o may be interpreted as implying that Moduru had inherited his father’s post. The overall impression derived from this badly fragmented text suggests that Koguryŏ had forcefully responded to a Xianbei invasion of Puyŏ, which resulted in Koguryŏ’s occupation of Puyŏ territories, over which Koguryŏ governors were to rule. Koguryŏ’s administration of the Puyŏ territories very likely commenced with the events described in the Moduru inscription, and Yŏmmo was probably the first Koguryŏ governor dispatched to oversee that administration. Since Moduru received his own appointment as garrison governor of Northern Puyŏ sometime before the death of Kwanggaet’o in 413, we may surmise that Moduru’s grandfather would have held that post several decades earlier. This indicates that Koguryŏ control was extended over Puyŏ territories before the reign of Kwanggaet’o (391–413) and perhaps as early as the mid-fourth century. The fact that the Kwanggaet’o stele makes no mention of a campaign directed against Northern Puyŏ supports the view that those territories had been secured before the reign of Kwanggaet’o. The title conferred upon Moduru (and presumably upon his father and grandfather) was Director of Government Affairs of Northern Puyŏ 令北夫餘守事, a title of Chinese derivation denoting an official dispatched from the capital to govern an outlying garrison. The title and its variations appear elsewhere in Koguryŏ records in reference to governing officials in Koguryŏ’s border regions.46 That Koguryŏ’s dependency retained a titular Puyŏ king is evident in a Samguk sagi account dated to 494, which records the flight to Koguryŏ of the Puyŏ king after the Puyŏ region had been invaded by the Wuji.47 Although extant records are too sparse to permit a description of the dependent Puyŏ state, it seems likely that the actual government of its territories shifted at some point from a Koguryŏ-appointed garrison governor to a hereditary Puyŏ king. That this king continued to serve as a functioning tributary of Koguryŏ is illustrated in a statement sent to the Wei court in 504, wherein the Koguryŏ king Munja explains that his supply of gold had previously come from Puyŏ but had been discontinued when that region was overrun by the Wuji.48 A tribute mission sent from Puyŏ to the Northern Wei court in early 45. 慕容鮮卑□□使人□知河泊之孫, 日月之子所生之地, 來□北夫餘. Lacunae are represented with a □. 46. The Koguryŏ stele at Chungwŏn 中原高句麗碑 contains a reference to a governor of Komoru-sŏng 古牟婁城守事, which was one of many Paekche walled towns captured during Kwanggaet’o’s 396 campaign. The Koguryŏ Annals of the Samguk sagi make reference to a governor of Ch’aeksŏng 柵城守 (Samguk sagi 15:144 [T’aejo 46/3]), of Tonghae-gok 東海谷守 (15:144 [T’aejo 55/10]), of Hae-gok 海谷太守 (17:160 [Sŏch’ŏn 19/4]), and of Sin-sŏng 新城太守 (17:161 [Pongsang 5/8]). All of these garrisons were located in Koguryŏ’s border regions. 47. Samguk sagi 19:173 (Koguryŏ Annals, Munja 3/2). 48. Weishu 100:2216 (Account of Koguryŏ); Samguk sagi 19:174 (Koguryŏ Annals, Munja 13/4).

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458 may indicate that the Puyŏ kings under Koguryŏ tutelage had been granted some measure of autonomy, though it may also be telling that no further missions from Puyŏ are recorded after 458.49 Koguryŏ’s occupation of the Puyŏ core region is attested by archaeological remains found in the vicinity of Jilin. There is clear evidence of a Koguryŏ presence among the ruins at Dongtuanshan, including Koguryŏ roof tiles, pottery, and tombs.50 The nearby fortifications at Longtanshan were probably initially built during the Koguryŏ occupation. The walls of the fortress were built of rammed earth in a style associated with Koguryŏ’s middle and late periods (fifth to seventh centuries). Within the walls is a large rectangular reservoir (popularly called the Dragon Pool 龍潭) lined with stonework that recalls the construction of the Koguryŏ walled capital city at Ji’an. A smaller circular stone-lined pit near the summit of the mountain was built in a similar fashion.51 Although a few scattered remains associated with Koguryŏ have been found farther north, Longtanshan represents the northernmost concentration of Koguryŏ remains in Jilin, and is to be identified historically with Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng.52 The fourth century marks a phase in the history of Koguryŏ during which the state rebounded from the devastation inflicted upon it by the Wei armies in the mid-third century. Beginning with the reign of Ŭlbul (Mich’ŏn, r. 300–331), a succession of strong kings led Koguryŏ from near-extinction to domination over the regions of southern Manchuria and northern Korea. Although the Murong of the Former Yan state compelled Koguryŏ’s kings to accept a tributary arrangement, this did not constrain Koguryŏ’s vigorous military expansion to the north and south. When the Former Qin state (351–94) temporarily eclipsed the Murong authority in Liaodong, Koguryŏ benefitted from interchange with that state, which resulted in the introduction of institutions of statecraft, Confucian education, and Buddhism. Although the Murong regained control over Liaodong in 384, Koguryŏ’s military might was by then sufficient for its king Iryŏn 伊連 (Kogugyang 國壤王, r. 384–91) to occupy Liaodong and Xuantu temporarily in 385. From this time neither the Murong state of Later Yan nor the Northern Yan 北燕 state (409–36) that succeeded it were capable of restraining Koguryŏ, which by 404 had invaded Liaodong and incorporated it into the Koguryŏ territorial administration system.53 From 425 Koguryŏ began to engage in long-term tribute relations with the North49. Weishu 5:116 (Gaozong, Taian 3/12). In early 458 over fifty states are said to have sent tribute missions to the Northern Wei court, of which only Puyŏ and Khotan are mentioned by name in the entry. That no further missions from Puyŏ are recorded may indicate that Koguryŏ put an end to missions dispatched independently from its Puyŏ dependency. It is also possible that the Puyŏ mentioned in the 458 entry refers to another polity otherwise unknown. 50. Jilinshi jiaoqu wenwuzhi 1983, 44–47, 57–58, 60–63, 64; Dong Xuezeng 1982; Ma Deqian 1987. 51. Jilinshi shiqu wenwuzhi 1983, 18–19; Ma Deqian 1987. 52. This identification will be discussed in appendix B. 53. That Liaodong and its surrounding region shifted hands several times is evident in the few surviving records from that period. The Later Yan king Murong Sheng seized the Koguryŏ fortresses of Sin-sŏng and Namso-sŏng in 400 (Zizhi tongjian 111:3507 [Andi, Longan 4/1]; Samguk sagi 18:168 [Koguryŏ Annals, Kwanggaet’o 9/2]), and in 402 Koguryŏ invaded a city very close to the Murong capital (Zizhi tongjian 112:3543 [Andi, Yuanxing 1/5]; Samguk sagi 18:168 [Kwanggaet’o 11]). A record dated to 404 in the Samguk sagi (18:168 [Kwanggaet’o 13/11]) notes that Koguryŏ invaded Yan in that

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ern Wei state founded by the Tuoba Xianbei, while simultaneously maintaining relations with the southern courts as well. Koguryŏ’s place in East Asian interregional relations was thus firmly established by the early fifth century. As a result of the ferment induced by Koguryŏ’s newfound authority and its introduction of Sinitic institutions, the latter half of the fourth century saw the formation of a Koguryŏ state identity, which included the first written history of the state in a volume called Yugi 留記 (Remnant records).54 In the state myth, which was centered on the ruling house and a few prominent aristocratic clans, the role of Puyŏ as a place of origin received repeated emphasis. Although earlier Chinese histories such as Sanguozhi and Hou Hanshu simply refer to Koguryŏ as a separate branch of Puyŏ, the earliest preserved versions of the foundation legend, which describe the Puyŏ origins of the ruling house, are found in the Kwanggaet’o stele inscription of 414, the slightly later Moduru inscription, and the Weishu account of Koguryŏ compiled in 554. Since the foundation myth of Koguryŏ shares numerous features with that of Puyŏ, Shiratori Kurakichi proposed in 1936 that the Koguryŏ myth was newly and deliberately adopted from the Puyŏ precedent sometime after 346 as an effort to justify Koguryŏ’s assimilation of Puyŏ territories and populations.55 Although this theory is plausible, it is also difficult to demonstrate with the sparse sources available today. The lateness of the appearance of the foundation myth in surviving documents could have been an accident of history, since the Sanguozhi and Hou Hanshu accounts of Koguryŏ do not rule out the early existence of a Puyŏ-based foundation myth, and the Jinshu, for unclear reasons, does not include an account of Koguryŏ in its descriptions of foreign states. Nevertheless, it is possible and plausible that fourth-century Koguryŏ mythmakers introduced the Puyŏ theme anew, perhaps to justify the annexation of Northern Puyŏ (and later Eastern Puyŏ). Given the very prominent place accorded Puyŏ in the mythology and cult practice of the Koguryŏ ruling house, however, it is more likely that the adoption of the Puyŏ origin theme involved more than an effort to justify Koguryŏ’s territorial expansion. As with the case of Murong Huang, who flaunted his conquest of Puyŏ and his taking of the Puyŏ king, it is possible that Koguryŏ’s leaders sought also to emphasize their relationship with Puyŏ, either real or imagined, in order to lend cachet to their regime’s authority within an order defined by a Sinitic language of statecraft. In this manner, Koguryŏ kings could point to the long and respected history of the Puyŏ state as a tradition to which Koguryŏ had become a rightful heir. Although Murong Huang had taken the Puyŏ king into his own house, Koguryŏ kings occupied the territories of year, and later records describe Yan attacks on Liaodong in 405 (Zizhi tongjian 114:3579 [Andi, Yixi 1/1]; Samguk sagi 18:168 [Kwanggaet’o 14/1]) and Mokchŏ-sŏng (located to the southeast of Namsŏ-sŏng) in 406 (Zizhi tongjian 114:3588–89 [Andi, Yixi 2/1]; Samguk sagi 18:168 [Kwanggaet’o 15/12]), which indicates that Koguryŏ had seized and occupied Liaodong during the 404 attack. Liaodong would remain Koguryŏ territory until the collapse of the state in 668. 54. Samguk sagi 20:182 (Koguryŏ Annals, Yŏngyang 11/1). On the date of the Yugi composition, see Byington 1996, 136. 55. See Shiratori 1936. An English translation of this work appears in Shiratori 1938. Shiratori suggests that the Puyŏ foundation myth was appropriated by Koguryŏ during the reign of King Changsu (r. 413–91).

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Puyŏ and eventually re-established the Puyŏ ruling house under Koguryŏ tutelage. In the foundation myth made public on the Kwanggaet’o stele and communicated to the Wei court, Koguryŏ claimed for itself an antiquity and legitimacy that paralleled that of Puyŏ, with which the ruling house of Koguryŏ was intimately bound.56 Despite the logic of Shiratori’s theory, we cannot rule out the possibility either that the Puyŏ origin myth for Koguryŏ predated the collapse of Puyŏ or that the Koguryŏ ruling house really did break away from Puyŏ. Since this issue is currently beyond resolution, it is perhaps best to consider a related issue: what the pronouncement of the Puyŏ origin myth meant to the Koguryŏ of the late fourth and early fifth centuries. For over two centuries Koguryŏ kings had struggled to maintain their state’s independent existence, and during this time their relations with the courts of various Chinese states were either distant or hostile. The Murong victory over Koguryŏ in 342 forced its king to accept a tributary status under the Former Yan state, the structure of which was much more closely aligned with the Sinitic state model than Koguryŏ’s had ever been. It is likely that the advantages of engaging Chinese courts as a tributary were revealed to Koguryŏ’s kings from this time, but their long-term antagonism with the Murong may have dampened any enthusiasm to seek full engagement with Former Yan beyond the minimum demanded by the Murong emperors. When the Former Qin state challenged Murong control in Liaodong, Koguryŏ’s king Kubu 丘夫 (Sosurim 小獸林王, r. 371–84) took full advantage of the tribute system and actively engaged Qin in a relationship that introduced Sinitic institutions to Koguryŏ and resulted eventually in Koguryŏ’s integration into a multi-state system defined by shared languages of diplomacy and statecraft aligned on a Sinitic model.57 Koguryŏ’s kings of the latter half of the fourth century would have seen the advantages of engaging in the tribute system as a way of strengthening the state as well as the kingship. Those kings soon reaped the benefits of active participation in that system, which included increased access to trade and commerce, external recognition of the king and his state, access to resources of knowledge and education, and the heightened authority of the king as a sovereign agency in a hierarchical system of states. In presenting their state within this community of states, Koguryŏ’s kings called for an official written history depicting the origins of the state, the glory of the ruling house, and their worthy accomplishments. To impute to their state and lineage a pedigree that would be respected by states in China and elsewhere, Koguryŏ’s historians invoked the legacy of Puyŏ, with which their state and ruling lineage was shown to be intimately bound. Koguryŏ’s founding ancestor (and Koguryŏ itself) was depicted as a breakaway element from the Puyŏ ruling house. The early Koguryŏ military victories said to have been achieved under its king Churyu, during which Puyŏ was said to have been rendered subject to Koguryŏ, also received special emphasis in communications with Chinese states.58 The legacy of 56. For the version of the foundation tale communicated to the Northern Wei court, see Weishu 100:2213–14 (Account of Koguryŏ). 57. See Samguk sagi 18:166 (Koguryŏ Annals, Sosurim 2–5) for the introduction of religious, educational, and statecraft institutions between 372 and 375. 58. It is worth noting here that King Kubu (Sosurim, r. 371–84), who was so instrumental in the statebuilding processes of this time, is said to have been referred to alternately as the Lesser King Hae Churyu, thereby drawing a connection with the Greater King Hae Churyu, who was best known for

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Puyŏ was further incorporated into the Koguryŏ state cult in the form of the “Puyŏ Spirit,” which by the mid-sixth century was represented with a wooden statue in the likeness of the founder’s mother.59 From the late fourth century, Puyŏ and its historical legacy occupied a prominent place in Koguryŏ’s state mythology. Whether this claim to Puyŏ’s legacy represented a real historical memory or was invented anew after 346 is currently impossible to determine. Nevertheless, Koguryŏ’s leaders from the late fourth century made full use of the Puyŏ legacy, invoking it frequently in its inter-state communications and incorporating it conspicuously into the state cult in the persons of Chumong and his mother, the Puyŏ Spirit. Koguryŏ’s own pedigree and legitimacy were thus reinforced and given historical expression, and the fact that Puyŏ no longer existed meant that no dissenting voice could be expected to refute Koguryŏ’s claims to the Puyŏ heritage. Koguryŏ’s actual administration of the occupied Puyŏ territories seems to have been rather loose, with an initial garrison governor most likely yielding eventually to a semiautonomous Puyŏ king. With Koguryŏ’s military forces focused on its struggles with Paekche and Silla to the south, the northern territories were probably neglected, an oversight that resulted in Koguryŏ’s loss of the Puyŏ territories to invaders late in the fifth century.

Mohe Expansion and Koguryŏ’s Loss of Puyŏ Territories The Wuji 勿吉 (K. Mulgil) are a people who first appear in Chinese histories from the late fifth century. In later histories they are referred to as the Mohe 靺鞨 (K. Malgal), but the two names were originally homophonous and undoubtedly referred to the same people. The Weishu describes the Wuji as the descendents of the Sushen. The Sushen lived as scattered communities in the regions to the north of Koguryŏ, which suggests that they were probably descended from the Yilou people of the Wei-Jin period.60 The Weishu account of the Wuji, which covers the period from the 470s to 540, describes the Wuji as occupying regions that included Tutai Mountain 徒太山 and the Sumo River 速末水, readily identified as today’s Changbaishan and the north-flowing Songhua River. This indicates that sometime between the Wei mission to P’yŏngyang in 435 and 540 Koguryŏ had lost large tracts of territory in its Puyŏ and Ch’aeksŏng regions to the Wuji. The Wuji appear to have established relations with the Northern Wei court in the late 470s, for in 478 the Wuji envoy Yilizhi 乙力支 arrived at the Wei court and informed the emperor that his people had already seized ten Koguryŏ villages and were forging

his successful campaigns against Puyŏ. One suspects that Kubu may have been responsible both for bringing former Puyŏ territories under Koguryŏ control and, perhaps, for placing emphasis on the original Churyu’s campaigns against Puyŏ. 59. Zhoushu 49:885 (Account of Koguryŏ): 又有神廟二所: 一曰夫餘神, 刻木作婦人之象; 一曰登高 神, 云是其始祖夫餘神之子. 並置官司, 遣人守護. 蓋河伯女與朱蒙云. According to Samguk sagi 21:198 (Koguryŏ Annals, Pojang 5/5), in 646, just before a major Tang attack on Koguryŏ, a plaster statue of the founder’s mother is said to have shed tears of blood: 東明王母塑像泣血三日. 60. Weishu 100:2219–21 (Account of Wuji).

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plans with Paekche for a joint assault on Koguryŏ.61 This joint campaign did not receive Wei support and seems never to have been carried out, but the incident illustrates that the Wuji were by the late 470s already raiding and seizing Koguryŏ territories. As previously discussed, until the end of the fifth century, Koguryŏ had exacted a tribute of gold from its Puyŏ territories. In 494, however, according to the Samguk sagi, the Puyŏ king fled his home along with his family and put in with Koguryŏ.62 Though the Korean source gives no reason for the Puyŏ king’s flight, his motivation becomes evident in a passage in the Weishu, dated 504, wherein the Koguryŏ king explains to the Wei emperor that his tribute of gold could not be paid because the gold had come from Puyŏ, which had been “expelled by the Wuji.”63 Together these records indicate that around 494 the Puyŏ king had fled from an invasion of his territory by the Wuji, who had seized and occupied the old Puyŏ core region in central Jilin. Although the Puyŏ king and his family fled the invasion, there is no indication that the Puyŏ populations were also compelled to leave their homes, and it is likely that they remained and mixed with the Wuji newcomers. The Wuji also exercised some authority over other surrounding groups, including the Damolou, but the dynamics behind their sudden rise to power remain a mystery. Although the Weishu account mentions little about Wuji social organization, the later Suishu 隋書 (History of Sui), compiled in 636, describes seven distinct groups in its account of the Mohe. Of these seven, the Sumo and the Baishan are especially notable in that they represent those Mohe communities located in the old territories of Puyŏ and Ch’aeksŏng respectively.64 The Sumo are described as having been conterminous with Koguryŏ, which they repeatedly invaded with their thousands of crack troops. The Baishan are described as a weaker group, with only three thousand troops, to the southeast of Sumo, and they are elsewhere said to have been subject to Koguryŏ.65 During the Sui period, only the Sumo and Baishan were able to communicate directly with the Sui court.66 Archaeological data support the theory that the Wuji had swept southward in the late fifth century to occupy the central and eastern regions of modern Jilin Province. The earliest Wuji / Mohe remains are found farther to the north in Heilongjiang along the lower reaches of the east-flowing Songhua, whereas those related ruins in eastern Jilin all seem to date to a later period.67 Particularly useful are the data from the excavated sites at Yangtun and Laoheshen, both of which yielded three distinct cultural levels, the lower 61. Weishu 100:2220 (Account of Wuji). The account of Wuji states that Yilizhi’s visit came early in the Taihe reign (477–99), but the first mention of a Wuji tribute mission in the annals section of the Weishu falls on a date corresponding to September 24, 478 (Weishu 7a:146 [Gaozu, Taihe 2/7]). Wuji’s communications with Paekche constitute another problem in the murky history of that state. 62. Samguk sagi 19:173 (Koguryŏ Annals, Munja 3/2): 二月, 扶餘王及妻孥, 以國來降. 63. Weishu 100:2216 (Account of Koguryŏ): 但黃金出自夫餘 . . . 夫餘為勿吉所逐; Samguk sagi 19:174 (Koguryŏ Annals, Munja 13/4). 64. Suishu 81:1821–22 (Account of Mohe). 65. Xin Tangshu 219:6178 (Account of Heishui Mohe). 66. Suishu 81:1822 (Account of Mohe). 67. For example, Mohe (or Yilou) sites at Guntuling 滚兔岭 in Luobei County and Tongren 同仁 in Suibin County, both in northeastern Heilongjiang, have been radiocarbon dated to as early as the third to first centuries bce (Zhang Boquan and Wei Cuncheng, eds. 1998, 323) and as late as the sixth century (Heilongjiangsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1989, 725). Yet the Mohe sites at Yangtun and Chaliba

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level belonging to Xituanshan and the middle to post-Xituanshan Puyŏ culture. The upper level belongs to the distinctive Mohe culture. A wood fragment recovered from the Yangtun Mohe level in 1979 yielded a calibrated radiocarbon date of 1535 ± 85 ybp.68 Tomb M17 at Yangtun yielded a Tang Kaiyuan tongbao 開元通寶 coin minted after 721, showing continued habitation of the site by Mohe people after the founding of Parhae. A coin inscribed Wuxing dabu 五行大布 found in the fill of tomb M33 at the Mohe cemetery at Laoheshen dates to the Northern Zhou period, or 557 to 577.69 These finds are significant also because the Yangtun and Chaliba 查里巴 sites near Wulajie are thought to have been near the population center of the Sumo Mohe. The Sumo group took their name from the Sumo River, which was then the name for the north-flowing Songhua. A local tradition at the end of the nineteenth century placed this group at a location near Wulajie in Yongji County north of the city of Jilin, and the archaeological finds described above have since provided support for this view.70 Surviving historical records of Koguryŏ and Wei provide no explicit documentation for the Wuji / Mohe occupation of a significant proportion of Koguryŏ’s territories, yet the historical references and archaeological data described above leave little doubt that such a massive loss of territory did in fact occur at the end of the fifth century. The Puyŏ territory loosely governed by Koguryŏ for over a century was thus lost to a group of linguistically distinct descendents of the Yilou, who had anciently been subject to Puyŏ. The Mohe groups who settled in the former Puyŏ territory became known as the Sumo after the river that formed the prominent feature of that terrain. The Puyŏ inhabitants of that region most likely mixed with the newcomers rather than migrating to a new home, and as detailed in the next section, the Sumo came eventually to adopt the Puyŏ name as part of their own identity. The Sumo may be viewed, to some degree, as a cultural composite consisting of elements of the Mohe with survivors of Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ dependency.

Koguryŏ’s Resurgence and the Puyŏ-Mohe For nearly a century after the Wuji overran Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ territories, Koguryŏ kings seem to have made no concerted effort to retrieve their lost lands. This was partly a result of their military need to focus on struggles with Paekche and Silla to the south,

just north of Jilin City seem to date no earlier than the late fifth century (Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui, Jilinshi Bowuguan, and Yongjixian Wenhuaju 1991; Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1995). 68. Jilinsheng Wenwu Gongzuodui, Jilinshi Bowuguan, and Yongjixian Wenhuaju 1991, 49. 69. Jilinsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo, ed. 1987, 103–4, 120. 70. See the study of Parhae in Cao Tingjie’s Dong sansheng yudi tushuo, included in Jin Yufu 1985, Liaohai congshu, vol. 4, 2251: “A few li northwest from today’s Wula town is an earthen fortress that the locals call Gaolicheng (Korean town). It is about one li square, and was the old land of the Sumo Mohe” (今烏拉城西北數里, 有土城, 土人呼曰高麗城, 方里餘, 當即粟末靺鞨舊地). The “Wula town” in the account refers to the site of today’s Wulajie, built just to the southeast of the walled town that served as the capital of the Jurchen Ula state of the Ming period. The “Gaolicheng” mentioned seems to correspond to the site now called Dachang gucheng 大常古城, which overlooks the Yangtun and Chaliba sites that yielded the remains of a large Mohe settlement thought to be that of the Sumo. See Yongjixian wenwuzhi 1985, 74–79, 108–9.

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and it is possible that some satisfactory relationship with the new Wuji presence had been negotiated to preclude the need to reclaim the northern territories. Given the prominent role Puyŏ occupied in the Koguryŏ state myth, however, it is rather strange that the retrieval of the Puyŏ heartland did not become a pressing concern until late in the sixth century. Ultimately, the reasons for Koguryŏ’s military reoccupation of the old Puyŏ core were strategic and closely associated with the reunification of China under the Sui dynasty in 589. As noted previously, beginning in the mid-fifth century Koguryŏ’s kings maintained simultaneous tributary relations with multiple Chinese states. Their closest relations were with the Northern Wei court. Koguryŏ exchanged regular missions with Northern Wei between 425 and 534, and then with its successor, Eastern Wei, between 536 and 549. Beginning in 455, however, Koguryŏ also engaged in a succession of formal relations with the southern courts of Song, Qi, and Liang. Although the Northern Wei emperors occasionally objected to, or even obstructed, Koguryŏ’s missions to these other courts, relations between Koguryŏ and Wei were quite close and amicable. In fact, Koguryŏ kings derived substantial benefit from their relations with all of these Chinese states, which occasionally competed with one another for Koguryŏ’s loyalties. After the fall of the Eastern Wei regime in 549, Koguryŏ maintained relations with the northern states of Qi and Zhou, as well as with the southern state of Chen. These relationships ended after a quick series of dynastic collapses beginning with the Zhou conquest of Qi in 577. Then in 581 a usurper seized power in Zhou and established the Sui dynasty, which overthrew the Chen state in 589 and extended its authority over most of China. Koguryŏ established relations with Sui early in 582, but within a few years those relations would turn sour. From 478 the Mohe had dispatched tribute missions to the Northern Wei court, trips that became more frequent from 507 onward. Unlike Koguryŏ, the Mohe do not appear to have attempted to engage competing Chinese courts, but instead maintained relations with a single northern dynasty. When the Northern Wei fell in 534, Mohe missions continued to arrive at the court of the Eastern Wei, and after 550 they continued to reach the succeeding Northern Qi court. The Mohe sent tribute to the Northern Qi court on an average of once every two years, and when the Sui rose in the north, the Mohe sent missions to that court with similar frequency. Thus, during the period that the Wuji / Mohe occupied the Puyŏ core region, they frequently dispatched envoys to the same courts in northern China that Koguryŏ had engaged, though unlike Koguryŏ they favored a single court at a time. Between 584 and 591, however, there is a noticeable suspension of Mohe tribute missions to the Sui court, during which Koguryŏ likewise sent no missions to Sui (though it sent tribute to the southern court of Chen in 585). A 1985 study of Koguryŏ-Sui relations by Liu Xiaodong and Cheng Song suggests that this suspension of Mohe tribute missions was engineered by Koguryŏ in order to prevent a Sui-Mohe alliance against Koguryŏ. Their theory is based on an interpretation of a Sui statement of 590 that accused Koguryŏ of previously having obstructed the Mohe.71 71. Liu Xiaodong and Cheng Song 1985. The Suishu and the Cefu yuangui record Mohe missions to Sui in 581, 583, 584, 591, 592, and 593, leaving a noticeable seven-year gap between 584 and 591. The Suishu (81:1815 [Account of Koguryŏ]) further records that in 590 the Sui emperor made mention of Koguryŏ

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Before turning to the matter of why Koguryŏ would have objected to continued relations between the Mohe and Sui, let us consider the identity and location of the parties involved in these events. The Mohe who maintained relations with Sui must have been those of the Sumo 粟末 group who occupied the Puyŏ core region. This is evident from the statement that of the seven Mohe groups known to the Sui, only the Sumo and the Baishan 白山 were able to make contact with Sui, and the Baishan had been rendered subject to Koguryŏ.72 Further confirmation is found in the epitaph on the tombstone of Li Jinhang 李謹行 (620–83), whose forebears are said to have come from the Sumo (Li’s father, Tudiji, will be discussed below).73 If the Sumo, maintaining an independent existence, had managed to send tribute missions to the northern courts, their most convenient route would have taken them along Koguryŏ’s western frontier, which suggests that Koguryŏ might well have been capable of blocking their passage. In the events following the resumption of Mohe missions to Sui is to be found confirmation that the Sumo in the Puyŏ core were indeed the Mohe party involved in these affairs. As noted above, the Sui emperor Wen (r. 581–604) reprimanded the Koguryŏ king in 590 for his obstruction of Mohe tribute and underscored his displeasure with an open threat. Having just unified China with the conquest of the southern state of Chen, the Sui emperor warned the Koguryŏ king that he could well become the next target of Sui’s military if he failed to comply with the emperor’s wishes. Both Mohe and Koguryŏ tribute resumed the next year, but records preserved in the Koguryŏ Annals suggest that King P’yŏngwŏn 平原王 (r. 559–90) was greatly concerned about Emperor Wen’s intentions toward Koguryŏ. Although extant records provide no confirmation, I believe that from at least 583 P’yŏngwŏn had perceived that Sui would become a grave threat to Koguryŏ and that the suspension of Koguryŏ and Mohe tribute was effected in preparation for the coming conflict.74 The Sui threat and the death of King P’yŏngwŏn in 590 combined to effect a change in Koguryŏ policy, and Koguryŏ and Mohe tribute resumed in 591.75 having previously “coerced” the Mohe. Liu and Cheng believe this indicates that between 584 and 591 Koguryŏ had prevented the Mohe from sending tribute missions to the Sui court. The Suishu erroneously records Sui’s reprimand to Koguryŏ as having been sent in 597. The error is evident in that the message had been sent upon the fall of the Chen state to Sui, which occurred in 589. Furthermore, the message was addressed to the Koguryŏ king Yang, called Yangsŏng in the Samguk sagi, and posthumously styled P’yŏngwŏn, who died late in 590. Samguk sagi 19:180 (Koguryŏ Annals, P’yŏngwŏn 32) correctly places the event in this year. 72. Suishu 81:1822 (Account of Mohe): “Their country is remote from Sui and inaccessible, only Sumo and Baishan being nearby.” 73. 其先蓋肅慎之苗□涑沫之後也. Li Jinhang’s epitaph appears in Mao 1989, 417–20. 74. The Koguryŏ Annals record that in 583 the king declared a state of emergency and ordered a sharp increase in agricultural production (Samguk sagi 19:179 [Koguryŏ Annals, P’yŏngwŏn 25/2]). It is possible that this indicates a preparation for invasion, though it could also indicate a worsening of the famine resulting from crop failure in 581. 75. In early 591 the new king Yŏngyang sent envoys to Sui to request that the emperor confer title upon him, which was granted in the third month (Samguk sagi 20:181 [Koguryŏ Annals, Yŏngyang 2/1]; Suishu 2:35–36 [Gaozu, Kaihuang 10/7, 11/1, 11/5]). In the twelfth month (early in 592) a Mohe mission arrived at the Sui court (Suishu 2:36 [Gaozu, Kaihuang 11/12]).

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The new Koguryŏ king Yŏngyang 嬰陽王 (r. 590–618) seems to have been as uncomfortable with Koguryŏ’s relationship with Sui as his predecessor had been. He must have been particularly displeased with Sui’s ties to the Sumo Mohe, for at some point between 593 and 598 he sent his armies northward and recaptured the Puyŏ core region, sending the Sumo leadership flying to seek refuge under Sui protection. The earliest and most complete account of this event appears in the late tenth-century Taiping huanyu ji 太平 寰宇記 (Gazetteer of the world during the Taiping period), which drew its information from the now-lost Beifan fengsu ji 北蕃風俗記 (Record of customs of the north), written at the end of the Sui dynasty.76 Previously, during the Kaihuang reign [581–600] the Sumo Mohe engaged Koguryŏ unsuccessfully in battle. The chieftain of the Tuji community, Tudiji 突地稽, led several thousand excellent troops of eight communities, including the Hushilai, Kutushi, Yuejimeng, Yueyu, Buhulai, Poxi, and Bubuguali communities, and led forth the villages from the northwest of Puyŏ Fortress 扶餘城, headed to the pass and put in with [Sui]. They were settled at Liucheng 柳城 [modern Chaoyang] and to the north of Yanjun 燕郡 [modern Yixian].77

With this campaign Koguryŏ broke Sumo’s hold over the Puyŏ region and recaptured it. This region was to become a strategic frontier base during Koguryŏ’s later wars with Sui and Tang. Although the date of these events is given imprecisely in this record as the Kaihuang reign (581–600), Liu and Cheng have convincingly demonstrated that they must have occurred between 593 and 598.78 The cessation of Mohe tribute after 593 can be explained as a result of the Koguryŏ campaign, and events that followed in 598 suggest that Sumo power had been shattered by that year.79 After securing the former Puyŏ core region, Koguryŏ mobilized a large army of Mohe troops in 598 and directed them westward in a strike against the Liaoxi region held by Sui, which appears to have been that region to which Tudiji and the displaced Sumo groups had been settled.80 The governor of Yingzhou repelled the attack, which nevertheless so 76. Taiping huanyu ji 69:8A–8B (Account of Youzhou); and 71:12A–12B (Account of Yanzhou). A comprehensive analysis of these events and of the reliability of the texts from which they derive appears in Liu Xiaodong and Cheng Song 1985. 77. Taiping huanyu ji 71:12A–12B (Yanzhou): 開皇中, 粟末靺鞨與高麗戰不勝, 有突稽部渠長突地稽 者, 率忽使來部、窟突始部、悅稽蒙部、越羽部、步護賴部、破奚部、步步括利部, 凡八部勝兵數千人, 自扶餘城西北舉部落向關內附, 處之柳城, 乃燕郡之北. 78. Liu and Cheng 1985, 61. Hino Kaisaburō reached a similar conclusion in his study of Tudiji (Hino 1988–1991c). 79. Liu and Cheng believe that the Mohe composing the Koguryŏ army were troops of the Baishan, who were said to have been subject to Koguryŏ, but it is also possible that they were other members of the Sumo who had gone over to Koguryŏ. 80. There is some uncertainty as to where Liaoxi was located at this time. The commandery had been abolished before Sui rose to power and was not re-established under Sui until 612 (with its administrative center near modern Yixian). It is certain that this latter Liaoxi was not located in the same region as the previous commandery, but it is likely that the name was used retrospectively in the description of the 598 Koguryŏ invasion, which must have been directed against the newly established Sumo base at Yixian and Chaoyang.

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angered Emperor Wen that in the same year he responded with what would be the first of many large-scale Sui attacks directed against Koguryŏ.81 This campaign was a dismal failure for Sui due to poor direction and severe weather, and what remained of the army was soon recalled. The Koguryŏ king expressed his regrets for the Liaoxi invasion, and relations between Sui and Koguryŏ resumed for a time. As suggested above, it is likely that the Koguryŏ strike against the Sumo was taken to prevent the Mohe from engaging Sui as an ally against Koguryŏ, and it may be assumed that the 598 attack on Liaoxi was launched in an effort to prevent Tudiji and his followers from posing a continued threat to Koguryŏ’s occupation of the Puyŏ region from which the Sumo had been displaced. The eight communities mentioned in the account should not be considered to represent the whole of the Sumo population, and there is evidence, both historical and archaeological, that a considerable Sumo presence remained in the area under Koguryŏ’s control. Nevertheless, those Mohe people who relocated to the region around Yixian and Chaoyang numbered several thousand households, and they were to remain in the regions west of the Liao River to assist the Sui emperors in their campaigns against Koguryŏ. The campaign that Sui launched against Koguryŏ in 612 was one of the grandest military failures in all of Chinese history, wherein a force said to have numbered over one million troops, with another million acting in support positions, was mobilized against Koguryŏ. At the conclusion of this campaign, the Sui army had suffered a huge number of casualties, and its only territorial gain was the establishment of a new Liaodong commandery near Xinmin at a captured Koguryŏ outpost west of the Liao River. Shortly after the failed campaign in 612, the Sui emperor Yang established Liaoxi Commandery near modern Yixian, named Tudiji as its governor, and, significantly, gave him the title Marquis of Puyŏ 扶餘候.82 The populations of Liaoxi at this time consisted primarily of the displaced Sumo communities and several Khitan groups that had put in with Sui and were settled west of the Liao River. Tudiji himself served the Sui and Tang emperors and achieved distinction for his military achievements. He participated in Sui’s failed campaigns against Koguryŏ in 613 and 614, and in 616 to 617 he attended the Sui emperor at his base in Jiangdu 江都. During the chaotic conditions preceding the fall of Sui in 618, Tudiji and his followers returned to Liaoxi, encountering numerous obstacles on the way. Shortly after the establishment of the Tang dynasty, Tudiji and a Khitan leader named Sun Aocao 孫敖曹 sent envoys to the Tang court to declare loyalty and to request appointment. In 621 the Tang emperor moved Liaoxi Commandery to Liucheng (modern Chaoyang), changed its name to Yanzhou 燕州, and appointed Tudiji as its governor. He also made Sun Aocao governor of a new Liaozhou 遼州 prefecture based at Yanzhicheng 燕支城 near modern Yixian, and 81. Suishu 81:1816 (Account of Koguryŏ). 82. After several years the commandery base was moved to Liucheng at modern Chaoyang. See Taiping huanyu ji 69:8A (Youduxian): 煬帝八年, 為置遼西郡, 以突地稽為太守, 理營州東二百里汝羅故 城, 後遭邊寇侵掠, 又寄理于營州城內; 71:12A–12B (Yanzhou): 煬帝大業八年, 為置遼西郡, 并遼西、 懷遠、濾河, 三縣以統之, 取秦漢遼西郡為名也. For the conferral of the title Marquis of Puyŏ, see Cefu yuangui 970:3B–4A (Wude 2/10): [唐武德二年] 十月, 靺鞨首師突地稽, 遺使朝貢. 突[地]稽者, 靺鞨之 渠長也. 隋大業中, 與兄瞞咄率其部, 內屬於營州. 瞞咄死, 代總其眾, 拜遼西太守, 封扶餘侯. 朝煬帝 於江都, 屬化及之亂, 以其徒數百間, 行歸柳城, 至是通使焉.

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the territories of Tudiji and Sun Aocao were administered under the new superior prefecture of Yingzhou 營州.83 In 623, however, Tudiji led his followers to Youzhou near Beijing, where he assisted the Tang emperor in quelling various rebellions that had broken out in that region.84 Tudiji had his followers settle at the city of Changping 昌平城 to the northwest of Beijing, but the majority of the Sumo émigrés remained at Yingzhou. Shortly before he died in 627, the Tang emperor conferred upon Tudiji the imperial surname Li.85 Tudiji’s son, Li Jinhang, returned to Yingzhou and held many official positions under the Tang, and he later served as an able commander who fought in the wars that finally toppled Koguryŏ. As noted above, the Sumo Mohe communities that followed Tudiji from their homes northwest of Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng (Longtanshan in Jilin) were settled in towns and villages in the vicinity of the modern cities of Chaoyang and Yixian. That these communities retained some sense of identity with the old Puyŏ region from which they had come may be seen in the fact that the Sui emperor in 612 conferred upon Tudiji the title Marquis of Puyŏ.86 This consciousness is further reflected in the descriptions of two towns under Yingzhou that had been established for Sumo emigres. The Jiu Tangshu 舊唐書 (Old history of Tang) geography monograph notes that Shenzhou 慎州 had been established by 636 to support displaced villages of the Sumo Mohe as well as the Shiwei tribe of Wusugu 烏素固.87 In 690 part of Shenzhou was separately established as Lizhou 黎州, and in the corresponding description of that prefecture, the Jiu Tangshu notes that it (as Shenzhou) had been established for displaced communities of the Fuyu Mohe 浮渝靺鞨 and the Wusugu Shiwei.88 In this entry the Sumo Mohe are instead referred to as the “Fuyu Mohe,” and Fuyu 浮渝 is a known variant transcription of Fuyu 扶餘, or Puyŏ. The Sumo thus appear to have been referred to alternately as the Puyŏ Mohe. 83. Jiu Tangshu 199b:5358–59 (Account of Mohe): 有酋帥突地稽者, 隋末率其部千餘家內屬, 處之於 營州, 煬帝授突地稽金紫光祿大夫, 遼西太守. 武德初, 遣間使朝貢, 以其部落置燕州, 仍以突地稽為 總管; 199b:5350 (Account of Khitan): 又契丹有別部酋帥孫敖曹, 初仕隋為金紫光祿大夫. 武德四年, 與靺鞨酋長突地稽俱遣使內附, 詔令於營州城傍安置, 授雲麾將軍, 行遼州總管. 84. Liu and Cheng date this event to 622, but it seems more likely to have been associated with the move of the prefectures of Yingzhou southward in 623. See Jiu Tangshu 39:1521 (Geography 2): 燕州: [武 德] 六年 (623), 自營州 遷, 寄治於幽州城內. 85. Jiu Tangshu 199b:5359 (Account of Mohe). 86. It is also possible that this conferral was intended rather to indicate Sui’s intention to reclaim Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ territories. If so, then the title would have been a device reflecting the Sui desire to use the displaced Sumo elements against Koguryŏ. 87. Jiu Tangshu 39:1522 (Geography 2): 慎州武德初置, 隸營州, 領涑沫靺鞨烏素固部落. 萬歲通天二 年, 移於淄, 青州安置. 神龍初, 復舊, 隸幽州. 天寶領縣一, 戶二百五十, 口九百八十四. For the date of its establishment, see Jiu Tangshu 39:1520–21 (Geography 2): 營州上都督府, 隋柳城郡. 武德元年 (618), 改為營州總管府, 領遼、燕二州, 領柳城一縣 . . . [貞觀] 十年 (636), 又督慎州. Some scholars suggest that Wusugu might have been the name of one of the communities of Sumo (Hino 1988–1991c, 318–19; Sun Jinji and Wang Mianhou, eds. 1989, vol. 2, 299), but the name’s only other occurrence has it referring to a Shiwei community located far to the north of Yingzhou. I interpret the passage above to mean that the Sumo Mohe and the Wusugu are two separate groups who had been settled at Shenzhou. 88. Jiu Tangshu 39:1524 (Geography 2): 黎州載初二年 (690), 析慎州置, 處浮渝靺鞨烏素固部落, 隸營 州都督. 萬歲通天元年 (696), 遷於宋州管治. 神龍初還, 改隸幽州都督. 天寶領縣一, 戶五百六十九, 口一千九百九十一.

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The evidence above suggests that the Sumo Mohe associated themselves with Puyŏ, though it is unclear whether this was a simple geographical association, an indication of perceived genealogical or political descent, or a device to impart legitimacy to the Sumo political or social organization. Although extant narrative histories of the Manchuria region are less than fully explicit concerning Koguryŏ’s loss of the Puyŏ region to the Wuji, the rise of the Sumo Mohe, and Koguryŏ’s reoccupation of that region, the relatively oblique references examined above permit the reconstruction of a general sequence of events centered on the former heartland of the Puyŏ state. Koguryŏ managed to retain control over the Puyŏ region until its collapse in 668, after which it seems to have fallen outside of the scope of territories that had been incorporated briefly and nominally as prefectures under Tang’s Andong Protectorate. Shortly after the establishment of the Parhae state in 698, Puyŏ was again reconstituted as one of its major prefectures.

The Puyŏ Component of Parhae The establishment of the Parhae state was largely a response to a rebellion of mostly Khitan elements in the Songmo Area Command 松漠都督府 to the north of Yingzhou beginning in the summer of 696. The primary instigators of this uprising were the Khitan Li Jinzhong 李盡忠 and Sun Wanrong 孫萬榮, the latter being the great-grandson of Sun Aocao, who with Tudiji had submitted to Tang in 621.89 The uprising was triggered by general resentment toward the governor of Yingzhou, Zhao Wenhui 趙文翽, who is said to have mistreated the Khitan leaders and to have refused to release emergency provisions to them during a severe famine. The rebels quickly overran Yingzhou and began to press southward in numbers said to have been in the tens of thousands. Tang forces were quickly dispatched to counter the rebels, but the uprising was not put down until summer of the next year. Yingzhou was abandoned and its prefectures were relocated far to the south in 697, and the whole governing structure of Yingzhou was seriously disrupted. In the confusion many of those who had joined in the rebellion fled the region. Among them were two leaders named Qiqi Zhongxiang (K. Kŏlgŏl Ch’ungsang) 乞乞仲象 and Qisi Biyu (K. Kŏlsa Piu) 乞四比羽. These two men are said to have led masses of Mohe and Koguryŏ people far to the east, where they established a state in the valleys of the Mudan River. The state was originally called Chin (Ch. Zhen) 振國, but in 713 the Tang emperor compelled its leader to accept tributary status under Tang and conferred upon the state the new name of Parhae 渤海 (Ch. Bohai). The Parhae leader named in the Jiu Tangshu is Tae Choyŏng 大祚榮 (?–719), who may or may not have been the same figure named Qiqi Zhongxiang in the

89. The Songmo Area Command was established in 648 when several Khitan tribes submitted to Tang. It was located just north of Yingzhou in the region along and to the south of the Sira Mören River. Li Jinzhong was the Commander-in-Chief of Songmo, and Sun Wanrong was the Prefect 刺史 of Guicheng Prefecture 歸誠州 of Songmo. See Zizhi tongjian 205:6505 (Zetian, Wansui tongtian 1/5). Guicheng was located to the west of Balin zuoqi 巴林左旗 in Inner Mongolia, at a site that was later to become Liao’s Huaizhou 懷州 Prefecture, which was populated with conquered peoples of Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu and its capital city, including the Parhae king himself.

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Xin Tangshu account.90 The Jiu Tangshu describes Tae Choyŏng as having descended from a branch of Koguryŏ, though the Xin Tangshu describes him more specifically as a member of the Sumo Mohe who were subject to Koguryŏ. If Choyŏng was indeed a Sumo Mohe—and it is conceivable that he was not—it is unclear as to whether he was descended from Tudiji’s Sumo communities who submitted to Sui or was rather one of the many Mohe people who were relocated to Yingzhou after the fall of Koguryŏ.91 During the first half of the eighth century the Tae clan consolidated vast territories under their control. Among the earliest areas incorporated into the Parhae territorial administrative system was the old Puyŏ core region, which was administered as the Puyŏ Superior Prefecture, or Puyŏ-bu 扶餘府. The Xin Tangshu notes that the old lands of Puyŏ were incorporated into two superior prefectures. The Puyŏ core region became Puyŏ-bu, where a standing elite army was stationed to guard against Khitan incursion. It consisted of two prefectures: Pu-ju 扶州, which was also the base site of the Superior Prefecture, and Sŏn-ju 仙州. Other regions of Puyŏ fell under the administration of Makkal-bu 鄚頡府, which consisted of the two prefectures of Mak-chu 鄚州 and Ko-ju 高州.92 Although the locations of these prefectures are difficult to determine, it is possible 90. Compare Jiu Tangshu 199b:5360 (Account of Parhae-Mohe) and Xin Tangshu 219:6179–80 (Account of Parhae). In the former work Tae Choyŏng is described as having fled Yingzhou along with Qisi Biyu, but in the latter work Qiqi Zhongxiang is the leader who fled with Qisi Biyu, and Tae Choyŏng is described as Zhongxiang’s son who succeeded him after his death. Recent scholarship has failed to resolve this problem, but one theory suggests that Tae Choyŏng is simply a name later adopted by Qiqi Zhongxiang after he became king of Parhae and desired a more “Sinitic” name. The compilers of the Xin Tangshu may have been confused over the difference in names and assumed that Choyŏng was Zhongxiang’s son. 91. There is some evidence that Qiqi Zhongxiang was not a Mohe. The Xin Tangshu describes him as a Sumo Mohe only indirectly, since his “son” Choyŏng is described as a member of the Tae clan, which belonged to the Sumo Mohe. Zhongxiang’s name is prefaced with the term sheli 舍利, which was later a Khitan office and title during the Liao Dynasty. The Wudai huiyao 五代會要 (Important documents of the Five Dynasties) describes Zhongxiang as a Da Sheli 大舍利, another Liao-period title, which has caused some scholars to suggest that Zhongxiang was either a Khitan or a Mohe who had adopted Khitan customs. Song Ki-ho points out that Khitan use of the titles sheli and da sheli cannot be shown to have existed as early as the late seventh century (Song Ki-ho 1995, 62–64). Although sheli might have been Zhongxiang’s title, it could also have been his place of residence. During the Tang, Sheli was the name of a prefecture settled by Tujue Turks on the western frontier of the Tang empire, which makes it an unlikely place of origin for Zhongxiang. However, Sheli also appears as the name of a conquered Koguryŏ region incorporated as an Area Command under the Andong Protectorate as Sheli (K. Sari) Prefecture 舍利州都督府 (Xin Tangshu 43b:1128–29 [Geography 7b]). Although it is impossible to determine where Sari / Sheli was located, the other prefectures listed with it were located in the vicinity of Liaodong or farther north on Koguryŏ’s northwestern frontier. Sheli is thus likely to have been one of the Mohe communities located north of Liaodong, and Zhongxiang may have been a native of that region. The statement in the Wudai huiyao may have been an erroneous assumption made by a tenthcentury author (Wang Pu 王溥: 922–82) who would have been familiar with the Khitan title sheli in use at that time. None of this precludes his having descended from the Sumo Mohe, of course, but it suggests that his origins are more complex than they at first appear. 92. Xin Tangshu 219:6182 (Account of Parhae): 扶餘故地為扶餘府, 常屯勁兵扞契丹, 領扶、仙二州; 鄚頡府領鄚、高二州. “Makkal-bu” can also be rendered as “Makhil-bu,” as is the practice in Korean scholarship.

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that the base prefecture, also referred to as Puyŏ-sŏng, was located at Wulajie, on the east bank of the Songhua River and some thirty-five kilometers to the north of the city of Jilin (this will be discussed in appendix C). Of the five major routes radiating from the Parhae capital on the Mudan River, the Puyŏ route is described as that which led to the Khitan.93 The geographical description of Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu indicates that it lay on Parhae’s western frontier adjacent to the Khitan. If this is correct, Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu was located rather to the north of the original Puyŏ capital and Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng, but it lay in the center of the heaviest concentration of Sumo Mohe settlements of the sixth century. In other words, the Puyŏ-bu of Parhae lay in a region more closely associated with the Sumo than with either Puyŏ or Koguryŏ. In their communications with states in China and Japan, Parhae’s kings represented themselves variously as the political and cultural heirs of Puyŏ, Koguryŏ, or Mohe. Tang histories tend to describe Parhae as a Mohe state that occupied the former territories of Koguryŏ and Puyŏ, and in Chinese communications the state was referred to as either Parhae or Mohe. The Wujing zongyao 武經總要 (Essentials of the military classics) is exceptional in describing Parhae as an offshoot of Puyŏ.94 In their communications with the court in Japan, Parhae kings emphasized their claim to be rightful inheritors of Koguryŏ legitimacy, even referring to their state at times as Koryŏ (the shortened form of Koguryŏ). The Shoku Nihongi 續日本紀 (Continued records of Japan) records a Parhae mission sent to the court of Shomu tennō 神龜天皇 (r. 724–49) in 728, in which the Parhae envoy claimed that his state had “restored the ancient territories of Koguryŏ and inherited the ancient customs of Puyŏ.”95 The legacy of Puyŏ was thus important to the identity of the Parhae state as presented by its official representatives, but at least in their communications with Japan, the Koguryŏ legacy was given priority. The emphasis on Koguryŏ is perhaps caused by the fact that a claim to the legacy of Koguryŏ would have held more meaning for Japanese rulers than would a claim to that of Puyŏ, and it would certainly have carried more political weight than would a simple claim to the heritage of Mohe. Despite the paucity of extant Parhae documents, there is evidence that the memory of Puyŏ still occupied a significant place in the state identity of Parhae and was viewed as important also by the Khitan conquerors of Parhae. This evidence appears in historical records relating to the fall of Parhae and to the activities of Parhae rebels under Liao rule. The comprehensive account of the Khitan conquest of Parhae is given in the annals of the Liaoshi 遼史 (History of Liao), and further details may be derived from the geography monograph of the same work. The annals of the Khitan ruler Abaoji 阿保機, later canonized as Emperor Taizu 太祖 of the Liao dynasty, contain a description of the Khitan march against Parhae, which commenced in 925 with the capture of Parhae’s Liaodong territories and continued in the next year with the conquest of the Parhae capital. As 93. Xin Tangshu 219:6182 (Account of Parhae). The other four routes include the Japan route leading through Yongwŏn 龍原, the Silla route leading through Namhae 南海, the “tribute” route 朝貢道 (to Tang) leading through Amnok 鴨淥 (Yalu), and the Yingzhou 營州 route leading through Changnyŏng 長嶺. 94. Wujing zongyao qianji 16A:33A (Beifan dili 北番地理: Account of Parhae): 渤海夫餘之別種, 本濊 貊之地. 95. Shoku Nihongi 10:245 (Shōmu 5/1): 復高麗之舊居, 有扶餘之遺俗.

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noted above, Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu was also known as the Khitan route since it lay along the path over which communications between Parhae and the Khitan were conducted. Puyŏ-bu was also a defensive region protecting the Parhae center from a possible attack from the Khitan side. It was consequently natural that the Khitan attack on the core region of Parhae would first target Puyŏ-bu, and according to the Liaoshi account Abaoji’s forces surrounded the main stronghold of Puyŏ-bu on the night of February 14, 926.96 The Puyŏ defense did not hold out for long, for the Khitan defeated it after only three days and executed its commander. The events of the next few days are unclear, but six days after the fall of Puyŏ-bu, the Khitan forces met and defeated the armies of the Parhae king, and at night they laid siege to the Parhae capital city of Horhan 忽汗城. The Parhae king capitulated after three days, and the Khitan armies set up a camp south of the capital city. Over the next several days the Khitan occupation forces were busy securing their spoils, and though they encountered pockets of stubborn resistance, Abaoji’s forces ultimately secured the formal submission of the Parhae capital and most of its constituent regions. Finally, less than a month after the capitulation of the Parhae king, Abaoji gave Parhae the new name Dongdan 東丹, or Eastern Khitan, and appointed his eldest son and crown prince, Bei 倍, as its governor. Abaoji remained in the vicinity of the former capital of Parhae for some four months, after which he made a progress through various parts of the conquered territories. When Abaoji had reached Puyŏ-bu on August 30, however, he became seriously ill, and after spending a week at Puyŏ-bu, died in his tent southwest of Puyŏ-sŏng on September 6. The Liaoshi mentions a legend claiming that just before Abaoji died, a yellow dragon appeared above the inner walled compound of Puyŏ-bu before entering Abaoji’s residence. This legend was probably created to explain the fact that Puyŏ-bu was soon afterward renamed Huanglongfu 黃龍府 (literally, Yellow Dragon Prefecture). Upon the death of Abaoji there appears to have been an attempt on the part of the brother of the Parhae king to recapture Puyŏ-sŏng. A field report sent to the ruler of the Later Tang state mentioned that Parhae forces had surrounded Puyŏ-sŏng, which was still garrisoned by a Khitan military force.97 It is not known how long this Parhae resistance lasted, though it certainly failed in the end. Nevertheless, it is significant that Puyŏ-sŏng would appear so early as a center for Parhae resistance to their Khitan conquerors. 96. The following account of the Khitan conquest of Parhae is based on records in Liaoshi 2:21–24 (Taizu, Tianbao 4/12 to Tianxian 2/8). I am here again converting to dates using the Western calendar for reference to season and the passage of time. 97. Jiu Wudaishi 37:512 (Mingzong, Tiancheng 1/11). “In the eleventh month [December 12, 926] . . . Qingzhou 青州 reported that it had gotten from Dengzhou 登州 an account of the situation, [stating that] the Khitan had already attacked and closed in on Parhae. However, though [the Khitan] had pulled out and withdrawn since the death of Abaoji, they still left troops and mounts at Parhae’s Puyŏsŏng. Now the younger brother of the Parhae king led troops and mounts forth, attacked and laid siege to the Khitan within the fortress walls” (十一月戊午 . . . 青州奏, 得登州狀申, 契丹先攻逼渤海國, 自 安巴堅身死, 雖已抽退, 尚留兵馬在渤海扶餘城, 今渤海王弟領兵馬攻圍扶餘城內契丹次). Since Qingzhou and Dengzhou were both located in what is now Shandong Province, it would have taken several days for the report to reach the Later Tang ruler on December 12, so the Parhae attempt to retake Puyŏ-sŏng must have occurred sometime between the death of Abaoji on September 6 and the end of November at the latest.

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A succession struggle following the death of Abaoji resulted in the accession of his younger son Yaogu 堯骨 as leader of the Khitan. The new ruler, later honored with the posthumous title Taizong 太宗, noted with apprehension that his elder brother and Abaoji’s chosen heir retained control over the distant region of Dongdan, and took steps to eliminate this threat to his authority. Early in 929 he removed Dongdan to the Liaodong region, where he could keep close watch on his brother’s activities.98 The eastern portions of the conquered Parhae territories were thus relinquished less than three years after they had been taken, though the majority of the city-dwelling Parhae populations had been relocated to newly established towns closer to the Khitan heartland. Although the Khitan continued to extract some tribute from the Jurchen populations remaining in the abandoned territories, they had tacitly renounced any claim to formal possession of the regions east of the Songhua River valley.99 The former region of Puyŏ-bu, renamed Huanglongfu under Liao, was perhaps the easternmost territory retained under Khitan administration. Although its location is a much-debated topic, it was originally established at the site of Parhae’s Puyŏ-sŏng, and I will suggest in appendix C that it was located at Wulajie on the Songhua River to the north of Jilin. There is evidence that the Khitan made much of the fact that they had taken the Puyŏ region, for surviving records appear to attribute more significance to the capture of Puyŏ-bu than to the taking of the Parhae capital itself.100 Although this could be due to the fact that the Parhae capital region was quickly lost whereas the Puyŏ region was retained, there is some suggestion that the significance of the Puyŏ conquest was emphasized before the removal of Dongdan in 929. A fragment of a stele found near the ruins of the Liao prefecture of Zuzhou 祖州 specifically mentions Puyŏ-bu, though the context is entirely unclear.101 The Liaoshi notes that Zuzhou was established to maintain the tomb of Abaoji, and it specifically mentions the existence of stone stelae that recorded the accomplishments of the Liao founder.102 It is possible that the fragment mentioned 98. The site at Liaoyang was at that time called Dongpingjun 東平郡, but was designated as the Southern Capital 京 when Dongdan was removed there. It was finally redesignated as the Eastern Capital 東京 in 938. In removing Dongdan, Yaogu brought Bei out of the remote frontier where he could potentially rebel and well into the new central establishment of the empire where he could be kept under closer scrutiny. Bei must have been keenly aware of the precariousness of his position, and before two years had passed after his relocation to the Liaodong region he fled to Tang, where he spent the remainder of his life in exile. 99. The name Jurchen first appears in historical records following the collapse of Parhae, and refers to people living in the regions formerly under Parhae jurisdiction. This includes people occupying the northern regions under Parhae influence, previously referred to as the Heishui Mohe. 100. This is indicated in passages in such histories as the Xin Wudaishi 新五代史 (New history of the Five Dynasties) and the Qidan guozhi 契丹國志 (Chronicles of the Khitan state), which create the erroneous impression that the Khitan conquest of Parhae was limited to the Puyŏ-bu region, which was then named Dongdan. For example, see Xin Wudaishi 72:890 (Account of Khitan): 阿保機攻渤海, 取其扶餘一城, 以為東丹國; Qidan guozhi 1:5B (Tianbao 6/7): 太祖攻渤海, 拔其夫餘城, 更命曰東丹國. 101. This fragment is currently housed at the city museum in Balin zuoqi in Inner Mongolia, where I observed it in the summer of 1999. The display notes indicate that it was found near the ruins of Zuzhou, and the inscriptions consist of three adjacent fragments reading: 或東西非霑 . . . 聖思咸霑 錄 . . . 大殿扶餘府. 102. See Liaoshi 37:442–43 (Geography 1, Zuzhou).

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above is part of one such monument. It is also worth noting that the Jin-period Puyŏ seal, referred to in chapter 5 above, was also discovered at the ruins of Zuzhou, which suggests that it had been carried away when the Parhae populations were moved to this region.103 Although the Khitan may have taken special pride in their capture of the Puyŏ region, it would prove to be a difficult territory to govern, and in 975 the region was lost to rebellion. An account in the annals of Emperor Jingzong (r. 969–82) in the Liaoshi reveals that in 975 a military commander at Huanglongfu named Yan Po 燕頗 killed the director Zhang Ju 張琚 and rebelled against Liao authority.104 The Liao court dispatched Yelu Helibi 耶律曷里必 (also called Helubu 何魯不) to put down the rebellion. After two months of battle Helibi defeated Yan Po on the Zhi 治 River. Yan Po retreated, and Helibi sent his younger brother in pursuit, but Yan Po fell back on Wurecheng 兀惹城 and his pursuers had to return without taking him captive.105 The disposition of Huanglongfu following this rebellion is not specifically described in the Liao history, but we may conclude that the prefecture was lost to the rebels.106 Those residents of Huanglongfu who had been captured, numbering in excess of one thousand households, were made to build and occupy the new city of Tongzhou 通州 far to the southwest of Huanglongfu near the present city of Siping. In 1020 Huanglongfu was re-established in a new location at modern Nongan, but its location and its inhabitants bore no relation with those of the original Huanglongfu. The Khitan seem never to have regained control over the original Huanglongfu region. Some sources suggest that the Huanglongfu rebels ultimately joined forces with those of the obscure Dingan 定安 (K. Chŏngan) state known to have existed at this time in former Parhae territory. The Songshi 宋史 (History of Song) describes a communication in 981 to the Song emperor from the king of Dingan, Wu Xuanming 烏玄明, wherein it is stated that Puyŏ-bu had recently turned against the Khitan and had returned to its 103. For a description of this seal, which is on display at the museum in Balin zuoqi, see Wang Weixiang 1997. The inscription on the seal reads 晉夫餘率善佰長. It closely resembles contemporary seals issued to leaders of Koguryŏ, Wuhuan, Xianbei, and others. 104. Liaoshi 8:94–95 (Jingzong, Yingli 7/7–9). 105. The locations of the Zhi River and Wurecheng are unknown. For various theories regarding their locations, see Hino 1988–1991a, vol. 3, 138–46. 106. First, Helibi managed to capture over a thousand households of Yan Po’s “followers” from Huanglongfu, and he had them build a new walled town called Tongzhou 通州, where they were made to take up residence (Liaoshi 8:95 [Jingzong, Yingli 7/9]; 38:468 [Geography 2, Tongzhou]). Tongzhou was located near modern Siping on the border between Liaoning and Jilin provinces, a region that lay on the southwestern extremes of the later Huanglongfu and may not even have been a part of the original Huanglongfu. Second, the biography of Helibi in the Liaoshi shows that he was flogged for the failure of his campaign, and in particular for not having pursued Yan Po himself (Liaoshi 77:1259 [Biography of Helibi]). Third, entries in the annals of Jingzong mention that a year after the rebellion Jurchen groups were twice able to invade Guizhou 歸州 (Liaoshi 8:95 [Jingzong, Yingli 8/8–9]). This prefecture was located east of modern Shenyang, not a great distance from Tongzhou, showing that this region so close to the heartland of the Eastern Capital was then exposed to attack from the east. All of these events suggest strongly that Helibi’s campaign failed to retake Huanglongfu, and that although Yan Po himself had fled east to Wure, the greater part of Huanglongfu was lost to the rebels. At this time the former Puyŏ region of Parhae passed out of Liao’s administrative control and became a headquarters for a rebellion that seems to have represented itself as a restoration of Parhae.

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home state.107 This message made it clear that Dingan had claimed the Parhae mantle. Elsewhere the Songshi notes that also in 981 the Song emperor sent a message to a king of Parhae commanding him to attack the Khitan. The form of address used in the message refers to the Parhae king as “Parhae’s King Yanfu of Fuyufu and Wushecheng” 烏 舍城 浮渝府 渤海 琰府王. It has long been believed that the city called Wushe in this title is the same as the Wure involved in the Yan Po rebellion, and the evidence supporting this is fairly strong. Similarly, we have already seen that the Fuyu 浮渝 variation is well supported as an alternative for the more familiar forms of the Puyŏ name. It is tempting also to see in the name Yanfu a variation of the name Yan Po, suggesting that he had become recognized as king of a Parhae restoration, but this is difficult to demonstrate satisfactorily. On the other hand, the annals of Emperor Shengzong in the Liaoshi indicate that Yan Po was still active in 995, when it is stated “Wu Zhaodu of Wure 兀惹 烏昭度 and Yan Po of Parhae 渤海 燕頗 invaded Tieli 鐵驪.” The same source earlier shows Wu Zhaodu to have been the leader of Wure, though it is apparent that Yan Po joined with him following the rebellion in 975 and that Yan Po had remained in command of a considerable following.108 The rebellion of Yan Po is the last historical reference to a polity established upon a claim to the legacy of Puyŏ. By the eleventh century the Dingan state and its various components vanish from the scene. The Puyŏ name continues to reappear as a place name during the Jin, Yuan, and Ming periods, though the administrations that bore the name were all located far from the original Puyŏ heartland on the Songhua River.109 The analysis above suggests that from the seventh to the tenth centuries the Puyŏ legacy was occasionally invoked and its geographical space preserved in some manner, both by the Mohe and Koguryŏ elements of Parhae and by the Parhae rebels under Khitan rule. There is, however, no suggestion that Parhae rulers considered themselves to have been lineal descendents of Puyŏ kings. Given the use of the Puyŏ name among the Mohe prior to the establishment of Parhae, it is more likely that the Mohe and Parhae leaders viewed Puyŏ primarily as a geographical place from which their forebears had come, though eighthcentury Parhae kings also claimed to preserve the culture of the original Puyŏ state. This use of the Puyŏ legacy stands in contrast to that employed by Koguryŏ, and the significance of this distinction will be examined in more detail in the concluding chapter.

107. Songshi 491:14128–29 (Account of Chŏngan). 108. Liaoshi 13:146 (Shengzong, Tonghe 13/7). 109. Under the Jurchen Jin dynasty, Puyu Route 蒲峪路 was located in Heilongjiang’s Kedong County 克东县. The ruins of the walled town are now known as Kedong gucheng 克东古城 (Heilongjiangsheng Wenwu Kaogu Yanjiusuo 1987). The ruins of Fuyu Station 富峪驛 of the Yuan dynasty are thought to be at Heicheng 黑城 in Ningcheng 宁城 in Inner Mongolia (Feng and Jiang 1982). As discussed earlier, the Heicheng site originally served as the capital of the Youbeiping Commandery established in the early third century bce under the Yan state. The Fuyu Guard 福餘衛 of the Ming period is most likely to have been located in the vicinity of Changping 昌平 in northern Liaoning Province (see Mingshi 328:8504 [Account of Oirat], and Qingshi gao 55:1940–41 [Geography 2: Fengtian: Changtufu]). All of these place names have been interpreted as variations of the name Puyŏ, though there is not likely to have been any direct link between those places and the historical Puyŏ.

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Paekche as a Puyŏ Successor State This final examination of the legacy of Puyŏ focuses on the problems surrounding the origins of the state of Paekche, which had emerged in the Han River basin near Seoul by no later than the mid-fourth century. Although several independent written accounts of Paekche’s origins have survived to the present, there is little coherence to be found among them. Nevertheless, one element common to all versions of Paekche’s foundation myth is the presence of Puyŏ in the narrative. The following analysis examines the various foundation accounts with a focus on the role of Puyŏ in each narrative. These accounts may be divided into those centered on heroes of legend, which are drawn primarily from surviving Paekche records, and those placing Paekche’s origins into political context from the perspective of Chinese states. A common thread running through all of these accounts is the migration motif, which consistently describes a southward migration from the Manchuria region to the Han River basin. Before addressing the foundation accounts, it will be useful to say a few words about treatments of Paekche’s origins in recent scholarship. Although extant Chinese and Japanese texts confirm the existence of Paekche as a state only from the reign of its king Kŭnch’ogo 近肖古王 (trad. r. 346–74), the Paekche Annals in the twelfth-century Samguk sagi trace the beginnings of Paekche statehood back to 18 bce.110 Scholars in South Korea and elsewhere have long suspected the earlier records in the Annals chronology of being either outright forgeries or chronologically misplaced events from later reigns.111 Such distortions are thought to have been introduced by Paekche historians in order to tie their state’s foundation myth to that of Koguryŏ by extending the Paekche royal lineage back to the first century bce.112 Some South Korean scholars prefer to take the Annals chronology at face value, though the majority tend to dismiss the reigns prior to that of King Koi 古爾王 (trad. r. 234–85) as fabrications and place the origins of Paekche statehood in the mid-third century. More skeptical scholars treat the chronology prior to the reign of Kŭnch’ogo with caution and see the emergence of the state as dating more properly to the mid-fourth century.113 Archaeologists analyzing settlement and mortuary remains in the Han River basin tend to favor the mid-third-century view of state origin, though a reliable, absolute chronology has yet to be formulated. Archaeological discoveries of the past few years have nevertheless revealed a great deal of information related to the emergence of the Paekche 110. See Jinshu 9:221 and 223 (Jianwendi, Xianan 2/1 and 2/6), wherein the Paekche king Yŏ Ku 餘句 sent a mission in 372 to the court of the Jin emperor, who responded by conferring upon Ku the titles General of Pacifying the East and Concurrent Governor of Lelang 鎮東將軍, 領樂浪太守. This is the first record of Paekche relations with a Chinese court, and the king is to be identified as Kŭnch’ogo. The Nihon shoki (9:353 [Jingū 46/3]) makes reference to a Paekche king named Ch’ogo 肖古 from the year corresponding (when adjusted 120 years) to 366, and it is generally recognized that this refers to Kŭnch’ogo. 111. See for example, Yi Pyŏng-do 1985, 467–81; Gardiner 1969b; Best 1996. 112. Gardiner 1969b, 574. 113. See Yi Ki-baek 1987, 52–54. Yi believes that Koi was the first historical king in the Paekche royal lineage, but he suggests that the polity did not become a centralized state until the reign of Kŭnch’ogo.

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state.114 Although these finds have produced far more questions than answers, we may anticipate in the coming years a much better understanding of the social and political processes associated with the emerging state. Some preliminary analyses of the archaeological data have suggested that the formation of the Paekche state was a localized process rather than the product of a large-scale migration from the north, though a smallscale migration has not been ruled out. The social processes leading to the formation of the Paekche state are viewed as having been catalyzed by the weakening of the Lelang and Daifang commanderies in the mid to late third century.115 The formation of the Paekche state thus constitutes a problem for which there are as yet no well-defined solutions, though archaeological analyses promise to remedy this situation somewhat in the coming years. The major tasks in the analysis of Paekche state origins include a resolution of the migration issue, an examination of the role of the commanderies, and the construction of an absolute chronology. All of these issues are more or less relevant to various historical accounts of Paekche’s state foundation examined below.

The Accounts of Onjo and Piryu The foundation account that Kim Pu-sik accepted as the primary narrative in his Paekche Annals features a figure named Onjo 溫祚, who with his elder brother Piryu 沸流 left Koguryŏ to found a new state in the south.116 This account ties the origins of Paekche intimately with those of Koguryŏ by depicting Onjo as the son of Chumong. In this version the Paekche progenitor bears no connection with Northern Puyŏ but is rather the product of Chumong and a woman of Cholbon-Puyŏ, where Koguryŏ was established. Onjo and Piryu are said to have left Koguryŏ when Chumong’s first son, Yuryu, born of Chumong’s first wife in Northern Puyŏ, joined his father in Koguryŏ and became Chumong’s heir. The brothers moved southward and each established his own colony in the Han River valley, though Piryu’s settlement at Mich’u-hol 彌鄒忽 eventually failed and his followers joined Onjo’s settlement at Wirye 慰禮. The royal lineage of the Paekche Annals proceeds from Onjo, but the state cult appears to have focused ritual attention on Tongmyŏng (Chumong) as the progenitor of Paekche.117 Kim Pu-sik offers an alternate account of Paekche origins wherein the elder brother Piryu is given primacy. In this version the brothers are described as the sons of Ut’ae 優台, 114. These include the excavations conducted at the cemetery in Sŏkch’on-dong 石村洞 and at the walled sites of Mongch’on-t’osŏng 夢村土城 and P’ungnap-t’osŏng 風納土城, all located in the Songp’a ward of southeastern Seoul, just south of the Han River. For a survey of recent archaeological finds in English, see Kwon Oh Young 2008, 65–80. 115. See Pak Sun-bal 1998; Kim Sŭng-ok 2000. 116. For a survey and analysis of the Paekche foundation legends and problems related to the establishment of the Paekche state, see Best 2006, 11–31. 117. It is unclear whether Tongmyŏng in this lineage represents Chumong (who is given the posthumous title of Tongmyŏng in the Koguryŏ Annals) or the legendary founder of Puyŏ (as in the Puyŏ foundation myth), though the Onjo tale seems to imply the former, since Chumong is described as Onjo’s father.

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who was the illegitimate grandson of the king of Northern Puyŏ, Hae Puru, and a woman of Cholbon-Puyŏ. After the death of Ut’ae, the brothers’ mother returned to Cholbon and married Chumong, after which the narrative proceeds in a manner nearly parallel to that of Onjo, though no mention is made of Wirye or of the ruin of Mich’uhol. The progenitor in this lineage is Ut’ae, the father of Piryu. The Piryu account is significant in that it allows the Paekche lineage to originate in Northern Puyŏ rather than Cholbon-Puyŏ (Koguryŏ). It is also important in that it notes that the brothers crossed the P’ae 浿水 and Tae 帶水 rivers before reaching Mich’u-hol. There is much debate on the question of where these two rivers were located. There is no doubt that prior to the third century the P’ae and Tae were to be identified with the present Ch’ŏngch’ŏn 淸川江 and Chaeryŏng 載寧江 rivers respectively, which flowed through the Lelang and Daifang commanderies, though it is clear that at some later date the name P’ae came to be used instead for the current Taedong River 大同江.118 Nevertheless, most scholars today associate the rivers bearing those names in the Paekche Annals with the Yesŏng and Imjin rivers, based on theories maintained by Yi Pyŏng-do.119 Either way, a passage southward through the commanderies is indicated. These accounts of Paekche’s foundation represent a deliberate effort to associate Paekche’s foundation with that of Koguryŏ and to establish a link between the legendary figures of Puyŏ and the Paekche ruling house. Paekche’s foundation is here described as a result of migration from Cholbon, though the versions differ in their emphasis on the places of Koguryŏ and Puyŏ in the Paekche royal lineage. The figure of Ut’ae is important, for Kim Pu-sik notes in his treatment of Paekche rituals that the Haedong kogi, which provided information on ritual practice, and may have provided material for the Paekche Annals as well, is inconsistent in naming the Paekche progenitor sometimes as Tongmyŏng and at other times as Ut’ae.120 Ut’ae may have been a historical figure recognized as an early ruler of Paekche, but his role as Paekche’s progenitor appears at some time to have eclipsed (or to have been eclipsed by) another schema that favored the 118. The P’ae River is identified as the Taedong from at least the fifth century, though it is unclear as to when or why there was a change in the rivers to which this name applied (see Tan 1988, 47–48). The Tae River may be identified as the present Sŏhŭng 瑞興江 and Chaeryŏng rivers on the basis of written and archaeological evidence. The Hanshu geography (28b:1627 [Geography 8b]) notes that the Dai (K. Tae) River flows westward from Hanzi 含資縣 District and enters the sea after reaching Daifang District. The ruins of Daifang are identified as lying six kilometers to the southeast of Sariwŏn in Hwanghae-do, near which the tomb of a second-century governor of Daifang has been discovered. The Sŏhŭng River flows just to the south of this site before it merges with the Chaeryŏng and enters the sea (Tan 1988, 48–49). Many scholars believe the districts of Daifang to have been located farther to the south near Seoul, but such views are based on interpretations of written evidence, whereas more recent archaeological discoveries have indicated that the distribution of Han settlement remains extends only as far south as the Haeju region in Hwanghae-do. For the historical geography of this region, see Byington 2013. For an argument for identifying the earlier P’ae River with the modern Ch’ŏngch’ŏn, see Byington 2014. 119. For Yi’s theory regarding the location of the P’ae River, see Yi Pyŏng-do 1985, 120–21. See also Best 2006, 426–27. 120. Samguk sagi 32:315 (Miscellanea, Ritual): 按海東古記, 或云始祖東明, 或云始祖優台. It is possible that Haedong kogi here refers not to the title of a single book, but rather serves as a term for old Korean records in general.

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mythical Tongmyŏng. Such a shift in emphasis probably accounts for the conflicting versions of the Onjo and Piryu narrative, though the reasons for such a shift and its timing are unclear.

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Wigut’ae and Daifang A very different account of Paekche’s origins is found in records of the northern Chinese courts, including the Zhoushu and the Suishu (both compiled in 636). The description of Paekche in the Zhoushu notes that the state of Paekche emerged from one of the many petty polities of Mahan 馬韓, one of which was called Paekche 伯濟國. It then states that Paekche’s leaders were a branch of Puyŏ stock and that the founder of the state was a man named Kut’ae 仇台, who established himself in the lands of Daifang. Among the rituals observed by Paekche kings was a seasonal sacrifice at the temple dedicated to Kut’ae.121 A similar description in the Suishu begins with a version of the Puyŏ foundation myth and the birth of Tongmyŏng and follows by describing Kut’ae as a descendent of Tongmyŏng. This version notes that Kut’ae founded his state in the old region of Daifang and that he had been given the daughter of Gongsun Du as a wife. Finally, the account notes that the shrine for the progenitor Kut’ae was located in the Paekche capital city and that quarterly sacrifices were offered there.122 The Suishu compiler evidently believed that Kut’ae 仇台 was identical to the Puyŏ king Wigut’ae 尉仇台, who, as discussed in chapter 5, did indeed marry the daughter of Gongsun Du sometime between and 189 and 204. The association with Daifang noted in the description above also brings to mind the Gongsun of Liaodong, for it was Du’s successor Gongsun Kang who established the Daifang commandery in the early third century.123 Still, although it is plausible to read Kut’ae and Wigut’ae as alternate names for a single person, this association might have been assumed by the Chinese compiler and should not necessarily be taken as authoritative.124 At any rate, there is no indica121. Zhoushu 49:886–87 (Account of Paekche): 百濟者, 其先蓋馬韓之屬國, 夫餘之別種. 有仇台者, 始 國於帶方故[地] . . . 其王以四仲之月, 祭天及五帝之神. 又每歲四祠其始祖仇台之廟. Note that the 地 in the first passage is missing from the Zhoushu but survives in the corresponding passage in the Suishu (81:1817 [Account of Paekche]). 122. Suishu 81:1818 (Account of Paekche): 東明之後, 有仇台者, 篤於仁信, 始立其國于帶方故地. 漢遼東 太守公孫度以女妻之, 漸以昌盛, 為東夷強國 . . . 每以四仲之月, 王祭天及五帝之神. 並其始祖仇台 廟於國城, 歲四祠之. 123. Gongsun Kang attempted to revive the faltering Lelang commandery by separating the seven districts of its southern half and reorganizing them under the administration of a new commandery called Daifang, named after one of the seven districts. See Sanguozhi 30:851 (Account of Han); Ikeuchi 1930a. Daifang Commandery covered the region in Hwanghae-do drained by the Chaeryŏng River and the adjacent coastal region to the west (see Byington 2013, 313–20). 124. Numerous Chinese texts note the similarity in the languages of Puyŏ and Koguryŏ, and we are told in the Sanguozhi (30:845 [Account of Koguryŏ]) that the Koguryŏ word for like things was wi 位, which when used as a prefix to a personal name indicates resemblance to a forebear. Thus, the Koguryŏ king Wigung 位宮 was so-named because he resembled his ancestor Kung 宮, and at times Wigung was referred to without the prefix. If this usage is extended to Puyŏ names, Wigut’ae 尉仇台 can be interpreted as meaning one who resembles a forebear named Kut’ae 仇台. When used without the prefix, the

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tion that the historical Puyŏ king Wigut’ae ever left his home state to found a new state in the south. Although the name Kut’ae never appears in surviving Paekche records as the name of the progenitor king, scholars have for centuries supposed that the figure named Kut’ae 仇台 in Chinese texts is identical to the progenitor figure named Ut’ae 優台 in the Piryu foundation myth and in the Haedong kogi treatment of Paekche state rituals.125 The difference may be explained as an error in transcription, but in any case the description of both as progenitors who received sacrifice is strongly suggestive of their referring to a single figure.126 It is not possible at present to determine whether either form of the name is correct or in error, nor is it possible to evaluate the claim that Kut’ae is identical to Wigut’ae. Nevertheless, both the Zhoushu and the Suishu versions indicate a connection between Paekche’s rulers and the state of Puyŏ. Another point of interest here is the claim that Kut’ae (or Ut’ae) established his state in the old lands of Daifang. Recall that in the Piryu version of the foundation, wherein the Paekche ruling house traces its lineage to Ut’ae, the brothers are described as crossing the P’ae and Tae rivers before reaching Mich’u-hol. It may be significant that prior to the fourth century the river referred to as the Tae flowed just to the north of the administrative seat of Daifang Commandery, which suggests that Piryu and Onjo might be described as settling in the southern regions of Daifang. Although later tradition places Mich’u-hol in modern Inch’ŏn, the Piryu legend makes no comment on the brothers also crossing the modern Han River, which suggests that the generally accepted location of Mich’u-hol might warrant reconsideration. Another element in the Kut’ae foundation account in Chinese sources that invites further scrutiny is the statement that Kut’ae established his state in the former lands of Daifang. Such a statement can be read to imply that Daifang was at the time either defunct or in decline, which suggests a point in time from the late third century, during which Daifang was in decline, to sometime after the fall of the commandery in the early fourth century.127 If we read the Ut’ae / Kut’ae accounts as a single narrative detached name Kut’ae thus becomes an alternate name for Wigut’ae. This, of course, assumes that wi 尉 and wi 位 were homophonous in the third century or were at least employed as prefixes in like manner. 125. An early proposal to this effect appears in the Tongsa kangmok 東史綱目 (Annotated account of Korean history) (Appendix A:499 [Distinguishing Ut’ae and Kut’ae]), written by An Chŏng-bok 安鼎 福 (1712–91). Yi Pyŏng-do sees the two names as unrelated based on their differing roles in the Paekche lineage—Kut’ae is described in the Suishu as a descendent of Tongmyŏng, whereas Ut’ae is said in the Paekche Annals to have been descended from Hae Puru (Yi Pyŏng-do 1985, 472). This may, however, have been a distinction introduced by the attempts of the Suishu compiler to link Paekche with Puyŏ through Wigut’ae, as has already been suggested. The existence of a progenitor shrine for both Kut’ae and Ut’ae suggests strongly that they are a single figure. 126. Although Kim Pu-sik’s reference to the Haedong kogi (Samguk sagi 32:315 [Miscellanea, Ritual]) does not state explicitly that Ut’ae received sacrifice, this is nevertheless implied in Kim’s treatment of Paekche ritual. Kim cites the Haedong kogi as referring to the progenitor “sometimes as Tongmyŏng and sometimes as Ut’ae,” and he follows this with a list of instances wherein Paekche kings sacrificed at the progenitor shrine. 127. Yi Pyŏng-do posits an interesting interpretation of the claim that Paekche was established in the “former lands of Daifang.” Based on his belief that Zhenfan Commandery, comprising fifteen districts,

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from the Annals chronology, which was imposed to allow a direct connection with Chumong, we are left with a plausible scenario wherein a historical figure named Ut’ae or Kut’ae established a polity south of Daifang sometime between the mid-third and midfourth century. An interesting theory proposed by Yi Pyŏng-do notes that the character 台 was anciently pronounced not as t’ae (Ch. tai), but rather as i (Ch. yi).128 On this basis, Yi suggests that Kut’ae should be pronounced (in modern Korean) as Kui, from which he asserts that Kui is identical to the early Paekche king Koi, who is often viewed as the first historical Paekche king, reigning in the mid-third century.129 If this view is correct, then Paekche’s progenitor represents a historical figure who established a polity to the south of Daifang in the mid-third century. However, his relationship with Puyŏ and Koguryŏ remains unclear. The account of Paekche’s origins outlined in the Zhoushu and Suishu thus may be seen as approximating the version of Paekche’s foundation associated in the Paekche Annals with the figure of Piryu. The appearance of Wigut’ae in this account may be spurious, but it cannot be proved to be so. The Kut’ae account is important in that it describes the foundation of Paekche in the southern regions of Daifang (or to the south of Daifang), probably sometime between the mid-third and the mid-fourth century. It also suggests that in the latter half of the sixth century at least (the Zhoushu covers events from 557 to 581), a shrine for Kut’ae existed in the Paekche capital, where Kut’ae was revered as the state’s progenitor.130 If Kut’ae is identical to the figure named Ut’ae in some surviving Paekche records, the Kut’ae lineage may be associated with the Piryu version of the foundation myth. The relationship between the Piryu myth and the Onjo myth, however, remains unclear.

was located to the south of Lelang in modern Hwanghae Province and extended as far as the Han River basin, he suggests that in 82 bce the eight districts of the southern half of Zhenfan, located between Hwanghae and the Han River, were abandoned, whereas the northern half (seven districts) was retained as the Southern Section of Lelang. This Southern Section later became the commandery of Daifang circa 200. Yi then maintains that the “former lands of Daifang” where Paekche was established were those southern parts of Zhenfan that were abandoned around 82 bce, located between Hwanghae and the Han River. See Yi Pyŏng-do 1985, 109–17. Yet since these southern lands never belonged to any commandery named Daifang, Yi’s interpretation, however neat, is difficult to accept. Further, since we have very little information regarding the status of Daifang after the mid-third century, there is room for a Paekche polity to have formed in the Hwanghae region by the fourth century, though scholars today are in general agreement that the state should have formed in the Han basin rather than in Hwanghae. 128. Yi Pyŏng-do 1985, 476. 129. The Paekche Annals credit Koi with leading military assaults against the commanderies to the north, establishing a bureaucratic office and rank system, and of organizing the state government system. The records of his reign read very much like those of a state-builder, though the reliability of these records and the chronology within which they are placed are very much open to question. See Samguk sagi 24:217–19 (Paekche Annals, Koi). 130. It is possible, however, that the account in the Zhoushu is based on Sui- or Tang-period information (the work was completed in 636), when exchanges with Paekche were more frequent.

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Liaoxi Origins Yet another distinct account of Paekche’s origins, or at least of its early activities, appears in several Chinese sources derived from the southern courts during the period of NorthSouth division. The earliest appearance of this version of Paekche’s origins appears in the Songshu 宋書 (History of Song), completed in 493: “The state of Paekche was originally located, together with Koguryŏ, over one thousand li to the east of Liaodong. Afterward, when Koguryŏ seized Liaodong, Paekche also seized Liaoxi. Paekche’s seat of administration was called Jinping District 晉平縣 in Jinping Commandery 晉平郡.”131 This passage, recorded by a court with which Paekche kings conducted frequent exchange, credits early Paekche with military exploits that have no parallel in the Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi.132 Further, it would appear to place the original homeland of Paekche kings somewhere in Manchuria in close proximity to Koguryŏ. Unfortunately, there is no record of a district or commandery named Jinping in the Liaoxi region, nor is there any clear record of other Paekche exploits in northeastern China.133 To compound the confusion, later versions of these events introduce a number of contradictions. An early sixth-century illustrated description of tributary states that maintained relations with the Liang court includes a brief description of Paekche similar to that introduced in the Songshu.134 Here, however, Paekche is said to have occupied Jinping District in Liaoxi Commandery, and, importantly, the event is dated to the end of the Jin period. The Liangshu 梁書 (History of Liang) itself echoes the Jin-period dating of the event, but it claims that Paekche occupied the two commanderies of Liaoxi and Jinping and established the commandery of Paekche 百濟郡.135 Later compendia such as the Tongdian 通典 (Encyclopaedic history of institutions; compiled in 801) and the Taiping huanyu ji 太平寰宇記 (compiled in 983) follow the Liangshu version in maintaining that Paekche had occupied Liaoxi and Jinping.136 The Tongdian commentator identifies this region as lying between Liucheng (Chaoyang) and Beiping (Zunhua 尊化), though the Taiping huanyu ji commentary describes it more generally as lying between the two provinces of Yingzhou and Pingzhou. The Paekche commandery mentioned in the Liangshu may not have been associated with Paekche’s putative Liaoxi holdings, though the textual arrangement in that work would make it appear so related. The unofficial record of southern dynasties, 131. Songshu 97:2393 (Account of Paekche): 百濟國, 本與高驪俱在遼東之東千餘里, 其後高驪略有遼 東, 百濟略有遼西. 百濟所治, 謂之晉平郡晉平縣. 132. The Songshu was itself compiled in 493 under the Southern Qi court, with which the Paekche court also held frequent exchange. 133. For an alternate view, however, see Pang 1971. For a discussion of the various sources and hypotheses regarding the putative Liaoxi origins of Paekche, see Yu Wŏn-jae 1989. 134. This is the so-called “Liang Diagram of Foreign Embassies,” or Liang zhigong tu 梁職貢圖. For a study of this document in English see Enoki 1984. 135. Liangshu 54:804 (Account of Paekche): 其國本與句驪在遼東之東, 晉世句驪既略有遼東, 百濟亦 據有遼西, 晉平二郡地矣, 自置百濟郡. For an analysis on the account of Paekche in the Liangshu and its sources, see Yu Wŏn-jae 1997. 136. Tongdian 185:4990 (Account of Paekche); Taiping huanyu ji 172:7A (Account of Paekche).

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Jiankang shilu 建康實錄 (Veritable records of Jiankang; compiled in 756), includes information on Paekche that is now missing from the fragmented Paekche account in the standard history of the Southern Qi court, the Nan Qishu 齊書 (History of Southern Qi).137 In that source Paekche is said to have begun to receive investiture during the Jin period, when its leaders established Paekche Commandery on their own initiative. This commandery is here not associated with Liaoxi, but is rather curiously said to have been located to the northeast of Koguryŏ.138 The Tongdian provides a more comprehensive narrative of early Paekche based on a Tang-period perception and is worth citing at length: [The leaders of] Paekche are the descendents of Wigut’ae, the king of Puyŏ in the Eastern Han period. . . . The state was named Paekche because initially one hundred houses had crossed the sea.139 During the Jin period Koguryŏ seized Liaodong, and Paekche likewise occupied the two commanderies of Liaoxi and Jinping [note by the comp.: now the region between Liucheng and Beiping]. From the Jin period, [Paekche] annexed various polities and occupied the former lands of Mahan. The country stretches 400 li east and west, 900 li north and south. Silla lies adjacent to its south, and Koguryŏ lies over 1,000 li distant to its north. It borders on the Great Sea to the west and lies to the south of the Minor Sea. . . . During the Jin period [Paekche’s leaders] received investiture and established Paekche Commandery on their own initiative.140

In this account, which is admittedly late and compiled from multiple sources, the establishment of Paekche Commandery is associated with the Jin court’s first conferral of investiture upon a Paekche king, which, as mentioned above, occurred in 372.141 Records

137. On the missing sections of the Nan Qishu and attempts to reconstruct them, see Tanaka 1981. 138. Jiankang shilu 16:649 (Weilu 魏虜: Paekche): 百濟, 弁辰之國, 起晉世受蕃爵, 自置百濟郡, 在高麗 東北. An explanation for the location will be provided below. 139. According to this view the character paek 百 (one hundred) is short for “one hundred families” 百家, and che 濟 (cross over) is short for “crossing the sea” 濟海, such that the name Paekche is an abbreviation for the phrase “one hundred families crossed the sea” 百家濟海. A similar explanation is found in Samguk sagi 23:207 (Paekche Annals, Onjŏ, Preface), but both are certainly attempts to impose a semantic reading of a name that was originally written with characters selected for their phonetic values to represent an indigenous name. This is evident when considering the mid-thirdcentury Paekche polity 伯濟國 of Mahan, which was written with a different, but homophonous, first character. It is likely that the rationalization of the graphic components of Paekche’s name occurred after frequent relations with Chinese states prompted a desire to present Paekche as a “civilized” state with a name reflecting a Sinitic sense of aesthetics. This is similar to Koguryŏ’s decision to drop the middle character of its name by the early sixth century (at least when communicating with Chinese states), yielding the abbreviated form Koryŏ (meaning high and beautiful), which would appear more elegant and less obviously foreign to eyes accustomed to Chinese literary norms. 140. Tongdian 185:4990 (Account of Paekche): 百濟, 即後漢末夫餘王尉仇台之後 . . . 初以百家濟海, 因號百濟. 晉時句麗既略有遼東, 百濟亦據有遼西、晉平二郡. 〈今柳城、北平之間〉 自晉以後, 吞并 諸國, 據有馬韓故地. 其國東西四百里, 北九百里, 接新羅, 北拒高麗千餘里, 西限大海, 處小海 之 . . . 自晉代受蕃爵, 自置百濟郡. 141. Jinshu 9:221 and 223 (Jianwendi, Xianan 2/1 and 2/6).

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in the Samguk sagi verify that by this time Paekche was without doubt located to the south of modern Pyongyang and probably in the Han River valley.142 Paekche Commandery thus bears no relation to any holdings Paekche might have maintained in the Liaoxi region. Although there is no extant information regarding a district or commandery named Jinping 晉平 in the Liaoxi region (though it could well have been a transcriptional error for Beiping 北平), the events described in the Songshu clearly indicate the region to the east of modern Beijing. During most of the later part of the Jin period (ca. 360–420), Liaoxi consisted of four districts occupying the lower reaches of the Luan River, or that area south of the Great Wall that separates the plains around Beijing and Tangshan from the pass into Manchuria at Shanhaiguan. The nearest commandery to Liaoxi was Beiping, which then occupied the regions to the west of Liaoxi, also south of the Great Wall. This is a strategically sensitive region as it controls access between the North China plain and western Manchuria via the Liaoxi corridor, and the various northern states that vied for control of the region in the late fourth century viewed possession of it as a requisite for stability in northern China. It is therefore curious that no records left by the northern courts speak of Paekche’s having occupied the Liaoxi region. The key to unraveling this problem is the context noted in every version of Paekche’s occupation of Liaoxi, namely the fact that all accounts associate the event with Koguryŏ’s concurrent occupation of Liaodong. During the latter part of the Jin period (until 420), Koguryŏ occupied Liaodong twice, once temporarily in 385, and then more permanently in 404. In the latter instance the Liaoxi region remained under the control of the Northern Wei court, and there is no indication that its control lapsed at that time. Nevertheless, as discussed above, shortly after Koguryŏ occupied Liaodong and Xuantu in the fifth month of 385, control over the Liaoxi region was taken by the forces led by the Puyŏ man Yŏ Am, who held out in Liaoxi and Beiping until he was defeated by Murong Nong a few months later. I will argue below that the records of the southern courts erroneously attribute the occupation of Liaoxi to Paekche rather than to the Puyŏ forces of Yŏ Am and that the cause of the confusion is the fact that leaders of both Puyŏ and Paekche used the surname Yŏ or Puyŏ. Scholars in Korea have long recognized that Chinese historians occasionally conflate Paekche and Puyŏ as a result of the coincidence in surname.143 Although there is no clear indication that Puyŏ leaders used the surname Puyŏ prior to the destruction of their state in 346, members of the Puyŏ ruling house under the Murong Yan states and the Former Qin state did employ the shortened form Yŏ as a surname. The earliest Chinese records concerning Paekche indicate that its kings, from at least 372, likewise used the surname Puyŏ, sometimes shortened to Yŏ.144 It is understandable that historians of the southern courts, who might not have known about the disposition of displaced Puyŏ royalty, could 142. See for example the records concerning Paekche’s battles with Koguryŏ in 369 and 371 (Samguk sagi, 18:165–66 [Koguryŏ Annals, Kogugwŏn 39/9, 41/10]; 24:221 [Paekche Annals, Kŭnch’ogo 26]). 143. See for example Tongsa kangmok Appendix A:499 (Distinguishing Ut’ae and Kut’ae). 144. Jinshu 9:223 (Jianwendi, Xianan 2/6): 六月, 遣使拜百濟王餘句為鎮東將軍, 領樂浪太守.

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have confused their actions in northern China with those of Paekche, though it is odd that the Southern Song court would have made such an error, given its frequent interchange with Paekche. Nevertheless, other clear instances of such confusion lend support to this probability. For example, when the author of the Jiankang shilu places Paekche to the northeast of Koguryŏ, he has obviously confused Paekche with Puyŏ. Similarly, when the Songshu states that Paekche originally had made its home far to the east of Liaodong, we see another case of this kind of confusion. The Jinshu, furthermore, contains a reference to Paekche, which along with Koguryŏ, Yuwen, and Duan, posed a threat to Yan territories in 345.145 Such statements are difficult to interpret unless the name Paekche has been substituted for the name Puyŏ. However, one instance where it is impossible to assume the transposition of the names Puyŏ and Paekche concerns the passage in the Zizhi tongjian, which states that prior to the Xianbei strike against Puyŏ in 346, the Puyŏ capital had been invaded by Paekche.146 The problems posed by this passage are not to be easily resolved unless one assumes that either Koguryŏ or Yilou had been intended instead of Paekche. Another tempting interpretation, of course, is to view Paekche’s ruling elites as Puyŏ refugees who had occupied Liaoxi temporarily before fleeing to the peninsula, where they asserted control over the people of Mahan. The timing does not permit such an interpretation, however, for there is firm evidence of Paekche leaders with the surname Puyŏ as early as 372, which is fully thirteen years before the Yŏ Am rebellion occurred. Although relatively late historical compendia like the Tongdian suggest that Paekche’s Puyŏ leaders gradually extended their control over Mahan, where they eventually settled, this is probably nothing more than an attempt by Chinese historians to reconcile theories of Paekche’s extra-peninsular origins with the fact that a Paekche polity is known to have been subordinate to Mahan as early as the third century. The existence of a Paekche-guk among the many polities of third-century Mahan is in fact a major stumbling block for all theories that claim the existence of an early Paekche state in Manchuria or northern China. Without that irrefutable Mahan connection, historians today might suppose that Paekche had originated in Manchuria, had invaded the Puyŏ capital shortly before 346, and had occupied Liaoxi for a time before settling at last in the Han River basin. It is more likely that references to Paekche in Manchuria or northern China are instead mistakes for Puyŏ. The interpretations I have proposed above do not preclude the possibility that Paekche’s ruling house really did originate from the ruling elite of the Puyŏ state. In fact, the nearly contemporaneous appearance in historical records of displaced Puyŏ elites and Paekche rulers employing the surname Puyŏ or Yŏ is itself extremely suggestive of some connection between Paekche and Puyŏ. Unfortunately, the problems concerning the nature of such a connection, if it indeed existed, are far too complex to permit further detailed analysis in the present study. In any case, the theory of Paekche’s Liaoxi origins 145. Jinshu 109:2824 (Biography of Murong Hui): 句麗、百濟及宇文、段部之人, 皆兵勢所徙. 146. Zizhi tongjian 97:3069 (Mudi, Yonghe 2/1).

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may be dismissed as a product of the confusion arising from the coincidence of surname in the Paekche and Puyŏ ruling houses.

Paekche’s Puyŏ Origins In all of the various accounts of Paekche’s origins examined above, one point of commonality is the emphasis on Puyŏ as the place of origin for the Paekche ruling house, either directly or by way of Koguryŏ. Evidence for such origins is implicit in the use of the surname Yŏ as early as 372 in communications with the Jin court. By 472 this connection is made explicit, for in that year a communication sent by the king of Paekche to the Northern Wei court states that Paekche, “like Koguryŏ, originated in Puyŏ.”147 The Puyŏ connection was made most clear when in 538 the Paekche capital was removed from Ungjin (Kongju) to Sabi (Puyŏ) and the state was temporarily renamed Southern Puyŏ.148 The Onjo and Piryu legends indicate two ways in which the claimed Puyŏ connections were rendered in the form of a foundation myth, but the clear artificiality of the chronology, contrived to permit linkage with the Koguryŏ foundation myth, makes the legends unsuitable as an explanation of the historical origins of the Paekche state. Chinese sources provide linkage to Puyŏ by way of the historical figure of Wigut’ae, but this may represent nothing more than speculation on the part of a Chinese author based on the similarity between the names Wigut’ae and Kut’ae. And if Wigut’ae was in fact venerated as the progenitor of the Paekche state, there is little historical evidence to support the claim that he had somehow established a state in the southern regions of Daifang. In short, the historicity of Paekche’s connection to Puyŏ is difficult to substantiate. Supposing that Paekche really was established by displaced Puyŏ elites, there remains the problem of when and why such an event or process occurred. No special character is accorded Paekche-guk in the treatment of the fifty-four petty polities of Mahan in the Sanguozhi, so the emergence of a Paekche state under Puyŏ clan rule would most likely have involved an overlay of leadership by Puyŏ émigrés sometime after the mid-third century. As discussed above, South Korean scholars usually date the emergence of the Paekche state to the mid-third or the mid-fourth century, identifying either Koi or Kŭnch’ogo as the first true king of Paekche. Although it is chronologically plausible that the Puyŏ king Wigut’ae of the late second century could have established a new state to the south in the mid-third century, few scholars today care to propose such a scenario.149 Two interesting theories proposed by Western scholars suggest that the Paekche state was established by Puyŏ refugees fleeing from the disorder attending the decline and collapse of the Puyŏ state. Kenneth Gardiner, building on a theory first outlined by Shiratori Kurakichi in 1942, suggests that the founder of Paekche was a Puyŏ prince named 147. Weishu 100:2217 (Account of Paekche): 臣與高句麗源出夫餘. 148. Samguk sagi 26:236 (Paekche Annals, Sŏng 16). 149. Such a scenario would, of course, presuppose that the Wigut’ae described as king in the late second century is not identical to the figure of the same name described in the Puyŏ rescue of the besieged Xuantu in 122.

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Piryu, who had been compelled by Koguryŏ pressure to flee from the Northern Okchŏ region, where various Puyŏ populations had been settled since the first Xianbei invasion of 285.150 Piryu and his followers then settled in the northern regions of Mahan, near Daifang, where he established a new state after the commanderies of Lelang and Daifang were invaded (and perhaps destroyed) by Koguryŏ in 313 and 314.151 Gari Ledyard, in his reformulation of certain elements featured in Egami Namio’s theory of Japanese origins, proposes a more complex scenario, wherein Paekche was established in the peninsula by Puyŏ elites fleeing from Manchuria between 352 and 372, when the Murong were beginning their expansion into the Central Plains. Ledyard’s thesis suggests that this Puyŏ migration represented a large-scale movement of mounted warriors who asserted Puyŏ control over an extensive crescent including the western portions of the Korean peninsula’s southern half (Paekche and Mahan) as well as Kyushu and parts of Honshu (Yamato).152 Although the theory of an invasive formation of the Japanese state has been refuted on the basis of archaeological evidence, Ledyard’s theory of Paekche origins is still plausible, though a mounted invasion force is both unnecessary and unlikely in explaining the introduction of a Puyŏ regime in the regions south of Daifang.153 The unavoidable weakness of these theories lies in their lack of specific historical support for Puyŏ migrations into the peninsula in the fourth century. In Gardiner’s thesis the motivation for relocation is Koguryŏ pressure on the Puyŏ outpost in Northern Okchŏ. Yet a Puyŏ stronghold very likely held out in that region (as Eastern Puyŏ) until Kwanggaet’o’s campaign in 410, at which time the Paekche under Yŏ rule had already long been in place. Ledyard offers no specific instance of migration, but the implication seems to be that certain Puyŏ elements, either under Murong rule or remaining in former Puyŏ territory, made their way to the peninsula, where they established themselves in Mahan, which they quickly brought under their control.154 Again, there is no historical 150. Shiratori 1970. 151. Gardiner 1969a, 43–47; 1969b. Note, however, that there is debate over whether Koguryŏ’s occupation of the two commanderies followed close upon the heels of the invasions and whether such occupations were continuous. 152. Ledyard 1975. 153. Edwards 1983. 154. Ledyard suggests that early records in the Paekche Annals allude to this migration. He notes that just prior to a move of the Paekche capital to the south of the Han River, the founding king Onjo states that Lelang lies to the east of his country, and the Malgal (Ch. Mohe) lie to its north (Ledyard 1975, 234–35; Samguk sagi 23:209 [Paekche Annals, Onjŏ 13/5]). Ledyard suggests that this record (and the move into the peninsula) dates properly to 355, and he maintains that the directional relationship with Lelang and Malgal indicates a perspective from someplace in Manchuria. Although the record in question may represent a crucial fourth-century relocation, Ledyard’s placement of the starting point in Manchuria does not follow from the evidence cited. Written and archaeological evidence indicates that Lelang was confined to a geographical expanse bounded by the Ch’ŏngch’ŏn River in the north and the Chaeryŏng River in the south (even Daifang extended no farther south than Haeju in Hwanghae-do, again based on distribution of archaeological sites—see Pai 1992, 307 for a map showing site distribution). For Lelang to lie to one’s east, therefore, one must be standing either in the Yellow Sea or, perhaps, in the northwestern extremes of Daifang. The term “Malgal” 靺鞨 is anachronistic even in the fourth century, though the term as used in the early reigns of the Paekche Annals is usually interpreted as a later introduction replacing the term “Ye” 濊, which referred to peoples living on the east coast of

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support for any instance of migration of Puyŏ elites into the peninsula, but this, of course, does not mean that such migrations did not occur.155 In my opinion, the most compelling evidence for a fourth-century movement of Puyŏ elites into the peninsula is the coincidence in surname between Yŏ Ku (Kŭnch’ogo) in 372 and Yŏ Ul (son of the last Puyŏ king) in 370. However, the Puyŏ surname might have been well enough known to have been adopted by a non-Puyŏ ruler for the purpose of establishing a fictive linkage with rulers of the Puyŏ state. Let us suppose that Paekche’s leaders were not directly related to those of Puyŏ. At least some of the accounts of Paekche’s origins, such as the Onjo legend, associate the Paekche rulers more closely with the Koguryŏ ruling house. Archaeological evidence likewise indicates some relationship with Koguryŏ, an example being the large, tiered stone-piled tombs in Sŏkch’on-dong 石村洞 near the remains of what is believed to have been the early Paekche capital city.156 These tombs are externally remarkably similar to examples of fourth-century Koguryŏ tombs found at the remains of the Koguryŏ capital at Ji’an, but certain distinctions in their internal structures suggest the possibility that the Sŏkch’on-dong tombs were built in imitation of Koguryŏ tombs, which are notably unlike tombs of Puyŏ. The connection with Koguryŏ is evident also in the Onjo and Piryu foundation myths, which reveal that Paekche mythmakers were intimately familiar the peninsula between Wŏnsan Bay and Kangwŏn Province (see Yi Hong-jong 1998; Yi Kang-nae 1999). One would thus need to be in Kangwŏn Province or farther south for the “Malgal” to lie to one’s north. South Korean scholars usually assume that the directions have been transposed somehow, and that Lelang lay to Paekche’s north and Malgal (Ye) to its east, which places Onjo conveniently in the regions just south of Daifang and north of the Han River. The record cited by Ledyard thus cannot be taken to indicate a migration from Manchuria to the peninsula. 155. In recent years archaeological finds in the southern half of the Korean peninsula have generated some speculation as to the possibility of Puyŏ migrations to the south. In 2009 the excavation of Tomb 12 at the Unyang-dong 雲陽洞 cemetery in Kimp’o (on the lower reaches of the Han River) yielded a pair of gold earrings and several iron spearheads. The earrings were quite similar to a pair retrieved from a Puyŏ burial at Laoheshen, prompting some scholars to suggest that the individual interred in Tomb 12 had some connection with Puyŏ. The same type of earring, however, was also discovered in an early Koguryŏ tomb on the Yunfeng Reservoir (Yalu River) in southern Jilin Province. The artifacts recovered from Tomb 12 are quite important and atypical of the region, but there is as yet no clear evidence of a direct connection with Puyŏ. Nevertheless, in 2012 the earrings and iron swords from this cemetery were displayed in the Puyŏ exhibit in the National Museum of Korea in Seoul. In June 2012 the excavation of Tomb 91 at the Taesŏng-dong 大成洞 cemetery in Kimhae yielded a number of gilt-bronze ornaments (horse trappings) virtually identical to specimens recovered from the Lamadong cemetery. The wood-frame tomb was dated to the first half of the fourth century. Given the possibility that those buried at Lamadong are displaced Puyŏ elites and the clear connections with northern nomadic culture, some scholars in South Korea have suggested that Tomb 91 at Taesŏng-dong might have had some close connection with Puyŏ. As with the Unyang-dong site, however, the evidence for a direct connection with Puyŏ is not convincing. 156. The stone-piled tombs at Sŏkch’on-dong are examined in Kim Wŏn-yong and Yi Hŭi-jun 1992 and in Im 1994. Kim and Yi believe the large Tomb 3 at Sŏkch’on-dong, which measures about fifty meters per side, to be the tomb of King Kŭnch’ogo. In the vicinity of the cemetery lie the two earthen-wall enclosures P’ungnap-t’osŏng 風納土城 and Mongch’on-t’osŏng 夢村土城, thought to have been associated with the early Paekche capital of Han-sŏng.

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with the details of the foundation myth maintained by the rulers of Koguryŏ.157 Finally, linguistic evidence suggests a close relationship between the Koguryŏ and Paekche languages, as indicated by some place names such as Mich’u-hol, which bear elements of linguistic commonality with Koguryŏ terminology. Such evidence suggests that Paekche’s leaders may have seen themselves as more closely related to Koguryŏ and that the emphasis on Puyŏ was maintained to place Paekche in a position of parity with Koguryŏ by portraying both ruling houses as descended from Puyŏ.158 Why would Paekche rulers wish to create fictive links between themselves and Puyŏ? One possible explanation has already been suggested with regard to Koguryŏ—the need to create a respectable pedigree to facilitate regional interchange with both Chinese and non-Chinese states. Kŭnch’ogo or his predecessors might have adopted the Puyŏ surname and myth both to impress the Jin court with a recognizable pedigree for the nascent state and to place Paekche on a par with Koguryŏ within the Jin tributary order. By the mid- to late fourth century, Puyŏ would still have been remembered within the Jin court as a respectable and valuable ally in the northeast, and Paekche’s leaders might have been tempted to use that connection to their advantage in their bids to establish relations with the Jin court. On the other hand, it is possible that the claimed links to Puyŏ were quite real, though this cannot be established with strong evidence. And there is still the question of how Paekche was related to Koguryŏ, to which future archaeological research may offer some answers. The problem of Paekche’s origins remains unresolved, but it is clear that the Puyŏ name held special significance, at least in Paekche’s interregional relations, and the invocation of that name was expected to generate a certain response in both Chinese and Koguryŏ courts.

157. This is evident especially in certain details. For example, the names of the two ministers in the Onjo myth who attended the brothers in their flight from Cholbon, Ogan 烏干 and Maryo 馬黎 (Samguk sagi 23:207 [Paekche Annals, Onjŏ, Preface]), are very similar to the names of two of the three figures said to have attended Chumong in the Koguryŏ foundation myth, Oi 烏伊 (sometimes written as Choi 鳥伊) and Mari 摩離 (Samguk sagi 13:130 [Koguryŏ Annals, Tongmyŏng, Preface]). Clearly the Chumong myth has been adapted in various ways to create the myth of Onjo. 158. Jonathan Best has proposed a model for Paekche state formation that posits a migration of disaffected Koguryŏ populations around the early fourth century (Best 2006, 27–28). According to this view, the political unrest in Koguryŏ during and following the reign of King Sangbu 相夫 (King Pongsang 烽上王, r. 292–300) would likely have prompted the flight of a number of political groups who had fallen out of favor following the assassination of Sangbu and assession of Ŭlbul (King Mich’ŏn, r. 300–331). Such groups might have moved southward to assert themselves as leaders over the local populations on the Han River, eventually forming the state of Paekche by the mid-fourth century. This theory, which would account for the Koguryŏ-like tombs and the claimed descent from Puyŏ by way of Koguryŏ, is perhaps the most likely migration scenario yet proposed. It is, however, very difficult to prove, and archaeological evidence uncovered in more recent years at the P’ungnap walled site in Seoul appears to indicate a substantial degree of political development at the site of the Paekche capital of Han-sŏng well before the mid-third century. In other words, the socio-political processes that resulted in the formation of the Paekche state appear to have been already well underway by the time the Koguryŏ political unrest would be likely to have resulted in the migration of disaffected Koguryŏ groups.

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Summary This study of Puyŏ survivals has addressed both the dispersal of Puyŏ populations after 346 as well as the ways in which the Puyŏ legacy was taken up by other states. After the Xianbei invasion destroyed what was left of the Puyŏ government in 346, large numbers of the people of Puyŏ dispersed in all directions. Many of the captured elites remained active in the Central Plains of China under the successive states established by the Murong Xianbei. Other populations fled northward and became known as the Damolou, and others went eastward and preserved their independence for a time in Eastern Puyŏ. Still others are likely to have remained in their homeland and continued to live under a Koguryŏ protectorate. The territories of Puyŏ were occupied by Koguryŏ, but at the end of the fifth century the Puyŏ core region was invaded and occupied by a group of Mohe, who became known as the Sumo Mohe. Although Koguryŏ retook the Puyŏ core by force a century later, the Sumo Mohe driven from that land retained an association with the Puyŏ name. In the wake of Puyŏ’s collapse, several state-builders claimed linkages with the legacy of Puyŏ. Koguryŏ leaders incorporated Puyŏ into the foundation myth and the cultic practice of their state and based their claims on the putative Puyŏ origins of the mythological founder of the state. Although the Sumo Mohe do not appear to have made such specific claims by way of mythic expression, they did retain a sense of identity with the Puyŏ core region, and this may have been a factor in the later Parhae claim to have inherited the cultural legacy of Puyŏ. Paekche leaders built upon Koguryŏ’s foundation myth and linked themselves to Puyŏ by way of Koguryŏ. They made their claimed linkage explicit by incorporating Puyŏ into the state myth and the state cult, and in the surname of the ruling clan. Although the Koguryŏ and Paekche foundation myths make claims for their leaders’ direct lineal descent from Puyŏ forebears, the very fact that these claims are expressed in mythic form brings their historicity into question. It is possible that real migrations lie at the core of these myths, but it is also possible that the myths were entirely fictitious and created to garner for the leaders of those developing states a sense of legitimacy and authority by way of association with the venerable Puyŏ name. Whether they are fictive or based on fact, the claimed associations with Puyŏ expressed in the origin myths became very real and salient elements in the state identities created by the leaders of Koguryŏ and Paekche. The broader implications of these mythic representations will be discussed further in the conclusion that follows.

Conclusion Two Phases of State Formation

I

n the preceding chapters we discussed the origins of the Puyŏ state, its historical role as a significant political force in the interregional relations of northeast Asia, and the enduring effect of its legacy on the states that succeeded it. In the present chapter, this study concludes with an analysis of state formation in its broader range of implications, which can be broken down conceptually, for the sake of analysis, into two related phases, one focusing on state formation as a purely social process, and the other operating more prominently within a politico-historical dimension. The first perspective, in other words, views state formation as a product of social evolution resulting in an organization sufficiently complex to warrant the label of “state.” The other perspective views state formation in terms of an invented mytho-historical narrative, which may serve to stabilize and sustain a polity by providing devices to legitimize government forms as well as to foster the development and maintenance of a collective (ethnic) identity. These two phases of state formation—the social and the political—are in fact related as they both pertain to the development of complex social forms, though the latter phase may be thought of in part as a conscious retrospective effort to comprehend and account for the former phase. I refer to them here as phases in order to place emphasis on their relatedness; however, I believe that there is a need to highlight their distinctions as well, for studies of the formations of early states in East Asia have tended to conflate the two phases. This has often resulted in studies of the material remains of early states that rely too heavily on the foundation myths of those states, interpreting them as elaborated accounts of real historical events and using them as a context (or even a template) for reading archaeological data. More prevalent are historical studies that accept the frameworks outlined in the foundation myths as accurate reflections of the origins of the early states. Such approaches limit the interpretive possibilities to those that fit the constraints established by the mythic narratives and fail to explore fully the more extensive ranges of interpretation to which the archaeological record permits access. I will suggest below that current studies of the formation of East Asian states will gain considerable advantages when the foundation myths of those states are recognized as products of state formation rather than accurate accounts of the socio-political origins of those states.

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In the analysis that follows, I will treat these two phases of state formation in turn. In the first section I will address the formation of the Puyŏ state as a social process that may be detected in the archaeological record. While recognizing the limits inherent in employing the archaeological culture as an interpretive device, I argue that the nature of the changes observable via a diachronic analysis of the archaeological record of the Songhua River valley is strongly suggestive of secondary state formation catalyzed by the intrusive influence of the Chinese states of Yan and Han. In the second section I will challenge the prevailing views that see the migration myths of early states in the Korea-Manchuria region as reflecting historical instances of migration and the imposition of foreign rule. I argue that the creators of such myths had other goals in mind besides what historians would understand as the historical description of the origins of those states and that the myths served other, more immediate purposes. Such purposes included the perpetuation of elite rule and the projection of a respectable pedigree as a legitimizing device to facilitate regional interchange and to create a sense of diplomatic parity among competing states. When the foundation myths are thus placed in perspective, we gain a much broader framework for interpreting the archaeological record and for comprehending the complexities involved in the formation of the earliest states in Manchuria and the Korean peninsula.

Secondary State Formation The analysis of archaeological data in chapters 3 and 4 reveals that the societies represented in the Songhua River basin by the Xituanshan culture underwent a process of rapid social development between the third and second centuries bce. This process resulted in the appearance in central Jilin of a state-level polity that would come to be referred to in historical writings as Puyŏ. I will argue in this section that the data currently available indicate the likelihood that the social processes leading to the formation of the Puyŏ state were in part catalyzed by the influx of new technologies from the Chinese settlements in Liaodong. Such a phenomenon, wherein rapid social development of a non-state-level society is set in motion by the intrusive influence of expanding state-level societies, is referred to as secondary state formation. Before presenting my argument, however, a few words are in order regarding the problematic use of the archaeological culture in any study of state formation.

Material Culture and Social Groups The archaeological culture is a diagnostic convention that represents a subset of the material aspect of a culture. It is, in other words, a distribution of a selective set of culture traits, typically represented by pottery assemblages or attributes of burial practices, that may be systematically analyzed, and is necessarily limited to those traits that have survived in an archaeological context. By its nature, then, such a subset of a culture is both selective and contingent, being restricted to those traits that both are diagnostic and have

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chanced to survive. In the past, archaeologists tended to think of archaeological cultures as the direct correlates of social groups or historical actors—this is a feature of the culturehistorical paradigm in Western archaeology, and is associated with the theoretical frameworks established by Gustaf Kossinna and V. Gordon Childe.1 Most archaeologists in China, along with historians employing archaeological data, continue to interpret distributions of culture traits (archaeological cultures, or wenhua 文化) as direct correlates of bounded ethnic groups. In fact, there is a tendency in Chinese scholarship to match archaeological cultures with ethnic groups whose names have survived in early historical records.2 Although such efforts may at times yield fruitful results, they fail to account for serious methodological flaws inherent in the use of the archaeological culture as a means to analyze social groups. Western archaeologists have come to recognize that, based on ethnographic case studies, there is no direct correlation that can be assumed to exist between the material aspects of a culture and its non-material aspects, such as the identity consciousness of its members. Fredrik Barth’s seminal 1969 paper on ethnic boundaries has prompted social anthropologists to shift focus away from culture traits as a delimiter of social groups and toward ethnic boundaries, which Barth describes as persisting even across cultures and despite the movement of people across those boundaries.3 Such boundaries delimit social groups, whose members identify themselves as such primarily by means of ascription and self-ascription, thereby creating an ongoing us-them dichotomization that maintains the boundaries through time. The creation and maintenance of an ethnic identity is thus predicated upon confrontation—the “us” is contingent and dependent upon there being at least one “them.” According to Barth, then, social (ethnic) groups are delimited by social boundaries determined by ascription, not by commonality in material culture or by territorial bounds (although Barth admits that a geographical element could be a factor in boundary determination). Studies of ethnographic data since 1969 have repeatedly provided substantiation for Barth’s arguments.4 The implication for archaeological studies, which are necessarily based upon analyses of material culture, is that one cannot presuppose a direct correlation between an archaeological culture (as a collection of culture traits) and a social group. This does not, of course, preclude the existence of an occasional close correlation between a social group and a distribution of certain culture traits, which does in fact occur, but the existence of such an association cannot be assumed as a rule.5 Instead, we must consider the possibility that a given archaeological culture might represent multiple social groups and that a 1. Jones 1997, 16: “Cultures were defined on the basis of material culture traits associated with sites in a particular region, and at a particular time, and it was assumed that cultural continuity indicated ethnic continuity.” See also Trigger 1989, 148–206. 2. This is demonstrated most visibly by the fact that archaeological site reports or analyses in China typically include a section on the “ethnic” identification of the populations represented at the site, a common practice being the attempt to match those populations with ancient groups named in historical sources. 3. Barth 1969. 4. Vermeulen and Govers 1994. 5. Hodder 1978a, 24.

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given social group might encompass multiple archaeological cultures. A single social group might even extend spatially over different ecological realms, in which case we would expect to observe cultural variation as a result of a difference in means of environmental adaptation. A further complication is the temporal factor, since ethnic boundaries and cultural distributions are not static, but shift and vary through time. Clearly, any effort to analyze social groups using the archaeological record cannot rely on simple patterns of cultural variation—the archaeological culture as an analytical concept is inadequate to address the complexities described above. Beginning in the early 1970s, Western archaeologists began to explore ways of addressing the limitations now acknowledged as hindering archaeological analysis. It was recognized that the archaeological culture is a composite of multiple distributions, which are themselves the product of various social processes and do not necessarily overlap spatially. Archaeologists explored ways of distinguishing among various types of distributions in an effort to isolate more meaningful subsets of material culture, rather than addressing the archaeological culture as an undifferentiated mass. Some called for a more critical approach in order to discern the structure of distributions and to compile and analyze more complex data sets.6 Barth had noted that ethnic groups expressed their identities in various ways by means of cultural diacritica—outward expressions of ascriptive identity. Archaeologists began to consider ways of identifying such diacritical markers in the archaeological record.7 Some archaeologists have focused on style and stylistic variation as a possible diagnostic element of the archaeological culture that might facilitate analysis of social entities. Style refers more to the form of an object than to its substance, an example being the type of decoration applied to a pottery vessel. Style can be either an acquired trait that has been unconsciously internalized or a deliberate expression intended to contain a specific meaning.8 It is thought that style carries a message regarding the identity of the object’s maker or its user and is therefore a useful device for addressing the matter of ethnic identity. Stylistic expressions may take several forms, as conscious expressions of group or individual identity, or as an unconscious and passive expression. Some point to the active stylistic expression of group identity as the best marker of ethnicity to be found in the archaeological record.9 Much discussion has been generated with regard to how best to identify such markers in an archaeological context, and the approach does seem to offer some hope in the effort to discern the social entity within the archaeological record. Such a method, however, depends on there being an expression of ethnic identity 6. Hodder 1978b. Lewis Binford had argued for a more critical approach to the analysis of material culture in the early 1960s; see Binford 1962. 7. Barth 1969, 14: “The cultural contents of ethnic dichotomies would seem analytically to be of two orders: (i) overt signals or signs—the diacritical features that people look for and exhibit to show identity, often such features as dress, language, house-form, or general style of life, and (ii) basic value orientations: the standards of morality and excellence by which performance is judged.” Archaeologists recognized that certain features of Barth’s first order of cultural contents might be discernible in the archaeological record. 8. Weissner 1984; Wobst 1977. 9. See Shennan 1989, 17–22.

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to be discerned, and much disagreement exists as to when such identities emerge within a given society. Discussions of ethnicity and nationalism offer differing views regarding the existence of pre-modern ethnic consciousness. Ernest Gellner maintains that ethnicity is a product of the modern age and that pre-industrial societies possessed only a class consciousness as an equivalent.10 Anthony D. Smith, on the other hand, allows for more flexibility in his definition of ethnic consciousness and suggests that ethnic groups probably emerged along with the earliest states. Smith’s concept of the ethnie, the ethnic community marked by a sense of cultural uniqueness and historical commonality, seems well suited to discussions of pre-modern societies.11 Smith defines ethnie as “named human populations with shared ancestry myths, histories and cultures, having an association with a specific territory and a sense of solidarity.”12 Such a definition would seem easily to apply to state-level societies, but its applicability to societies of less complex orders is less apparent. If we accept Smith’s argument for the pre-modern ethnie, and we assume that such ethnic groups are prone to express their identity stylistically, then archaeologists might hope to distinguish the ethnic dimension in the archaeological record, at least for those of state-level societies.

Such concerns guide the present study of the formation of the Puyŏ state. Although some of the Chinese studies of Xituanshan culture propose to identify that culture with the historic Ye 濊 people, the considerations discussed above render such a claim untenable. Not only is it entirely unclear from a historical perspective whether such a bounded social group ever existed at all, it is unhelpful to assume a correlation between the Xituanshan culture and the hypothetical social group given the limitations inherent in the archaeological culture as an analytical device. Such claims should therefore be viewed with skepticism. Further, we cannot readily assume or detect the existence of any ethnic consciousness shared by members of the pre-state societies in central Jilin, though I will argue below that this is not necessarily true of the state-level society that later emerged in that region. Even assuming that such pre-state ethnic groups existed, the archaeological record of central Jilin is still too sparsely documented to permit the kind of rigorous analyses of complex data sets that are necessary to begin to address the question of ethnic boundaries in an archaeological context. Finally, despite the territorial congruity that is apparent between the Xituanshan and post-Xituanshan cultures, it is of little value to treat them as bounded social entities, or historical actors, differentiated only by the level of social complexity that characterizes their structures. Although it is pointless to discuss ethnic groups or states solely in terms of archaeological cultures, I propose that a diachronic analysis of the archaeological record of a reasonably confined region provides a viable means through which to observe social change and monitor the processes of state formation. Since we may confidently assert that a state 10. Gellner 1983. 11. Smith 1986, 21–22. 12. Smith 1986, 32.

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named Puyŏ did emerge in central Jilin with its population center at the Dongtuanshan complex, it seems reasonable that an analysis of the archaeological record of the central Songhua River valley might reveal something of the processes that gave rise to that state. That is, given that a state in fact appeared, we might stand to learn something by observing the record of the core region prior to the appearance of the state. With a focus on observing change within a confined region, it is possible to avoid some of the methodological pitfalls involved in making unjustified assumptions regarding the overall distribution of material culture. I do not claim my approach to be entirely free of the methodological defects described above, but given the sparseness of available data and the unevenness of its quality, I believe this to be the most reasonable approach currently possible. Later in this chapter I will summarize the results of the studies of archaeological data presented in chapters 3 and 4 and discuss their implications with regard to the formation of the Puyŏ state and the determination of its territorial scope. First, I will argue that an analysis of the archaeological record of the Songhua valley indicates that Puyŏ formed as a secondary state partly as a result of interaction with Chinese states in Liaodong. Second, I will shift focus from the core to the periphery and suggest that the approximate territorial scope of the Puyŏ state may be determined through an analysis of the distribution of walled defense networks. Finally, I will comment briefly on what this study implies regarding the relationship between the state and the cultures that composed it and preceded it. Before treating these specific topics, however, I will briefly outline the methodological frameworks that guided my interpretations regarding the origins and development of the Puyŏ polity. These frameworks focus on state formation theory, with particular emphasis on secondary state formation.

State Formation Theory In Western anthropological literature, state formation has been discussed in the context of social evolution theory. Two taxonomic models of social evolution, those proposed by Elman Service and Morton Fried, provided a general analytical framework for studies of changes in the forms of social organization. These frameworks were based on ethnographic case studies and were intended to serve as theoretical models to be tested against additional data, though some researchers have tended to accept them as acknowledged universal schemata to be used to interpret ethnographic or archaeological data, rather than the other way around. These static models suffer from certain inadequacies and can give the misleading impression that human societies assume only a very limited number of stable organizational forms and that transitions between forms represent qualitative leaps from one stable state to the next.13 Nevertheless, when their limitations are understood, they still serve as very useful heuristic devices. Service’s evolutionary model features a four-stage arrangement wherein societies are categorized by degrees of complexity as belonging to the level of band, tribe, chiefdom,

13. For a useful illustration of the methodological limitations of such an approach to analyses of social complexity, see O’Shea and Barker 1996.

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or state.14 An important characteristic of this model is its emphasis on “integrative processes” (examples being rules of marriage and residence, interest groups, and pan-tribal sodalities) as the means of developing to higher degrees of social complexity. Fried’s model employs taxa more descriptive of social differentiation, with societies classified as egalitarian, ranked, stratified, or state-level.15 In contrast with Service’s model, Fried adopts a framework suggested by Engels and focuses on class struggle as the primary mechanism driving social evolution.16 Studies of social evolution have tended to employ one or the other of these two models as a conceptual foundation for analysis. The final “stage” of development in these models is the state, which is recognized as a social arrangement that takes many forms, ranging from the early pre-industrial states to modern nation-states. Although there is no commonly accepted rigorous definition of the state, it is usually understood at minimum to represent a complex polity characterized by significant social stratification, with at least two strata representing a ruling class and a governed class, a centralized government with a professional bureaucracy, a monopolization of legitimate force, and a code of laws.17 In terms of social organization, the state is understood to have transcended the bonds of kinship that characterize and bind the shape of simple societies. Many of these characteristics are shared by the chiefdom or the stratified society of the two evolutionary models described above, but the defining characteristic of the state appears to be its capacity to resist the pressures that cause less complex societies to fission.18 Especially in Service’s model, less complex societies are described as limited by their structures in growth potential unless certain limiting factors are overcome. That is, a chiefdom organization, for example, is thought to be capable of sustaining only a certain degree of population growth before the social entity must fission. The organization of the state is understood to have overcome such limitations, allowing the social entity to grow beyond the thresholds binding the chiefdom to a limited size. A critical feature of the state, therefore, is its capacity for growth and its ability to subsume greater numbers of social groups. Early studies of the processes that result in state formation tended to focus on the decisive roles played by single types of catalyzing mechanisms, referred to as prime movers. Such prime movers are often categorized separately as social factors and environmental factors. These factors include population increase and social circumscription, warfare and conquest, irrigation, long-distance trade, intensification of agriculture, and the threat of invasion or territorial circumscription.19 Another factor not often considered in early studies is the influence of charismatic leaders in rallying populations toward a common cause, though this is not typically seen as an isolated catalyst for state forma14. Service 1962. This model is elaborated further in Service 1975. 15. Fried 1967. 16. On Fried’s model as an extension of Engels, see Claessen and Skalník 1978, 12. 17. For tentative definitions or descriptions of the state, see Flannery 1972, 403–4; Claessen and Skalník 1978, 3–5; Cohen 1978b, 2–5; Fried 1967, 229–30. 18. Cohen 1978b, 35. 19. For discussions of these individual factors see Fried 1967; Carneiro 1970; Steward 1955; Wittfogel 1957; and Webster 1975.

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tion.20 Some writers have argued, however, that certain of these factors, increased agriculture and trade, for example, might often be the results of state formation rather than its causes. A characteristic of such early discussions is their tendency to view a single factor as the prime catalyst for state formation. In a 1972 paper, the archaeologist Kent Flannery argued that debates focusing on single causes were inadequate to discuss the complexities of state formation. He called instead for a multivariate approach that would take into account both a multiplicity of causal factors (whether social or environmental) as well as the socio-environmental peculiarities of the individual case when discussing state formation.21 Such concerns were soon echoed in anthropological studies. In a 1978 paper, for example, Ronald Cohen described state formation as a “systemic and multi-causal” process, noting that though a wide variety of causal factors and environments can lead to the formation of the state, the organizational result—the state—takes on a surprisingly consistent form across the globe.22 The importance of the specific history of a given region as a determining factor in the development of complex societies has since gained wide acceptance.23 This kind of multivariate approach has resolved or mitigated a number of methodological shortcomings inherent in earlier studies brought on partly by the use of unnecessary analytical dichotomies. For example, early studies of social evolution were often divided into those that favored conflict theories and those that favored integrative theories, which partially emphasize the distinctions between the evolutionary models of Fried and Service respectively. Although such categorizations can be useful devices for analyzing social processes, it is more likely that evolutionary processes include elements of both conflict and integration. Similarly, approaches to state formation have characterized the nature of the development of a state organization as processes that either benefit the society as a whole or benefit an emergent ruling class at the expense of the rest of society.24 In a multivariate approach as advocated by Flannery, however, such variables can be incorporated simultaneously into a model of state formation—they are not mutually exclusive factors.25 A model of social evolution that views social change as processual rather than static and incorporates a multivariate framework that takes into account multiple causal factors as well as local conditions would thus seem to be the most effective model currently available for discussion of state formation. As discussed below, this will be a particularly useful model for understanding the origins of the Puyŏ state.

Secondary State Formation Scholars discussing state formation have found it useful to distinguish between different kinds of states, based on a selected set of characteristics. This approach acknowledges the wide variety of specific forms that historical states have taken and also facilitates com20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25.

Service 1975, 15–16. Flannery 1972. See also Drennan 1996. Cohen 1978a, 32. Drennan 1996, 29. Carneiro 1970. Drennan 1996, 31; Cohen 1978a, 57.

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parative analyses of the processes associated with the formation of states. For example, based on differences in their primary means of production and control, a general distinction may be drawn between modern industrial, urbanized nation-states and their preindustrial counterparts, often referred to as “early states” or “archaic states.”26 The early state, with its hierarchical system of bureaucratic control, is the usual subject of discussions of state formation as a process of social evolution. Another analytical distinction that appears often in state formation scholarship is that which differentiates between pristine (or inchoate) states and secondary states. Pristine states are those earliest states that are believed to have developed in place untouched by the influence of other, more complex societies. Their developmental processes are stimulated by social interaction among groups of similar levels of complexity.27 By contrast, secondary states, which account for the vast majority of all states, develop through processes that are influenced to some degree by interaction with societies that are already of a state-level complexity. The nature of the influence exerted by state-level societies upon others of less social complexity can take many forms, ranging from direct incorporation through conquest to long-distance trade. Most early discussions of secondary state formation focused on a colonization scenario, wherein organizational changes are deliberately imposed upon less complex societies in order to make them more easily manageable as colonies.28 Expanding on Fried’s brief 1967 treatment of the secondary state, Barbara Price explored the social processes involved in secondary state formation in a colonial context and suggested that the preexisting social structure of the non-state-level society determines what effect an active expansion of a state-level society will have upon its development.29 She suggests that if the preexisting social infrastructure is capable of withstanding the social changes associated with a sharp increase in productivity (described as a requirement imposed by the expanding state), secondary state formation can result. If the infrastructure is incapable of withstanding those pressures, or if it is capable only of sustaining them temporarily, the society will, in theory, either tribalize or become unstable. Of the many factors contributing to social change catalyzed by the encroaching state, Price identifies trade as an important agent of change. Trade can stimulate economic development and population growth and can also create a power base for those who are able to control it, facilitating increased social stratification and centralization of authority. Although Fried and Price discuss secondary state formation only in the context of colonization, many of the same processes apply to cases wherein the influence of the expanding state is more passive or even indirect. In his 1992 study of Koguryŏ state formation, Song Nai Rhee presents a useful model in which the relationship between the state-level and non-state-level societies is a variable, based on the degree of influence

26. Claessen and Skalník 1978, 4–5; Cohen 1978b, 35–37; Feinman and Marcus 1998. Cohen identifies administrative bureaucracy, structurally replicable at the local levels but unique at the center, as the primary means of maintaining control and continuity in the early state. 27. Fried 1967, 231–35. 28. See for example Fried 1967, 240–42. 29. Price 1978.

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exerted by the former upon the latter.30 Rhee is thus able to discuss secondary state formation in a variety of permutations that consider whether an emergent state is subjugated or independent and, if the former, what role, if any, the indigenes play in their own government. Of particular significance to the present study is Rhee’s concept of the “autochthonous state,” which has known no period of colonization and which differs from the pristine state only in its development having been stimulated by the influence of distant state-level polities, in the form of either long-distance trade or territorial circumscription. Although I believe that Rhee’s characterization of formative Koguryŏ as a fully independent polity fails to grant due consideration to the likely role of the Xuantu commandery in the formation of the Koguryŏ state, the model he employs would appear to be closely applicable to the case of Puyŏ state formation. Two of the several factors that Rhee associates with Koguryŏ state formation—longdistance trade and territorial circumscription—coincide with what I believe to be the most important influences affecting the formation of the Puyŏ state. Trade has long been recognized as an important factor inducing social change, both as an agent for the introduction of new technologies that may alter production or warfare practices, and also as a stimulus for social reorganization toward increased centralization.31 Trade is also a means through which power may be enhanced (when the chiefs control the trade) or shifted (when those who control trade are not the chiefs). Some studies of specific cases of state formation in which trade is a major factor suggest that the initiation of longdistance trade between state-level and non-state-level polities depends to an extent on the latter’s having already attained to some degree of organizational complexity.32 This is based on the assumption that a correlation exists between a society’s degree of organizational differentiation and its ability to establish and maintain both internal and external exchange networks. Such concerns are significant especially when the non-state party initiates trade relations.33 The idea that trade can reshape social structure is based on the belief that the establishment of long-distance trade networks results in a centralized, hierarchical organization more closely associated with state-level societies.34 Such reshaping is understood to be the result of the institutionalization of organizational structures necessary to maintain trade networks. These needs include, for example, the maintenance of a surplus of local resources for trade, the encouragement of labor specialization and compartmentalization, and the creation and maintenance of a hierarchical organization of distribution and exchange. Within such an organization the control of trade and the profits derived from it are concentrated in the hands of the political head of society. Such a complex organization would require a social organization of equal or greater complexity, such as that associated with the state. Scholars disagree on whether the establishment of trade

30. Rhee 1992. 31. See Cohen 1978a, 44–45; Haas 1982, 140–46. 32. See Hutterer 1977 and Junker 1999 for analyses of the role of interregional trade in state formation in the Philippines. 33. Hutterer 1977, 182. 34. See the discussion in Haas 1982, 140–46.

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relations results in state formation or, conversely, a preexisting social complexity is instead a prerequisite for the establishment of such networks. Territorial circumscription is another consideration in cases of state formation wherein conquest and colonization are not factors.35 Circumscription of a society’s territory and access to resources may result in an increase in competition for resources and an intensification of agriculture. If such circumscription leads to conflict with the encroaching society or societies (whether they are states or not), this may promote internally a sense of common identity and may result in a centralization of authority to facilitate the maintenance of effective defenses. Although internal competition could introduce stresses that might otherwise encourage social fissioning, the presence of a continuing external threat could serve to counter this tendency, potentially to the extent that the confined society’s members are forced to seek compromise internally rather than face the possibly destructive consequences of abandoning their organizational integrity. In a similar scenario, stronger leaders within a newly circumscribed society might be compelled to assert their authority over their weaker peers or neighbors in an effort to resist the threat of further erosion of resources. The society that through social reorganization successfully preserves itself against outside incursion thus acquires many of the structural characteristics of the state, including centralized leadership, agricultural intensification, warfare potential, a territorial association, and, perhaps, something akin to a shared ethnic identity. Although there are many other factors that may be considered as key to the formation of the Puyŏ state, in the brief discussion which follows I will focus on the effects of long-distance trade and territorial circumscription as major catalysts of social change that can be detected and measured archaeologically. The expansion of Chinese states into the Liaodong region will feature prominently in the model I propose, but the fact that Chinese records alone survive to paint a historical picture of conditions prevailing at the time of Puyŏ’s emergence, and the fact that Chinese material culture is easily recognized and disproportionately represented in modern Chinese archaeological reports, may create the impression that Chinese influence alone was responsible for the emergence of the Puyŏ state. Archaeological evidence of substantial interchange between Puyŏ and the nomadic societies to its west readily exposes the fallacy of such a view and demonstrates that other influences contributed to the social changes that gave rise to the Puyŏ state. Although I will focus primarily on the influences exerted by Chinese expansion and the local responses to those stimuli, I would like to emphasize that this is a single facet (albeit an important one) of a much more complex matrix of processes, all of which contributed to the formation of a state, the first of its kind to appear in the Korea-Manchuria region of northeast Asia.

Puyŏ State Formation Historical records tell us that by the first century ce Puyŏ was a centralized state with an authoritative king, under whose direction mounted military forces could be mobilized to defend the state’s extensive territories. With the identification in the mid-1980s of the site 35. See Cohen 1978a, 56–57.

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of the Puyŏ capital at Dongtuanshan in Jilin, and the concurrent identification of Puyŏ’s archaeological correlate, it became possible to discern something of Puyŏ’s early periods, about which the historical records are virtually silent. The premise of the present study is that given the archaeological identifications just mentioned, we can examine the material record of the Songhua valley in the Jilin vicinity to learn something of the local societies that preceded and attended the formation of the state in that region. By focusing on a narrowly confined spatial region it is possible to minimize the methodological uncertainties that limit studies wherein the distribution patterns of archaeological cultures are understood to coincide with ethnic or social continua. Finally, rather than seeking to label pre-state societies according to static classificatory taxa, which are problematic in themselves and difficult to derive archaeologically without a complete and robust data pool, we may instead monitor relative change in complexity and attempt to account for its causes. The study of the archaeological remains in central Jilin, associated with the Xituanshan culture, reveals that from the end of the second millenium to the third century bce, social change in the Jilin region was gradual and tended toward increasing complexity. Even by the end of this period, however, though a degree of social differentiation is observed in mortuary context, it does not appear to indicate a significant social and economic disparity between classes. The greatest degree of disparity we note occurs at the Period III (eighth to fifth centuries bce) Saodagou site, where the single large hilltop interment with a few bronze items contrasts with the smaller and more poorly furnished burials at the foot of the hill. The Period IV (fifth to third centuries bce) cemetery at Houshishan reveals evidence of a new social disparity, probably indicative of status class differential, as shown by the distribution of bronze items and other luxury goods, which appear in substantially unequal numbers among certain burials and only in certain parts of the cemetery. By Period IV, therefore, the relative egalitarianism of earlier periods started to give way to social stratification of a higher order. A greater portion of the total population had gained access to bronze luxury items, but large segments of society seem to have been denied such access, which may be indicative of an emerging elite class. By the end of Period IV and the end of the Xituanshan period, ca. third century bce, we find clear evidence of very rapid social change on a large scale. These transformations are observed in archaeological context in the form of changes in burial forms, ceramic types and production techniques, the creation of walled defenses, intensification of agricultural productivity, increased population, and the introduction of certain key resources, including iron and the horse. The sharp increase in social differentiation may be seen clearly in the Laoheshen burials, wherein the disparity in quality and quantity of burial goods is far more pronounced than in the Xituanshan period. Given that these changes occurred in the third to second centuries bce, and given the association with the introduction of Yan-style iron implements at this time, it is reasonable to deduce that the Yan expansion to Liaodong is somehow connected with the profound social changes observed in the Songhua River basin. The bronze inventory of Xituanshan culture, as well as its ceramic tradition, indicates long-term connections between the societies in central Jilin and those in the Liaodong region. This suggests that channels of at least local exchange existed between these regions from an early time. After Yan occupied Liaodong ca. 280 bce and asserted its

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control over the indigenous populations there, channels for the introduction of elements of Yan material culture into central Jilin were opened, either through the old exchange networks or through newly established channels.36 Through these channels radically new elements of material culture began to appear in central Jilin, and these elements began to effect change within the societies that occupied those regions. In terms of its manifestation in the archaeological record, such change appears to have occurred in at least two phases characterized by differences in the types of materials introduced into the Jilin region and the effects such materials would have had on the societies there. Future analyses of archaeological data, when a richer data pool has become available, may very well indicate that these two “phases” were in reality parts of a longer-term process, but for the time being it seems useful to discuss them separately. The first phase appears to have coincided with the Yan occupation of Liaodong and is characterized primarily by the introduction into the Jilin region of new ceramic types and iron implements. Although the new ceramic assemblage seen in what I have called the post-Xituanshan culture includes a small number of alien (Yan) types, the more dramatic manifestation of change comes in the form of new indigenous vessel types, which may have been influenced by Yan vessels or, perhaps, manufacturing techniques. The prevalence of dou pedestal vessels from this time may be an additional reflection of the influence of Yan types, but this topic invites further study. The introduction of iron had a more profound impact on the Bronze Age populations of central Jilin. Initially this seems to have taken the form of the importation of iron implements that are virtually indistinguishable from those found throughout the Yan domain, from the Yan capital to the outlying villages of Liaodong. Such implements were probably produced at Yan workshops and traded by the inhabitants of Liaodong with peoples beyond Yan’s sphere of administrative control—iron production technologies probably did not enter the Jilin region at the same time as the implements themselves. Eventually, however, the techniques of iron production followed, and this reusable medium was employed to create weapons and armor as well as agricultural implements. For the initial phase, the introduction of iron implements would have provided more effective means of farming and resulted in the intensification of agricultural production as well as a general awareness of the potential of this new medium. It is likely that some formal trade was established during this early phase, and the Yan settlement at Erlonghu is the most likely point of contact for trade between Yan and the societies in Jilin.37 It is possible that the exchange brokers beyond Yan’s frontiers became wealthy as a result of this trade, which may have disrupted any preexisting balance of 36. It is possible that some populations fled northward as Yan moved into Liaodong, which could have helped to create new channels of communication between Liaodong and central Jilin. Although archaeological evidence for such movements of people is elusive to date, there may be some indications of population movements northward from the Baoshan cultural sphere during the late Warring States or early Western Han periods (see Zhao Junjie and Jin Xudong 2014). 37. That Yan agents traded iron implements is evident in the archaeological record of sites beyond Yan’s frontier, but it is unclear as to what items were exchanged for the iron. Later historical records indicate that Puyŏ traded precious stones and sable pelts, which could have served as trade goods also during Puyŏ’s formative period.

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power that characterized the contemporary societies in Jilin, but this cannot currently be measured archaeologically. The second phase of social change appears to have coincided with the extension of Han control over Liaodong and, eventually, over regions in southern Manchuria and the Korean peninsula. Although the Yan relationship with the societies of Jilin appears to have been distantly amicable, the Han agents of Liaodong seem to have taken a much more active, even aggressive, posture in their exchanges with their northeastern neighbors. The relationship between Han and the incipient Puyŏ state must have been negotiated though a show of force, as indicated by the appearance of fortifications in the hills to the east of the Erlonghu site, which continued as a conduit for exchange into the early Han period.38 The construction of such fortifications indicates a centralization of authority, at least at the local level, of the societies in the region of Liaoyuan and perhaps extending as far as central Jilin. This also appears to represent the earliest instance of territorial circumscription, for the fortresses mark zones of stress where territories were delimited by threat of force. By the beginning of the first century bce, Han had asserted its authority well beyond the frontiers of Liaodong by establishing commanderies in the Korean peninsula as well as the Xuantu commandery, placed between the Puyŏ and Koguryŏ communities in the Xinbin region. To the north of Xuantu, a series of hilltop fortifications appeared to counter what must have been perceived as a further threat to the territorial security of the early Puyŏ state. The fact that such fortified networks were designed and constructed is evidence of a substantial degree of centralization of authority asserted over the Puyŏ populations by the end of the second century bce at the latest. Further evidence for the emergence of an elite leadership appears in the trade inventory of this phase. Trade during the second phase featured a different inventory of items, wherein luxury goods are emphasized. By the end of the first century bce, in addition to Han pottery and local types modeled after Han types, we find in the vicinity of the population center at Dongtuanshan Han coins, laquerware, mirrors, bronze ornaments, and other generally non-utilitarian articles. This inventory stands in contrast to that of the first phase, wherein utilitarian items such as farming implements stand prominent.39 Although this may be reflective of a center-periphery differential (since most farming tools are found in outlying regions, whereas elite goods are found mostly in the vicinity of the capital), the crude chronology we may construct for this period suggests that by the later phase an elite leadership had emerged. This leadership (inclusive of a ruling clan as well as both central and local elites) monopolized control over such luxury goods, which reflects their relative wealth and power. 38. I assign these fortifications to the early Han period based on the inclusion of iron implements found at those sites and the evidence that the Erlonghu site, which the fortifications were designed to counter, would have been abandoned by the middle Western Han period. 39. Trade between Puyŏ and Han appears to have been conducted separately from any formal political relations that may or may not have been maintained during Puyŏ’s formative period. The practice of trade in the guise of Han’s tribute system does not appear to have been instituted with Puyŏ until the first century ce—it is, in fact, not attested until the formal establishment of relations between the two in 49 ce.

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Puyŏ’s long-distance trade networks were, by the first century bce, not limited to the Han traders of Liaodong. The archaeological record for this period indicates a substantial presence of both luxury and utilitarian items imported from the nomadic societies to the west of Puyŏ. Examples of the latter are the iron and bronze cooking vessels found at several sites on the Songhua River, and the former are clearly represented by the many finds of bronze ornaments of the nomadic tradition found in the Laoheshen cemetery. Another important trade item that may have come from the nomadic societies (though this has not yet been demonstrated) is the horse, which had made its appearance by the second phase, and which appears to have been prominent in Puyŏ ritual and warfare practices.40 The artifacts recovered from the Laoheshen cemetery illustrate how the relatively new iron technologies and the introduction of the horse were combined to create a remarkable military formidability, as seen in the iron helmets and armor, swords, and horse-riding gear preserved in some of the burials. This is another indication that by the second phase of social change Puyŏ had become a centralized state with a strong army, with a society characterized by class differentiation. This social and economic disparity appears most clearly in the mortuary data from the cemetery at Laoheshen, wherein we find differentiation on a much higher order of magnitude than had been observed in the Period IV Xituanshan cemeteries. Clearly, between Xituanshan Period IV and the second phase of the post-Xituanshan period (between the early third century bce and the midfirst century bce) the societies of central Jilin had undergone a dramatic transformation characterized by a sharp increase in social and economic differentiation. Instead of the egalitarian quality of the former period, we now see a society with distinct social strata, which include a leadership elite, a central and local aristocracy, and what appears to be a commoner class. Although trade is clearly a factor contributing to the social transformations outlined above, another is territorial circumscription.41 This is a variable that is very difficult to measure, but we may make inferences based upon the distribution of fortifications arrayed along sensitive frontiers. We observe such defense networks adjacent to the Hanoccupied regions of Erlonghu and Qingyuan, and we may interpret these as evidence of a negotiated frontier. The defense networks found in the Songhua valley to the north of Jilin also appear to mark a sensitive frontier to be defended against the encroachments of the nomadic peoples farther west, with whom trade was also conducted. Finally, the networks in the Jiaohe region suggest early contention with the Yilou people occupying the Mudan River basin to the east. These frontier markers indicate the extent of the territorial control exercised by early Puyŏ kings and can be used to approximate the bounds of the state itself. With their territories and populations thus bounded, and with poten40. That the horse is more likely to have been an import from Puyŏ’s nomadic neighbors is seen at Laoheshen in the co-occurrence of horse-riding gear and actual horse remains with an abundance of luxury items derived from the mounted traditions to Puyŏ’s west. Mounted warfare was a characteristic of the western nomadic groups during Puyŏ’s formative period, and horses are themselves found in a ritual context associated with the Upper Xiajiadian culture contemporary with the early Xituanshan period. See Di Cosmo 2002, 62. 41. See Carneiro 1970.

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tially hostile populations lying beyond these frontiers, we find a set of conditions that may potentially result in secondary state formation, as discussed earlier in this chapter.42 Specifically, the circumscribed polity is less likely to fission when this could result in a vulnerability to the aggressions of hostile neighbors. Similarly, the external threat promotes the creation of armies and a professional militia and encourages a centralized leadership. Such conditions would also prompt the leader to maintain a firm control over his territories and populations, particularly those located in the sensitive frontier regions. Finally, such circumscription could foster the creation and maintenance of a sense of ethnic identity, which would itself tend to propagate the form of the state as a bounded entity.

Although the precise processes that gave rise to distinct social differentiation and centralization of power remain obscure, the data analyzed in this study indicate that the introduction of new technologies contributed to the more general processes of social change in central Jilin. A likely scenario to explain how this might have come about may be proposed as follows. The introduction of iron farming tools from Yan’s Liaodong resulted in an overall improvement in agricultural production and may have skewed the distribution of power on either a large or small scale in favor of those who were able to control trade. Later relations with Han resulted in a forceful negotiation of terms, which involved the construction of a fortified frontier. The continuation of trade during this period brought about a sharp economic and power disparity within the post-Xituanshan societies, such that those who were able to control trade enjoyed the greatest economic prosperity and, probably, political influence. Increased agricultural productivity permitted the maintenance of a surplus and facilitated the support of a non-producing ruling and elite class. As the territorial influence of these power holders increased, they were compelled to enlist the support of local leaders by sharing wealth and power, which may have catalyzed the emergence of a local elite class. As their territorial control expanded, those leaders confronted obstacles in the form of other peoples over whom they could not exercise control. The net result was a circumscribed territory, the sensitive frontiers of which were fortified and protected by armed militia. By no later than the mid-first century bce, Puyŏ had become a highly stratified, centralized state characterized by a social complexity of a much greater degree than its more simply organized predecessor of two centuries before. A number of uncertainties remain for further research. For example, the degree of social complexity existing among the late Xituanshan societies prior to the Yan expansion is a matter of interest to studies of secondary state formation. It has been suggested that in order for trade to catalyze secondary state formation, the non-state entity must 42. Note, however, that in the case of Puyŏ, territorial circumscription seems to have been a result both of Han expansionism as well as of Puyŏ’s own expansion as an emergent polity. As such, circumscription should be seen here as a process accompanying state formation rather than as a cause thereof. Nevertheless, once the emerging polity is territorially bounded, most of the social forces proposed here (a sense of identity, a tendency to resist fission, etc.) would still be theoretically applicable.

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have already attained a sufficient level of complexity to permit the establishment of a long-distance trade network. A degree of complexity might explain how the late Xituanshan communities were able to establish trade with Yan and, later, negotiate the frontier with Han, though it is possible that the agents of trade were themselves intrusive elements forced from Liaodong by the Yan expansion. It would also help explain why the center of Puyŏ authority emerged at Jilin rather than at Liaoyuan, which was much closer to the most active points of interregional trade.43 At any rate, a significant degree of organizational fortitude must have been attained prior to the second phase of the postXituanshan period, otherwise it is difficult to explain how the populations in the Liaoyuan region had been able to present a military obstacle before the presumably aggressive Han overtures in the early first century bce. The scenario proposed above represents an estimate based on the interpretations made in this preliminary study of Puyŏ state formation. It suggests ways in which trade and circumscription, among other forces, may have contributed to social stratification, centralization of authority, formation of distribution networks, intensification of agricultural production, improved potential for warfare, territoriality, and, perhaps, a sense of ethnic identity. Future studies may well prove many of the assumptions and interpretations presented here to be incorrect or inaccurate, but I hope this working model will serve as a viable springboard for later refinement. The case of Puyŏ, I believe, in many respects presents a fertile field for studies of state formation. For example, we can see that the incipient state coincided spatially with a geographical expanse characterized by two separate archaeological cultures (Xituanshan / Wanghua and post-Xituanshan / Liangquan), showing that material culture is not an accurate measure of polity or ethnicity. Nevertheless, interestingly, the territorial scope of the state corresponds very closely with the distribution patterns of the two archaeological cultures taken together, suggesting that certain correlations are likely, perhaps due to geographical considerations. The question of correlations between the emergent polity and the ethnic group is another matter, which I will address briefly in the next section.

Foundation Myths—An Alternative to Migration The section above addressed the formation of the Puyŏ state as a process of social development, through which a society is dramatically reorganized and assumes a highly complex structural form. This view of state formation employs analytical parameters that are understood to have meaning for academic studies of social development, primarily among Western scholars in the modern age. This kind of etic approach is advantageous and even necessary when analyzing a society separated from the observer by a substantial temporal gap. In the case of Puyŏ and its neighboring polities, however, I propose 43. As a caveat I must point out the possibility that further research may indicate that the earliest center of Puyŏ authority was located in the Liaoyuan region and later shifted to Jilin. As data are yet too meager to discuss this possibility further, I here assume the accuracy of the Jilin-center model.

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that we may derive a greater understanding of general state formation by considering an additional, emic approach focusing on how the leaders of these early states chose to represent themselves among their own people and to other states. The primary vehicle for such a study is an interpretation of the significance of the foundation myths of the early states. I will propose below that these self-representations may be viewed as yet another facet of state formation as a socio-political process. The most salient element of the Puyŏ foundation myth, particularly when compared with those of its neighboring polities, is the migration motif. A feature shared by the foundation myths of several states in East Asia and elsewhere, the migration scenario found prominently in northeast Asia describes a founder hero disaffected in his homeland, from which he flees, crosses a river with divine assistance, and establishes a new state. Frequently the hero is accompanied by a small number of friends, who are described as the progenitors of elite families of the states founded by the hero. In the case of Puyŏ, the hero Tongmyŏng is said to have fled from the polity of T’angni, crossed a great river on a bridge of fish and turtles, and established the state of Puyŏ. Although all extant versions of the Puyŏ foundation myth are very brief, it is clear that the later myths of Koguryŏ and Paekche were derived from this prototype. The idea that the Puyŏ ruling elite were descended from ancient refugees receives some support from the observations preserved in the third-century Wei chronicle, wherein certain elders are described as making just such a claim.44 It is exceedingly difficult either to refute or to verify the migration claim for Puyŏ elites based on archaeological or historical data. The archaeological record of central Jilin yields no evidence for a large- or small-scale migration during Puyŏ’s formative phase, though such evidence could be very difficult to detect. The fact that T’angni remains otherwise unattested casts serious doubt on its having been a historical polity. Still, it is not impossible for a small group broken away from a complex society to assert effective control over a less complex society. Such cases have in fact been documented, Cohen’s studies of the Lake Chad societies in Nigeria being a useful example from modern times, whereas the case of Parhae provides a similar illustration of this phenomenon in earlier historical periods.45 There is, in short, nothing particularly implausible in the idea that a small group of displaced people might have become the leaders of the Puyŏ state, and we could even accommodate such a possibility in our model of Puyŏ as a secondary formation. It is when we place the Puyŏ foundation myth in a larger regional perspective that suspicions must arise. As suggested above, the migration theme found in many of the foundation myths of early states in the Korea-Manchuria region forms a pattern. In all of the early peninsular states, ruling clans are credited with divine origins that distinguish them from ordinary people. The Koguryŏ and Paekche myths are adopted directly or indirectly from the Puyŏ foundation myth, and the Silla and Kaya myths feature divine origin and egg birth. Several myths cast this divine origination in the form of a flight from one historical state 44. See chapter 6 above; Sanguozhi 30:841–42 (Account of Puyŏ). Note that the writer of the Wei chronicle had made a connection between the elder’s claim and the migration mentioned in the Puyŏ foundation myth. 45. Cohen 1978a, 46–47.

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to found a new state. Among first-generation states, Koguryŏ and Paekche fall into this category, though a later example appears in the foundation myth of the Wanyan Jurchens (Jin dynasty).46 Of these, the Koguryŏ foundation myth is particularly suspicious, as it has clearly been adapted from the Puyŏ foundation myth, the only significant changes being the names of the hero’s places of origin and destination. The Paekche myth is similarly dubious in that it has simply built upon that of Koguryŏ. Despite the fantastic nature of the myths, a number of modern historians interpret (or rationalize) them as historical events that have been elaborated with a mythological overlay. That is, these historians assume that by stripping away the obviously fantastic elements from these tales, one might arrive at something close to an accurate historical narrative. Although I have myself proposed just such an interpretive approach to some of the Koguryŏ accounts preserved in the Samguk sagi, I maintain that this should not be applied so readily to the foundation myths. This is largely because the foundation myths appear to focus on largely imaginary figures, whereas the later war legends of Koguryŏ for the most part describe elaborated events centered on historical persons.47 Although it is possible that the elite families of Koguryŏ really were descended from Puyŏ refugees, and those of Paekche really did derive from Koguryŏ, given the problems involved with reading the foundation myths as history, it is perhaps more worthwhile to seek other ways of interpreting them. Might not the patterns described above suggest that the myths served an entirely different function? I will propose below that the foundation myths should instead be read as devices created to serve specific functions very different from providing historical descriptions of the states’ origins.

Myth as a Product and Agent of Ethnogenesis Regardless of how the early states might actually have taken form, the foundation myths present a version of state formation that served the interests of the authors of those myths. That is, the myths were a means of describing state and elite origins as the authors would have wished them to be perceived by others. We can readily imagine a variety of functions that such myths might potentially serve. I will discuss three of those functions in the remainder of this study. The first two, treated in the present section, may be analyzed in terms of their roles in the creation and maintenance of emergent ethnic identities in the early Puyŏ state. The third, to be analyzed in the next section, will be treated more generally, and concerns the creation of an interregional language of statecraft shared among the early states of the Korea-Manchuria region and, to an extent, with states in China. The emergence of an ethnic consciousness is thought to have occurred with the rise of the earliest states. Barth’s discussion of the creation and maintenance of ethnic boundaries 46. Koguryŏ elites are said to have originated in Puyŏ, and Paekche elites claimed either Puyŏ or Koguryŏ descent. The Wanyan claimed their founder to have fled from either Silla or Koryŏ. See Jinshi 1:2 (Introduction to Basic Annals). 47. I am thinking here primarily of the descriptions of Koguryŏ’s wars with Puyŏ in the early chapters of the Koguryŏ Annals of the Samguk sagi.

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suggests that many of the same forces may have been responsible for the emergence both of ethnic consciousness and of the state-level polity. In particular, environmental circumscription can bring about the creation of both political and ethnic boundaries, though these need not parallel or intersect one another. One of the implications of Barth’s theory is that ethnic consciousness is more likely to be a feature of highly interactive societies rather than of isolated ones, primarily because the clear notion of an “us” depends largely on a “them” with which to draw contrast. We have already discussed in this chapter the possibility that the emergence of ethnic identities is one likely product of secondary state formation, and this would seem to apply to the case of Puyŏ as well. It is difficult, at the current level of scholarship, to determine whether an expression of ethnicity can be detected in the archaeological record for the pre-state Puyŏ societies. Nevertheless, historical descriptions of Puyŏ society suggest that something akin to Smith’s ethnie can be postulated for the third-century Puyŏ state, at least among some of that state’s elite groups. Surviving records do seem to indicate that Puyŏ societies shared a common history, myths, and a sense of cultural solidarity and territoriality, and it is reasonable to suppose that such a consciousness predated the third century by a considerable margin. One might propose tentatively that such an ethnic consciousness arose along with or shortly after the emergence of the Puyŏ state. I propose further that the emergence of an ethnic consciousness, at least among a portion of the population, may be viewed as part of the state formation process itself. One of the features of the state that distinguishes it from simple societies is its high degree of stratification, usually maintained through hereditary class systems. A characteristic of the early state is the extreme disproportion of power between a very small ruling class and a very large governed population. A problem of interest to state formation theorists concerns the question of how such inequities were instituted and perpetuated over time. We have discussed possible avenues through which power might have become the monopoly of a small number of individuals, as well as how this might have led to the emergence of an aristocratic class. Yet we have not addressed the matter of how such social and economic disparities, amounting to an exploitation of the many by the few, could have been maintained through time. Much recent literature has focused on the issues of legitimacy and political power, though I will not review those theories here. Instead, I propose to illustrate how the state myth might have functioned as a means to propagate the system of rule described above. The role of origination myth in maintaining social structure, particularly inegalitarian arrangements, was discussed in some detail in the works of Bronislaw Malinowski, who saw myths as serving important functions in a living society. In his view, foundation myths should not be understood as attempts to explain the historical origins of a people, but rather as a means of validating a real-time (present) social arrangement regardless of the shape of past arrangements.48 Such myths are therefore occasional entities bound to a specific time, place, and social context. They exist to validate a specific social arrangement, and they may change as those social arrangements change. Although they might be accepted by members of the society as descriptions of true events, they should not be 48. Malinowski 1954.

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understood today as necessarily reflective of historical events and should not be read as history.49 As dynamic narratives, myths evolve to suit the exigencies of the times, and historic change is often the catalyst for a transformation of the myth.50 One of the implications of the Puyŏ foundation myth in particular is that the ruling elite are portrayed as having different (alien) origins from those of the governed populations. The effect of this arrangement is to distinguish very markedly the ruling elite from the vast majority of the governed masses. This portrayal of the ruling clan as distinguished by their outside origins is a characteristic often found among early states.51 The social distinction thus created by the myth, in the words of Ernest Gellner, would have had the effect of “[fortifying] the differentiation, and [endowing] it with authority and permanence.”52 By making thus clear and permanent the distinction between elite and common, the Puyŏ foundation myth would have served to codify and validate the social inequalities and the forms of hierarchical government associated with the early state, allowing for the long-term stability of an inherently inegalitarian social arrangement. By validating a social structure that permits and guarantees the existence of a small, nonproducing, wealthy elite, who derive their livelihood from the toil of the governed populations, the foundation myth acts, in part, as an agent of state formation that fosters the maintenance of the stratified society that is a requisite of the early state. The first function of the foundation myth that I would like to emphasize is, therefore, its role as an agent for distinguishing the elite from the common. Although the foundation myth might distinguish elite from common, it also serves to bind them together in a political, cultural, and social union, which is confirmed in a charter by the same social forces that, through mythic expression, grant validity to the unequal social arrangement characterizing specific forms of government rule. Thus, though the foundation myth validates social inequity in a specific arrangement, it also affirms the existence of a specific named polity. By extension, this affirmation might be applied also to an emergent or preexisting ethnic consciousness. To the extent to which 49. Malinowski 1954, 125: “The historical consideration of myth is interesting, therefore, in that it shows that myth, taken as a whole, cannot be sober dispassionate history, since it is always made ad hoc to fulfill a certain sociological function, to glorify a certain group, or to justify an anomalous status.” 50. See Malinowski 1954, 117, 125. The evolutionary nature of foundation myths may explain the irreconcilable differences found in various versions of the Koguryŏ and Paekche foundation myths. In particular, the discordant descriptions of Chumong as having come from either Northern or Eastern Puyŏ might be understood in this context as differences in versions of the foundation myth reflecting different social requirements of different times. For example, an earlier version of the myth might have had Chumong coming from Northern Puyŏ (or simply Puyŏ), whereas a later version, reflecting a time when the Koguryŏ conquest and incorporation of Eastern Puyŏ was of practical concern, might have been adjusted to account for a shift in emphasis to Eastern Puyŏ, incorporating a legendary removal (by Hae Puru) to Eastern Puyŏ and Chumong’s (now necessary) origins in that same eastern polity. There are, of course, other ways to interpret the variant versions of the myth, though it remains likely that these variations represent different “snapshots” of an evolving mythic account at different times and, perhaps, from different geographical or political perspectives. 51. For the implications of such a portrayal, see Gellner 1983, 10. 52. Gellner 1983, 10.

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populations subscribe to the mandate of elite rule described by the foundation myth, so too might those populations be expected to share some sense of affiliation with the larger group. This sense of belonging to an exclusive group as defined by the early state can be seen as a consequence of state formation, whereas the maintenance of a group identity might be understood in terms of Barth’s theory of the persistence of ethnic boundaries discussed previously. Whether the sense of identity described above can be thought of as constituting ethnic consciousness depends on how one defines the latter term. In a broad sense, as discussed earlier, it is possible to postulate the existence of group identities within an early state as a consequence of state formation itself. Ronald Cohen has pointed out that an early state is likely to be characterized by multiple ethnic groups, though the nature of the state as a self-contained entity would probably smooth out ethnic distinctions through time.53 The elements of such a group consciousness (singular or multiple) in a formative early state may be compared to the characteristics of the ethnie described by Smith. These include a collective name, a common myth of descent, a shared history, a shared culture, a territorial association, and a general sense of solidarity.54 In a formative state we might expect to find all of these elements present in some measure as expressed in a myth of state origin, though the senses of shared history and culture might not be as developed in a formative state as in a well-established one. In the case of Puyŏ we have already explored the probability of one or more ethnie comprising the early state, and we may see in the Puyŏ foundation myth what appears in part to be an expression and validation of a collective origin. Admittedly, the incomplete form of the Puyŏ foundation myth we have today is derived from as late as the first century ce and should be thought of as an expression of the social configurations of that time only. Through the myth as we have it, however, we may perceive something of an expression of group identity, including a group name, territorial association, and sense of common history. As an expression of identity, the components of the myth may be understood as products of state formation, whereas the mythic expression itself may be conceived of as an agent for validating and perpetuating a group consciousness. The second function of the foundation myth emphasized here is, therefore, its role as a means of expressing and perpetuating a common sense of group consciousness that may be discussed in terms of ethnicity. To this point I have suggested that the Puyŏ foundation myth and the derivative myths of other states should be read not as historical narrative, but rather as a validation of a specific set of social arrangements. As such, the foundation myth is a living and mutable entity that is dependant on a changing historical and social reality, and, as Malinowski maintains, the myth should be understood as playing a set of functional roles within the society that maintains it. I have so far suggested that the Puyŏ myth and its derivatives served at least two social functions in the formative state. The first is a means for validating and perpetuating an inegalitarian social arrangement characterized by a sharp distinction between elite and common. The second is a means for fostering a 53. Cohen 1978a, 65–67. 54. Smith 1986, 21–30.

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group, or ethnic, identity among the members of society who subscribe to the mythic expression. These basic functions can, I believe, be thought of as part of the extended process of state formation, as they contribute to the formation and maintenance of the social configurations that make the creation and stabilization of a state-level polity possible. The two functions described above would appear to apply to Puyŏ as well as to certain later states such as Koguryŏ and Paekche. The third and final function that I would like to emphasize here—relating to a shared language of interregional statecraft—would seem to apply most directly to Koguryŏ and Paekche, states that later took up the legacy of Puyŏ. I will treat this aspect in the next section.

Myth as Political Credential In earlier chapters we saw how a number of states rising during Puyŏ’s years of decline represented real or invented associations with the Puyŏ ruling house in a variety of ways. The Murong Xianbei, for example, appropriated the Puyŏ legacy in a tangible way through the physical capture of the king and the enforced subordination of the vestiges of Puyŏ under Murong rule. Koguryŏ rulers, on the other hand, countered the Murong initiative by emphasizing their own real or fictive descent from the ancient ruling house of Puyŏ in the form of a state myth. Like Koguryŏ, Paekche rulers adapted the Puyŏ foundation myth and established their own connections to the Puyŏ ruling house, using the Koguryŏ foundation myth as a narrative basis. The most significant feature of these later myths, in fact, is their manner of building on the Puyŏ myth to link the rulers of the later states with Puyŏ and with one another. This representation was made conspicuously clear in the interregional communications in which these states engaged. I propose that in addition to serving social functions as described in the preceding section, the derivatives of the Puyŏ foundation tale found in the state myths of Koguryŏ and Paekche served as devices to impart authority and legitimacy to their respective regimes in a deliberate and meaningful manner. By associating themselves with the ruling house of Puyŏ, a venerable state held in high esteem even by the Han court, the leaders of rising states like Koguryŏ and Paekche might gain a degree of respect and recognition in the eyes of other states’ leaders.55 As the earliest state to appear in the Korea-Manchuria region, Puyŏ would have left a legacy of respect for its authority, once paramount in that region. As such, Puyŏ would have been an ideal locus of mythic origination for rulers wishing to enhance their authority as perceived from the outside. This would be especially appealing in the case of Koguryŏ, which had long been associated with Puyŏ by virtue of its geographical propinquity to that state. For Paekche, on the other hand, the connection was necessarily predicated 55. Although Koguryŏ had existed as a state from well before the late fourth century, it was at this time that its leaders began to define Koguryŏ in terms of a state among states. This reflects the stability that Koguryŏ leaders had secured after many decades of struggle for existence. In view of this externally directed position coming rather late in its early history, I discuss Koguryŏ here as an emerging state. Since Paekche probably had not existed as a state much earlier than the fourth century, it is in the full sense that I term it an emerging state.

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upon another basis that required a claim of long-distance migration and an indirect connection through Koguryŏ. Once their claimed ties to Puyŏ had been formulated and expressed as a state myth, the leaders of Koguryŏ and Paekche could then make use of them as a basis for formal relations with states in China and elsewhere. The Puyŏ association as expressed in the myths of Koguryŏ and Paekche served to give those ruling houses a veneer of antiquity and long-held legitimacy. This quality would be particularly useful for communications with states in the Central Plains of China, where respect for political pedigree had long dictated the language of statecraft. It is significant that the myths establish a link between the ruling houses of Puyŏ and the later states, making no such claim for the governed populations of Koguryŏ or Paekche. The myths in their later iterations thus serve precisely as an expression of the right to rule of a specific house by claiming for it an elite pedigree stemming from the ruling house of Puyŏ. Also significant is the fact that for both Koguryŏ and Paekche, such claims to linkage with Puyŏ can be substantiated no earlier than the latter half of the fourth century, by which time the authority of the Puyŏ state itself had foundered. This suggests that the leaders of Koguryŏ and Paekche conceived of a Puyŏ mantle that was to be taken up and preserved, a notion that would appear frequently in different permutations in the earliest extant historical records of peninsular states. The assertion of political legitimacy through pedigree as expressed through the foundation myths of Koguryŏ and Paekche can thus be understood in part as forming a basis for interregional discourse. That an acknowledged pedigree informs part of an understanding of what constitutes a legitimate state within a region of a shared language of statecraft is not a new idea. A precedent may be observed among the early states of China, where relationships among states were portrayed in terms of kinship. During the Eastern Zhou period, the leaders of the various states in the Central Plains used surnames to identify their place in an idealized world order, wherein each leader could claim genealogical descent from the ruling clans of the three dynasties of Xia, Shang, or Zhou. Even relative latecomers to this world order, such as the southern states of Wu and Yue, ultimately claimed their leaders to have been descended from these same ancient rulers.56 Although the lineage claims made by the leaders of these later states are most probably contrived, the creation of such links allowed them to engage the Central Plains states within a common sphere of communication, within which notions of statecraft and legitimacy were structured. Even the fiction of such descent served to facilitate communications among states that in all likelihood did not share common ancestry. The notion of employing fictitious genealogical links to facilitate communications with Chinese states was understood in much later times as well. In 408 the ruler of the Northern Yan state, Murong Yun, the grandson of a Koguryŏ man whose original surname was Gao, or Ko, asserted the claim that his ancestors were descended from the legendary emperor Gao Yang 高陽.57 Surviving Silla sources reveal that certain later traditions of that state linked the reigning Kim clan with equally ancient legendary figures

56. See Hsu 1999, 563; Creel 1970, 225–26, 360. 57. Samguk sagi 18:168 (Koguryŏ Annals, Kwanggaet’o 17/3).

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of early China.58 Such cases illustrate the perceived utility of fabricating lofty pedigrees among powerful individuals seeking to consolidate and justify their positions as rulers. These practices suggest that genealogical descent from a widely recognized ancient authority was considered to be a requisite for a legitimate state and a legitimate regime, not only among ancient states of China, but also among states of the Korean peninsula. The association between political legitimacy and pedigree among peninsular states is not necessarily a product of Sinitic influence, but may rather be a notion inherited from tribal practices and beliefs of the pre-state period. The fact that Koguryŏ and Paekche leaders traced their lineage back to Puyŏ rather than to some Chinese authority suggests that the concept was a local development and part of the local processes of state formation. As noted already, since the forms of the state myths of Koguryŏ and Paekche grant divine and alien origin only to the ruling clans of those states, the first two functions of the foundation myth described in the previous section apply also to these two later states. That is, the myth serves to distinguish the ruling stratum from the governed masses, and functions as an expression of state and, perhaps, ethnic identity. In addition to these functions, then, the associations by pedigree validated by the foundation myths of the two later states serve as a basis for interregional discourse by providing the necessary credentials for political legitimacy. The features of this concept of legitimate rule include divine origins for the ruling clan, a mandate to rule, and a link to some past authority. The foundation myths of Koguryŏ and Paekche provide these required qualities in a simply expressed narrative, disseminated widely both within the states and externally to other states. They serve to portray emerging states not as newcomers, but as long-established authorities continuing a tradition of rule and interregional exchange. The myths impart a sense of cultural and political precedence to a new regime, and they make explicit the state’s mandate for rule and its asserted position within a realm that transcends the bounds of a single state. For Koguryŏ and Paekche, the origin myth is bound intimately with the state cult and as such was maintained as a palpable, living entity, very much a thing of the present. For the later state of Parhae, however, the Puyŏ legacy, though still recognized as a name with considerable weight, played but an indirect role in the perceived and projected identity of that state and its leaders. Still later, the Puyŏ name was to the Khitan a prize for the taking (in this respect they are similar to the Murong Xianbei). No ties of blood or culture appear to have been claimed by the Khitan, but the leaders of the Parhae restoration movement of the late tenth century seem to have reanimated a living link with Puyŏ for a short time. With the coming to prominence of Silla, however, Puyŏ was relegated to a passive role in the pedigrees of Koguryŏ and Paekche in the peninsular historiographies that stem from Silla writers. This is the historiographical tradition that formed the basis of the later Koryŏ and Chosŏn treatments of peninsular history. With Silla, which claimed no linkage with Puyŏ, forming the core of this historiographical tradition, there was no longer any room for Puyŏ as anything more than a passive player in the early histories of Silla’s erstwhile foes, Koguryŏ and Paekche, both of which were incorporated into the Silla-centric historiography. Instead of representing 58. Samguk sagi 41:393 (Biography of Kim Yusin, Part 1).

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a living present, the memory of Puyŏ continued as a lifeless shadow of its earlier incarnation in the state mythologies of Koguryŏ and Paekche (incarnations that were, of course, quite detached from the historical realities of the Puyŏ state itself). During the Koryŏ and Chosŏn periods of Korean history, representations of state origins shifted between myths centered on the Viscount of Ji (Kija) and the indigenous figure of legend, Tan’gun. Both of these figures predated Puyŏ and served to stretch the origins of the peninsular pedigrees back many centuries before the appearance of Puyŏ as a historical polity.59 From the early twentieth century, the memory of Puyŏ has survived in the history and indigenous religion of states of the Korean peninsula. It continues to appear as a historical entity associated with the origins of Koguryŏ and Paekche in Korean history texts (though Puyŏ plays a much more prominent—and highly exaggerated—role in the recent historiography of North Korea). The Koguryŏ and Paekche associations with Puyŏ are assumed and are typically portrayed as historical rather than mythological links. Still, Puyŏ is treated in these histories as a Korean state, though its “Korean” identity is never clearly established. Puyŏ plays a much livelier role within the Taejong-gyo religion as a result of the association that has come to exist between Puyŏ and the mythical Tan’gun, who serves as the focal point of the religion and as the prototypical Korean. Puyŏ is featured prominently within the chapters of some of the sacred texts of this new religion, though none of the pertinent texts can be reliably dated to much earlier than the beginning of the twentieth century. In such instances we may observe how the mythic aspect of Puyŏ continues to play a role in the identity formation and affirmation of people of the modern Koreas, not altogether dissimilar to the way it was utilized to define the societies of early states. But herein the Puyŏ name alone has survived—most of its historical and cultural reality has long been lost to time.

I have suggested in the discussion above that the traditional accounts of the state formation processes of early states in the Korea-Manchuria region should be reassessed to take into account the nature of the historical record. Historians should recognize that the narratives depicting the origins of the earliest kingdoms, in the forms in which they are preserved today, are derived from contexts very different from what we understand as historical. We may, in fact, recognize them as remnants of a mythical tradition belonging 59. Since Koryŏ and Chosŏn leaders viewed Chinese culture and authority as paramount in their world, it is understandable that the Kija myth would trace Korean origins back to the time of the beginning of the Zhou dynasty, whereas the Tan’gun myth would trace those origins back to the time of the legendary emperor Yao. This reflects the greatly enhanced scope of interchange in which peninsular states engaged during these later centuries—a pedigree stemming from Puyŏ, even if it could have had a role in a Silla-based historiography, would not have been perceived as lofty enough for the kings of later dynasties. The treatment of Puyŏ in Silla-based historiography is peculiarly vague. Although the origins of the Silla kingship were artificially extended to predate the origins of Koguryŏ and Paekche, there could have been no doubt even among Silla historians that Puyŏ would have been older still. One wonders whether those Silla historians would have recognized Puyŏ as a state in any way properly belonging to their own state’s history.

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to a specific place, time, and social configuration. Although they served a variety of social and political functions in their original permutations, myths are not history in the sense that history intends to describe actual events. This does not, of course, indicate that we may not glimpse within myths some echoes of historical events, but this should not be presupposed, nor can we readily hope to recover such events from the extant forms of the myths, riven as they are from their living contexts. Instead, we should treat these foundation myths, with due caution, as creations designed to serve practical functions within the societies that created them. I have suggested three such functions above, but there are certainly many more. One of the implications of the approach I advocate, which might have broader implications in Korean historiography today, is that it potentially severs certain connections long understood as guiding the flow of the early history of the peninsula. Specifically, it challenges the view that sees certain of the early states, such as Puyŏ, Koguryŏ, and Paekche, as being products of small-scale migrations. Indeed, my approach would suggest that the Koguryŏ and Paekche ruling clans may have fabricated their links to the Puyŏ ruling house. Even so, reading the foundation myths as functional entities need not disprove the possibility of such migrations. Rather, this approach opens a broader range of perceptions regarding the meaning of those myths within their original contexts, to the extent that we can reconstruct them. Finally, lest this study be perceived as attempting to unravel the tapestry of history as it is portrayed in both Koreas today, I will close by pointing out that though it may be unlikely that the ruling houses of Koguryŏ and Paekche really descended from Puyŏ refugees, the very fact of a mythical continuity among those three states is in itself suggestive of some significant cultural connection. The fact that the Koguryŏ foundation myth was a close adaptation of the Puyŏ myth suggests that there must at some time have been close cultural commonality between those states and peoples. The myths must have spoken to roughly the same set of social needs and served similar functions in both contexts. The same can be implied for the case of the Paekche foundation myth, which was built upon that of Koguryŏ. The spread of a mythic idea need not be understood as implying migration, however. Such ideas may spread and propagate without long-distance movements by the tellers of those tales. Similarly, notions of statecraft and the legitimacy of authority may be disseminated without the mobilization of statesmen. There are, in summation, many alternatives to the theory of migration to explain the formation of the earliest states. These other roads should be explored—and they will be found to be paved with a rich variety of perspectives, all offering new insights into how the early states came into being.

Conclusion This study has been an effort to explore one small facet of the early history of northeast Asia through a multidisciplinary approach designed to facilitate a reappraisal of the history of the Puyŏ state by taking advantage of recent archaeological discoveries. This

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approach affords us new perspectives of the historical Puyŏ state that extend far beyond what the traditional historical accounts reveal. Analysis of archaeological remains in the Jilin and Liaoning regions indicates that the Puyŏ state rose as a secondary formation in response to a sharp increase in interregional contact catalyzed primarily by the expansion of the Chinese state of Yan in the early third century bce. We find also that the Puyŏ state emerged in and extended over a spatial expanse previously represented by two separate but related archaeological cultures, providing an illustration of the fallacies of attempting to equate distributions of material culture with political entities. A study of the territorial scope of Puyŏ influence enables us to understand more clearly the complex historical events of the first four centuries ce and permits us also a better determination of the territorial extent of Puyŏ’s neighboring polities, primarily Koguryŏ. A different angle of approach reveals something of what Puyŏ and its historical legacy represented to states that emerged later than Puyŏ. We find that upon the disintegration of the Puyŏ state, several emerging states rushed to lay claim to its mantle of legitimacy, evidence of a shared notion that a legitimate state must bear certain credentials, including a respectable pedigree derived from a recognized ancient authority. This study recognizes that the received histories of the earliest peninsular states, especially Koguryŏ and Paekche, are a patchwork of literary remnants of a variety of genres and that the foundation accounts should be properly viewed as myths and read as such. In this way, we find that rather than seeing the leaders of Koguryŏ and Paekche as descendents of ancient Puyŏ refugees, we might better understand the foundation myths of those states as reflecting certain social requirements that have no necessary correlation with actual historical events. Instead, the Puyŏ legacy may be viewed as a consciously appropriated concept that served leaders of later states as a foundation for their own political legitimacy. The Puyŏ name continued to carry considerable weight, primarily among northern states, until the historiographical tradition stemming from Silla gained prominence in the Korean peninsula. Puyŏ then became a mere polity of the past, a marginal component of the historiographical traditions of later peninsular states. The present study represents a modest attempt to explore the early history of northeast Asia by taking advantage of a variety of data and theoretical approaches across several disciplines. The potential for future advances to be gained through such an approach is enormous. Even in the case of Puyŏ, a sparsely treated component of northeast Asian history, we stand to learn a great deal from future publication of the results of the excavations at the site of the Puyŏ capital in Jilin. More detailed comparative analyses examining the archaeological remains of the nomadic traditions to the west of Puyŏ promise also to shed much light on the role of that region in the formation of the Puyŏ state. Finally, future archaeological advances concerning Koguryŏ remains should reveal much more detail on the nature of the relationship between Puyŏ and Koguryŏ. The near future holds much promise for studies on the earliest states in northeast Asia, and the present study is intended as a small contribution to that worthwhile endeavor.

I n troduct ion to t h e A ppen di x e s

Puyŏ in Studies of Historical Geography

I

n the chapters of this volume I have treated the issue of the location of the Puyŏ capital as settled and have presented no challenge to the view that places the ruins of the capital at Dongtuanshan in Jilin. This is, however, a relatively recent view that has gained prominence only since the mid-1980s, and despite considerable supporting archaeological evidence, it has not yet completely supplanted earlier hypotheses that favored sites in modern Kaiyuan, Nongan, Siping, or Harbin. In the appendixes that follow I will review the history of scholarship that sought to determine the geographical location of Puyŏ and will demonstrate that most of these views, which were based on scant written evidence, suffered from a distorted geographical perspective derived from the Yuan period (1271–1368) scholarship that produced the dynastic history of the Khitan state of Liao. My goal is both to expose the flaws inherent in earlier hypotheses regarding the location of the Puyŏ capital and to provide support for the view that favors a location at Dongtuanshan. The arguments that follow are rather complex and interconnected such that some fundamental assertions introduced to demonstrate a given point will not themselves be supported with evidence until a later section. In appendix A, I will first provide an outline of historical treatments on the location of Puyŏ and will introduce the problematic issues involved in their methodologies. Next I will demonstrate that nearly all previous hypotheses regarding the location of Puyŏ’s capital are marred by a common historiographical flaw, the nature of which has come to be fully recognized only in the past few decades. After exposing these flaws and providing support for the Dongtuanshan hypothesis, I will briefly review current scholarship regarding the locations of Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng 扶餘城 and Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu 扶餘府 in appendixes B and C, respectively.

A ppen di x A

The Capital of the Puyŏ State

E

arly descriptions of the location of the Puyŏ heartland are extremely vague. The Sanguozhi states only that in the mid-third century Puyŏ’s capital was located some one thousand li to the north of the walled frontier of Xuantu. Its territories are said to have covered an area about two thousand li square, located between the Xianbei and the Yilou, with Koguryŏ to its south and the Ruo River to its north.1 The measures of distance and area are, of course, rough generalizations and cannot be taken at face value. Even today, when scholars can identify the ruins of Xuantu’s frontier and estimate the location of Puyŏ’s neighbors, they are left with the central third of Jilin Province in which to seek the ruins of the Puyŏ capital. By the time the Mongols swept through northern China and Manchuria in the thirteenth century, even the locations of Xuantu and Puyŏ’s neighbors had been forgotten, and any attempt to estimate the location of Puyŏ from the thirdcentury records would have been hopeless. Instead, most theories regarding Puyŏ’s location were based on records concerning Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu, which was assumed to have been built upon the ruins of the old Puyŏ capital. There is, however, no evidence to support the view that Puyŏ’s capital, Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng, and Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu were based at the same location. I will suggest below that all three, in fact, occupied different locations on the central reaches of the Songhua River, but within forty kilometers of one another.

1. Sanguozhi 30:841 (Account of Puyŏ): 夫餘在長城之北, 去玄菟千里, 與高句麗, 東與挹婁, 西與 鮮卑接, 北有弱水, 方可二千里. The later Hou Hanshu (85:2810 [Account of Puyŏ]) repeats this information, except that it condenses the first sentence to read “Puyŏ lies 1,000 li north of Xuantu” (夫餘 國, 在玄菟北千里), which is somewhat misleading since “1,000 li north of Xuantu” and “north of the long wall 1,000 li distant from Xuantu” need not indicate the same region. The round figure of distance is a rough estimate, but as a literal distance, 1,000 li in the Wei period would be equivalent to about 435 kilometers today.

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The Kaiyuan Hypothesis Until about the seventeenth century, scholars in Chosŏn Korea were content simply to echo the descriptions preserved in the Sanguozhi when addressing the location of Puyŏ. Even a scholar as able as Han Paek-kyŏm 韓百謙 (1552–1615), who attempted to associate historical place names with known geographical locations, when addressing Puyŏ could say only that it was located to the north of the Yalu River.2 By the time the first edition of Shengjing tongzhi 盛京通志 (Comprehensive gazetteer of Shengjing) had been completed in 1684, however, Qing scholars were pointing to Kaiyuan 開原, the northernmost administrative region within the lower Willow Palisade, as the site of the Puyŏ capital (fig. A.1).3 The Kaiyuan hypothesis would predominate in Chosŏn Korea until the beginning of the twentieth century, though certain contradictions in the theory would prompt some early Qing scholars to voice their reservations. The Kaiyuan hypothesis was based on the information, contained in such works as the Da Yuan yitongzhi 大元一統志 (Gazetteers of the unified Great Yuan), that the Yuan Kaiyuan Route 開元路 had been established on the old Huanglongfu, which had itself been established on Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu.4 Under the Ming, the city of Kaiyuan 開元 was renamed Kaiyuan 開原 and served as the seat of the Sanwan Guard 三萬衛, which under Qing became Kaiyuan District 開原縣. The 1718 gazetteer Kaiyuanxian zhi 開原縣志 (Gazetteer of Kaiyuan District), based on a lost earlier work, makes this association explicit by claiming that the Puyŏ state, Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu, and Liao’s Huanglongfu all had been located within the territory governed by Qing’s Kaiyuan District. This territory encompassed a region roughly the size of a district in the modern Kaiyuan Municipality in northeastern Liaoning and was based at a walled site now called Laocheng 老城 just north of the present city of Kaiyuan. The Kaiyuan hypothesis thus appears to reflect a clean linear succession of territorial administrations stretching from the Puyŏ state up to the Qing Kaiyuan District, all of which were thought to have been located in the vicinity of the modern Kaiyuan municipality in northeastern Liaoning. Although the local gazetteers maintained the hypothesis of administrative continuity from Puyŏ to the Qing Kaiyuan District, some scholars detected inconsistencies in 2. See Tongguk chiriji 東國地理誌 6A–7A (On the Account of Puyŏ in the Hou Hanshu): “The Puyŏ tribes were referred to collectively as the Mohe (Malgal); from the Qi and Liang periods they were subject to Koguryŏ; during the Tang they were the Parhae state; during the Five Dynasties period they were Liao’s Dongdan state; during the Song they were the cultured Jurchen; during the Yuan they were the Eastern Zhen (Eastern Xia) state; today this is the land of the Manchus” 扶餘之種, 通稱為靺鞨. 齊梁以後入于高勾麗; 在唐為渤海國; 在五季為遼之東丹國; 在宋為熟女真; 在元為東真國; 今為老 胡之地. It is evident from his study of Parhae that Han had already drawn some connection between Puyŏ and Huanglongfu. See 26B (Border Defenses, Addendum): “Huanglongfu is today the land of the Manchus across the border from Kanggye” 黃龍府, 今在江界越邊老胡地方. Note that 老胡 is an early Chosŏn reference to the Manchus under Nurhaci (see Kwanghae-gun ilgi 50:8B, annotation to the entry for the king’s fourth year, second month, sixth day). 3. See the 1684 Shengjing tongzhi 6:7B–8A (Jianzhi yange 建置沿革, Kaiyuanxian 開原縣); 22:6B–8A (Gujizhi 古蹟志, Kaiyuanxian 開原縣, Gu Fuyuguo 古扶餘國). 4. This work is now lost, but portions of it were reconstituted based on citations in other works. A version of this restored edition appears in Jin Yufu’s Liaohai congshu 1985, vol. 5.

Fig. A.1. Modern cities and archaeological sites mentioned in the appendixes.

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the theory. As early as the late seventeenth century the Quan Liao bei kao 全遼備考 (Comprehensive reference for Liaodong), written by Lin Ji 林佶 (ca. 1660–?), pointed out that despite the general acceptance of the Kaiyuan hypothesis propounded in the 1684 Shengjing tongzhi, recently discovered epigraphic evidence seemed to indicate that Huanglongfu was located not at Kaiyuan District, but rather somewhere to the northwest of what is today the city of Changchun.5 Lin refers here to the stele placed before the tomb of Wanyan Loushi 完顏婁室 (1077–1130), a Jurchen commander who was instrumental in the Jurchen conquest of the Liao state and who had led the first attack on Liao’s Huanglongfu in 1115. The tomb still sits at Shibeiling 石碑岭 just to the east of Changchun, but of the two stelae known to have once existed on the tomb grounds, only a pair of tortoise bases remain. Fortunately, the text of one of the stelae was recorded in the Liubian jilue 柳邊紀略 (Brief accounts of the Willow Palisade), written by Lin’s contemporary, Yang Bin 楊賓 (1650–1702).6 The inscription, which dates to 1177, clearly states that the tomb was located to the southeast of Jizhou 濟州, which was the designation given to Huanglongfu in 1140. This indicates that Huanglongfu must have been located to the northwest of today’s Changchun and introduces a glaring inconsistency into the Kaiyuan hypothesis. Such doubts are evident in the treatment of Puyŏ and Huanglongfu in the 1736 revised edition of the Shengjing tongzhi. Puyŏ and Huanglongfu and its districts are all listed under the heading of Kaiyuan District, and the site of Liao’s Tongzhou 通州 is singled out as representing the ruins of the Puyŏ capital city (this is based on a misinterpreted reference in the Liaoshi).7 The ruins of Tongzhou are specifically said to have lain to the southwest of Qing’s Kaiyuan District.8 New annotation appended to the treatment of Puyŏ notes, however, that the distance between Liaodong and Puyŏ was 1,400 to 1,500 li, but the distance between Qing’s Kaiyuan District and Liaoyang city (the ancient site of 5. Quan Liao bei kao shang 上 9B: “Huanglongfu: The Shengjing tongzhi makes this to be Kaiyuan District, but according to the Jinshi geography, in the third year of Tianjuan [1140] Huanglongfu was renamed Jizhou. And [Wanyan] Loushi’s tomb inscription states that he was buried at Aojili to the southeast of Jizhou. His tomb is now located at Botunshan [Changchun] two hundred li to the west of Chuanchang [Jilin], so the administration of Huanglongfu in those days must have been located between today’s Shitou [Yitong] and Shuangyang [Yinma] rivers. Also, the Songmo jiwen states that over one hundred li to the south of Huanglongfu was Binzhou, which was close to the Huntong [Songhua] River. Considering these statements, if [Huanglongfu were located in] Kaiyuan, then it must have been over six hundred li away from the Huntong River. How could Jin’s Taizu have taken [Huanglongfu] after just having crossed the river?” 黃龍府, 盛京志作開原縣. 按金史地理志, 天眷三年改黃 龍府為濟州, 而婁室墓碑載室葬于濟州之東 奧吉里. 今其墓在船廠西二百里之薄屯山, 則當日黃龍 府治應在今石頭河, 雙陽河之間. 又松漠記聞, 黃龍府 百餘里曰賓州, 州近混同江. 其說亦合, 若開 原, 則去混同江六百餘里, 金太祖安能一渡江即據有之耶. 6. Liubian jilue 4:7B–13B. Lin evidently based part of his brief study of Huanglongfu on Yang’s work. Yang Bin was a native of Anyang in Zhejiang. During the Kangxi reign Bin’s father was exiled to Ningguta for an offense. The Liubian jilue (Outline record of the Willow Palisade) was the record Bin kept of his observations when he traveled to Manchuria to find his father. The text included in Jin Yufu’s Liaohai congshu is based on the 1729 edition preserved in the Hezhai congshu 鶴齋叢書. 7. See the 1736 Shengjing tongzhi 10:8B–9A (Jianzhi yange 建置沿革, Kaiyuanxian 開原縣); 28:17A– 23A (Guji 古蹟, Kaiyuanxian 開原縣, Fuyuguo 扶餘國). 8. Shengjing tongzhi [1736] 1965, 28:18B–19A.

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Liaodong Commandery) was only a bit more than 300 li.9 The commentator suggests that since red jade and pearls mentioned in the third-century accounts of Puyŏ were, during the Qing period, known to have been products of Heilongjiang, Puyŏ was probably located in Ningguta or Heilongjiang.10 In 1784 a final revision of Shengjing tongzhi was undertaken for inclusion in the Qing Imperial Archives (the Siku quanshu edition). In this greatly expanded work the same associations with Kaiyuan District carry over from earlier editions, but the commentary includes the suggestion that Puyŏ and Huanglongfu were both located not in Kaiyuan, but rather in Ningguta and Heilongjiang—Kaiyuan represented only their southwestern perimeters.11 Regardless of the doubts entertained by some Qing writers, Chosŏn scholars seem not to have seriously challenged the Kaiyuan view. In his Tongsa kangmok (written 1756–58), An Chŏng-bok (1712–91) bases his estimate of Puyŏ’s location on the commentary of the 1736 edition of Shengjing tongzhi.12 An places Puyŏ in Kaiyuan District, but he notes the reservations voiced by the Qing commentator and suggests that Ningguta and Heilongjiang are more likely sites for Puyŏ. Similarly, Han Ch’i-yun 韓致奫 (1765–1814), in his Haedong yŏksa 海東繹史 (History of Korea), compiled early in the nineteenth century, associated Puyŏ with Qing’s Kaiyuan District but with no qualifying arguments.13 Finally, Chŏng Yag-yong 丁若鏞 (1762–1836), in his extensive treatment of the geography of early Korea, Abang kangyŏk ko 我邦疆域考 (Studies of our country’s territories), deals with the location of Puyŏ in his treatment of Parhae. Chŏng cites various Chinese historical works to trace the continuity of administration from Puyŏ to the Khitan Dongdan state, after which he concludes that “the land of Northern Puyŏ was called Dongdanfu under the Liao, Huanglongfu under the Jin, Sanwan Guard under the Ming, and is today’s Kaiyuan District.”14 In this treatment Chŏng specifically cites the Shengjing tongzhi in assigning the sites of Puyŏ-bu and Huanglongfu to Kaiyuan District, but he does not comment on the doubts raised by the writers of the 1736 and 1784 editions of the Qing work.15

9. The annotation provides no citation for the figures of distance between Liaodong and Xuantu, but the author evidently added the figure of one thousand li between Xuantu and Puyŏ to an estimated four hundred to five hundred li between Liaodong and Xuantu. The author seems to have been unaware of the statement in the Sanguozhi that provides a distance of two hundred li between Liaodong and Xuantu (Sanguozhi 47:1139 [Wuzhu, Jiahe 2]: 玄菟郡在遼東北, 相去二百里). 10. Shengjing tongzhi 28:17A–17B (Guji 古蹟, Kaiyuanxian 開原縣, Fuyuguo 扶餘國). 11. See the 1784 Shengjing tongzhi 29:32A (Chengzhi 城池 1: Fuyucheng 扶餘城); 100:14A–16A (Guji 古迹 1: Kaiyuanfu 開原府, Fuyufu 扶餘府, Huanglongfu 黃龍府). 12. Tongsa kangmok Appendix B:595–96 (Study of Puyŏ). The passages An cites in his treatment are all found only in the 1736 edition of Shengjing tongzhi. 13. Haedong yŏksa 4 (Segi 世紀 4: Puyŏ). Although Han’s treatment of Puyŏ is relatively extensive, it consists almost entirely of collated passages culled from Chinese historical works. He notes that Puyŏ, having been located in Kaiyuan, was outside the geographical extent of Chosŏn, which perhaps accounts for his not exploring its location further. Interestingly, a commentary appended to the work by Han’s nephew Han Chin-sŏ 韓鎮書 in 1823 lists several possible early references to Puyŏ, which were discussed briefly in chapter 5 above. 14. Abang kangyŏk ko 2:33A–33B: 北扶餘之地, 遼曰東丹府, 金曰黃龍府, 明曰三萬衛, 今曰開原縣. 15. The Kaiyuan hypothesis remained essentially unchallenged in Chosŏn until the twentieth century. The 1908 Chŭngbo munhŏn pigo 增補文獻備考 (13:27B–28B [Yŏji ko 輿地考 1, Puyŏ]), which relied

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Fig. A.2. Two removals of the Kaiyuan administration.

It is important to note that in all versions of the Kaiyuan hypothesis, the association between Puyŏ and Kaiyuan is based on three assumed linkages: the identification of Puyŏ with Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu; the identification of Puyŏ-bu with Huanglongfu; and the identification of Huanglongfu with Yuan’s Kaiyuan Route and its continuity to Qing’s Kaiyuan District. The continuity of Kaiyuan is particularly crucial in linking the earlier historical administrations to a known geographical location. Nevertheless, though the records upon which the Kaiyuan hypothesis were based do indeed indicate a kind of administrative continuity from the Yuan Kaiyuan Route to the Qing Kaiyuan District, there were at least two instances of geographical discontinuity. A close study of relevant sources reveals quite clearly that the administrative headquarters of Kaiyuan moved twice during the Yuan period (fig. A.2).16 The original Kaiyuan was established when the control structure of the Jin dynasty began to unravel under Mongol pressure. A Jurchen commander named Puxian Wannu 蒲鮮萬奴 (?–1233) was dispatched by the Jin court to quell a Khitan rebellion in Manchuria, but when he failed to put down the rebels, he also turned against Jin and in 1215 established his own state of Eastern Xia 東夏 (also called the Great Zhen 大真) in eastern Manchuria and northeastern Korea. Kaiyuan was one of at least two major bases heavily on the writings of Han Paek-kyŏm and Chŏng Yag-yong for its geography monographs, maintains simply that Puyŏ was located in Kaiyuan District. 16. For studies of the history of the Kaiyuan administration and its locations, see Wada 1955, 190–222; Tan 1988, 197–204, 281; Piao 1995, 24–35.

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Puxian Wannu established, and scholars today identify its remains at a walled site on the Suifen River 绥芬河 just to the east of the city of Dongning in Heilongjiang.17 In 1233 Mongol forces overran Eastern Xia and in 1235 established the two myriarchies of Kaiyuan 開元 and Nanjing 京.18 Sometime before 1267 the Kaiyuan administration was removed to Huanglongfu, which was located at modern Nongan.19 The site of today’s Kaiyuan was called Xianpingfu 咸平府 during the Jin and early Yuan, but in 1286 the Kaiyuan administration was moved again from its base at Huanglongfu to its new base at the city of Xianping, the name of which was only then changed to Kaiyuan Route 開元路.

The Guiren Hypothesis The name Kaiyuan 開元 thus became attached to the present city of Kaiyuan 开原 only in 1286. But it took Qing scholarship several generations to realize that the Kaiyuan administration had twice moved and that Huanglongfu (and by extension, Puyŏ) could not have been located at Qing’s Kaiyuan District. The flaws in the Kaiyuan hypothesis seem to have been first identified in the late eighteenth century, in the Manzhou yuanliu kao 滿洲源流考 (Studies on Manchu origins), published in 1778 by Agui 阿桂 (1717–97) and Yu Minzhong 于敏中 (1714–79). In the treatment of Yuan’s Kaiyuan Route in that work, the authors make note of the discontinuity evident in the move from Huanglongfu to Xianpingfu.20 Yet the authors still believed that Puyŏ and Huanglongfu were in the vicinity of Qing’s Kaiyuan District, assuming that the bulk of their territories probably extended over adjacent lands just north of the Willow Palisade.21 This is revealed in the extensive treatment of Puyŏ in that work, the conclusion to which is translated below. Note that though Puyŏ is still identified with Kaiyuan and regions to its north, the mechanics of the argument differ slightly from those of the earlier Kaiyuan hypothesis.

17. An interesting study of this site and its history appears in Guo Yisheng 1982. 18. See Yuanshi 59:1400 (Geography 2, Shenyanglu): 乙未歲 (1235), 立開元、 京二萬戶府. The Nanjing myriarchy was established at the site of Puxian Wannu’s southern capital, identified with a walled mountain site just to the east of the city of Yanji. This site had a very long occupation, and the wall itself appears to have been a Koguryŏ construct. It is often associated with Northern Okchŏ, Eastern Puyŏ, and Koguryŏ’s Ch’aek-sŏng. See Piao 1997. 19. Some scholars maintain that the shift from Dongning to Nongan occurred instead a short time after the myriarchy’s establishment in 1235. See Tan 1988, 198. 20. Manzhou yuanliu kao 13:1B (Jiangyu 疆域 6, Kaiyuanlu 開元路). 21. This is evident in commentary regarding Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu (10:11B [Jiangyu 疆域 3, Puyŏ-bu]; 20B [Jiangyu 3, Commentary]). The authors believed that Puyŏ-bu occupied territories within Kaiyuan District and adjacent lands to the north, whereas Makkal-bu lay farther to the north and west in the Mongol pasture lands. I will demonstrate below that these assignments were based on misinterpreted data from the Liaoshi geography monograph.

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Appendix A

Puyŏ was located to the north of Han’s Xuantu commandery. Xuantu Commandery is today’s Haicheng 海城, Gaiping 蓋平, and Fuzhou 復州.22 [The region] from Kaiyuan and north for 1,000 li was all the territory of Puyŏ. During the Southern and Northern Dynasties period [Puyŏ] was invaded by the Murong and fled to Okchŏ. Later [Puyŏ] was invaded by Paekche and moved west near Yan, but before long it was divided and occupied by Koguryŏ. After Tang destroyed Koguryŏ, [Puyŏ territory] fell under the control of Parhae. Liao absorbed Parhae and made [Puyŏ] part of its Eastern Capital. Longzhou 龍州, Tongzhou 同州, Qizhou 祺州, and Suzhou 肅州 were all [Puyŏ’s] former lands.23 [Puyŏ’s] royal capital was at Tongzhou 通州, which supervised the four districts of Tongyuan 通遠, Anyuan 安遠, Guiren 歸仁, and Yugu 漁谷. Under the Jin dynasty it became Longzhou 隆州 and fell under the administration of Shangjing-lu 上京路. Soon afterward the province was abolished, and the three districts were merged into Guiren, which was under the administration of Xianpingfu 咸平府 [Kaiyuan]. This was also abolished early in the Yuan. The old city of Guiren was at Jinshan 金山, northeast of today’s Tieling 鐵嶺. According to the Ming yitongzhi 明一統志 [Gazetteers of the unified Great Ming] [Jinshan] was 350 li northwest of Kaiyuan on the north bank of the Liao River. Another 30 li to its northwest was Eastern Jinshan, and 20 li still farther was western Jinshan. These two mountains extended without interruption for over 300 li and adjoined the territory of the Wulianghai 烏梁海. Thus, when Sui and Tang attacked Koguryŏ, the Puyŏ Circuit to which they set out was probably in this region. This is in agreement with the statement “Puyŏ was the Khitan Circuit [of Parhae]” mentioned in the Parhae account and with the statement “[Puyŏ] adjoined with the Xianbei on the west” mentioned in the Hou Hanshu. Chosŏn also has a Puyŏ County, but this is nothing more than the empty appropriation of the name and is of no relevance.24 22. This assignment is in error, for Xuantu was located in the Fushun region. Much of the geographical arrangement proposed by the authors of the Manzhou yuanliu kao is grossly inaccurate, and there is considerable inconsistency even within the work as to the location and extent of various peoples and polities. The association of Xuantu with the western Liaodong coast may be related to the equally erroneous assignment of Okchŏ (Xuantu was originally established in the Okchŏ region on the northeastern coast of the Korean peninsula) with the eastern coast of the Liaodong peninsula (see 9:2A [Jiangyu 疆域 2, Okchŏ 沃沮]). This error was based in turn on the belief that Parhae’s southern capital was also in this region—I will demonstrate below that this too is a result of a misinterpretation of the Liaoshi geography. 23. Longzhou was located at modern Nongan, and the other three prefectures were located near modern Kaiyuan. The administrative base of Longzhou coincided with that of Huanglongfu, and the Liaoshi geography associates both with Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu. The other three prefectures are mentioned here apparently because all were thought to have been located in the northern regions of Jin’s Xianpingfu, which was later the site to which Yuan’s Kaiyuan Route was removed. In other words, the three are listed because they existed in the region in which the Qing scholars believed Puyŏ to have been located, not because of any direct textual connection between those prefectures and Puyŏ or Puyŏ-bu. 24. Manzhou yuanliu kao 8:14A–14B (Jiangyu 疆域 1, Jilin 吉林, Puyŏ Capital 夫餘國都): 夫餘在元 菟郡北. 元菟為今海城、蓋平、復州. 自開元以北千餘里, 皆夫餘之境. 北朝為慕容氏所侵, 走保沃 沮. 又因百濟侵略, 西徒近燕. 尋為高句麗分據. 唐滅高麗, 入于渤海. 若龍州、同州、祺州、肅州, 皆其 故地. 其國王城, 則為通州, 領通遠、安遠、歸仁、漁谷四縣. 金為隆州, 屬上京路. 尋廢州, 以三縣併入 歸仁, 屬咸平府. 元初, 又廢. 歸仁故城, 在今鐵嶺東北金山. 據明統志, 在開元西北三百五十里, 遼河 北岸. 又西北三十里, 曰東金山, 又二十里, 曰西金山. 二山綿亙三百餘里, 與烏梁海接境, 則隋唐伐高 麗, 所謂夫餘道者, 蓋嘗由此, 而渤海傳所云, 夫餘為契丹道, 及後漢書所言, 西接鮮卑者, 皆相符合. 至朝鮮亦有夫餘縣, 則徒襲其名, 不足馮也.

Fig. A.3. Sites associated with the Guiren hypothesis.

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Appendix A

In this arrangement, the Qing authors seek the capital of Puyŏ by establishing a new linkage, tracing an administrative continuity not through Kaiyuan, but rather through Tongzhou and Guiren. There is at least one discontinuity evident in this argument, and that is the authors’ choice of tracing the site of the Puyŏ capital through Guiren District instead of Tongyuan District, which as Tongzhou’s primary district would have coincided in space with the administrative base of Tongzhou Prefecture and, putatively, with the site of the Puyŏ capital.25 Although it would have been more accurate to trace the location of Puyŏ’s capital through Tongzhou’s primary district of Tongyuan, the fact that Tongyuan was later lowered to sub-prefectural status under Guiren makes it much more difficult to trace to a known location. The location of Guiren, however, was still relatively easy to determine, hence its selection as a target administration to approximate the location of Tongzhou. Current scholarship places Tongyuan in modern Siping, and some scholars today still invoke the argument outlined above to locate the Puyŏ capital in Siping. The association established between Guiren and Jinshan to the north of the Liao River is unsupported. The Qing authors may have made the connection themselves based on the coincidence in name between the Ming- and Qing-period Jinshan near Shuangliao and a place associated with the Tang conquest of Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng (see the discussion of Puyŏ-sŏng below). The site of Guiren has, at least since the Ming period, been associated with ruins at Simiancheng 四面城 near modern Changtu (fig. A.3). Despite the methodological flaws evident in the hypothesis described above, it is useful and not inaccurate in tracing the ruins of Liao’s Tongzhou to the region just to the north of Kaiyuan. And since the Liaoshi geography monograph states that Tongzhou was the site of the Puyŏ capital (see below), there would seem to be some justification for posing such an argument as seen above. Nevertheless, like the Kaiyuan hypothesis, the “Guiren hypothesis” is plagued by a hidden case of geographical discontinuity, though I will defer the proof of this statement to a later section in this appendix. Note, however, that though the Guiren hypothesis, like the Kaiyuan hypothesis, is based primarily on an assumed administrative and geographical continuity, its authors are more aware than earlier theorists of the complexities involved in establishing such linkages. With these limitations in mind, let us continue now with the hypothesis that seemed to settle the matter of where the Puyŏ capital was located—the Nongan hypothesis.

The Nongan Hypothesis With the Manchu conquest of Ming in 1644, territories that lay beyond the northern frontiers of Ming’s Liaodong became better known to historians and cartographers in the Central Plains. One of the walled ruins in these northern territories was the town of Longan 龍安, distinguished by the Liao-period pagoda rising just outside of its west wall. Early in the Ming period the general Feng Sheng 馮勝 accepted the surrender of the 25. The Guiren district of Liao’s Tongzhou is instead associated with the Kangsa district of Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu.

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Mongol rebel Naghachu 納哈出 at this site, and it was at Longan Pagoda that in 1617 Nurhaci’s son Abatai 阿巴泰 (1589–1646) repelled an invasion of the Chakhar 察哈爾 Mongols. During the Qing period Longan lay on the Mongol side of the upper Willow Palisade in pasture land belonging to the Gorlos Banner. An alternate name sometimes used for the walled town was Nongan 農安. The comprehensive geographical gazetteer, Da Qing yitongzhi 大清一統志 (Gazetteers of the unified Great Qing), was first completed early in the reign of the Qianlong emperor, whose preface to that work is dated 1744. Like the later editions of the Shengjing tongzhi, the Da Qing yitongzhi lists Puyŏ, Puyŏ-sŏng, Puyŏ-bu, and Huanglongfu under the heading of Kaiyuan District, but the commentary echoes the reservations voiced by earlier commentators on the basis of evidence provided by the Wanyan Loushi stele. In the section on the Mongol Gorlos Banner, however, is a lengthy commentary appended to the entry for the ruins of Longan: Longancheng 龍安城 lies two hundred li to the southeast of the [Gorlos] South Banner. The Ming yitongzhi 明一通志 notes that Longan 龍安 on the Yitu River 一禿河 lay beyond Jinshan 金山 to the northwest of the Sanwan Guard 三萬衛 [Kaiyuan]. The Yuan general Naghachu [in 1387] divided his troops into three camps: one called Yujingshenchu 榆井深 處, one called Yangezhuang 養鵝莊, and one called Longan Yituhe 龍安一禿河. When the Grand General Feng Sheng marched against Naghachu, he stationed his troops at Jinshan and sent his lieutenant-commander to [Longan] to accept [Naghachu’s] surrender. According to the Quan Liao zhi 全遼志 [Complete gazetteer of Liaodong], Longancheng 龍安城 lies west of the Yitu River and east of Jinshan, and the Ce shuo 冊說 describes the city walls as seven li in circumference with four gates, noting that its ruins still exist, to the side of which rises a pagoda, and that [the city] is also called Nongan 農安.26 In the ninth year of Tianming 天命 [1617], when the Khorchin 科爾沁 were invaded by the Chakhar, our beile Abatai 阿巴泰 led his troops forth to save [the Khorchin]. When his troops reached Longan Pagoda the Chakhar fled in a panic by night. The Jinshi geography monograph states that in the second year of Tianjuan 天眷 [1139] Huanglongfu was renamed Jizhou 濟州; in the ninth year of Dading 大定 [1169] it was renamed Longzhou 隆州; and early in Zhenyou 貞祐 [1213– 17] it was elevated to Longanfu 隆安府. Examining this geographically, this Longancheng 龍安城 must be a transformation of Longan 隆安, and is therefore the old site of Liao’s Huanglongfu. The region to the northwest of the present Yongji Prefecture was all the territory of Huanglongfu. But since this town lies beyond the frontier, people did not know of it and simply came to be left in ignorance as to its existence.27 26. I have been unable to locate this passage in the Quan Liao zhi, but it is possible that the text is here describing the appended map of the regions extending to the north of Kaiyuan. On this map in the surviving versions of the Quan Liao zhi, Longan is indeed interposed between the Yitu River and Jinshan, but one should not place too much faith in the accuracy of this idealized depiction. The Jinshan range was more likely to have been to the south of Nongan. The Ce shuo cited here seems to refer to a descriptive text attached to a map, but the cited passage is also not to be found in extant versions of the Quan Liao zhi. 27. Da Qing yitongzhi 345:11B: 龍安城: 在前旗東 二百里. 明統志, 龍安一禿河, 在三萬衛西北, 金 山外. 元將納哈出分兵為三營, 一曰榆井深處, 一曰養鵝莊, 一曰龍安一禿河. 乃大將軍馮勝征納哈 出, 兵駐金山, 遣副將於此受其降. 全遼志, 龍安城, 在一禿河西, 金山東. 冊說, 城周七里, 門四, 阯 尚存, 旁有龍安塔, 亦名農安. 天命九年, 科爾沁為察哈爾所侵, 我貝勒阿巴泰率師救之, 兵至農安 塔, 察哈爾倉皇夜遁, 即此. 按金史地理志, 天眷二年, 改遼黃龍府為濟州. 大定九年, 更為隆州. 貞

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This analysis appears to be the earliest instance of an association drawn between Huanglongfu and the walled ruins at today’s Nongan. Although the commentator does not make the connection, his hypothesis falls into an elegant alignment with the inscription on the Wanyan Loushi stele, which states that Jizhou lay to the northwest of what is now Shibeiling at Changchun. Nevertheless, this hypothesis seems not to have attracted the attention of many later scholars. One exception appears in a commentary on the Gorlos Banner in the Menggu youmu ji 蒙古游牧記 (Record of nomad life in Mongolia), the greater part of which is the work of Zhang Mu 張穆 (1805–49).28 The commentary on Gorlos draws substantially from material in the Da Qing yitongzhi and includes the passages relating to Longan.29 In his own commentary, Zhang notes the discrepancies in the treatments of Huanglongfu in the Da Qing yitongzhi and dismisses the Kaiyuan hypothesis in favor of the Nongan hypothesis. He specifically cites the evidence of the Wanyan Loushi stele in support of this view and repeats the arguments against the Kaiyuan hypothesis first posed by Lin Ji in the Quan Liao bei kao. Zhang’s study traces the history of the Nongan site only as far back as Liao’s Huanglongfu, however, and no mention is made of Puyŏ or Puyŏ-bu. In 1885 a Qing official named Cao Tingjie 曹廷杰 (1850–1926), who was in Jilin awaiting appointment as a county magistrate, was dispatched to survey the Russian border region in Jilin and Heilongjiang. After spending seven months engaged in firsthand observations, Cao wrote a concise series of studies based on his experiences in a work called the Dong sansheng yudi tushuo 東三省輿地圖說 (Maps and descriptions of the territories of the three eastern provinces), presented in 1887. In this work Cao addresses problems in then-current understanding of the historical geography of Manchuria, and his studies included attempts to ascertain the sites of several ancient cities based on physical remains. He also worked to clear up certain long-held misconceptions, such as the dislocations inherent in earlier studies of the history of the Kaiyuan administration. In one brief study titled A Study of Puyŏ-bu, Huanglongfu, Fuyu Route, and the Puyŏ State, Cao presents a lucid argument wherein he confirms the identification of Nongan 農安 as the site of Liao’s Huanglongfu and extends this argument to include Puyŏ. The Hou Hanshu states that the Puyŏ state was located 1,000 li north of Xuantu Commandery, that it bordered Koguryŏ on the south and Yilou on the east. The Wei section of the Sanguozhi states that Puyŏ was 1,000 li distant from Han’s Xuantu commandery and that it bordered Koguryŏ on the south, Yilou on the east, Xianbei on the west, with the Ruo River to its north, and that it was 2,000 li square. The Xin Tangshu states that [under Parhae] Puyŏ was the Khitan route, and that the old lands of Puyŏ had become Puyŏ-bu. The Liaoshi states under the entry for the Eastern Capital, Longzhou, Huanglongfu, that after Taizu [Abaoji] destroyed Parhae he proceeded to Puyŏ-sŏng, where a yellow dragon appeared above the city

祐初, 升為隆安府. 以地考之. 此龍安城, 即隆安之訛. 乃遼黃龍府舊址也. 今永吉州西北, 皆古黃龍 府之地. 特其城隔在邊外, 從人不知, 遂茫無所據耳. 餘詳見奉天府. 28. After Zhang’s death the work was completed in 1859 by his friend He Qiutao 何秋濤 (1824–62), and it was first printed in 1867. 29. Menggu youmu ji 1:22B–24A.

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walls, so [the city] was renamed Huanglongfu.30 The Jinshi states that in the first month of the first year of Shouguo 收國 [1115] Taizu [Aguda] personally set out to attack Huanglongfu. In the eighth month he reached the Huntong River 涽同江, but there being no boats, he had his horse ford the river, after which he destroyed Huanglong. In the second year of Tianjuan 天眷 [1139] the place was renamed Jizhou, Lishe Military Prefecture 濟州 利涉軍 because Taizu had forded the river to get there.31 In the twenty-ninth year of Dading 大定 [1189] it was renamed Longzhou 隆州, Lishe Military Prefecture 利涉軍. Early in Zhenyou 貞祐 [1213– 17] it was elevated to Longan Superior Prefecture 隆安府.32 According to the Ming yitongzhi 明一統志, Longan 龍安 on the Yitu River was at Jinshan 金山 northwest of Sanwan Guard 三萬衛 [Kaiyuan].33 According to the Quan Liao zhi, Longancheng 龍安城 lies west of the Yitu River and east of Jinshan, and the Ce shuo 冊說 describes the city walls as seven li in circumference with four gates, noting that its ruins still exist, to the side of which rises a pagoda, and that [the city] is also called Nongan 農安.34 Today, 280 li northwest of Jilin, Nongan City lies two li to the west of the Yitong River 伊通河. The city’s foundations are in agreement with the description in the Ce shuo, and half a li outside the west gate is Nongan Pagoda.35 From this we know that Nongan 農安 and Longan 龍安 were all names derived from Longan 隆安, and we can know without doubt that Puyŏ-bu and Huanglongfu were both located at today’s Nongan City.36

30. The name Huanglong means “yellow dragon.” 31. Both ji 濟 and she 涉 mean to cross or ford a river. 32. To this point Cao has merely paraphrased passages from the standard histories. For reference, see Hou Hanshu 85:2810 (Account of Puyŏ); Sanguozhi 30:841 (Account of Puyŏ); Xin Tangshu 219:6182 (Account of Parhae); Liaoshi 38:470–71 (Geography 2, Longzhou); and Jinshi 2:26–28 (Taizu, Shouguo 1/1, 8, 9, and 11); 24:552 (Geography 1, Longzhou). Note that the original Tianjuan reference is for the third year rather than the second as per Cao. 33. This is slightly misleading. Cao is apparently drawing this series of citations from the Menggu youmu ji, but in the passage that reads 龍安一禿河在三萬衛西北金山外 (which is the actual passage from the Ming yitongzhi) Cao has left out the final character, which makes for a subtle but important difference. “Longan Yituhe” refers to one of three military camps set up by the Mongol commander Naghachu 納哈出 when he rebelled against the Ming and occupied the Jinshan region in 1387. “Yituhe” refers to the modern Yitong River 伊通河, which runs northward through Changchun and past Nongan before merging with the Yinma River. Naghachu’s camp must have been at or near today’s Nongan, which is described as lying beyond the Jinshan range. 34. This series of citations from the Da Ming yitongzhi, Quan Liao zhi, and Ce shuo seems to have been copied from the Menggu youmu ji rather than directly from the Da Qing yitongzhi. 35. The existence of a pagoda provides firm support for the view linking modern Nongan to the site of Longan known in the early Qing period. The pagoda still stands in what is now the center of the city of Nongan. It was extensively repaired and restored in the 1950s and 1980s. The city walls, constructed of rammed earth, have been mostly leveled, though during several visits to the site between 1997 and 2001 I was able to observe portions of the east wall and a large portion of the southeastern corner. Large quantities of tile fragments dating from the Liao period and later were visible embedded in the wall, which reflects the late nineteenth-century reconstruction of the wall on top of the original ruins. 36. Dong sansheng yudi tushuo 7A–7B: 扶餘府, 黃龍府, 夫餘路, 扶餘國攷: 後漢書, 扶餘國在元菟北 千里, 與高句麗, 東與挹婁接. 三國魏志, 扶餘去漢元菟郡千里, 與高句麗, 東與挹婁, 西與鮮卑 接, 北有弱水, 方可二千里. 新唐書, 扶餘, 契丹道也, 扶餘故地, 為扶餘府. 遼史, 東京, 龍州, 黃龍府, 太祖平渤海, 次扶餘城, 有黃龍見於城上, 更名黃龍府. 金史, 收國元年正月, 太祖自將親攻黃龍府, 八月次混同江, 無舟, 乘馬徑涉, 遂克黃龍府, 天眷二年, 改濟州利涉軍, 以太祖涉濟故名也. 大定二十 九年, 改隆州利涉軍. 貞祐初, 升為隆安府. 明一統志, 龍安一禿河, 在三萬衛西北, 金山. 全遼志, 龍 安城在一禿河西, 金山東. 冊說, 城周七里, 門四, 阯尚存, 旁有塔, 亦名農安. 今吉林省西北二百八十

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One sees in this brief analysis what appears to be an elegant argument tracing Puyŏ to the walled ruins at Nongan, based on textual evidence and Cao’s personal observations of the site. This argument is still widely accepted today. Cao differs with the authors of the Guiren hypothesis in tracing Puyŏ through Liao’s Huanglongfu rather than through Tongzhou, though he does not attempt to explain the apparent contradictions inherent in the Liaoshi geography, which separately identifies both Huanglongfu and Tongzhou with Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu. Cao’s hypothesis is most important for identifying Nongan as the site of the Puyŏ capital. His concise argument was forceful enough to convince decades of later scholars that the core of the Puyŏ state was to be associated with the walled ruins upon which the modern city of Nongan had been built. This became the standard theory reflected in Chinese, Korean, and Japanese textbooks for many years to come. Although the exposure of flaws in the Kaiyuan hypothesis has long since caused scholars to reject it as untenable, the Nongan and Guiren hypotheses, or variations of them, continue to enjoy acceptance to this day. Both hypotheses assume the identity of Puyŏ’s capital, Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu, and Liao’s Huanglongfu, and both attempt to establish a location at specific walled remains by tracing them back either to Huanglongfu (the Nongan hypothesis) or to Tongzhou (the Guiren hypothesis). Both hypotheses thus rely on the geography monograph in the Liaoshi to establish the link between Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu and the Liao administrations. I have alluded throughout this study to certain flaws inherent in the Liaoshi geography chapters, and in the next sections I will describe the nature of these flaws and illustrate how they must force us also to reject both the Nongan and Guiren hypotheses.

Flaws in the Liao Geography The problems in the geography monograph of the Liaoshi stem from confusions introduced because of the Khitan practice of removing conquered Parhae populations from their homelands to newly established sites in Liaodong or near the Khitan core region on the Sira Mören River. The confusion arises from the fact that the compilers of the fourteenth-century monograph (the Liaoshi was completed in 1344) often failed to distinguish between data pertaining to the original Parhae cities and to those referring to the newly established cities to which the Parhae populations were moved. This has resulted in a considerable degree of uncertainty with regard to studies of Parhae administrative geography, for which the Liaoshi is the most important resource, and has by extension caused confusion with regard to the pre-Parhae geography of the Manchuria region. To illustrate the nature of this problem, I will present a few key examples.

里, 農安城在伊通河西二里, 城基與冊說合, 西門外半里有農安塔, 知農安, 龍安, 皆沿隆安而易其 者也. 是扶餘府, 黃龍府, 即農安城無疑. 至金之扶餘路, 當在今齊齊哈爾城東, 呼蘭迆北一帶. 金史, 夫餘路, 至上京六百七十里, 東至瑚爾瑚路一千四百里, 是也.

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As noted in chapter 7, the fall of Puyŏ-bu in February of 926 marked the first significant Khitan victory in its conquest of Parhae. We have also seen that the Khitan leader Abaoji, later canonized as Taizu 太祖, died at Puyŏ-sŏng in September of the same year. The Liaoshi geography monograph reveals that sometime between February and September of 926, the Parhae populations of Puyŏ-bu were resettled in newly established cities in the Khitan homeland.37 Specifically, the people of Puyŏ-bu’s Kangsa District 强師縣 (we do not know to which of the two prefectures of Puyŏ-bu Kangsa belonged) were removed to the vicinity of what would in 938 become Liao’s Supreme Capital 上京 at today’s Balin zuoqi (also called Lindong) in Inner Mongolia. The new administration created for them was called Dingba District 定霸縣, under which they, along with captured Han populations, opened new agricultural lands for cultivation.38 Similarly, the populations of Puyŏ District 扶餘縣 (located at Puyŏ-sŏng) were removed to a location west of Balin, where the ordo for Abaoji’s son and successor Yaogu was located. When Yaogu died in 947, he was given the temple name Taizong and entombed near this site. The settlement was then upgraded to prefectural status and called Huaizhou 懷州, the prime district of which was called Fuyu District 扶餘縣.39 Its walled remains are located at Ganggenmiao 岗根庙 in Balin youqi (also called Daban), some fifty kilometers to the west of the site of the Supreme Capital.40 The Liaoshi is thus a valuable source of information for Parhae administrative organization and for the Khitan state-building process. In the cases above, the sources state quite clearly that the districts of Dingba and Fuyu near the Khitan capital were populated by people removed from the conquered Parhae districts of Kangsa and Puyŏ, and there is little ambiguity to be found in the pertinent records regarding these removals. Unfortunately, however, the Liaoshi is not uniformly explicit in this respect, and there are many instances where it is not clear whether a given former Parhae administration was in fact relocated. A useful illustration of this problem appears in the treatment of Liao’s prefecture of Haizhou 海州, located in the region between the present cities of Anshan 鞍山 and Dashiqiao 大石桥 near the mouth of the Liao River. The entry for Haizhou in the Liaoshi geography monograph is translated below. Please note the portions that I have underlined.

37. Curiously, the depleted settlements of Puyŏ-bu were apparently replenished with some populations transferred from Parhae’s Supreme Capital prefecture of Yong-ju, though other groups from the Supreme Capital were removed to the Khitan heartland. See Hino 1988–1991d, especially 384–400. 38. Liaoshi 37:439 (Geography 1, Shangjing): 定霸縣: 本扶餘府強師縣民, 太祖下扶餘, 遷其人於京西, 與漢人雜處, 分地耕種. 39. Liaoshi 37:443 (Geography 1, Huaizhou): 懷州, 奉陵軍 . . . 太宗行帳放牧於此. 天贊中, 從太祖破 扶餘城, 下龍泉府, 俘其人, 築寨居之 . . . 扶餘縣: 本龍泉府. 太祖遷渤海扶餘縣降戶於此, 世宗置縣. 戶一千五百. The statement that Fuyu District was originally Parhae’s Yongch’ŏn-bu 龍泉府 is in error. “Yongch’ŏn” refers to Parhae’s Supreme Capital, but Puyŏ District was undoubtedly located at Puyŏ-bu. The reference to Yongch’ŏn may have been transposed from the entry for Xianli District 顯理縣, also under Huaizhou. It was to this district that the Parhae king was relocated. 40. For an archaeological report of this site, see Zhang Songbo 1984.

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Haizhou 海州, Nanhai Military Prefecture 海軍, Military Commissioner 節度. Originally the lands of Okchŏ. Under Koguryŏ it was Sabi-sŏng 沙卑城, which was once attacked by Tang’s Li Shiji 李世勣. Under Parhae it was called the Southern Capital 南京, Namhae Superior Prefecture 南海府. The city was walled with piled stones and was nine li in circumference. It supervised the three prefectures of Ok-chu 沃州, Ch’ŏng-ju 晴州, and Ch’o-ju 椒州. It had six former districts: Okchŏ 沃沮, Ch’uiam 鷲巖, Yongsan 龍山, Pinhae 濱海, Sŭngp’yŏng 昇平, and Yŏngch’ŏn 靈泉, all of which were abolished. During the Taiping reign (1021–30) Da Yanlin 大延琳 rebelled [in 1029] and secured the city of Nanhai 海城, holding out for a year before he was defeated. [Yanlin] surrendered when the various divisional chiefs were all captured, and all of his people were moved to Shangjing, where Qianliao District 遷遼縣 was established for them, and people of Zezhou 澤州 were brought in to populate [Haizhou].41

This entry is misleading in that it mixes historical data pertaining to two geographical locations separated by a considerable distance. Liao’s Haizhou was without doubt located on the Liaodong peninsula, probably at today’s Haicheng 海城 to the northeast of the mouth of the Liao River.42 Parhae’s Southern Capital, however, was just as certainly located in the northeastern coastal region of the Korean peninsula.43 Information pertaining to this administration is found in the Xin Tangshu, which notes that under Parhae “the old Okchŏ region became the Southern Capital, Namhae Superior Prefecture, supervising the three prefectures of Ok-chu, Ch’ŏng-ju, and Ch’o-ju.”44 In the Haizhou

41. Liaoshi 38:461–62 (Geography 2, Haizhou): 海州, 海軍, 節度. 本沃沮國地. 高麗為沙卑城, 唐 李世勣嘗攻焉. 渤海號 京 海府. 疊石為城, 幅員九里, 都督沃、晴、椒三州. 故縣六: 沃沮、鷲巖、 龍山、濱海、昇平、靈泉, 皆廢. 太平中, 大延琳叛, 海城堅守, 經歲不下, 別部酋長皆被擒, 乃降. 因 盡徙其人於上京, 置遷遼縣, 移澤州民來實之. The term 節度 here indicates that Huaizhou was a military prefecture 軍 under the supervision of a military commissioner. For the Tang assault on Koguryŏ’s Sabi-sŏng, see Xin Tangshu 220:6190 (Account of Koguryŏ). Da Yanlin was a Liao official of Parhae descent who in 1029 rebelled from his base at Liao’s Eastern Capital Circuit 東京道 (Liaoyang). His rebellion was quelled a year later (Liaoshi 17:203–4 [Shengzong, Taiping 9/8]). Qianliao District was directly subordinate to the Liao Supreme Capital (Liaoshi 37:440 [Geography 1, Shangjing]). Zezhou was located near Pingquan 平泉 to the east of Chengde 承德 in northeastern Hebei. It belonged to Liao’s Central Capital Circuit 中京道 (Liaoshi 39:484 [Geography 3, Zhongjing]). 42. For a discussion on the location of Haizhou and its constituent prefectures, see Tan 1988, 137–38. 43. See Ch’ae 1991. An obvious indicator of the peninsular location of at least one of the prefectures of Parhae’s Southern Capital is preserved in the Liaoshi account of Liao’s Yuezhou 耀州, located at the present Yuezhoucheng 岳州城, a few kilometers to the north of Dashiqiao (see Tan 1988, 138). Yuezhou was populated by people from Parhae’s Ch’o-ju 椒州, one of the three prefectures of the Southern Capital. The single district under Yuezhou retained the name of the Ch’o-ju district from which its original occupants had come—Yanyuan 巖淵 (K. Amyŏn). The description of this district notes that the Silla border lay to its east, and the old city of P’yŏngyang to its southwest 東界新羅, 故平壤城在 縣西 (Liaoshi 38:462 [Geography 2, Haizhou]). Since the Parhae-Silla border stretched between the mouth of the Taedong River to Wŏnsan Bay, such a description could only indicate a position near modern Sunch’ŏn 順川, about fifty kilometers to the northeast of Pyongyang. 44. Xin Tangshu 219:6182 (Account of Parhae): 沃沮故地為 京, 曰 海府, 領沃、睛、椒三州. This work lists administrations down to the prefectural level, but the sources used for the Liaoshi geography monograph evidently included detail to the district level.

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Fig. A.4. The removal of Parhae populations to Liaodong.

entry translated above, the underlined passages all pertain to the original Southern Capital region of Parhae, whereas the rest refers instead to the newly established Liao prefecture to which the populations of Parhae’s Southern Capital had been removed (fig. A.4).45 The Liao prefecture was established near the site of Koguryŏ’s Sabi-sŏng, but it was nowhere near the region originally occupied by Parhae’s Southern Capital (or by the ancient Okchŏ people). But the Liaoshi description renders the fact of a Parhae population relocation invisible, which caused generations of scholars to suppose that Parhae’s Southern Capital really was located on the Liaodong peninsula.46 In this particular case, a careful analysis of Parhae and Liao geography permits us to distinguish between data pertaining to the original Parhae site and those pertaining to the later Liao site. However, this is not possible in every case. Not all Parhae populations were relocated immediately after their state was conquered, and some relocations occurred many years after the establishment of the Liao dynasty. Other populations were relocated multiple times. In many cases data regarding Parhae administrative geography 45. The passage noting the circumference and construction of the walls, however, could refer to Parhae’s Southern Capital, Koguryŏ’s Sabi-sŏng, or to the Liao city of Nanhai. 46. Examples include the authors of the Manzhou yuanliu kao and the Shengjing tongzhi. The Bohaiguo zhi 渤海國志 by the Qing scholar Tang Yan 唐晏 is based on these works—the appended map in this work shows Parhae to have been located primarily in what today corresponds to Liaoning and eastern Inner Mongolia. A recent variation of this misconception appears in the treatment of Parhae for the Zhongguo lishi ditu ji 中国历史地图集 (see Tan 1988, 103–4), where the figures given for distances between the Liao prefectures are instead interpreted as reflecting the distances between the prefectures of Parhae’s Southern Capital. Note, however, that the actual map published in the atlas series (Tan 1982, vol. 5, 78–79) does not reflect this interpretation.

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are insufficient to permit a reliable comparison of data as was possible in the example above. With such ambiguity inherent in the Liaoshi treatment of Liao administrative geography, one must exercise great caution when using it as a source for studies in historical geography.

Huanglongfu and Tongzhou The discussion above has shown that by the beginning of the twentieth century, two hypotheses regarding the location of the Puyŏ capital remained current: the Guiren hypothesis and the Nongan hypothesis. Both of these hypotheses rely on the Liaoshi geography monograph to establish links between Puyŏ and specific geographical locations. The Nongan hypothesis traces the site back to Liao’s Huanglongfu, said to have been built upon Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu, whereas the Guiren hypothesis traces the site back to one of four prefectures within Liao’s Tongzhou, said to have been the site of the Puyŏ state capital. In short, the Nongan hypothesis is based on the description of Longzhou 龍州 (Huanglongfu) in the Liaoshi, and the Guiren hypothesis is based on the description of Tongzhou in the same work. The cores of the two pertinent sections are translated below, the original text appearing in the associated footnotes. Longzhou 龍州, Huanglongfu 黃龍府: Originally Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu. Taizu died at this place as he was returning from his conquest of Parhae, and it was renamed [Huanglongfu] because a yellow dragon appeared at this time. In the seventh year of Baoning 保寧 [975] the commander Yan Po 燕頗 rebelled and the superior prefecture was abolished. In the ninth year of Kaitai 開泰 [1020] the city was moved to the northeast and the superior prefecture was re-established with over one thousand Han households removed from Zongzhou 宗州 and Tanzhou 檀州. It supervised five prefectures and three districts.47 Tongzhou 通州, Anyuan Military Prefecture 安遠軍, Military Commissioner 節度: Originally the royal capital of the Puyŏ state. Taizu renamed it Longzhou 龍州, and Shengzong 聖宗 [r. 982–1031] gave it its present name. It was established in the seventh year of Baoning 保寧 [975] to support over one thousand households of followers of the rebel of Huanglongfu, Yan Po 燕頗, and was elevated to a Military Commission. It had four districts.48

Both entries appear to justify scholarly efforts to establish the location of Puyŏ through the respective Liao administrations. Longzhou is specifically said to have been created from Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu, and there is independent evidence that Taizu in fact died 47. Liaoshi 38:470–71 (Geography 2, Longzhou): 龍州, 黃龍府. 本渤海扶餘府. 太祖平渤海還, 至此崩, 有黃龍見, 更名. 保寧七年, 軍將燕頗叛, 府廢. 開泰九年, 遷城于東北, 以宗州、檀州漢戶一千復置. 統州五, 縣三. 48. Liaoshi 38:468 (Geography 2, Tongzhou): 通州, 安遠軍, 節度. 本扶餘國王城, 渤海號扶餘城. 太 祖改龍州, 聖宗更今名. 保寧七年, 以黃龍府叛人燕頗餘黨千餘戶置, 升節度. 統縣四.

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at Puyŏ-sŏng, the seat of Puyŏ-bu.49 On the other hand, Tongzhou is explicitly identified as the site of the capital city of the Puyŏ state. In addition to the apparent contradiction in these claims, there are indications in both accounts that a relocation of populations is responsible for overlap in the content of these descriptions. For example, the Yan Po rebellion was responsible both for the abolishment of Huanglongfu and for the establishment of Tongzhou. Also, Tongzhou is said to have been named Longzhou under Taizu, which further suggests a connection with Huanglongfu, and yet Tongzhou is said to have been established only in 975 following the Yan Po rebellion, nearly half a century after Taizu’s death. Finally, the emperor said to have given the place the name Tongzhou did not commence his reign until seven years after the year in which the city is said to have been established. I suggested in chapter 7 that when Yan Po rebelled at Huanglongfu in 975, the Khitan effectively lost control over the region administered by Huanglongfu, which was accordingly abolished. Those populations of Huanglongfu who either submitted or were captured by Liao forces were removed to another location near modern Siping, where they built a new city, which was probably initially called Longzhou or Huanglong. In 1020 Huanglongfu was re-established in a new location (Nongan), so the site at Siping was renamed Tongzhou. The Liaoshi provides some corroboration for part of this hypothesis, for in the annals of that work is the following account of the rebellion of 975: In the seventh month [of 975] the commander of Huanglongfu, Yan Po, killed the Directorin-chief Zhang Ju 張琚 and rebelled. [The Liao court] dispatched the clerk Yelu Helibi 耶律 曷里必 to smite [the rebels]. In the ninth month [Helibi] defeated Yan Po at the Zhi River 治河 and sent his younger brother Antuan 安摶 to pursue him. Yan Po fled to Wurecheng 兀惹城, where he entrenched his forces, and Antuan thereupon returned. Over one thousand households of [Yan Po’s] followers were then made to build the walled town of Tongzhou.50 49. There is a curious inconsistency in the territorial designations in the Longzhou entry. According to the Liao system of territorial administration, it should not have been possible for a superior prefecture 府 to be subordinate to a prefecture 州. In fact, the case of Longzhou, Huanglongfu is a unique case in the geographical treatise of the Liaoshi. Nevertheless, it may be significant that though the name Huanglongfu appears many times throughout the Liao history, the name Longzhou 龍州 appears in this context only once—in the entry examined here. Other occurrences of the name appear as the capital prefecture of Parhae (Yong-ju 龍州). It is possible that the name Longzhou was informally conferred upon the site of Puyŏ-sŏng because populations from Parhae’s capital prefecture had initially been moved there before the death of Abaoji. The association then somehow became attached to the later Huanglongfu superior prefecture (see Hino 1988–1991d). It is also possible that the Longzhou-Huanglongfu case is a special instance that reflects the relative lack of consistent order in territorial conventions in Liao’s Eastern Capital Circuit (see Wittfogel and Feng 1949, 45). 50. Liaoshi 8:94–95 (Jingzong, Yingli 7/7): 秋七月, 黃龍府衛將燕頗殺都監張琚以叛, 遣敞史耶律 曷里必討之. 九月, 燕頗於治河, 遣其弟安摶追之. 燕頗走保兀惹城, 安摶乃還, 以餘黨千餘戶城 通州. Hypotheses concerning the locations of the Zhi River and Wurecheng vary widely. The two are exceedingly difficult to place, and I have not attempted to determine their locations in the present study.

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We may see then that Tongzhou was a town initially built in 975 as a place to settle those populations of Huanglongfu who did not escape with Yan Po. In view of the problematic nature of the Liaoshi geographical descriptions, one may surmise that some of the data in the Tongzhou description actually pertains to the initial establishment of Huanglongfu. But though it is certain that the two cities did not occupy the same location, one cannot be certain that some of the details in the Tongzhou account do not actually pertain to the site upon which Tongzhou was built in 975. Scholars in the twentieth century dealt with these problems in a variety of ways.

Twentieth-Century Scholarship An early attempt to reconcile the contradictions evident in the Liaoshi descriptions appears in a study by Matsui Hitoshi 松井等 (1877–1937) in the 1913 Manshū rekishi chiri 滿洲歷史地理 (Historical geography of Manchuria), a comprehensive and detailed study of the historical geography of Manchuria written by several scholars under the direction of Shiratori Kurakichi as part of a project sponsored by the South Manchuria Railway Company.51 In that work Matsui adopts Cao Tingjie’s Nongan argument, but he identifies Nongan as the site of Huanglongfu only after its re-establishment in 1020. He identifies the original site as some unknown location to the southwest of Nongan. In this arrangement, the Puyŏ capital, Puyŏ-bu, and the first Huanglongfu would all have been located at this hypothesized southwestern site. After the 975 rebellion the superior prefecture was abolished and the city was downgraded to prefectural status, but the city was not abandoned. Instead, according to Matsui, it continued under Liao control as a prefecture until 1020, when a new Huanglong Superior Prefecture was established at Nongan to the northeast, whereupon the original site was renamed Tongzhou. Such an interpretation has obvious merits, for it is simple and elegant, and it explains many of the inconsistencies in the two descriptions presented above. It fails, however, to account for the fact that Tongzhou is clearly described as having been a city newly constructed in 975. A proposal based on a similar interpretation appeared in a paper by Jin Yufu published in 1936.52 In this study, Jin agrees that the Nongan site represented Huanglongfu only from its re-establishment in 1020. He cites distance figures quoted in two Songperiod reports to suggest that the sites of Guiren District and the original Huanglongfu were at Simiancheng north of Changtu (fig. A.3).53 He claims further that the Simiancheng site served as the capital of the Puyŏ state from 286 (though prior to the first Xianbei invasion it might have been located in the vicinity of Nongan), and afterward as 51. See Shiratori et al. 1913, vol. 2, 27–28, 32–43. 52. Jin Yufu 1936. 53. The first of the works Jin cites is the Fengshi xingcheng lu 奉使行程錄, an account of a Song mission sent to the Jin court in 1125, written by Xu Kangzong 徐亢宗. It is now included under the name Xuanhe yisi fengshi xingcheng lu 宣和乙巳奉使行程錄 in the Sanchao beimeng huibian 三朝北盟會編 (20:1A– 15B), compiled by Xu Mengxin 徐夢莘 in 1196. The second work is the Yusai xingcheng 御塞行程, included in the Yunlu manchao 雲麓漫鈔 (139–40) by Zhao Yanwei 趙彥衛 (ca. 1140–ca. 1210).

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

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Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng, Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu, the first Huanglongfu, and Tongzhou. Jin’s treatment of the distance figures is questionable, however, and he deals with the hypothesis that Simiancheng is the site of Guiren by suggesting that when the Jin court abolished all of the districts of Tongzhou except for Guiren, the name Guiren was simply transferred to the site of Tongyuan District, which was the base district of Tongzhou. The relocation of the city to the northeast in 1020 mentioned in the Longzhou account, therefore, meant to Jin a move from Simiancheng to Nongan and a new establishment of Huanglongfu at a site that had no connection to any of the earlier administrations. Unfortunately, this hypothesis forces a number of compromises upon the source material, though it does attempt to account for the known limitations of the Liaoshi geographical material. Ikeuchi Hiroshi introduced a new approach in his study of Puyŏ published in 1932.54 In that work Ikeuchi agrees with Matsui that the capital of the Puyŏ state, Puyŏ-sŏng, and Puyŏ-bu were all located at modern Nongan, but he suggests that this site served as the Puyŏ capital only at the very end of that state’s independent existence. He cites the Zizhi tongjian account of 346 as evidence that Puyŏ actually had two capitals: the early capital at Nok-san 鹿山, and the later capital established after the Koguryŏ invasion had forced the Puyŏ court to “move westward near Yan.” Although the later capital was located at modern Nongan, Ikeuchi argued, the early capital at Nok-san was located near modern Harbin. He bases this argument on descriptions of the topography and resources of Puyŏ related in various early documents and concludes that Harbin is the area that best suits these criteria.55 Although few of Ikeuchi’s successors matched his enthusiasm for the Harbin hypothesis, the notion that Puyŏ had multiple capitals influenced most later hypotheses regarding the location of Puyŏ. For example, Jin Yufu’s 1936 paper reflects Ikeuchi’s two-capital hypothesis, though Jin then believed that the shift in capital occurred between 285 and 286. Jin later adjusted his interpretation in his Dongbei tongshi (written from 1936 to 1939) by adopting the timing of Ikeuchi’s two-capital hypothesis and maintaining that Puyŏ’s early capital lay in the vicinity of Nongan and that its later capital was at Simiancheng.56 The most comprehensive study of Puyŏ to date consists of several articles written by Hino Kaisaburō between 1946 and 1952.57 Hino’s primary contribution to the TongzhouHuanglongfu debate is the recognition that Tongzhou (at Simiancheng) was a city built only after the Yan Po rebellion in 975, and could therefore have had no connection with 54. Ikeuchi 1932a. 55. Ikeuchi points out that Nongan sits in an area that represented a frontier region between the pastoral nomads to the west and the sedentary hill dwellers to the east and as such would not have been an ideal location for the capital of the sedentary Puyŏ people. He also questions interpretations of statements in the Xin Tangshu that suggest Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu was built on the site of the old Puyŏ capital. 56. Jin Yufu 1976, 3:32A. The Dongbei tongshi was first published in 1941. 57. These include his “Fuyogoku kō,” 扶餘國考 originally published in Shien 史淵 34 (1946), and his “Bokkai no Fuyofu to Kittan no Ryūshū ōryūfu” 渤海の扶餘府と契丹の龍州黃龍府, originally published in Shien 49 (1951), 51 (1952), and 52 (1952). Reprints are found in Hino 1988–1991b, and Hino 1988–1991d, respectively.

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Puyŏ or Puyŏ-bu. He noted that the districts attached to Tongzhou appeared to have been those of the original Puyŏ-bu, all of which were transferred from their original location but combined into a smaller number of new districts.58 The statement in the Tongzhou account claiming that Tongzhou was the site of the Puyŏ capital is therefore simply an association transferred from the site of the original Huanglongfu and had nothing at all to do with the site of Tongzhou itself. Hino felt that the location of the original Huanglongfu, and thus Puyŏ-bu, could not be determined precisely with available evidence, but he estimated it to have been located not far to the southwest of Nongan. This is because he agreed that the later Huanglongfu established in 1020 was at Nongan and that it had been moved there from the ruins of its original location—the removal of the city “to the northeast” in 1020 thus provides a rough estimate of its original location.59 Hino adopted Ikeuchi’s notion of multiple capitals in determining the location of Puyŏ, and like Ikeuchi he pointed to the vicinity of Nongan as the site of Puyŏ’s last capital after the move westward from Nok-san. Unlike Ikeuchi, however, Hino, in determining the location of Nok-san, felt that Harbin was too far to the north and pointed instead to some indeterminate location near the city of Jilin. This is because Hino felt that a westward move to Nongan would most likely have originated in the Songhua valley near Jilin. Hino further postulated that Nok-san was not Puyŏ’s original capital, but had served as capital only since the restoration of the Puyŏ state in 286 after the first Xianbei invasion. Prior to this invasion, Hino believed, Puyŏ’s capital was located to the west of Jilin, but after the Xianbei invasion the Puyŏ court was compelled to seek a new base farther away from the rising Xianbei presence in Liaodong. In selecting a likely location for this first capital, Hino employed the same third-century topographical and geographical data as had Ikeuchi and felt that Nongan fit the criteria more completely. According to Hino, then, Puyŏ’s capital was located at Nongan until 285, after which it was re-established at Nok-san in the vicinity of Jilin, and when that site was invaded by Koguryŏ in or just before 346, the capital moved westward again to the vicinity of Nongan.60 Although this hypothesis is a significant advance beyond previous hypotheses, there is no evidence that the Puyŏ capital had been restored to a new location in 286, and Hino’s attempts to determine the locations of capital sites involves too much guesswork to inspire much confidence (he provides a specific site for none of his proposed capitals).61 58. The people occupying those named districts of the original Huanglongfu were, however, the descendents of people transferred to Huanglongfu from Parhae’s Supreme Capital in 926. That is, the original inhabitants of Puyŏ-bu were removed to locations near the Khitan homeland, whereas some inhabitants of Parhae’s Supreme Capital were removed to take up residence in Puyŏ-bu, recently redesignated Huanglongfu. Thus, though the names of the districts of Tongzhou (including Puyŏ and Kangsa) were taken from the original Huanglongfu, the original inhabitants of those Parhae districts had long ago been removed to the Khitan capital at Balin. At any rate, the district names and the association with the Puyŏ capital were carried to the new site of Tongzhou from the abandoned original Huanglongfu. 59. Hino 1988–1991d. 60. Hino 1988–1991b. See especially 20–28, 52–56. 61. It is not my intention here to trivialize Hino’s research. His papers are, in fact, thoroughly researched and meticulously crafted studies of the full range of problems involved in locating the site of the Puyŏ capital. His failure to derive precise locations is rather a reflection of what I believe to be

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Hino’s hypotheses did, however, acknowledge the geographical discontinuity between the original Huanglongfu and Tongzhou, suggesting that all of the Puyŏ-related data in the Liaoshi description of Tongzhou properly referred to the original site of Huanglongfu. Hino was perhaps the first to advocate a location in central Jilin for Nok-san, though this is only because he felt that Puyŏ’s last capital must have been located just to the southwest of Nongan. The studies discussed above, all of which were based on analyses of written evidence pertaining to Puyŏ, Puyŏ-bu, and Huanglongfu, reveal the wide degree of variation possible when one is limited to interpreting extant written sources. In the second half of the twentieth century, scholars, particularly in China, were able to consult a growing body of archaeological data when discussing the location of Puyŏ. For example, in an article published in 1978, Guo Yisheng re-addressed the problem of the location of Tongzhou.62 Earlier theorists estimated the location of Tongzhou by determining that one of its constituent districts (Guiren) had been located at Simiancheng. Using a more comprehensive analysis than had Jin Yufu before him, Guo consulted Liao- and Jin-period documents and determined that the base district of Tongzhou, Tongyuan District, must have been located very near the modern city of Siping. Consulting a local gazetteer, Guo discovered evidence of a walled ruin called Yimiancheng 一面城 in Siping and determined it to be the site of Tongzhou (fig. A.3). Although the walls had been leveled and replaced by streets, Guo was able to estimate their lengths and judged the site to have been on the scale of a Liao-period prefecture.63 The compilation committee of the Zhongguo lishi ditu ji 中国 历史地图集, of which Guo Yisheng was a member, adopted Guo’s hypothesis and located Tongzhou at modern Siping in their maps of Liao. Since those compilers also adopted the hypothesis that credits the data in the Tongzhou account of the Liaoshi, they also place Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng and Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu in Siping. They do not, however, attempt to pinpoint the location of the capital of the Puyŏ state.

the futility of attempting to determine the location of Puyŏ’s capital based on written data alone. That Hino resists the temptation to name precise sites after such a thorough analysis is perhaps indicative of the high quality of his work. 62. Guo Yisheng 1978. 63. Guo pointed to Yimiancheng because it is the only walled ruin near Siping listed in the work he consulted, the 1934 Lishuxian zhi (6:1A–2B). Later gazetteers have revealed the existence of other walled ruins in the vicinity that were unknown to Guo in 1978. The 1988 Sipingshi wenwuzhi lists Yimiancheng in a special section (p. 148) and notes that the original walls are now replaced with certain named streets. That source suggests that the walls were about 2,000 meters in circumference, based on the Lishuxian zhi statement that each wall was about one li (about 576 meters) in length. I measured the circuit traced by these roads in May 1998 and found the circumference to be about 3,200 meters. By comparison, the wall at Nongan, representing the restored Huanglongfu of 1020, measures 3,840 meters in circumference (Nonganxian wenwuzhi 1986, 105). If these figures accurately reflect the scale of Yimiancheng, it might well have been a Liao-period prefectural city. Unfortunately, however, no major Liao-period artifacts have been uncovered at the site, which casts some doubt on its identification as the site of Tongzhou. On the northwestern outskirts of Siping is a walled site called Niuchengzi gucheng 牛城子 古城, where I observed many ceramic sherds that could date to the Liao period. With a circumference of only 1,030 meters, however, it seems too small to have been the site of Tongzhou (Sipingshi wenwuzhi 1988, 29–30).

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Appendix A

In a 1982 article, Li Jiancai availed himself of archaeological data from the central regions of Jilin and proposed that the ruins of the early Puyŏ capital at Nok-san were to be identified with the abundant Han-period Han and indigenous remains found in the region between Dongtuanshan and Longtanshan.64 This hypothesis was based primarily on archaeological evidence rather than written evidence, though Li cited the fact that Jilin lies to the east of Nongan, which he believed was the site of Puyŏ’s later capital. Subsequent excavations at nearby Maoershan and detailed analyses of the contemporary remains in Jilin and the surrounding region have, as described in chapter 4, provided considerable support for Li’s hypothesis. Today an increasing number of scholars in East Asia are accepting the Jilin hypothesis and abandoning earlier hypotheses based only on interpretation of written sources. Nevertheless, searchers for Puyŏ’s later capital continue to employ the Liaoshi geography monograph as a basis. In the same 1982 study, Li Jiancai provides what I believe to be the most compelling argument to date concerning the Tongzhou-Huanglongfu debate. Li acknowledges the now-accepted fact that the Huanglongfu re-established in 1020 was located at Nongan. He maintains that the move to the northeast in that year indicates a move from Tongzhou (Yimiancheng in Siping) to Nongan. He states further that the Siping site was newly constructed in 975 following the Yan Po rebellion, that it probably initially retained the name Longzhou or Huanglong, and that when Huanglongfu was re-established at modern Nongan in 1020, the name of the Siping site was changed for the first time to Tongzhou.65 As for the site of the original Huanglongfu, Li suggests that the term “re-establishment” 復置 indicates that it was restored to its original location, so that Nongan would have been the original Huanglongfu, Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu, and the later capital of the Puyŏ state. The term need not carry such a specific meaning, however, and I do not believe that it provides sufficient justification for locating the original Huanglongfu at Nongan.

A New Interpretation Archaeological excavations in Jilin since the 1980s have produced data that have convinced the majority of concerned scholars in China that the ruins of Puyŏ’s capital are to be identified with the Dongtuanshan complex. This revelation must have taken many by surprise, for scholarly attention had for centuries focused on the region between Nongan and Kaiyuan, and no one, with the exception of Hino, had considered looking to Jilin as the site of the Puyŏ capital. Despite this discovery, many scholars, though acknowledging the evidence presented in Jilin, continue to look to Nongan or Siping as the site of Puyŏ’s later capital. However, I view the notion of a post-Nok-san capital as very dubious. The relevant written evidence suggests that the invasion that forced the Puyŏ court to 64. Li Jiancai 1982. A reprint appears in Li Jiancai 1986, 17–25. 65. This explains why the Tongzhou account in the Liaoshi claims that Shengzong (r. 982–1031) gave it the name Tongzhou. Jin Yufu had previously suggested that this was a misprint for Jingzong (r. 969–82) since he had assumed that the name Tongzhou was conferred in 975 (Jin Yufu 1936).

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abandon Nok-san occurred only a very short time before the Xianbei invasion in 346. The records state clearly that the Puyŏ refugees had not even set up defenses before they were set upon by the Xianbei army. It is therefore very doubtful that the Puyŏ settlement overrun by the Xianbei in 346 can properly be termed a functioning capital. I suggested in an earlier chapter that such a short-term settlement would probably not have left many archaeological traces, but even if scholars today might hope to locate the site, they should not expect to find a fortified walled town. Another methodological weakness is the assumption that a geographical continuity existed from the site of the Puyŏ capital (early or late) to Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu. Although Ikeuchi voiced his skepticism regarding statements in the Xin Tangshu and the Liaoshi that Puyŏ-bu was established at the site of the Puyŏ capital, most scholars mentioned above have taken this linkage for granted.66 Nevertheless, the Xin Tangshu states only that the lands of Puyŏ became Puyŏ-bu, and the statement in the Tongzhou account in the Liaoshi identifying (by indirection) the base of Huanglongfu as the site of the Puyŏ capital could very well be nothing more than the conjecture of a much later compiler. Given such uncertainties, it is perhaps best not to presuppose the existence of a Puyŏ– Puyŏ-bu geographical link. Nevertheless, let us suppose for the sake of argument that Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu was established on the ruins of Nok-san or a hypothetical post-Nok-san Puyŏ capital. The arguments of Hino Kaisaburō and Li Jiancai have demonstrated that the site of Tongzhou (Siping) had no geographical connection with Puyŏ-bu or the original Huanglongfu and that the re-established Huanglongfu was without doubt located at Nongan. The question that remains is the location of the original Huanglongfu—and this is our only irrefutable link to Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu by way of a Liao administration. Hino suggested that the move to the northeast in 1020 represented a move from the ruins of the original Huanglongfu to the new site at Nongan, and he accordingly placed the original site and Puyŏ-bu at some indeterminate location just to the southwest of Nongan. Li Jiancai interpreted the 1020 re-establishment of Huanglongfu as a restoration to its original location at Nongan, and he saw the northeastern move as a relocation from Tongzhou (Siping) to Nongan. Of these two views, I believe that Li’s presents the more likely scenario and that the 1020 move was from Siping to Nongan. There is, however, no real foundation for Li’s interpretation of “re-establishment” as meaning a return to the original location—it meant simply that the administration had been restored to that of a superior prefecture. I propose that, in fact, extant written sources alone are simply insufficient to permit a reliable determination of the location of the original Huanglongfu. It might very well have been located at Nongan, but written evidence does not lend strong support to such a view; it might just as easily have been located at any number of known or unknown ruins in Jilin Province. A successful search for Huanglongfu or Puyŏ-bu must include both written and archaeological data, for neither alone will be sufficient to permit a reliable determination. In the interest of narrowing the search by a small margin, let us consider the possibility that Puyŏ-bu (and, by extension, the original Huanglongfu) was indeed located at Nongan. 66. Ikeuchi 1932a.

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Appendix A

Based only on written evidence, there is little reason not to consider Nongan as a possible site for Puyŏ-bu—that is, the written sources do not indicate that Huanglongfu could not have been at Nongan. It lies only a short distance north of the most direct route between the Khitan core and the Parhae Supreme Capital, so Abaoji’s armies might well have gained their first victory against Parhae in the Nongan region. The city lies in a region that was peripheral to the original Puyŏ state (based on the archaeological analysis in chapter 4), but though this makes it an unlikely site for the Puyŏ capital, it does not mean that Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu might not have been established there. In short, written sources provide little reason not to consider Nongan as a possible site for Puyŏ-bu. Nevertheless, the archaeological record of Nongan paints a very different picture. Although Neolithic and Bronze Age remains indicate a period of active settlement before Puyŏ appeared on the scene, there is a noticeable gap in the record until the Liao period. Although a handful of random artifacts dated to the Han period have been found, there is no evidence of a major settlement at Nongan until the Liao period.67 Significantly, no Parhae remains have been found at the city of Nongan, and those few remains found within Nongan County do not indicate a major settlement on the scale of a superior prefecture. The walled city itself appears to date only to the Liao period. Restoration work on the Liao-period pagoda just outside the west wall of the old Nongan city revealed that the pagoda was constructed between 1023 and 1030.68 There is, in short, no indication that the walled site at Nongan existed prior to the 1020 re-establishment of Huanglongfu, and there is no evidence at all of any Parhae occupation of the site, much less evidence of a superior prefecture. Such evidence makes it extremely unlikely that Nongan is the site of Puyŏ-bu and the original Huanglongfu. Future searches for these sites would do well to focus elsewhere. I will readdress the problem of the location of Puyŏ-bu in appendix C, but I fear that its remains will not be positively identified for some years to come, if ever. I hope that the study above has demonstrated sufficiently why the ruins of the Puyŏ capital cannot be found at Kaiyuan, Simiancheng, Siping, and Nongan, and that the Guiren (or Siping) and Nongan hypotheses should accordingly be abandoned, at least as devices for determining the location of Puyŏ or Puyŏ-bu. Further, I propose that there is no need to consider a multiple-capital thesis for Puyŏ—as best as can be determined to date, the Puyŏ state had only one capital, and its ruins are to be identified with one or more of the walled ruins in the Dongtuanshan complex. Further evidence in support of this statement will be found in the following studies of Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng (appendix B) and Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu (appendix C).

As demonstrated above, the earliest hypotheses traced the capital of Puyŏ through the Kaiyuan administrations of the late Yuan through the Qing periods, but they failed to recognize that this administration was twice relocated. Later hypotheses attempted to ascertain the location of Puyŏ’s capital by assuming the co-locality of the Puyŏ capital 67. See Nonganxian wenwuzhi 1986. 68. Nonganxian wenwuzhi 1986, 145–47.

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city and later territorial administrations established by the Khitan dynasty of Liao. This resulted in the formulation of the two hypotheses that predominated in scholarship until recently. The first traced the site of the Puyŏ capital through the Liao administration of Huanglongfu, located at modern Nongan. The second traced the site through Liao’s Tongzhou administration, located in the vicinity of modern Siping. Both hypotheses failed to recognize the limitations inherent in the geography monograph of the Liao dynastic history, in which geographical dislocations in historical administrations are often obscured. A careful analysis of texts reveals that the hypotheses tracing the site of the Puyŏ capital through Liao’s Tongzhou is flawed because the Liao city was constructed only in 975. The Nongan hypothesis similarly fails to account for the probability that Nongan is not the site of the original Huanglongfu, the location of which cannot be determined by textual analysis alone. Another weakness in the hypotheses that attempt to trace the location of the Puyŏ capital through the territorial administrations of later states is the fact that there is no proof that Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng and Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu (upon which the original Huanglongfu was built under Liao) were established on the ruins of the Puyŏ capital city. In recent years scholars have turned to archaeological evidence to ascertain the location of these historical sites. Such evidence suggests strongly that the Puyŏ capital was located at Dongtuanshan in the eastern suburbs of Jilin, and we will see in the following appendixes that Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng was most probably located at the nearby mountaintop fastness of Longtanshan and that Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu may have been located at Wulajie, about thirty-five kilometers farther to the north. Although none of these sites were built upon the foundations of the earlier namesakes, they were nonetheless located within forty kilometers of one another. Further archaeological work at these sites will reveal more about the validity of these assignments. With the abundance of archaeological data derived since the 1980s, scholars are now in a position to reevaluate many of the historical questions that previously could be addressed only through written evidence.

A ppen di x B

Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng

S

urviving written sources do not state precisely when Koguryŏ occupied the Puyŏ core region, but this most likely occurred shortly after 346 and certainly before about 390. Records describing events of later centuries reveal the presence of a Koguryŏ fortress called Puyŏ-sŏng, which is usually understood to indicate a Koguryŏ fortification in the old Puyŏ core region. Such a fortress may have been constructed in the early years of the Koguryŏ occupation of the area, but surviving records do not indicate its existence prior to the end of the sixth century. The earliest mention of Puyŏ-sŏng is in fact to be found in the records concerning Koguryŏ’s reoccupation of the Puyŏ territory and the expulsion of Tudiji and his followers, and it is possible that such a fortress was not built until this time. It is also possible that the term “Puyŏ-sŏng” more broadly indicated the fortified lands around and including the ruins of the old Puyŏ capital, but this will not be assumed in the present study. In this appendix I will outline and evaluate current prominent hypotheses regarding Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng and will propose that Longtanshan in Jilin is by far the most likely site for this northernmost of Koguryŏ fortifications.1

Sources Records describing three specific events are all that survive to provide clues to the location of Puyŏ-sŏng. The first, as noted above, concerns Koguryŏ’s expulsion of certain Sumo Mohe groups from the Puyŏ region. The original text was included in the now-lost Beifan fengsu ji, portions of which are cited in various other works, including the Taiping huanyu ji. That text notes that when overcome by Koguryŏ pressure, the Sumo leader 1. For a survey of earlier hypotheses, see Wada 1955, 22–54.

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Tudiji “led forth the villages from the northwest of Puyŏ-sŏng” and put in with Sui.2 After this event, which took place in the mid-590s, Koguryŏ maintained its hold on Puyŏ territories until just before the collapse of the state in 668. From this passage is gained the knowledge that Tudiji’s Sumo settlements were located to the northwest of Puyŏ-sŏng and probably not very distant. The next account relating to Puyŏ-sŏng appears in the Jiu Tangshu and the Xin Tangshu and concerns the building of Koguryŏ’s long wall. With the Tang defeat of Koguryŏ’s Tujue allies in 628, Tang began to apply increasing pressures on Koguryŏ. In 631 Emperor Taizong dispatched an official to disassemble a Koguryŏ war memorial constructed from the corpses of defeated troops from the many Sui campaigns against Koguryŏ. After the Chinese remains had been removed for burial in Tang, the Koguryŏ king Kŏnmu 建武 (Yŏngnyu 榮留王, r. 618–42) became apprehensive and feared an impending Tang attack on his state. He therefore ordered the building of a long wall along his western border and assigned the future usurper Yŏn Kaesomun 淵蓋蘇文 (603–66) the task of overseeing its construction. The building of the wall took sixteen years (631–47), and when complete it stretched over one thousand li from Puyŏ-sŏng in the northeast to the sea in the southwest.3 This is generally understood to indicate a continuous defensive embankment running from Koguryŏ’s northernmost territories to the mouth of the Liao River near modern Yingkou. The third and final account concerning Puyŏ-sŏng involves the Tang defeat of Koguryŏ’s northern defenses in 667 and 668, which culminated in the capitulation of P’yŏngyang and the destruction of the Koguryŏ state. The details of the defeat of Puyŏsŏng are spread throughout many different sources, which are not always in agreement. The sequence of events, however, is not difficult to reconstruct. When the usurper Yŏn Kaesomun died in 666, his eldest son Namsaeng 男生 (634–79) succeeded to his father’s position, but a series of plots involving Namsaeng’s brothers left the younger brother Namgŏn 男建 in power at P’yŏngyang and a disaffected Namsaeng entrenched at the former capital of Kungnae on the Yalu. Namsaeng made common cause with Tang at this time, which gave the emperor Gaozong an excuse to send in troops. On October 6, 667 the Tang commander Li Shiji 李世勣 (594–669) took Sin-sŏng 新城 (Fushun) on Koguryŏ’s western border and set up a garrison camp. Yŏn Namgŏn then sent an army to attack the Tang camp at Sin-sŏng, but as they were making headway the Tang commander Xue Rengui 薛仁貴 (614–83) countered and defeated the Koguryŏ force. The commander Gao Kan 高侃 then advanced from Sin-sŏng to Kŭmsan (Ch. Jinshan 金山), where he fought a losing battle with the Koguryŏ forces. But once again Xue Rengui struck the Koguryŏ army laterally and defeated them. He then seized three fortresses on the present Suzi River and opened up a route to Kungnae (modern Ji’an), which allowed him to join forces with Namsaeng. Encouraged by these victories, Xue Rengui directed his forces against 2. Taiping huanyu ji 71:12A–12B (Yanzhou): 開皇中, 粟末靺鞨與高麗戰不勝, 有突稽部渠長突地稽 者, . . . 率 . . . 八部勝兵數千人, 自扶餘城西北舉部落向關內附. 3. Jiu Tangshu 199a:5321 (Account of Koguryŏ); Xin Tangshu 220:6187 (Account of Koguryŏ); Samguk sagi 20:188 (Koguryŏ Annals, Yŏngnyu 14/2).

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Appendix B

Puyŏ-sŏng, which fell shortly thereafter, whereupon over forty forts in Puyŏ Prefecture surrendered to Tang.4 Any site considered as the ruins of Puyŏ-sŏng must therefore meet three criteria in order to accord with the records above: 1. the site must lie to the southeast of Sumo Mohe settlements; 2. the site must be roughly 1,000 Tang li (about 540 kilometers) to the northeast of Yingkou, and there should be evidence of a long wall in the vicinity; 3. and the site should have been within reach of the Tang armies of Xue Rengui.

The hypotheses below will be evaluated primarily on the basis of these criteria.

Hypotheses Current hypotheses regarding the location of Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng may be divided into two categories: those that place Puyŏ-sŏng in northeastern Liaoning, and those that place it in central Jilin. Many scholarly works associate Puyŏ-sŏng with Nongan or Siping based on the locations of Liao administrations discussed in appendix A, assuming that a link existed between Puyŏ-sŏng and Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu.5 Since I have already dealt with and dismissed those hypotheses due to their methodological flaws, and since Koguryŏ archaeological remains are found in neither location, I will not discuss them in detail here. Instead I will focus on two prominent hypotheses based on sources other than the Liaoshi. The first, advocated by such scholars as Wang Mianhou, places Puyŏ-sŏng at a walled mountaintop site in Xifeng called Chengzishan 城子山 and is based primarily on the sources relating to Tang’s conquest of Koguryŏ. The second hypothesis, proposed by Li Jiancai, places Puyŏsŏng at Dongtuanshan or Longtanshan in Jilin and is based primarily on sources relating to Koguryŏ’s expulsion of the Sumo Mohe. I will treat both of these hypotheses below.

The Xifeng Hypothesis Many Chinese historians and archaeologists, primarily those in Liaoning, place Puyŏsŏng at a specific walled site near Liangquan in Xifeng County. This mountain stronghold is popularly called Chengzishan Fortress and is an example of a large-scale Koguryŏ 4. Zizhi tongjian 201:6354 (Gaozong, Zhongzhang 1/2); Jiu Tangshu 83:2782 (Biography of Xue Rengui); Xin Tangshu 3:66 (Gaozong, Zhongzhang 1/2), 110:4120 (Biography of Qibiheli), 111:4141 (Biography of Xue Rengui), 220:6196–97 (Account of Koguryŏ); Samguk sagi 22:203–4 (Koguryŏ Annals, Pojang 26). Some sources say that over thirty fortresses surrendered. The date of the fall of Puyŏ-sŏng corresponds to April 14, 668 in the Western calendar. 5. A much-cited advocate of the Siping hypothesis is Tan Qixiang (Tan 1982, vol. 5, 19–20); another source that favors the Nongan hypothesis is Sun Jinji and Wang Mianhou 1989, vol. 2, 328.

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Fig. A.5. Koguryŏ’s western defenses and Puyŏ-sŏng.

fortification (fig. A.5). In a 1990 study of Puyŏ history, Wang Mianhou identified this ruin as the site of Puyŏ’s “later capital,” established prior to the second Xianbei invasion in 346.6 Upon this site, Wang maintains, Koguryŏ built its own Puyŏ-sŏng. He cites as

6. Wang Mianhou 1990a. There are a great many problems and misperceptions evident in this article, but I will not analyze them here. I cite Wang as an authoritative source for the Xifeng hypothesis only because other scholars have built upon his identification of Chengzishan as the site of Puyŏ-sŏng (though the first Chinese scholar to identify the Chengzishan remains as Puyŏ-sŏng seems to have been Li Wenxin). More recently, Zhou Xiangyong has discussed the identification of the Chengzishan

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Appendix B

Fig. A.6. Layout of the Chengzishan Fortress. After Zhou Xiangyong, Zhao Shouli, and Xing Jie 1993.

evidence a passage from the Tang histories, which states that after Tang forces overran the three Koguryŏ fortresses on the Suzi River, they then seized Puyŏ-sŏng. Such evidence seemed to suggest that Puyŏ-sŏng must have been close to the northernmost of the three fortresses (at the confluence of the Suzi and Hunhe rivers) but a short distance farther to the north. The choice of Chengzishan as the site of Puyŏ-sŏng seems rather random, but it reflects the opinion among many scholars that Puyŏ-sŏng must have been near Sin-sŏng and the other fortresses mentioned in the Tang histories. Chengzishan is undoubtedly a Koguryŏ fortress, and archaeological evidence suggests that the site (before it was walled) was occupied during the late Bronze Age. An archaeological report of the site shows it to be an enclosure surrounded by a stone wall some five thousand meters in circumference (fig. A.6). To the west of this enclosure is a second enclosure bounded by an earthen wall.7 The stone wall was estimated to belong to Koguryŏ’s early period based on the construction of the walls and placement of postholes.8 The authors of the report followed Wang’s lead in identifying the site as Puyŏsite in light of the 2007–8 excavations, though he accepts the Puyŏ-sŏng association only on the basis that the data derived from the excavation do not contradict Wang’s theory. See Zhou Xiangyong 2009. 7. Zhou Xiangyong, Zhao Shouli, and Xing Jie 1993. 8. Although the 1993 report estimates the site to belong to Koguryŏ’s early period, the more recent study by Zhou Xiangyong makes an argument for the walls visible today dating instead to Koguryŏ’s

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sŏng, though they differed with his opinion that it represents Puyŏ’s later capital. Rather, they suggest, it was simply an important Puyŏ city that had been taken by Koguryŏ, most probably during King Churyu’s first-century campaigns against Puyŏ. Evidence cited includes the early Koguryŏ construction of the walls on top of a Bronze Age site, and the belief that Puyŏ-sŏng should not be far from the ruins of Sin-sŏng in the Fushun region. A second study also published in 1993 echoes these sentiments and further offers the preliminary suggestion that a recently discovered earthen ridge running in a southwesterly direction from the western earthen enclosure represents the northernmost segment of Koguryŏ’s long wall.9 The archaeological studies of Chengzishan show it to be an early Koguryŏ fortification of large scale constructed on a Bronze Age site most probably associated with the formative Puyŏ state and certainly well within Puyŏ’s sphere of authority. There may, in fact, be some merit in the suggestion that Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng represents a Puyŏ settlement taken during the campaigns of King Churyu, but there is little support for such a hypothesis, especially since Puyŏ-sŏng first appears in extant records describing events of the late sixth century. It is more likely that Puyŏ-sŏng was constructed during Koguryŏ’s later period, when earthen walls were the primary form of construction. Nevertheless, the Xifeng hypothesis cannot be so easily dismissed, especially given Xifeng’s location just to the northeast of Fushun and the potential evidence there of the remains of Koguryŏ’s long wall. Let us instead see how the hypothesis fits the criteria provided by the written sources described above. The Xifeng hypothesis fails the first test immediately, for the regions to the northwest of Xifeng cannot have contained settlements of the Sumo Mohe, who are known to have occupied the middle reaches of the Songhua River. Nevertheless, the earthen ridge described in the second 1993 report might provide support for the Xifeng hypothesis if further research reveals that it continued to extend to Yingkou in the southwest. Even though the distance between Xifeng and Yingkou falls far short of one thousand Tang li, such a round figure was not intended as a precise figure of distance. Finally, if one must seek Puyŏ-sŏng in the regions just north of the confluence of the Hunhe and Suzi rivers, then Xifeng is an excellent place to begin looking. Yet I submit that our scope need not be so restricted. The passages most often cited from the Zizhi tongjian and the Tang histories in the studies above do indeed appear to indicate that Puyŏ-sŏng must have been fairly near the other fortresses taken by Xue Rengui, for it seems to have fallen immediately after the battle at Kŭmsan.10 However, these passages all represent abbreviated accounts of what was in reality a much more complex sequence of events. Proof of this statement is easily demonstrated, for more detailed accounts may be found in both Tang histories as well as the late period. Zhou maintains, however, that the Koguryŏ features within the walled compound are of a much earlier date (Zhou Xiangyong 2009). 9. Meng Xiangzhong, Pan Guoqing, and Zheng Shuyun 1993. The authors admit that the distance between Chengzishan and Yingkou is rather less than one thousand Tang li, so they consider their hypothesis as preliminary. 10. See, for example, Zizhi tongjian 201:6354 (Gaozong, Zhongzhang 1/2); Xin Tangshu 3:66 (Gaozong, Zhongzhang 1/2).

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Samguk sagi.11 The more detailed accounts suggest that some time elapsed between the Tang victory at Kŭmsan and the taking of Puyŏ-sŏng. The Zizhi tongjian provides specific dates only for the fall of Sin-sŏng and the fall of Puyŏ-sŏng, and these are six months apart, which allows for plenty of time between the fall of Kŭmsan and the attack on Puyŏ-sŏng. The sequence of events is described in the biography of Xue Rengui in the Xin Tangshu: Early in the Qianfeng 乾封 reign [666–68], Koguryŏ’s Ch’ŏn Namsaeng submitted [to Tang], so [Gaozong] sent Generals Pang Tongshan 龐同善 and Gao Kan to receive him.12 But [Namsaeng’s] younger brother Namgŏn led his countrymen forth and prevented [Tongshan] from receiving [Namsaeng], so [Gaozong] commanded [Xue] Rengui to lead his troops and provide support. Tongshan had reached Sin-sŏng, but at night [his forces] were attacked by the enemy, so Rengui attacked and beheaded several hundred [on October 6, 667]. Tongshan then advanced to Kŭmsan, but he was beaten by the enemy and did not dare advance further. Koguryŏ [troops], encouraged by their victory, continued their advance, so Rengui attacked them and split their army into two groups that broke up and scattered. [Rengui] beheaded over five thousand and then seized the three fortresses of Namso 南蘇, Mokchŏ 木底, and Ch’angam 蒼巖, whereupon he joined with Namsaeng’s army. [Gaozong] wrote a decree lauding his actions. Rengui had lost his best troops, so he roused two thousand infantry and advanced to attack Puyŏ-sŏng. His commanders urged him to desist due to the small numbers of troops, but Rengui said, “It is not their numbers that matter, but rather their proper use.” He personally took command and met the enemy in battle. He defeated them at every turn, killing over ten thousand people, and finally seized the fortress [on April 14, 668].13

Two separate events are described here. The first is the seizure of Sin-sŏng and the Suzi valley, which was the primary objective of the Tang campaign, necessary in order to allow Namsaeng passage to Tang protection. The second event is the taking of the Puyŏ region, which appears to have been an afterthought made possible by the success of the primary objective. The passage above reveals that the Tang victory at Kŭmsan was necessary to open up the Suzi valley, suggesting that it must have been located to the east of Sin-sŏng (Fushun). The events leading to the taking of the three fortresses in the Suzi valley must have followed in fairly rapid succession. Nevertheless, the fact that six months ensued between the initial Tang occupation of Sin-sŏng and the fall of Puyŏ-sŏng suggests the possibility that the fall of Puyŏ-sŏng might not have followed immediately upon the taking of the Suzi valley. Tang sources note that when Sin-sŏng fell, sixteen other fortresses in the vicinity fell in rapid succession even before the battle at Kŭmsan took 11. More detailed descriptions are found in Jiu Tangshu 83:2782 (Biography of Xue Rengui); Xin Tangshu 111:4141 (Biography of Xue Rengui); Samguk sagi 22:203–4 (Koguryŏ Annals, Pojang 26). 12. The Tang sources record the surname of Kaesomun and his sons as Ch’ŏn 泉 rather than Yŏn 淵 to avoid the taboo on the name of Emperor Gaozu 高祖, Li Yuan 李淵. 13. Xin Tangshu 111:4141 (Biography of Xue Rengui): 乾封初, 高麗泉男生內附, 遣將軍龐同善, 高侃 往慰納, 弟男建率國人拒弗納, 乃詔仁貴率師援送同善. 至新城, 夜為虜襲, 仁貴擊之, 斬數百級. 同 善進次金山, 衄虜不敢前, 高麗乘勝進, 仁貴擊虜斷為二, 眾即潰, 斬馘五千, 拔 蘇、木底、蒼巖三城, 遂會男生軍. 手詔勞勉. 仁貴負銳, 提卒二千進攻扶餘城, 諸將以兵寡勸止. 仁貴曰, 在善用, 不在眾. 身帥士, 遇賊輒破, 殺萬餘人, 拔其城. Inserted dates are based on Zizhi tongjian 201:6352 (Gaozong, Qianfeng 2/9); 201:6354 (Gaozong, Zhongzhang 1/2).

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place.14 Similarly, the fall of Puyŏ-sŏng prompted the capitulation of some thirty to forty other fortresses, which suggests that a sizable region containing several fortresses had been interposed between Sin-sŏng and Puyŏ-sŏng. In fact, there is no reason that the sources describing these battles should not be read to indicate that Puyŏ-sŏng lay at some considerable distance from Sin-sŏng and that its conquest took some time to accomplish. To summarize, the Xifeng hypothesis fails the first test against the source material, but it does not necessarily fail the second and third tests. Still, the fact that Chengzishan could have fallen to Tang forces after they secured the Suzi valley does not mean that it must be Puyŏ-sŏng. And though the earthen ridge discovered to the west of the fortress might represent part of Koguryŏ’s long wall, the distance between Xifeng and Yingkou remains a problem. Moreover, if Chengzishan is the site of Puyŏ-sŏng, the northernmost Koguryŏ fortress, how can the existence of several additional large-scale Koguryŏ fortresses between Xifeng and Jilin be explained? There is insufficient evidence to rule out the possibility that Chengzishan is the site of Puyŏ-sŏng, but the doubts raised thus far call for consideration of other sites that better fit all criteria.

The Jilin Hypothesis A series of articles written by Li Jiancai have made a strong case for a hypothesis that places Puyŏ-sŏng in Jilin at either Dongtuanshan or Longtanshan (fig. A.5). The most convincing argument for this hypothesis cites the record of Koguryŏ’s expulsion of Tudiji and his Sumo followers from the region to the northwest of Puyŏ-sŏng.15 Since the Sumo Mohe took their name from that of the river along which they lived, which is without doubt the north-flowing Songhua, Puyŏ-sŏng must also have been in the Songhua valley, most likely on its east bank. This is the only arrangement that allows for a collection of Sumo communities to have existed northwest of Puyŏ-sŏng. Sumo archaeological remains concentrate on the region around Wulajie, which seems to have served as their population center. The only large-scale Koguryŏ fortress to the southeast of Wulajie is Longtanshan Fortress in Jilin, which lies within sight of the Puyŏ ruins at Dongtuanshan. Further, as noted in a previous chapter, there is clear evidence of a Koguryŏoccupation level in the archaeological record of the Puyŏ capital site at Dongtuanshan, and the fortress and stone-lined pits at Longtanshan are clearly of Koguryŏ construction. These Koguryŏ remains lie only thirty-five kilometers to the southeast of the Sumo remains at Wulajie, which makes Longtanshan a very likely candidate for Puyŏ-sŏng based on its position relative to the Sumo Mohe. The site’s proximity to the ruins of the Puyŏ capital and the fact that it is the northernmost large-scale Koguryŏ fortress strengthen the hypothesis considerably. If a long wall were constructed from Jilin to Yingkou, the distance would be fairly close to 1,000 Tang li (about 540 kilometers). In a 1987 article Li Jiancai proposed that an 14. Zizhi tongjian 201:6352 (Gaozong, Qianfeng 2/9). 15. Li Jiancai 1991.

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earthen wall running through the counties of Lishu and Gongzhuling, in an orientation roughly parallel to the upper Willow Palisade, represents the ruins of Koguryŏ’s long wall (this is indicated in fig. A.5).16 Li determined through interviews with residents of the region that the wall had originally run as far as Yingkou. The visible remains of the wall terminate to the south of Nongan County, but Li estimated its original northerly course by making use of the fact that villages lying near this ridge are often named after it, taking names such as Laogang 老岗 or Laobiangang 老边岗. Although the traces of the wall might have vanished over the past few decades (very often roads were built upon it), the names of the villages lying near it preserve the fact of its existence. Using this method, Li was able to trace its course to the northeast as far as Laobiangang village in Dehui County, about 20 kilometers to the west of the Songhua River. Although this is far to the north of Jilin, the northern terminus of the wall would have been within the territory controlled by Koguryŏ through Puyŏ-sŏng. If this ruin is indeed Koguryŏ’s long wall— and this remains to be substantiated archaeologically—then the Jilin hypothesis can be said to have passed the second requirement, that it marks the northeastern terminus of the long wall. The study of records describing the Tang conquest of Koguryŏ allows for the possibility that Puyŏ-sŏng might not have been in the vicinity of Fushun. Nevertheless, one might wonder how likely it is that Xue Rengui’s army of two thousand infantry could have marched all the way to Jilin to fight a successful battle. Between Chengzishan and Jilin there are major Koguryŏ fortresses in the Liaoyuan vicinity that might have presented a challenge to Tang armies marching northward. Once the Suzi valley was under Tang control, however, its troops could have entered Jilin by way of the Huifa valley, allowing them to bypass the Liaoyuan region to strike at Jilin. With Koguryŏ in disarray since the death of Kaesomun in 666, it is not impossible that the Puyŏ territory was left without a strong defense, which would have made it possible for Xue Rengui to bring it down with relative ease. This is, of course, only supposition, for there is no evidence either for or against the Jilin hypothesis based only upon records concerning Tang’s conquest of Koguryŏ’s northern territories. The Jilin hypothesis is thus the only view that accords with the first test against the criteria, for only a site on the Songhua could lie to the southwest of the Sumo Mohe. The hypothesis also passes the second test, but only if the earthen wall described in Li Jiancai’s study is indeed Koguryŏ’s long wall, and only if one accepts that the wall need not terminate at Puyŏ-sŏng proper. Finally, though Jilin seems rather distant to have been a likely target of Xue Rengui’s skeleton army, it is not an implausible interpretation given the state of Koguryŏ in 668. One might remember also that Xue’s own commanders had initial misgivings about the campaign, which further suggests that the march against Puyŏ might have entailed some risk. In summary, the Jilin hypothesis passes all three requirements based on the written sources, but much more confidence might be placed in the first criterion than in the second and third. Still, the Jilin hypothesis warrants additional support in that it is the northernmost large-scale Koguryŏ fortress and it lies within view of the ruins of the Puyŏ capital. 16. Li Jiancai 1991.

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Fig. A.7. Layout of the Longtanshan Fortress. After Jilinsheng zhi, vol. 43, wenwuzhi, 1991, 96.

Although the Xifeng hypothesis has its merits, the Jilin hypothesis matches the necessary criteria much more closely, and it is therefore much more likely that the ruins of Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng are to be found at Longtanshan in Jilin. The Longtanshan Fortress is an earthen enclosure that appears to date to Koguryŏ’s middle or later periods (fourth to seventh centuries). The walls trace a circumference of about 2,400 meters on top of the most prominent mountain in the Jilin vicinity (fig. A.7). Dongtuanshan sits less than 3 kilometers to its south. I believe that the fortress was most likely constructed after

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Koguryŏ retook the Puyŏ region from the Sumo at the end of the sixth century, which explains why we find no earlier records of its existence.17 It is a typical example of a largescale Koguryŏ fortification, which served as the primary defense and place of refuge for a number of unwalled farming communities in the region. Although Dongtuanshan was also occupied by Koguryŏ, it would have been seen as too small and vulnerable to serve as a satisfactory means of defense, so the primary defensive structure was built instead at the nearby mountain fastness of Longtanshan. Given the forcefulness of Koguryŏ’s reoccupation of the Puyŏ territories, the defenses were probably oriented to counter any threat posed by the Sumo people remaining in the regions to the north, centered primarily at Wulajie.

17. Many Chinese scholars, including Li Jiancai (see Li Jiancai 1995b), believe that the fortress was constructed in 410, for they believe it to be the site of the Eastern Puyŏ mentioned in the Kwanggaet’o stele inscription. Eastern Puyŏ is more likely to have been in the Tumen valley region, however, and there is in any case no evidence to suggest that Eastern Puyŏ was in the Jilin vicinity.

A ppen di x C

Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu

T

he location of Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu proves to be more elusive than that of Puyŏ’s capital or Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng. Most studies currently point to either Nongan or Siping, despite the fact that there is no archaeological evidence for a Parhae occupation of those sites. Extant written sources do provide several clues that should facilitate the identification of the walled ruins of Puyŏ-bu, but no known site matches the required characteristics exactly. I will describe the relevant sources below and consider a few candidate sites, after which I will propose very tentatively that Wulajie is a likely site for Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu (fig. A.8). Let us assume that there is no necessary correlation between the location of Puyŏ-bu and the locations of either the Puyŏ capital or Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng. Let us further rule out the sites at Nongan and Siping as candidates for Puyŏ-bu, since neither written nor archaeological records provide any basis for considering them as such. We are still left with a few clues as to what characteristics the site of Puyŏ-bu must bear. First, there must be clear evidence of a Parhae occupation on the scale of a superior prefecture, the characteristics of which will be described below. Additionally, it should exhibit signs of a later Khitan occupation, though since the primary occupants of Huanglongfu would have been Parhae populations removed from the Parhae Supreme Capital, their archaeological remains might not bear many of the characteristic hallmarks of the Khitan. Finally, the site should lie on the routes leading between the Khitan homeland near Balin in Inner Mongolia and the Parhae Supreme Capital at Dongjingcheng 东京城 in southern Heilongjiang. What would the remains of a Parhae superior prefecture look like? Fortunately, an excellent example may be found in Sumicheng 苏密城 at Huadian, which is the site of the Parhae superior prefecture of Changnyŏng-bu 長嶺府.1 Even without excavation this 1. The Xin Tangshu (219:6182 [Account of Parhae]) notes that the territories of the former Koguryŏ core region were incorporated into the Parhae administrative system as two superior prefectures: Amnok-bu (the Western Capital), which consisted of four prefectures in the Huanren and Ji’an

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Fig. A.8. Parhae walled sites.

site is identifiable as a Parhae city by the abundant presence of characteristic tile ends and roofing tiles found on the surface. Unlike most Koguryŏ walled sites, Parhae cities were typically built in flat plains near rivers, and the city walls are most often made of rammed earth and follow a regular rectangular plan. Sumicheng features earthen walls in a nearly square plan and consists of an outer wall measuring 2,590 meters in circumference and an inner walled compound, or zicheng 子城, that measures 1,381 meters in circumference (fig. A.9).2 The city was built on a flat plain on the south bank of the Huifa River. The Xin Tangshu notes that Changnyŏng lay on the route to Yingzhou (Chaoyang),

regions; and Changnyŏng-bu, which consisted of two prefectures (高麗故地為西京, 曰鴨淥府, 領 神、桓、豐、正四州; 曰長嶺府, 領瑕、河二州). It is known that Changnyŏng lay in the Huifa valley, because the Xin Tangshu (43b:1146–47 [Geography 7b]), citing the work of Jia Dan 賈耽 (730–805), notes that when traveling northeastward from the Andong Protectorate 安東都護府 (Liaoyang), one passes Sin-sŏng and Changnyŏng-bu before reaching the Parhae Supreme Capital at a distance of 1,500 li: 自都護府東北經古蓋牟、新城, 又經渤海長嶺府, 千五百里至渤海王城. This route would have run through the Hunhe valley to the Huifa valley up to the Songhua River, after which the route would continue over land until reaching the Mudan River at Dunhua, from which the Supreme Capital could be reached by land or river. The only major Parhae walled site on the portion of this route that runs through former Koguryŏ territory is Sumicheng, which must therefore be the site of Changnyŏng-bu. 2. Huadianxian wenwuzhi 1986, 42–51.

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Fig. A.9. Layout of the Sumicheng site. After Jilinsheng zhi, vol. 43, wenwuzhi, 1991, 67.

one of the five main routes leading from the Parhae Supreme Capital.3 Sumicheng may be considered to represent a Parhae city on the scale of a superior prefecture, and Puyŏ-bu may be expected to bear some resemblance to Sumicheng. Puyŏ-bu lay on another of the five main routes, the Khitan Route, which must have run rather to the north of the Yingzhou Route. When the Khitan invaded the Parhae 3. Xin Tangshu 219:6182 (Account of Parhae): 長嶺, 營州道也.

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heart land in 926, they first overran Puyŏ-bu, followed a few days later by the Supreme Capital itself. Only then did their armies turn to the southwest and attack Changnyŏngbu.4 This indicates that the Khitan Route must have run farther to the north than the Yingzhou Route, and it probably lay on the most easily traversable path between the Shuangliao region, where the Xiliao River turns southward, and the Parhae Supreme Capital at Dongjingcheng. Since there are no major river valleys leading in this direction, the Khitan army would most likely have traveled the northeasterly route either to the west or to the east of the Daheishan range until it reached the region just north of Jilin, from which location it could gain access to the Mudan valley by way of Jiaohe and Dunhua. Our search for Parhae walled sites must cover a wide geographical swath north of the Jilinhada range, representing the central third of Jilin Province, centered roughly on an axis running through the cities of Shuangliao and Jiaohe. Written sources provide two additional clues relating to the structure and geographical placement of the walled city of Puyŏ-bu.5 The account of Abaoji’s death in the Liaoshi states that the Khitan camp was located to the southwest of the city of Puyŏ and “between the two rivers.” Just before Abaoji’s death, a yellow dragon is said to have appeared above the inner walled compound (zicheng) of Puyŏ-sŏng and to have flown to the Khitan camp. After Abaoji died, the city was renamed Huanglongfu, and a temple hall was built on the site of the camp.6 These records reveal that Abaoji’s camp was set up to the southwest of Puyŏ-sŏng, that it was within sight of the city, that the city had inner and outer walls, that the Khitan camp lay between two rivers, and that a shrine had been built on the site of the camp. The ruins of Puyŏ-bu will therefore take the form of a Parhae walled city with inner and outer walled compounds, just to the southwest of which will be an area between two rivers in which remains of Abaoji’s temple might be found. Such requirements allow us to narrow our search down to a very small number of sites. A search through archaeological gazetteers for the counties and municipalities in the target area reveals that of 185 listed walled remains, only three are of the correct scale for a superior prefecture (over two thousand meters in circumference) and consist of both inner and outer walled compounds.7 Of these three sites, I believe that one, Shuangchengzi 4. See Liaoshi 2:22–23 (Taizu, Tianxian 1). The Parhae Supreme Capital fell on February 26, after which the Khitan attacked Changnyŏng-bu on April 16 and defeated it on September 16. 5. The walled town that served as the seat of the superior prefecture of Puyŏ-bu and the prefecture of Pu-ju was called Puyŏ-sŏng, but I will limit my usage of this term here so as to minimize any possible confusion with Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng, which was not necessarily the same walled site. 6. Liaoshi 2:23 (Taizu, Tianxian 1/7): 辛巳平旦, 子城上見黃龍繚繞, 可長一里, 光耀奪目, 入于行宮; 2:24 (Taizu, Tianxian 2/8): 太祖所崩行宮在扶餘城西 兩河之間, 後建昇天殿于此, 而以扶餘為黃龍府云. 7. On the selection of this particular figure of circumference, see Zhao Yongjun 2000. This analysis is based on a survey of walled remains other than mountain fortifications listed in the archaeological gazetteers (wenwu zhi) in the counties and municipalities of Shuangliao, Lishu, Gongzhuling, Siping, Yitong, Nongan, Dehui, Changchun, Jiutai, Shuangyang, Yushu, Shulan, Yongji, Jilin, and Jiaohe (see fig. 2.1 for the locations of these counties). In all there were 185 listed sites. I considered only those sites that measured more than two thousand meters in circumference and consisted of inner and outer walled compounds. I disregarded the estimated date of construction provided by the gazetteers since those dates are known to be often inaccurate. Nevertheless, it is worth noting that all three sites that

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双城子 in Dehui County, lies too far to the north for it to have stood in the path of the Khitan armies of 926, so I do not consider it to be a likely candidate site for Puyŏ-bu.8 The other two sites, the Wujiazi 五家子 site in Gongzhuling and the Wulacheng 乌拉城 site at Wulajie in Yongji County, both lie precisely on the most direct route between the Khitan capital and the Parhae capital. The Wujiazi site lies near the village of Baxing 八星 in Gongzhuling County, to the north of the Dongliao River (fig. A.10).9 The outer walled compound measures 2,865 meters in circumference, and the inner compound measures 1,323 meters. Its dimensions are very close to those of Sumicheng, but the inner compound of the Wujiazi site occupies the northeastern quarter of the outer compound rather than the center. About 1,500 meters to the south of the outer compound, a small river runs to the west for several kilometers before merging with the Dongliao River. The gazetteer describes the surface scatter as dating to the Liao and Jin periods and makes no mention of Parhae remains. The cultural strata at the site are said to measure some 3 meters in depth, however, and given the meager degree of work conducted at this site, the possibility that it was a Parhae city later built upon by Khitan and Jurchen occupants cannot yet be ruled out. About 40 kilometers to the southeast, and also on the Dongliao River, are the remains of two small-scale Parhae walled towns, which represent the westernmost Parhae walled remains so far confirmed to exist in Jilin Province.10 It is therefore possible that the Wujiazi site was a Parhae superior prefecture, and the two smaller sites to the southwest were its subordinate prefectures. The area to the immediate southwest of the Wujiazi site lies between the small westflowing river and the Dongliao River, the two rivers being separated at this point by a distance of about 4 kilometers. This provides a geographical arrangement whereby Abaoji’s camp could have been located to the southwest of the city and between two rivers. Nevertheless, no remains (Liao or otherwise) are known to exist in the area to correspond to the temple hall established after the death of Abaoji. Nevertheless, the Khitan armies would certainly have passed through this place on their way to the Parhae capital, match the criteria feature the characteristics of Parhae walled cities; they consist of straight wall segments of rammed earth and do not have mamian 馬面 bastions (many scholars believe that Parhae city walls did not incorporate such structures, unlike those of the Liao and Jin period). 8. See Dehuixian wenwuzhi 1983, 58–59. The gazetteer notes that the inner walled compound was rebuilt around 1900, but this seems to indicate a restoration of the original walls rather than a new structure. The outer walls measure about 4,000 meters in circumference, and the inner walls measure 1,253 meters. The inner compound sits in the center of the outer compound, in plan resembling a scaled-up version of Sumicheng. The site lies on the western banks of the Songhua River a short distance to the north of the Puyŏ fortifications at Shanghewan and just to the west of the cemetery at Laoheshen, which includes a Parhae-period component. The site may very well have been another of the fifteen superior prefectures of Parhae listed in the Xin Tangshu (219:6182 [Account of Parhae]), but it is too far to the north for it to have been Puyŏ-bu. 9. See Huaidexian wenwuzhi 1984, 90–94 (note that Huaide 怀德县 is the former name of Gongzhuling County). 10. Lishuxian wenwuzhi 1984, 71–76. The two walled sites lie only 329 meters apart on the west bank of the Dongliao River in Lishu County. They are called the northern and southern Chenglengzi 城楞 子 sites. The larger northern site measures 1,264 meters in circumference. They are identified as Parhae towns by the presence of characteristic remains, including tile ends.

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Appendix c

Fig. A.10. Layout of the Wujiazi site. After Huaidexian wenwuzhi 1984, 90.

and the region appears to represent the westernmost extent of Parhae occupation. If it was in fact a Parhae superior prefecture, there is a chance that it was Puyŏ-bu, where a standing army was stationed to guard against Khitan incursion.11 Without archaeological 11. If Wujiazi was in fact Puyŏ-bu, then one must acknowledge the hypotheses of Hino Kasaburō, who postulated that the original Huanglongfu lay to the southwest of Nongan. In this case, Huanglongfu would have been downgraded in status in 975, but not necessarily abandoned. The removal to the northeast in 1020 would therefore indicate removing the seat of Huanglongfu from its old site at Wujiazi to its new site at Nongan. The region between Wujiazi and the confluence of the Yitong and Songhua rivers seems to have been beyond the direct control of Liao after 975, due mostly to the resistance asserted by the Dingan 定安 (K. Chŏngan) state based at Wurecheng 兀惹城 (location indeterminate). From the 990s Liao began to regain control over this region, due in part to conflicts between the Wure and the Tieli 鐵驪, two components of the Dingan state. By 999 Wure had become a reluctant tributary of Liao, and in that year the emperor Shengzong established the prefecture of Binzhou 賓州 near the confluence of the Yitong and Songhua and populated it with Wure captives. In 1018 the prefecture of Xinzhou 信州 was established at Qinjiatun 秦家屯, just to the east of the Wujiazi site. Two years later Huanglongfu was re-established at Nongan to serve as the administrative base for the region, and all other Liao prefectures in that area were established after 1020. If the Wujiazi site was the original

Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu

353

evidence of a Parhae occupation of the site, however, we cannot yet demonstrate that it was constructed prior to the Liao period. The final candidate site is located at Wulajie in Yongji County, on the east bank of the Songhua and 35 kilometers to the north of Jilin (fig. A.11). The walled site of Wulacheng consists of three concentric walled compounds.12 The Yongji gazetteer provides measurements only for the inner compound (786 meters) and the middle compound (3,531 meters); no figures are provided for the outer walls, but they are separated from the walls of the middle compound by about 150 meters.13 The Songhua River flows just beyond the outermost western wall. The site is known to have served as the seat of the Jurchen Ula kingdom during the Ming period, and the walls visible today probably date only to that period. Nevertheless, the abundance of Parhae remains in the vicinity (at Dahaimeng and Chaliba, for example) and the fact that the Jurchen were known to inhabit and rebuild old walled ruins suggest the possibility that the site was originally a Parhae superior prefecture. The walled site sits on the Songhua facing what is in effect a large island in the river, though its size creates the impression that it is a large land mass around which the river breaks into two courses. It is possible to refer to the southern part of this island as a region between the two rivers to the southwest of the walled site. At the southern tip of this island lie the Liao-period remains called the Guantong walled site 官通古城.14 Although the visible part of the site now consists of a short stretch of earthen wall, it seems to have been a small-scale walled compound, and it might have been connected with the temple built for Abaoji on the site of his camp. Wulacheng thus meets the requirements of scale and layout, sits in a location known to have been a Parhae settlement, and contains Liao-period ruins to its southwest in an area where the Songhua splits into two courses. Unfortunately, without excavation and analysis, we cannot determine whether the walls predated the Jurchen occupation or whether any original layout had been altered by the Jurchen. We are left with two candidate sites for Puyŏ-bu, but the walls of neither can yet be demonstrated to date to the Parhae period. Without additional archaeological work, such a determination cannot be made. Although it is of marginal value to speculate without further evidence, I propose that of the two sites of Wujiazi and Wulacheng, the latter is more likely to be the site of Puyŏ-bu.15 This judgment is based on both tradition and Huanglongfu, then the relocation in 1020 might have been undertaken to provide a larger, newer, and more centrally located city for the newly restored superior prefecture. 12. For an archaeological survey of the site, see Jilinsheng Bowuguan 1966. 13. Yongjixian wenwuzhi 1985, 118–24. A high earthen terrace sitting in the middle of the inner compound is usually interpreted as a lookout tower or a palace site. An old local legend that is still often repeated claims that the terrace hides an underground passage that leads far to the south, terminating at a cave near the “dragon pool” at Longtanshan. See Yongjixian zhi 20:18A (Yudizhi 輿地志 10, Guji 古蹟, Nishihacheng 尼什哈城). 14. Yongjixian wenwuzhi 1985, 122–23. 15. There is, of course, the possibility that there are additional sites that fit the target criteria but that are no longer visible due to urban construction of the past two centuries. For example, Dong Yuying proposed in a 1985 article that an ancient walled site upon which the Qing city of Changchun was built was the site of Puyŏ-bu (Dong Yuying 1985). Li Jiancai rejected this hypothesis on the grounds that

354

Appendix c

Fig. A.11. Layout of the Wulacheng site. After Jilinsheng zhi, vol. 43, wenwuzhi, 1991, 89.

strategy. First, Wulacheng is located precisely in the heartland of the Sumo Mohe, who were referred to in the Sui and Tang periods as the Puyŏ-Mohe. Sumo settlements favored the broad, open riverside plains found at Wulajie rather than the hilly region closer to the city of Jilin. Although to Koguryŏ people the name Puyŏ might have been more closely associated with the Puyŏ remains of the Dongtuanshan complex (including Longtanshan), to Mohe people it would instead have brought to mind the nearby Mohe settlements at Wulajie. Since the primary state-builders of Parhae were derived from the Sumo Mohe, it would have been natural for them to build a major city at the old Sumo population center and to refer to it as Puyŏ-bu.16 Dong apparently mistook the dimensions of the Qing city of Changchun for those of the ancient walled ruins. Jin maintains that, based on archaeological evidence, these ancient ruins actually represented a small-scale Liao- or Jin-period town, since no Parhae remains have been found at the site (Li Jiancai 1995a, 286–96). 16. Although I maintain that the Sumo Mohe were the most likely builders of the Parhae state, the majority of Korean scholars would disagree and state that Koguryŏ refugees were instead the architects of Parhae. I believe, however, that there are certain fundamental problems involved in any determination

Parhae’s Puyŏ-bu

355

The second consideration is strategic. The Parhae capital region on the upper and middle reaches of the Mudan River is separated from more westerly regions by the Zhangguangcai and Weihu mountain ranges. There are two points of access to the Parhae interior from the west. The southern point is at Huadian, where the Longgang 龙岗 岭 and Weihu ranges meet. A pass lies to the northwest of Huadian leading to the city of Dunhua, and it is significant that the superior prefecture of Changnyŏng (Sumicheng) lies exactly in this strategic location, guarding the southern route to the Parhae capital. Changnyŏng-bu is thus associated with the Yingzhou Route because it guards the most strategic point of that route leading to the southwest through the mountains. The northern point of access consists of a relatively broad pass through the Weihu range between Wulajie and the city of Jiaohe. Since it is known that the Khitan attacked Changnyŏng-bu (on the southern route) only after taking Puyŏ-bu and the Parhae capital, they must have entered the Parhae core region through this path. They must therefore have passed by way of Wulajie. An examination of a topographical map will show that just as Sumicheng controls passage through the southern route, so the site of Wulacheng controls access to the northern pass (fig. A.8). It is the natural location for defenses against incursion from the west via the northern route and as such is a likely site for Puyŏ-bu. Although little is known about the processes involved in the building of the Parhae state, it is likely that Changnyŏng-bu and Puyŏ-bu were both established in the early years of Parhae. The two are listed together in the Xin Tangshu after the five capitals but before the other superior prefectures. It is therefore more likely that Puyŏ-bu would have been established in a location fairly close to the Parhae capital. Wulacheng lies about the same distance from the Parhae capital region as does Sumicheng, and both serve a similar function in protecting the Parhae core from incursion via the two western routes. And though the Dongliao valley probably fell eventually under Parhae control, this most likely occurred much later as Parhae influence extended westward toward Liaodong. Given these considerations, I believe that Wulacheng is a more likely site for Puyŏ-bu than is Wujiazi. If the Wujiazi site was indeed a Parhae construct, it was probably one of the superior prefectures established in Parhae’s later periods.17 Like Parhae’s Liaodong territories, it might have fallen to the Khitan before 926, or its conquest might not have represented to the Khitan a victory worth noting. Future archaeological work should mitigate these uncertainties.

of the ethnic identity of the displaced groups who established Parhae, even assuming that they had a single common identity. The historical records describing Parhae’s foundation do seem to indicate Sumo Mohe elements, though this does not preclude them from also having once had affiliations with Koguryŏ. This is a topic that warrants close analysis, focusing both on the available source data as well as on the scholarly frameworks within which such analysis is conducted. 17. The site could be the ruins of Parhae’s Makkal-bu, which was probably adjacent to Puyŏ-bu.

Bi bl iogr a ph y The reader is advised that, to expedite finding citations in the bibliography, it has been divided into three sections: classical works; premodern and modern gazetteers; and secondary sources.

Classical Works Abang kangyŏk ko 我邦疆域考, by Chŏng Yag-yong 丁若鏞. In Yŏyudang chŏnsŏ 與猶堂全書, vol. 19, 3–386. Seoul: Arŭm Ch’ulp’ansa, 1995. Bei Qishu 北齊書, by Li Delin 李德林. 2 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1972. Beishi 北史, by Li Yanshou 李延壽. 10 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1974. Bohaiguo zhi 渤海國志, by Tang Yan 唐晏. China: Nanlin Liu Shi Qiushuzhai, 1919. Bowu zhi 博物志, by Zhang Hua 張華. In Yingyin Wenyuange Siku quanshu 景印文淵閣四庫全書, vol. 1047, Zibu 子部 series 353. Taibei: Taiwan Shangwu Yinshuguan, 1983. Cefu yuangui 冊府元龜, edited by Wang Qinruo 王欽若. 12 vols. Hong Kong: Zhonghua Shuju, 1960. Chŭngbo munhŏn pigo 增補文獻備考, edited by Hong Pong-han 洪鳳漢, Yi Man-un 李萬運, and Pak Yong-dae 朴容大. 3 vols. Seoul: Myŏngmundang, 1985. Chunqiu Zuozhuan jinzhu jinyi 春秋左傳今註今譯, by Li Zongtong 李宗侗. 3 vols. Taibei: Taiwan Shangwu Yinshuguan, 1971. Dong sansheng yudi tushuo 東三省輿地圖說, by Cao Tingjie 曹廷杰. In Liaohai congshu 遼海叢書, edited by Jin Yufu 金毓黻, vol. 4, 2243–68. Shenyang: Liaoshen Shushe, 1985. Fayuan zhulin 法苑珠琳, by Dao Shi 道世. Beijing: Zhongguo Shudian, 1991. Guanzi jiping 管子輯評, by Guan Zhong 管仲. Edited by Ling Ruheng 凌汝亨. Zhonghua guoxue congshu 中華國學叢書 series. Taibei: Taiwan Zhonghua Shuju, 1970. Guoyu 國語, by Zuo Qiuming 左丘明. Taibei: Taiwan Zhonghua Shuju, 1968. Haedong yŏksa 海東繹史, by Han Ch’i-yun 韓致奫. 2 vols. Seoul: Kyŏngin Munhwasa, 1974. Han Feizi jishi 韓非子集釋, by Han Fei 韓非. Annotated by Chen Qiyou 陳奇猷. 2 vols. Hong Kong: Zhonghua Shuju, 1974.

358

Bibliogr aphy

Hanshu 漢書, by Ban Gu 班固. 12 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1992. Hou Hanshu 後漢書, by Fan Ye 范曄. 12 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1987. Jiankang shilu 建康實錄, by Xu Song 許嵩. 2 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1986. Jinshi 金史, by Tuotuo 脫脫. 8 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1975. Jinshu 晉書, by Fang Xuanling 房玄齡. 10 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1974. Jiu Tangshu 舊唐書, by Liu Xu 劉煦. 16 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1975. Jiu Wudaishi 舊五代史, by Xue Juzheng 薛居正. 6 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1976. Kwanghae-gun ilgi 光海君日記. 1992. Seoul: Minjok Munhwa Ch’ujinhoe. Liangshu 梁書, by Yao Cha 姚察. 3 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1973. Liaoshi 遼史, by Tuotuo 脫脫. 5 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1974. Liji zhushu 禮記注疏, by Zheng Xuan 鄭玄. In Yingtin Wenyuange Siku quanshu 景印文淵閣四庫 全書, vol. 115, Jingbu 經部 series 109–110. Taibei: Taiwan Shangwu Yinshuguan, 1983. Lishuxian zhi 梨樹縣志, edited by Fan Daquan 范大全. China: n.p., 1934. Liubian jilue 柳邊紀略, by Yang Bin 楊賓. In Liaohai congshu 遼海叢書, edited by Jin Yufu 金毓黻, vol. 1, 235–72. Shenyang: Liaoshen Shushe, 1985. Lunheng 論衡, by Wang Chong 王充. Shanghai: Shangwu Yinshuguan, 1934. Lushi 路史, by Luo Mi 羅泌. Shanghai: Zhonghua Shuju, 1933. Lüshi chunqiu 呂氏春秋, by Lü Buwei 呂不韋. Zhongguo zixue mingzhu jicheng 中國子學名 集成 series, vol. 84. Taibei: Zhongguo Zixue Mingzhu Jicheng Bianyin Jijinhui, 1977. Manzhou yuanliu kao 滿洲源流考, by Agui 阿桂 and Yu Minzhong 于敏中. Reprint. Seoul: Hongikchae, 1993. Menggu youmu ji 蒙古遊牧記, by Zhang Mu 張穆. Taibei: Wenhai Chubanshe, 1965. Mingshi 明史, by Zhang Tingyu 張廷玉. 28 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1974. Mozi 墨子, by Mo Di 墨翟. Shanghai: Hanfenlou, 1929. Nan Qishu 齊書, by Xiao Zixian 蕭子顯. 3 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1972. Nihon shoki 日本書紀, by Toneri Shinnō 舍人親王 and Ō no Yasumaro 太安萬侶. 2 vols. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1990. Qidan guozhi 契丹國志, by Ye Longli 葉隆禮. 4 vols. Shanghai: Saoye Shanfang, 1797. Qingshi gao 清史稿, by Zhao Erxun 趙爾巽. 48 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1976. Quan Liao bei kao 全遼備考, by Lin Ji 林佶. In Liaohai congshu 遼海叢書, edited by Jin Yufu 金毓黻, vol. 4, 2213–41. Shenyang: Liaoshen Shushe, 1985. Samguk sagi 三國史記, by Kim Pu-sik 金富軾. Yi Pyŏng-do edition. 2 vols. Seoul: Ŭryu Munhwasa, 1977. Samguk yusa 三國 事, by Iryŏn 一然. Yi Pyŏng-do edition. Seoul: Myŏngmundang, 1990. Sanguozhi 三國志, by Chen Shou 陳壽. 5 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1992. Sanchao beimeng huibian 三朝北盟會編, by Xu Mengxin 徐夢莘. 4 vols. Taibei: Wenhai Chubanshe, 1977. Shiji 史記, by Sima Qian 司馬遷. 10 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1982. Shiliuguo chunqiu jibu 十六國春秋輯補, by Tang Qiu 湯球. 3 vols. Shanghai: Shangwu Yinshuguan, 1937.

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Shoku Nihongi 續日本記, by Sugano Mamichi 菅野真道 and Fujiwara Tsugutada 藤原継縄. Translated by Naoki Kōjirō 直木孝次郎. 4 vols. Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1990. Shuijingzhu 水經注, by Li Daoyuan 酈道元. Shanghai: Shangwu Yinshuguan, 1933. Songshi 宋史, by Tuotuo 脫脫. 40 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1985. Songshu 宋書, by Shen Yue 沈約. 40 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1985. Soushenji 搜神記, by Gan Bao 干寶. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1979. Suishu 隋書, by Wei Zheng 魏徵. 6 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1973. Taiping huanyu ji 太平寰宇記, by Yue Shi 樂史. 2 vols. Taibei: Wenhai Chubanshe, 1963. Tongdian 通典, by Du You 杜佑, comp. 5 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1988. Tongguk chiriji 東國地理志, by Han Paek-kyŏm 韓百謙. Seoul: Ilchogak, 1982. Tongguk Yi Sangguk chip 東國李相國集, by Yi Kyu-bo 李奎報. Seoul: Myŏngmundang, 1982. Tongsa 東史, by Yi Chong-hwi 李種徽. In Susan chip 修山集, edited by Kim Ch’ŏl-chun 金哲埈, 231–301. Seoul: Kyŏngmunsa, 1976. Tongsa kangmok 東史綱目, by An Chŏng-bok 安鼎福. 3 vols. Seoul: Kyŏngin Munhwasa, 1970. Weishu 魏書, by Wei Shou 魏收. 8 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1984. Wujing zongyao qianji 武經總要前集, by Zeng Gongliang 曾公亮 and Ding Du 丁度. In Yingyin Wenyuange Siku quanshu 影印文淵閣四庫全書, vol. 726, Zibu 子部 series 32. Taibei: Taiwan Shangwu Yinshuguan, 1983. Xin Tangshu 新唐書, by Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 and Song Qi 宋祁. 20 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1975. Xin Wudaishi 新五代史, by Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修. 3 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1974. Xinlun 新論, by Liu Xie 劉勰. Shanghai: Taidong Tushuju, 1926. Yantielun 鹽鐵論, by Han Kuan 桓寬. Zhongguo zixue mingzhu jicheng 中國子學名 集成 series, vol. 28. Taibei: Zhongguo Zixue Mingzhu Jicheng Bianyin Jijinhui, 1977. Yi Zhoushu 逸周書, by Kong Zhao 孔晁. Sibu beiyao 四部備要 series, vol. 73. Shanghai: Zhonghua Shuju, 1936. Yuanshi 元史, by Song Lian 宋濂. 15 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1976. Yunlu manchao 雲麓漫鈔, by Zhao Yanwei 趙彥衛. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1996. Zhanguoce 戰國策, by Liu Xiangji 劉向集. 3 vols. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe, 1978. Zhoushu 周書, by Linghu Defen 令狐德棻. 3 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1971. Zhoushu jixun jiaoshi 周書集訓校釋, by Zhu Youzeng 朱右曾. Taibei: Taiwan Shangwu Yinshuguan, 1973. Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑, by Sima Guang 司馬光. 20 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1992.

Premodern and Modern Gazetteers Antuxian wenwuzhi 安图县文物志. 1985. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Baichengshi wenwuzhi 白城市文物志. 1986. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Changbai Chaoxianzu zizhixian wenwuzhi 长白朝鲜族自治县文物志. 1988. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui.

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Changchunshi wenwuzhi 长春市文物志. 1987. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Changlingxian wenwuzhi 长岭县文物志. 1987. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Changtuxian zhi 昌图县志. 1988. Edited by Changtuxian Difangzhi Bianshen Weiyuanhui 昌图县 地方志编审委员会. Changtuxian: Changtuxian Difangzhi Bianshen Weiyuanhui. Da Ming yitongzhi 大明一統志. 1990. Reprint. Edited by Li Xian 李賢. Xi’an: Sanqin Chubanshe. Da Qing yitongzhi 大清一統志. 1744. Edited by Jiang Tingxi 蔣廷錫. China: Wuyingdian. Daanxian wenwuzhi 大安县文物志. 1982. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Dehuixian wenwuzhi 德惠县文物志. 1983. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Dongfengxian wenwuzhi 东丰县文物志. 1987. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Dongliaoxian wenwuzhi 东辽县文物志. 1988. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Dunhuashi wenwuzhi 敦化市文物志. 1985. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Fushunshi zhi 抚顺市志. 1993. Edited by Fushunshi Difangzhi Bangongshi 抚顺市地方志办公室. Shenyang: Liaoning Renmin Chubanshe. Fushunxian zhi 抚顺县志. 1995. Edited by Du Jingqin 杜景琴. Shenyang: Liaoning Renmin Chubanshe. Fusongxian wenwuzhi 抚松县文物志. 1988. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Fuyuxian wenwuzhi 扶余县文物志. 1984. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui.

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Hailongxian wenwuzhi 海龙县文物志. 1984. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Helongxian wenwuzhi 和龙县文物志. 1984. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Huadianxian wenwuzhi 桦甸县文物志. 1986. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Huaidexian wenwuzhi 怀德县文物志. 1984. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Huinanxian wenwuzhi 辉 县文物志. 1987. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Hunjiangshi wenwuzhi 浑江市文物志. 1987. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Ji’anxian wenwuzhi 集安县文物志. 1984. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Jiaohexian wenwuzhi 蛟河县文物志. 1986. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Jilinsheng zhi 吉林省志, vol. 43, wenwuzhi 文物志. 1991. Edited by Jilinsheng Difangzhi Bianzuan Weiyuanhui 吉林省地方志编纂委员会. Changchun: Jilin Renmin Chubanshe. Jilinshi jiaoqu wenwuzhi 吉林市郊区文物志. 1983. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Jilinshi shiqu wenwuzhi 吉林市市区文物志. 1983. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui Jingyuxian wenwuzhi 靖宇县文物志. 1988. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Jiutaixian wenwuzhi 九台县文物志. 1984. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Liaoyuanshi wenwuzhi 辽源市文物支志. 1988. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Lishuxian wenwuzhi 梨树县文物志. 1984. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Liuhexian wenwuzhi 柳河县文物志. 1987. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Longjingxian wenwuzhi 龙井县文物志. 1984. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Nonganxian wenwuzhi 农安县文物志. 1986. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Panshixian wenwuzhi 磐石县文物志. 1985. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui. Qian Guoerluosi Mengguzu zizhixian wenwuzhi 前郭尔 斯蒙古族自治县文物志. 1983. Changchun: Jilinsheng Wenwuzhi Bianweihui.

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I n de x Page numbers for figures and tables are in italics. Abang kangyŏk ko 我邦疆域考 (Studies of our country’s territories), 313 Abaoji 阿保機 (Khitan ruler), 259–61, 320, 323, 334; death of, 260–61, 260n97, 327n49, 350–51 Abatai 阿巴泰 (Manchu prince [1589–1646]), 319 agriculture, 285–86, 289–91; of Puyŏ, 114n20, 135, 187 194, 202, 209, 219, 294–95; of Xituanshan culture, 80–81, 84, 98–99 Amur River. See Heilong River An Chŏng-bok (1712–91), 313, 268n125 Andong Protectorate 安東都護府, 257, 258n91, 348n1 apocryphal texts, 21–22, 21n39 armor, 105, 111–12, 135, 188, 193–94, 202, 291, 293 axes: bronze, 67, 75, 77, 78, 86–87, 95; jade, 74; stone, 79, 97, 127 axle ends. See chariots, axle ends

Bei Qishu 北齊書 (History of Northern Qi), 238n28, 239 Beirong 北戎 (Northern Rong), 30–31 Beishi 北史 (History of the Northern Dynasties), 238n28, 239 bells, 112, 121, 177n109 belt hooks, 106, 111–12, 114, 116, pl. 2 boars. See pigs bronze: ornaments, 74–75, 78, 88, 95, 122, 293; production, 65–67, 94, 99; projectile points, 67, 78, 80, 87, 212; tradition of Jilin, 69, 77, 78, 94–96, 99, 290; tradition of Liaoning, 65–68, 99; vessels, Chinese, 29, 37–39, 39n33, 63, 63n2, 64n3; weapons, 79. See also individual object types buckles, 112, 115, pl. 1 burial goods, placement of, 71, 74, 79, 93, 111, 136 buyao 步摇 head ornaments, 132

Baijinbao 白金宝 culture, 89, 89n56 Baishan Mohe 白山靺鞨, 250, 253, 254n79 Balin youqi 巴林右旗 (Inner Mongolia), 323 Balin zuoqi 巴林左旗 (Inner Mongolia), 159n58, 257n89, 261n101, 262n103, 323 Baoshan 宝山 culture, 83, 85–86, 88, 125, 125n42, 128, 291n36 Baoshan 宝山 site, 83, 85, 127–28 Barth, Frederik, 281–82, 297–98, 300 Bashangdi 八晌地 site (Jiaohe County), 211–12 Bazhong 八中 site (Shanghewan Township), 214 Bei 倍 (Khitan prince), 260, 261n98 Beifan fengsu ji 北蕃風俗記 (Record of customs of the north), 254, 336 Beiling 北岭 site (Dehui County), 124 Beiping Commandery 北平郡, 235–36, 270–72

cairn burials, 122 Cao Pi 曹丕 (187–226), 193 Cao Tingjie 曹廷杰 (1850–1926), 251n70, 320, 328 capstone burials, 85–86, 88, 125n42 cauldrons: bronze, 112, 114, 114n20, 115, 122, pl. 5, pl. 13; iron, 217, 217n72 Ch’aeksŏng 柵城, 242, 242n43, 245n46, 249–50 Chaeryŏng River 載寧江, 266, 267n123, 275n154 Chakhar 察哈爾 Mongols, 319 Chaliba 查里巴 site (Wulajie Township), 250n67, 251, 251n70, 353 Ch’angam 蒼巖城 (Koguryŏ fortress), 342 Changli Commandery 昌黎郡, 160–62, 160n65, 161n66, 163n72, 232 Changnyŏng-bu 長嶺府 (Parhae superior prefecture), 259n93, 347–48, 348n1, 350, 350n4, 355

386

index

Changsheshan 长蛇山 site (Jilin City), 72, 76, 92, 94, 104, 212 Changsu 長壽王 (Koguryŏ king [r. 413–91]), 242, 242n40, 247n55 Chaoxian 朝鮮. See Chosŏn (ancient polity) chariots: axle ends, 112, 121, pl. 15; fittings, 121, 123, 130; linchpins, 121, 121n30, 205, 205n50, 206n54, pl. 15 Cheng 成王 (Zhou king), 35–37, 160 Chengzishan 城子山 walled site (Dongliao County), 223, 225 Chengzishan 城子山 walled site (Xifeng County), 338–41, 339–40n6, 340, 343, 344 Childe, V. Gordon, 281 Chinbŏn 真番 polity, 46–50, 47n58, 50n64, 141– 42. See also Zhenfan Commandery Chin 振 (Ch. Zhen) state, 257 Chishuidi 池水地 (Jiaohe County), 209, 210 Cholbon 卒本 (early Koguryŏ capital), 26, 171, 171n86, 266, 277n157. See also Cholbon-Puyŏ Cholbon-Puyŏ 卒本夫餘, 171, 178n109, 265–66 Chŏng Yag-yong 丁若鏞 (1762–1836), 313, 314n15 Chŏngan 定安 state. See Dingan state Ch’ŏngch’ŏn River 淸川江, 48n59, 56n79, 68n14, 266, 275n154 Chōsen Government-General Museum, 203, 203n49, 205, 205n51 Chosŏn 朝鮮 (ancient polity), 3, 10, 10n4, 17, 42– 57 passim; Han conquest of, 48–49, 137, 141–42; and Jizi/Kija, 15, 34, 37–40; location of, 45–46; in North Korean scholarship, 18; warfare with Yan, 42–46; and Wei Man, 48–49 Chosŏn kingdom (1392–1910), 14, 16, 20–22, 303– 4, 310, 313, 316 Ch’u 騶 (Koguryŏ king), 143, 143n3, 144n8, 173n95, 174 Ch’umo 鄒牟 (Koguryŏ progenitor), 168, 178, 241, 241n35, 244. See also Chumong Chumong 朱蒙 (Koguryŏ progenitor), 15, 168–72, 172n92, 174n96, 176–78, 178n111, 183, 241, 244, 249, 277n157, 299n50; in Paekche myth, 265–66, 265n117, 269; as possible cognate for “Tongmyŏng,” 183. See also Ch’umo Chun 準 (Chosŏn king [fl. 195 bce]), 43, 48n60 Chungwŏn, Koguryŏ stele at 中原高句麗碑, 245n46 Churyu 朱留 (Koguryŏ king), 170, 172, 172n92, 174, 248, 248n58, 341. See also Muhyul; Taemu circumscription, territorial, 219, 230, 285, 288–89, 292–94, 294n42 clothing, of Puyŏ, 12, 187, 190, 192n27 Cohen, Ronald, 22, 286, 287n26, 296, 300

coins, 209n60; of Han, 57, 58n88, 69, 106, 112, 114, 119, 123, 130, 207, 292; of Tang, 251; of Yan, 57, 58n88, 59. See also knife coins; Xiangping spade coins cows, 98n68, 99n71, 135, 187 crematory burials, 85–86, 88, 105, 124, 130 culture, archaeological, 280–81 “curved-dagger bronze culture” 曲刃青铜短剑 文化, 54. See also Liaoning dagger Da Yanlin 大延琳, rebellion of, 324, 324n41 Daban 大板. See Balin youqi Dachang gucheng 大常古城 walled site (Wulajie Township), 251n70 daggers: antenna-style, 130n56; bronze, 67, 79– 80, 84, 87, 94–95, 212; See also Liaoning dagger; slender bronze dagger Dagou 達姤 polity, 239–40 Dahaimeng 大海猛 site (Wulajie Township), 72; lower layer, 81; middle layer, 102, 104–7, 104n5; Parhae remains at, 353; soybeans found at, 98n69 Daheishan 大黑山 mountain range, 58, 126, 218, 218n75, 350 Dahuofang 大伙房 site (Fushun City), 83, 87 Daifang Commandery 帶方郡, 46n55, 152, 156, 163–64, 163n72, 275, 275n154; associated with Paekche origins, 265–69 Dajiabang 大甲幫 site (Fushun City), 87n48 Dajiazishan 大架子山 site, 83, 85, 127–28 Daling River 大凌河, 31, 35n21, 39n33, 41, 63, 65, 68n14, 131–32, 160n65, 236n20 Damolou 大 婁, 232, 238–41, 250, 278; variations in name of, 238n28 Da Qing yitongzhi 大清一統志 (Gazetteers of the unified Great Qing), 319–20, 321n34 Dayang 大阳 site, 83, 85 Da Yuan yitongzhi 大元一統志 (Gazetteers of the unified Great Yuan), 310 Dingan 定安 (K. Chŏngan) state, 262–63, 352n11 Dingling 丁零, 235 Di 狄 peoples, 40–41, 40n39, 43 disputes, history, 3, 5, 17, 17n23, 20n36 divination, 26, 192, 195 dogs, 98n70, 99n71, 107, 135, 187 dolmen burials, 87–88, 130 Dongbei tongshi 東北通史 (Comprehensive History of the Northeast), 20, 329 Dongdan 東丹 state, 260–61, 261n98, 310n2, 313 Donghu 東胡, 41–45, 41n41, 45n50, 50–51, 61; nationality, 20 Dongjiatun Dongshan 董家屯东山 walled site

index

(Shanghewan Township), 215–17, 216, 217n72, pls. 32–33 Dongjingcheng 东京城 walled site, 347, 350 Dongliao River 东辽河, 58, 82, 84–86, 126, 160, 222–26, 351, 351n10, 355 Dongliao 东辽 walled sites. See hilltop forts, at Dongliao Dong sansheng yudi tushuo 東三省輿地圖說 (Maps and descriptions of the territories of the three eastern provinces), 251n70, 320 Dongtuanshan 东团山: complex, 190, 194, 197– 209, 332, 354, pl. 21; as Puyŏ political core, 211, 213, 229, 284, 290, 292, 307, 332–46 passim; site, Jilin, 80, 104, 117–23, 139, 246. See also Nanchengzi walled site Duan 段 Xianbei, 273 Duke Huan of Qi 齊桓公 (r. 685–643 bce), 32, 32n13 Duke of Shao 召公, 28 earth-pit burials, 92, 94, 105, 121–23, 130–31, 136 Eastern Puyŏ 東扶餘, 21, 162, 168–69, 232, 241– 43; Koguryŏ subjugation of, 240, 243, 247, 275, 299n18; location of, 240, 242, 315n18, 346n17. See also Ch’aeksŏng Eastern Xia 東夏 state, 310n2, 314–15 Eastern Yi 東夷: of Korea-Manchuria region, 188–91, 188n17, 193, 238n27; of Shandong region, 35–36; variable use of term, 34 Eight Princes Disturbance (291–306), 162 Erdaohezi 二道河子 burials (Liaoyang County), 65, 67, 80, 94 Erdaohezi River 二道河子, 225 Erlonghu 二龙湖 walled site (Lishu County), 58–61, 55, 60, 137–38, 218, 223, 224–25, 291–93, 292n38 ethnic consciousness, 281–83, 297–98, 300; and myth, 2, 297–301; and state formation, 294–95, 297–98, 300 ethnic identity. See ethnic consciousness ethnicity: in archaeology, 68–69, 69n19, 81–82, 203, 281–83, 290, 298; studies of, 16–22. See also ethnic consciousness ethnie, 283, 298, 300 ethnogenesis, 297–301 face masks, bronze: on finial caps, 121, pl. 16; from Lamadong, 132–33, 161n69, 207n56, pl. 20; on linchpins, 121, 121n30, 205–6, 206n54, pl. 15; from Maoershan and Dongtuanshan, 117, 123, 133, 203–7, 203n49, 204, 205nn50–53, 206, 208, pls. 30–31

387

Fangyan 方言 (Dialects), 49 Fayuan zhulin 法苑珠琳 (Forest of pearls in the garden of the Dharma), 182 Fei River 肥水, 234–35 Feng Sheng 馮勝 (Ming general), 318–19 Flannery, Kent, 286 Former Qin 前秦 state (351–94), 233–35, 246, 248, 272 Former Yan 前燕 state (337–70), 131, 160, 164n76, 166, 205n53, 232–36 passim, 246, 248 forts, hilltop. See hilltop forts foundation myth, 280, 295–97; of Koguryŏ, 21, 168–77, 247–48, 278; of Paekche, 264, 267– 69, 274; of Puyŏ, 26, 181–85, 227n90, 229, 299; of Silla, 296, 302–3; of Wanyan Jurchen, 297, 297n46 Fried, Morton, 284–87 Fu Jian 苻堅 (Former Qin ruler), 233–34, 233n5 Fuer River 富尔江, 84, 171–72, 171n89, 176, 176n105 Fulaidong 富来东 walled site (Jiaohe County), 210, 211 funerary customs, 99n71, 108, 119, 121–23, 136, 192–93, 192n27, 207n56 Fuyu Mohe 浮渝靺鞨, 256. See also Puyŏ-Mohe Ganggenmiao 岗根庙 site (Balin youqi), 323 Gao Kan 高侃 (Tang commander), 337, 342 Gao Yang 高陽 (legendary emperor), 302 Gaogouli District 高句驪縣 (Xuantu Commandery), 159n56, 173, 173n95 Gaolicheng 高力城 walled site (Qingyuan County), 220 Gaolifang Nanshan 高丽房 山 walled site (Shanghewan Township), 215, 217, pls. 34–35 Gaotaishan 高台山 culture, 64, 66, 92, 92n58 Gardiner, Kenneth, 274–75 Gellner, Ernest, 283, 299 Geng Lin 耿臨 (Xuantu governor), 151 gentry, of Puyŏ, 189, 189n19 gold, 245, 250; earrings, 132, 276n155, pl. 3; mining, 187n16; ornaments, 105, 112, 121–22, 130, 132, 187, 190, 203, pl. 10, pl. 19 Gongsun Du 公孫度 (?–204), 152, 154–55, 267 Gongsun Gong 公孫恭, 153, 155 Gongsun Kang 公孫康, 152, 154, 267, 267n123 Gongsun Yu 公孫域 (Xuantu governor), 149 Gongsun Yuan 公孫淵 (?–238), 152–53, 156, 160 Gongsun 公孫 regime (189–238), 158, 267; relations with Koguryŏ, 152–53; relations with Puyŏ, 152–55 Gorlos, Mongol Banner, 319–20

388

index

Great Zhen 大真 state. See Eastern Xia Guandicheng 官地城 walled site (Jilin City), 208–9, 209n61 Guangwu 光武帝 (Han emperor [r. 25–57]), 144n8, 145–46, 173, 175 Guanmashan 关马山 site (Jiutai County), 124 Guanqiu Jian 毌丘儉 (?–255), 156, 158 Guantong gucheng 官通古城 walled site (Wulajie Township), 353 Guanzi 管子 (Writings of Master Guan), 32–33, 39, 39n34 Guigaishan 龟盖山 site (Jilin City), 117–18, 118, 121–22, 195, 203 Guiren 歸仁, as site of Puyŏ capital, 315–18, 317, 322, 326, 329, 334 Guntuling 滚兔岭 site (Luobei County), 250n67 Guo Yisheng 郭毅生, 331, 331n63 Guzhu 孤竹, 31, 31n9, 63; town of, 38n32 Hae Mosu 解慕漱 (mythical figure), 21, 169–70, 184 Hae Puru 解夫婁 (legendary Puyŏ king), 21, 169, 265–66, 268n125, 299n50 Haedong kogi 海東古記 (Old records of Korea), 149n21, 266, 266n120, 268, 268n126 Haedong yŏksa 海東繹史 (History of Korea), 313 Haizhou 海州 (Liao prefecture), 323–25 Han Ch’i-yun 韓致奫 (1765–1814), 313 Han Paek-kyŏm 韓百謙 (1552–1615), 310, 314n15 Han 漢 empire (206 bce–220), 12, 46, 140, 166– 67; conquest of Chosŏn, 43, 141; establishment of commanderies, 48–49, 142; influence in Puyŏ state formation, 280, 292; material culture of, 69–70, 101–14 passim, 123–24, 130, 135, 197, 207; occupation of Liaodong, 47–48; relations with Puyŏ, 142–52, 188, 193 Han 韓 people, 156 Hanshu II 汉书 culture, 89, 89n56, 124, 124n39 Harbin, 183, 240, 307, 329–30 Heicheng 黑城 site (Ningcheng County), 52, 263n109 Heilongjiang Province, 36, 184, 232, 250, 313, 320 Heilong River 黑龙江, 11n6, 240 hilltop forts, 129n52, 144, 176n106, 196, 209–29, 292; chronology of, 227; distribution of, 228; at Dongliao, 222–26; at Jiaohe, 209–14; at Qingyuan, 220–22; at Shanghewan, 214–20, pls. 32–37 Hino Kaisaburō 日野開三郎 (1908–89), 16, 254n78, 329–31, 333, 352n11 historical geography, 3–4, 16, 18, 36, 307, 320, 326

historiography, 10, 13–22, 16–19; of China, 18; of the Korean peninsula, 3, 9, 22–23, 305; of Koryŏ, 14–15, 303; of North Korea, 18, 20, 304; of Silla, 14–15; of South Korea, 16–18 Holbon 忽本, 171, 171n86. See also Cholbon Horhan 忽汗城 (Parhae capital city), 260 horse gear, 67, 105, 111, 121–22, 133–34, 293 horses, 12, 135, 184, 187, 194; in cemeteries, 107–8, 111–12, 130, 135; introduction of, 135, 139, 194, 293, 293n40; in Puyŏ state formation, 62–63, 184–85; in warfare, 67, 112, 135, 187 Hou Hanshu 後漢書 (History of the Eastern Han), 25, 43, 140, 144n8, 148, 150, 247, 316, 320 Hou Ji 后稷 (mythical figure), 183, 183n7 Houshi 猴石 cemetery (Gongzhuling County), 124 Houshishan 猴石山 site (Jilin City), 72, 76–78, 91, 92, 95–98, 290 Hu 胡, 41–44 passim, 49. See also Donghu; Xiongnu Huaidetang Houshan 怀德堂后山 walled site (Shanghewan Township), 215, 216–17, 217n72 Huaizhou 懷州 (Liao prefecture), 257n89, 323, 323n39, 324n41 Huanglongfu 黃龍府 (Liao superior prefecture), 260–62, 262n106, 310–25 passim, 326–35, 347, 350, 352–53n11; establishment of, 260; Jurchen conquest of, 312; location of, 261, 312–13, 312n5, 319–21, 328–30, 333–34; rebellion at, 262, 326– 27; removal of inhabitants of, 262n106, 327–28; as site of Puyŏ capital, 320–21 Huangyujuan 黄鱼圈 walled site (Shulan County), 217–18, 218n77 Huangyujuan Zhushan 黄鱼圈珠山 site (Shulan County), 82, 124–25, 124n39, 125n40; hilltop fort at, 217–18, 218n77 hu arrows 楛矢, 35, 36n24, 36n27, 160, 160n61 Huashuzuizi 桦树嘴子 walled site (Shanghewan), 215, 217 Hui (Ye) 穢, 31–34, 70, 188, 188n17, 190, 202, 275n154, 283 Huicheng 濊城. See Ye-sŏng Huifa River 辉发河, 82, 82n34, 84, 87–88, 126, 176, 344, 348 Huimo (Yemaek) 穢貉 / 濊貊, 32–34, 34n19, 49–50, 50n64, 141–43, 188, 194; as a reference to Koguryŏ, 143, 143n5, 150, 150n32, 154n44, 155n45, 173–74 Hŭlsŭng-gol 紇升骨 (early Koguryŏ capital), 26, 170 Hunhe River 浑河, 84, 87, 146–47, 159n56, 164,

index

164n77, 220, 222, 340–41, 348n1; note on usage of term, 147n15 husbandry: of Puyŏ, 135, 187, 194; of Xituanshan, 81, 98–99 Hwandan kogi 桓檀古記, 21, 21n39 Hyŏn 玄 (Puyŏ king), 165–66, 232–33 Ikeuchi Hiroshi 池内宏 (1878–1952), 16, 160n61, 242, 242n39, 329–31, 333 iron: agricultural implements, 57–58, 105, 111, 220–26 passim; production technology, 61, 68, 99, 134, 187–88, 225; in Puyŏ state formation, 62–63, 105, 135, 139, 290–94 passim; spread of Yan and Han, 69, 106, 123, 127–29, 137, 225, 290–91; weapons, 12, 112–14, 130, 135 Iryŏn 伊連 (Koguryŏ king, Kogugyang 國 壤王 [r. 384–91]), 246 Iryŏn 一然 (Koryŏ monk), 8, 15n12 jade, 188, 313; axes, 74; beads, 117, 207; ornaments, 105, 203; ritual items, 193; suits, 12, 26, 158, 193, 195 jealousy, in Puyŏ, 12, 191, 195 Ji 薊 (Beijing), 47, 232, 236n20 Jiankang shilu 建康實錄 (Veritable records of Jiankang), 270–71, 273 Jiaohe 蛟河 walled sites. See hilltop forts, at Jiaohe Jiao River 蛟河, 209–11, 213 Jicheng 棘城, 131–33, 160, 162, 164 Jilin City, 62, 102, 187, 197, 203n48 Jilinhada 吉林哈达 mountain range, 84, 87, 127, 187, 350 Jin Yufu 金毓黻 (1887–1962), 20, 36n26, 328–29, 331, 332n65 Jin 金 empire (1115–1234), 263n109, 297, 313–16, 329. See also Wanyan Jurchens Jin 晉 state (eleventh century bce–376 bce), 42 Jin 晉 state (265–420), 158, 232, 234, 264n110; relations with Paekche, 271–74, 277; relations with Puyŏ, 158–64; relations with Yilou, 159–60; restoration of Puyŏ, 161–62, 169 Jing Ke 荊軻, 47 Jinping Commandery 晉平郡, 270–72; as error for Beiping, 272 Jinshu 晉書 (History of the Jin), 140, 159–61, 165n79, 235–36, 247, 273 Jinzhou 錦州 (Liaoning Province), 40, 42–43, 61 Jiu Tangshu 舊唐書 (Old history of Tang), 256– 58, 258n90, 337 Jizi 箕子, 15, 31, 34, 37–40, 42–43, 45n51. See also Kija

389

ka 加, aristocrats, 12, 154, 154n43, 157, 157n50, 188– 95 passim, 189n18 Kaema 蓋馬 kingdom, 173, 173n95, 174n96, 175 Kaiyuan 開原 (Liaoning Province), 50, 66, 311; as site of Puyŏ capital, 310–15 Kaiyuan 開元 (of Ming), 310 Kaiyuan District 開原縣 (of Qing), 310, 312–15, 312n5, 315n21, 319 Kaiyuan Route 開元路 (of Yuan), 310, 314–15, 316n23; removal of, 314 Kanwigŏ 簡位居 (Puyŏ king), 154 Kaya 加耶 confederation, 6, 9n3, 296 Kebineng 軻比能 (Xianbei leader [?–235]), 153 Khitan 契丹, 16, 255–63, 257n89, 258n91, 303, 313– 14, 334–35, 349–52; conquest of Parhae, 260–62, 322–24, 330n58, 350–51, 355; and Damolou, 239, 241 Khitan Route 契丹道 (of Parhae), 260, 320, 349–50 Khorchin 科爾沁 Mongols, 319 Kija 箕子, 15–16, 15n13, 37n29, 304n59. See also Jizi Kim Kyo-hŏn 金敎獻 (1868–1923), 21 Kim Pu-sik 金富軾, 8, 14n9, 15, 168, 173n93, 175, 265–66, 268n126 King Kwanggaet’o stele, 168–72, 178, 240–41, 241n35, 243–48 passim, 346n17 knife coins, 58n88, 53, 53n71, 59 knives, 111; bronze, 65–67, 75–78, 95, 112; iron, 60, 112, 121; stone, 74, 79, 87, 127 Ko Un 高雲 (?–409), 237, 237n24, 238n27 Koguryŏ Annals 高句麗本紀, 14n8, 140, 149n21, 167–72, 176–77, 253, 265n117, 297n47 Koguryŏ 高句麗 kingdom (trad. 37 bce–668), 3–7; alliance with Xianbei, 148–55; foundation myth, 168–77; historiography, 14, 14n8, 167– 68, 247; location of, 46, 153, 171, 174; occupation of the Puyŏ region, 240–41; 244–49, 251–57; putative connection with Puyŏ, 168–72, 177– 79, 301–4; warfare with Former Yan, 163–65; warfare with Puyŏ, 14, 172–77, 297n47; and Xuantu Commandery, 142–44, 148–49. See also Puyŏ-sŏng Koi 古爾王 (Paekche king [trad. r. 234–85]), 264, 264n113, 269, 269n129, 274 Ko-ju 高州 (of Makkal-bu), 258 Kŏlgŏl Ch’ungsang 乞乞仲象. See Qiqi Zhongxiang Kŏlsa Piu 乞四比羽. See Qisi Biyu Kŏnmu 建武 (Koguryŏ king, Yŏngnyu 榮留王 [r. 618–42]), 337 Koryŏ kingdom 高麗 (918–1392), 8n2, 14–16, 21–22, 37, 56, 56n80, 297n46, 303, 304n59

390

index

Kossinna, Gustaf, 281 Koumohan 寇 汗, 160, 160n63 Kubu 丘夫 (Koguryŏ king, Sosurim 小獸林王 [r. 371–84]), 248, 248n58 Kumoxi 庫 奚 polity, 239 Kŭmwa 金蛙 (legendary Puyŏ king), 21, 170, 176 Kŭnch’ogo 近肖古王 (Paekche king [trad. r. 346– 74]), 264, 264n110, 274, 276–77, 276n156 Kungnae 國內城 (Koguryŏ capital), 242n40, 337 Ku Samguksa 舊三國史, 168, 172n93 Kut’ae 仇台 (Paekche founder), 267–69, 274 Kwanggaet’o 廣開土王 (Koguryŏ king [r. 391– 413]), 168–69, 178, 240–45, 275 Kwanggaet’o stele. See King Kwanggaet’o stele Kye Yŏn-su 桂延壽 (1864–1920), 21 lacquer, 108 lacquerware, 121–23, pl. 14 Lafa River 拉法河, 209, 213, 213n67 Lalin River 拉林河, 186n14, 219, 219n79 Lamadong 喇嘛洞 cemetery (Beipiao County), 131, 161n69, 276n155; analysis of skeletal material from, 143n66; bronze faces from, 132, 205, 205n53, 207n56, pl. 20; described, 131–34; ethnic attribution of, 132–34 Lan Han 蘭汗 (Later Yan minister), 237, 237n26 Laodaolu 老道炉 walled site (Dongliao County), 223, 224–25 Laoheshen 老河深 cemetery site (Yushu County), 82, 105–6, 109–11, 124, 138n70, 150n31, 177n109, 194–95, 276n155, 293, 293n40; compared with Lamadong burials, 132, 134; compared with Maoershan burials, 117–23 passim, 136; compared with Shiyi burials, 130, 135; description of, 108–16; distribution of burial goods at, 136–38, 290; ethnic attribution of burials at, 114–17n20; horse pits at, 185; Mohe burials at, 150–51 Later Yan 後燕 state (384–409), 234–37, 234n12, 237n26, 246 Later Zhao 後趙 state (319–51), 163n75, 232, 232n2 Ledyard, Gari, 275, 275n154 legitimacy, political, 14–15, 166–67, 259, 279–80, 298–306 passim; and history writing, 5–6, 19; stemming from Puyŏ, 1–2, 22–23, 172, 178–80, 249, 257 Lelang Commandery 樂浪郡, 45, 50, 57, 143, 147n16, 156, 266, 269n127, 275n154; establishment and reorganization of, 46n55, 49, 142; Koguryŏ conquest of, 38n32, 163–64, 275; under Former Yan, 38n32, 163n72; under the Gongsun regime, 152, 267n123; weakening of, 145, 175, 265

Li Jiancai 李健才, 240, 240n34, 242n39, 332–33, 338, 343–44, 353–54n15 Li Jinhang 李謹行 (620–83), 253, 253n73, 256 Li Jinzhong 李盡忠 (Khitan leader), 257, 257n89 Li Shiji 李世勣 (Tang commander [594–669]), 324, 337 Li Wenxin 李文信 (1903–82), 69, 117, 199n41, 205– 7, 207n55, 339n6 Liangquan 凉泉 culture, 66, 86, 101, 220, 222, 224– 27, 224n85, 226n88, 295; chronology of, 129; described, 125–31; distribution of, 126, 126–27; pottery types, 128–29 Liang River 梁水, 173n95 Liangshu 梁書 (History of Liang), 270 Lianhuapu 莲花堡 site (Fushun County), 57–58, 68n14, 127 Liaodong Commandery 遼東郡, 179, 220–22, 232, 235, 255, 312–13; under Han, 45, 50, 57n87, 141– 55, 175; under Murong, 160, 163–64; under Qin, 47, 47n58; under Wei, 156–58; under Yan, 44, 44–47, 51–54, 61, 68, 138 Liaodong dependent state, 148, 160n65 Liao 遼 empire (907–1125), 259, 261–62, 307, 312– 35 passim. See also Khitan Liaoning dagger, 54n74, 64–68, 64, 67, 79–80, 87, 87n48, 94; distribution of, 68 Liaoshi 遼史 (History of Liao), 259–63, 312, 318, 326–33 passim, 350; geographical problems in, 315n21, 316n22, 322–26 Liaoxi Commandery 遼西郡, 160n65, 232n2, 254n80; Paekche’s putative activities in, 270– 74; under Han, 145; under Jin, 161n66; under Murong, 232, 235–36; under Sui, 255; under Yan, 44, 51–53. See also Liaoxi corridor Liaoxi corridor, 31, 40–43, 41n40, 61 linchpins. See chariots, linchpins Lindong 林东. See Balin zuoqi Lingzhi 令支, 31, 31n9; town of, 38n32, 235–36 Lintun Commandery 臨屯郡, 46n55, 49, 52n70, 54n73 Liu Bang 劉邦 (247–195 bce), 47–48 Liubian jilue 柳邊紀略 (Brief accounts of the Willow Palisade), 312, 312n6 Liucheng 柳城 (modern Chaoyang), 254–55, 270–71 Liulihe 琉璃河 site (Beijing), 29n3, 32n12, 35n21, 37–38, 39n33, 64n3 Longan 龍安 (of Qing), 318–21 Longcheng 龍城, 132, 232, 235–37, 236n20 long-distance trade, 285, 287–89; and Puyŏ, 293 Longgang mountain range 龙岗岭, 355

index

[128.104.46.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-02 03:20 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Longshoushan 龙首山 site (Liaoyuan County), 83, 86, 129n50 Longtanshan 龙潭山 walled site (Jilin City), 117, 118, 121, 202–8 passim, 345, 246, 332; as site of Koguryŏ’s Puyŏ-sŏng, 256, 335, 336–46 Longtoushan 龙头山 site (Dongfeng County), 83, 85 long wall, of Koguryŏ. See Puyŏ-sŏng (Koguryŏ fortress), and Koguryŏ long wall long walls, Chinese: of Han, 146, 186; of Yan, 43– 44, 44, 47n57, 51–52, 54–57; of Zhao, 43 Longzhou 龍州 (Liao prefecture), 326–27, 327n49. See also Huanglongfu Lower Capital of Yan, 53, 56–58, 104n5, 107 Lower Xiajiadian 夏家店下层 culture, 29, 29n6, 35n21, 63–64, 66, 94n60, 99n71 Lower Xinle 新乐 culture, 224n85 Lu Wan 盧綰 (256–194 bce), 47–48 Luan River 滦河, 31, 272 Lunheng 論衡 (Doctrines evaluated), 26, 182 Luoyang 洛陽, 147–49, 159, 234, 239 Lüshi chunqiu 呂氏春秋 (Annals of Lü Buwei), 33 Lüshun Museum, 203, 203n49, 204, 205, 205n50, pl. 30 Machengzi 马城子 culture, 66–67, 84, 92, 92n58 Maeguru 買溝婁, 156, 162. See also Northern Okchŏ Mahan 馬韓 polity, 267, 271, 271n139, 273–75 Majiagou 马家沟 walled site (Dongliao County), 222–25, 223, 224 Mak-chu 鄚州 (of Makkal-bu), 258 Makhil-bu. See Makkal-bu Makkal-bu 鄚頡府 (Parhae superior prefecture), 258, 258n92, 315n21, 355n17 Malgal (Mohe), in Samguk sagi, 275n154 Malinowski, Bronislaw, 298–300 Manpanhan 滿潘汗, 45, 45n48, 57 Manshū rekishi chiri 滿洲歷史地理 (Historical geography of Manchuria), 328 Manzhou yuanliu kao 滿洲源流考 (Studies on Manchu origins), 315, 316n22, 325n46 Maoershan 帽儿山 cemetery (Jilin City), 80, 94n60, 105–6, 134, 136, 193–95, 200, 203, 227, 332; bronze faces from, 133, 204, 205–7; 206, pls. 30–31; description of, 117–23 Marquis of Yan 匽侯, 28–29, 64n3 marriage practice, of Puyŏ, 191, 195 Matsui Hitoshi 松井等 (1877–1937), 328–29 Mayŏ 麻余 (Puyŏ king), 154, 157, 188 Menggu youmu ji 蒙古游牧記 (Record of nomad life in Mongolia), 320, 321nn33–34

391

metallurgy, iron, 47, 99, 139, 187 Miaohoushan 庙后山 culture. See Machengzi culture migration, in origin myth, 178n109, 184, 194, 227n90, 264, 278, 280, 295–97, 305 Mikami Tsugio 三上次男 (1907–87), 69, 117, 198n37 military organization of Puyŏ, 135–36, 194, 219, 289 mirrors, bronze: Chinese, 106, 111–12, 114, 116, 121, 123, 130, 207, 292, pl. 6; northeastern style, 65, 65n8, 78, 95 Misongni 美松里 culture, 89n57 Mo (Maek) 貉, 31–34, 32n15, 35n21 Modun 冒頓 (Xiongnu leader), 48–51, 141 Moduru 牟頭婁 (Koguryŏ official), 244–45; tomb inscription, 168, 170, 244–45, 247 Mohe 靺鞨 people, 13, 16, 19n32, 243, 249–63 passim, 310n2; archaeological culture, 81, 108, 250–51, 250n67, 251n70; missions to Northern Wei, 252. See also Sumo Mohe Mokchŏ 木底城 (Koguryŏ fortress), 247n53, 342 Mongch’on-t’osŏng 夢村土城 walled site (Seoul), 265n114, 276n156 Mongols, 15, 20, 309, 314–15, 318–19, 321n33 mounted warfare, in Puyŏ, 12, 112, 136, 185, 192– 94, 226, 289–90, 293n40 Mudan River 牡丹江, 36, 153, 186n14, 213, 257, 259, 293, 350, 355 Muhyul 無恤 (Koguryŏ king [trad. r. 18–44 ce]), 170, 174–75, 174n99. See also Churyu; Taemu Murong Bao 慕容寶 (355–98), 234, 236–37, 237n24 Murong Chui 慕容垂 (326–96), 232–37, 238n27 Murong De 慕容德 (336–405), 237, 238n27 Murong Huang 慕容皝 (297–348), 163–67, 178, 231–33, 237n24, 240, 247 Murong Hui 慕容廆 (269–333), 160–67, 163n72, 237 Murong Hui 慕容會 (373–97), 237 Murong Jun 慕容軍, 165 Murong Jün 慕容儁, 232 Murong Ke 慕容恪, 165, 232 Murong Nong 慕容農, 235–36, 238n27, 272 Murong Ping 慕容評, 233, 233n7 Murong Ren 慕容仁, 163 Murong Sheng 慕容盛 (373–401), 237n26, 246n53 Murong Wei 慕容暐, 232 Murong Xianbei 慕容鮮卑, 131, 160–67, 238, 301– 3; attack on Puyŏ in 346, 165–66, 178, 231, 240; invasion of Puyŏ in 285, 12–13, 131–34, 161–62, 242; and the Lamadong cemetery, 131–34; and Puyŏ elites, 232–38; relations with Koguryŏ, 163–64, 246–48

392

index

Muyu Gen 慕輿根, 165 myth, 279, 298–99; divine origin in, 229, 296– 97, 303; egg birth in, 183, 296; function of, 23, 297–304; political power of, 301–4; reading as history, 9, 26, 297. See also foundation myth Na Ch’ŏl 羅喆 (1863–1916), 21 Naghachu 納哈出 (Mongol rebel), 319, 321n33 Namso Fortress 南蘇城, 164–65, 164n77, 246n53, 342 Nanchengzi 南城子 walled site (Jilin City), 118, 198n39, 199–202, 207–8, pls. 22–26 Nanjing 南京 (Yuan myriarchy), 315, 315n18 Nan Qishu 南齊書 (History of Southern Qi), 271, 271n137 Nanshan 南山 site (Jilin City), 117, 118, 121–22, 195, 203 nationalism, 5, 20, 283 nationalist history, 3, 19–21 nationality (modern concept, 民族), 19–21 National Museum of Korea, 17n22, 205, 205n51, 276n155 Nen River 嫩江, 2, 11n6, 240 net sinkers, 84, 93, 97, 98, 107, 127 new religion, 16–22, 304 Ningguta 寧古塔, 36, 312n6, 313 Niuchengzi gucheng 牛城子古城 walled site (Siping City), 331n63 Nok-san 鹿山 (Puyŏ capital), 133, 165, 329–33 Nongan 農安 (Jilin Province), 69, 124; archaeology of, 334; pagoda of, 318–19, 321, 321n35, 334; as site of Huanglongfu, 262, 315–20; as site of Puyŏ capital, 318–22, 330; walled remains at, 322, 331n63 Nonni River. See Nen River “Northern Complex,” 29, 30n7, 54n75, 63, 67 Northern Okchŏ, 156, 161–62, 169, 232, 242–43, 275, 315n18, 316. See also Okchŏ Northern Puyŏ 北扶餘, 21, 168–69, 178, 239–47 passim, 241nn35–36, 265–66, 299n50, 313; identification of, 241 Northern Qi 北齊 state (550–77), 238n28, 239, 252 Northern Yan 北燕 state (409–36), 237n24, 246, 302 Okchŏ 沃沮, 49, 156, 185, 188n17, 194, 316n22, 324– 25. See also Northern Okchŏ Onjo 溫祚 (Paekche progenitor), 265–69, 274–77 passim, 275n154, 277n157

Paekche 伯濟國 (polity of Mahan), 267, 271, 271n139, 273–74 Paekche Annals 百濟本紀, 264–66, 268n125, 269–70, 269n129, 275n154 Paekche 百濟 kingdom (trad. 18 bce–660), 10, 14; conflated with Puyŏ, 272–73; foundation myths of, 265–67; historiography, 14n8; and Liaoxi, 270–74; location of, 165, 271–72; and Puyŏ surname, 236, 272–74; putative connection with Puyŏ, 13, 264–77 Paekko 伯固 (Koguryŏ king [trad. r. 165–79]), 150–51 P’ae River 浿水. See Pei River Pang Tongshan 龐同善 (Tang commander), 342 Panhan District 番汗縣 (Liaodong Commandery), 45, 45n48, 45n49, 56 Paotaishan 炮台山 (Jilin City), 203 Paotaishan 炮台山 types, 83, 85 Paoziyan Beigang 泡子沿北岗 site (Jiaohe County), 210, 212 Paoziyan 泡子沿 culture, 102–35 passim, 212, 224n85; definition of, 104; distribution of, 104; pottery of, 104, 105. See also post-Xituanshan culture Paoziyan Qianshan 泡子沿前山 site (Jilin City), 98n68, 104, 105; description of, 107–8 Parhae 渤海 (Ch. Bohai) kingdom (698–926), 16, 18, 183–84, 347–56; claims of Puyŏ succession, 259, 263, 278, 303; destruction of, 259–61, 349– 50; establishment of, 239, 257–58; Puyŏ as a prefecture under, 243, 257–58; relations with Japan, 259; removal of populations of, 261, 322– 26, 330n58; restoration movements, 262–63, 303, 352–53n11. See also Puyŏ-bu peasantry, of Puyŏ, 189–90, 189n19, 232 Pei Songzhi 裴松之 (372–451), 42, 182 Pei River 浿水, 48, 48n59; associated with the Taedong River, 266, 266n118, 268 pigs: bone ornaments, 74; domestication, 98, 187, 194; figurines, 98; as food, 99; mandibles in burials, 71, 79, 98; in Puyŏ funerary ritual, 98, 99n71, 135; in Puyŏ myth, 182, 184; teeth in burials, 71, 74, 87, 98n68 Pingguo 平郭 (Liaodong Commandery), 163 Pingyang cemetery 平洋墓葬 (Tailai County), 99n71 Pingzhou 平州, 163–64, 163n72, 270 Piryu 沸流 (Paekche progenitor), 265–69, 274–76 Piryu River 沸流水, 171, 171n89, 176 plaques: bronze, 106, 112, 114, 114n20, 130; gold, 121

index

plaster: coffin frames, 94; coffins sealed with, 119–20, 122 polygamy, practiced in Puyŏ, 195 post-Xituanshan culture, 69, 101–25 passim, 195, 201–22 passim; burials of, 120, 136–37; definition of, 101–2; description of, 135–38; distribution of, 104, 123; excavations, 102, 103, 106–25; pottery of, 111–12, 112, 135–36, 291; regional variations of, 123–25. See also Liangquan culture; Paoziyan culture Price, Barbara, 287 Pu-ju 扶州 (of Puyŏ-bu), 258, 350n5 Pullae 不耐, kings of, 188n17 P’ungnap-t’osŏng 風納土城 walled site (Seoul), 265n114, 276n156, 277n158 Put’ae 夫台 (Puyŏ king), 149 Puxian Wannu 蒲鮮萬奴 (?–1233), 314–15, 315n18 Puyŏ: as a dependency of Koguryŏ, 178, 244–49; ethnicity, 19–21; fall of, 164–67; foundation myth, 26, 181–85; frontier defenses of, 226– 29; historical sketch of, 11–13; in Koguryŏ history, 167–79; location of, 11–12, 225; relations with Chinese regimes, 142–67; relations with Yilou, 153–55, 213, 293; ritual practices of, 191– 93; social organization of, 188–91; state formation of, 289–94; studies of, 2–4, 10, 15–22 Puyŏ 扶餘, as a surname: in Paekche, 13, 236n22, 272–74, 277; in Puyŏ, 235–36, 236n22, 238n27, 272 Puyŏ-bu 扶餘府 (Parhae superior prefecture), 257n89, 258–62, 307–38 passim; Khitan conquest of, 260, 323; location of, 347–56 Puyŏ Fortress 扶餘城, 254. See also Puyŏ-sŏng (Koguryŏ fortress) Puyŏ-Mohe, 354. See also Fuyu Mohe Puyŏ-sŏng 扶餘城 (Koguryŏ fortress), 246, 259, 309, 319, 328–29, 335–45; and Koguryŏ long wall, 337–38, 339, 341, 343–44; location of, 331, 336–46; and Sumo Mohe, 254–56, 336–38, 343– 44; Tang conquest of, 318, 337–38, 341–43; Puyŏsŏng 扶餘城 (Parhae fortress), 259–61, 260n97, 320, 323, 327, 327n49 Puyŏ spirit, in Koguryŏ state cult, 172, 249 P’yŏngwŏn 平原王 (Koguryŏ king [r. 559–90]), 253, 253n71 P’yŏngyang 平壤 (Koguryŏ capital), 15, 249, 324n43, 337 Qiao Xuan 橋玄 (Han commander [109–89]), 150 Qielu District 且慮縣 (Liaoxi Commandery), 53, 54n73

393

Qin Kai 秦開 (Yan general), 43, 45, 51, 57 Qinghua site 庆华 址 (Bin County), 184n8 Qingyuan 清原 walled sites. See hilltop forts, at Qingyuan Qin 秦 state/empire (ninth century bce–206 bce), 47–48, 51–52, 61, 220, 222; occupation of Liaodong, 47 Qiqi Zhongxiang 乞乞仲象, 257–58, 258nn90–91 Qisi Biyu 乞四比羽, 257, 258n90 Qi 齊 state (ca. 1045 bce–221 bce), 47 Qiujiatai 邱家台 site (Tieling County), 57, 57n87 Quan Liao bei kao 全遼備考 (Comprehensive reference for Liaodong), 312, 320 Quan Liao zhi 全遼志 (Complete gazetteer of Liaodong), 319, 319n26, 321, 321n34 radiocarbon dates, 80–81, 104, 119, 250n67, 251 ranks and titles, of Puyŏ, 12, 154, 157n50, 189, 189n18 regicide, practiced in Puyŏ, 157–58, 192 Rhee, Song Nai, 287–88 ritual practice, of Puyŏ, 12, 185, 191–93, 293 Rong 戎, 30–31, 40n39. See also Shanrong; Beirong Ruo River 弱水, 186, 309, 320; general meaning of term, 186n14 Sabi 泗批 (Paekche capital), 274 sables (and pelts), 187–88, 190, 291n37 saddle frames, 133–34, 134n65 Samguk sagi 三國史記 (History of the Three Kingdoms), 6, 8–9, 9n9, 270, 272, 297; sources for, 167–68, 173n93 Samguk yusa 三國 事 (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms), 8, 15n12, 25, 171, 182n4 Samhan 三韓 (Three Han) polities, 4, 19n32, 20 Sandaohao 三道壕 site (Liaoyang County), 57n85, 106, 106n13 Sandaoling 三道岭 site (Jilin City), 203, 208 Sangbu 相夫 (Koguryŏ king, Pongsang 烽上王 [r. 292–300]), 277n158 Sanguozhi 三國志 (Record of the Three Kingdoms), 25, 42, 140, 154–62 passim, 178, 185, 309–10, 320 Sanwan Guard 三萬衛 (of Ming), 310, 313, 319, 321 Saodagou 骚达沟 site (Jilin City), 71–76, 72, 73, 77, 78, 92, 95–96, 290; hilltop tomb at, 73, 75n27, 76–78, 94, 96, 290 Sayu 斯由 (Koguryŏ king, Kogugwŏn 國原王 [r. 331–71]), 163–64, 164n76

394

index

seals, Chinese, 52n70, 143; related to Puyŏ, 147, 159, 159n58, 188, 188n17, 194, 262, 262n103 secondary state formation, 286–89; and Puyŏ, 294–306 passim Sejungni-Lianhuapu culture 細竹里–蓮花堡 文化, 68n14 Service, Elman, 284–86 Shabayingzi 沙巴营子 walled site (Naiman Banner), 106, 106n13 Shangdang 上黨, 233, 233n8 Shanggu Commandery 上谷郡, 44, 49, 145 Shanghewan 上河湾 walled sites. See hilltop forts (at Shanghewan) Shang 商 kingdom (ca. 1600 bce–1045 bce), 15, 28–29, 34, 37–38, 63, 183n6, 302; Zhou conquest of, 28n2, 34–35, 37, 39 Shangshu dazhuan 尚書大傳 (Great commentary of the Book of Documents), 39 Shanhaiguan 山海关, 31, 40–41, 64, 161n66, 232n2, 235, 272 Shanrong 山戎 (Mountain Rong), 30–31, 32n13, 34, 38–39, 54 Shengjing tongzhi 盛京通志 (Comprehensive gazetteer of Shengjing), 198n39, 310, 312–13, 319 Shi Hu 石虎 (Later Zhao leader [295–349]), 163n75 Shiertaiyingzi 十二台营子 site (Chaoyang County), 65–67, 79–80, 94, 95n64 Shiji 史記 (Records of the historian), 29, 29n4, 34n19, 39, 43, 46–47, 141–42 Shijing 詩經 (Book of odes), 32, 183 Shilashan 石砬山 site (Jiutai County), 124, 124n39 Shilazi 石砬子 type, 83, 85–86, 125, 127 Shiratori Kurakichi 白鳥庫吉 (1865–1942), 16, 247–48, 247n55, 274, 328 Shiwei 室韋, 239, 256, 256n87 Shiyangling 石羊岭 walled site (Shanghewan Township), 215, 216–17, 217n72 Shiyi 石驿 cemetery (Dongliao County), 130, 130n55, 135, 226 Shoku Nihongi 續日本紀 (Continued records of Japan), 259 Shomu 神龜天皇 (Japanese ruler [r. 724–49]), 259 Shuangchengzi 双城子 walled site (Dehui County), 350–51 Shuanglazi 双砬子 walled site (Qingyuan County), 220 Shujing 書經 (Book of documents), 35 Shunshantun 顺山屯 culture, 66–67, 92 silk, 122, 122n33, 187, pl. 17

Silla kingdom, 8, 188n17, 192n26, 271, 324n43; alliance with Tang, 243–44; historiographical tradition stemming from, 3, 15–19, 304n59, 306; inclusive historiography under, 14–19, 14n9, 303–4; mythology of, 296, 302–3; warfare with Koguryŏ, 249, 251 silver ornaments, 105, 112, 121–22, 190, pl. 11 Sima Qian 司馬遷 (ca. 145–86 bce), 29, 29n4, 39, 46 Sima Yi 司馬懿 (179–251), 154, 160 Simiancheng 四面城 walled site (Changtu County), 317, 318, 328–29, 331, 334 Sin Ch’ae-ho 申采浩 (1880–1936), 19–21 Sindan minsa 神壇民史, 21 Sin-sŏng 新城, 163–64, 163n74, 164n77, 245n46, 246n53, 337, 340–43 Siping 四平 (Jilin Province), 50, 85, 262, 327, 331– 35, 331n63 Sira Mören 西拉沐沦 (Ch. Xilamulun) River, 29, 30, 41, 44, 50, 257n89, 322 slender bronze dagger 細形銅劍, 68n14 Smith, Anthony D., 283, 298, 300 social complexity, 96, 98–99, 135–36, 144, 283–95 passim; and state formation, 22–23, 135, 279, 285–87 Social Darwinism, 19 social evolution theory, 284–86 social stratification, 12, 23, 67, 76–87 passim, 94, 96, 99, 136, 227, 229, 285–99 passim Sŏkch’on-dong 石村洞 cemetery (Seoul), 265n114, 276, 276n156 Songhua River 松花江, 2, 11, 11n6, 70, 80, 186–87, 203, 240 Songjiang Township 松江乡, Jiaohe, 210, 211–13 Songjiangshan 松江山 walled site (Jiutai County), 218 Songmo Area Command 松漠都督府, 257, 257n89 Songshi 宋史 (History of Song), 262–63 Songshu 宋書 (History of Song), 270, 270n132, 272–73 Sŏn-ju 仙州 (of Puyŏ-bu), 258 Soushenji 搜神記 (Records of searches for spirits), 182 Southern Capital 南京 (of Liao), 261n98 Southern Capital 南京 (of Parhae), 316, 324–25, 324n43, 325nn45–46 Southern Qi 南齊 state (479–502), 270n132, 271 South Manchuria Railway Company, 328 soybeans, 98, 98n69, 194 spindle whorls, 74, 77, 79–80, 87, 93, 98, 107, 122, 201n43

index

state, definition of, 22–23, 285. See also secondary state formation; state formation theory statecraft, language of, 166, 247–48, 297, 301–5 state formation theory, 284–86 stirrups: from Lamadong, 133; from Maoershan, 122 stone-cist burials, 67, 67n13, 87, 124; of Liangquan culture, 130; of Wanghua culture, 86–88; of Xituanshan culture, 71, 75, 76, 92, 94, 136. See also capstone burials stone-piled tombs, 177n109, 206n54, 276, 276n156 style, in archaeology, 282 Su Qin 蘇秦 (380–284 bce), 39, 42 subsistence, 80–81, 84, 98–99, 135, 209 Suifen River 绥芬河, 315 Suishu 隋書 (History of Sui), 250, 252n71, 267–69, 268n125 Sumicheng 苏密城 walled site (Huadian County), 347–49, 349, 351, 351n8, 355 Sumo Mohe 粟末靺鞨, 251, 251n70, 253–59, 278, 336, 338, 341, 343–44, 354; archaeological remains of, 343. See also Mohe people Sun Aocao 孫敖曹 (Khitan leader), 255–57 Sun Wanrong 孫萬榮 (Khitan leader), 257, 257n89 Suoligou 索离沟 site (Bin County), 184n8 Supreme Capital 上京 (of Liao), 323, 324n41 Supreme Capital 上京 (of Parhae), 323n37, 323n39, 330n58, 334, 347, 348n1, 349–50 Supuyan 蘇僕延 (Wuhuan leader), 154n44 Sushen 肅慎, 31, 35–37, 69, 70, 141n1; nationality, 20; as reference to Yilou, 36n27, 37, 160, 160n61, 186n14, 249 Susŏng 遂成 (Koguryŏ king [trad. r. 146–65]), 149, 149n21 Suzi River 苏子河, 87, 164, 220; beacon towers on, 142, 146–48, 146–47n15, 186, 222; as the Namso River, 164n77; and route to Kungnae, 337, 340–44 swords, 105, 111–14, 113, 130, 130n56, 132, 188, 276n155, 293, pl. 18 Tae Choyŏng 大祚榮 (Parhae king [?–719]), 257– 58, 258nn90–91 Taedong River 大同江, 266, 266n118, 324n43 Taejong-gyo 大倧敎 religion, 21, 21n39, 304 Taemu 大武神王 (Koguryŏ king [trad. r. 18– 44 ce]), 172. See also Churyu, Muhyul Taeryŏng River 大寧江, 56–57, 56n79, 56n81 Taeso 帶素 (legendary Puyŏ king), 21, 170, 172–76 Taesŏng-dong 大成洞 cemetery (Kimhae City), 276n155 Taijitun 台集屯 site (Huludao City), 52, 53, 66

395

Taiping huanyu ji 太平寰宇記 (Gazetteer of the world during the Taiping period), 254, 270, 336 Taizi River 太子河 (Liaoning Province), 47n56, 84, 173n95 Taizong 太宗 (Liao emperor). See Yaogu Taizong 太宗 (Tang emperor [r. 626–49]), 337 Taizu 太祖 (Liao emperor). See Abaoji T’angni 橐離 polity, 26, 89n56, 182–84, 184n8, 296 Tan’gun 檀君 (mythical progenitor), 15–21 passim, 15n12, 184, 304, 304n59 Tanshihuai 檀石槐 (136–81), 149–51, 150n26, 150n31, 219n78 textiles, 79, 98, 98n70, 122, 187 Three Kingdoms: historical concept, 14–15, 14n9; period of Korean history, 23, 244 Tianjiatuozi 田家坨子 type, 124 Tieli 鐵驪 polity, 263, 352n11 tile ends: of Han, 207; of Parhae, 348, 351n10; of Yan, 56 Tongdian 通典 (Encyclopaedic history of institutions), 270–71, 273 Tongmyŏng 東明 (Puyŏ progenitor), 26, 182–83, 265n117, 267, 296; as founder of Paekche, 265– 67, 268n125 “Tongmyŏng Wang p’yŏn” 東明王篇 (Essay on King Tongmyŏng), 168–69, 172, 172n93 Tongren 同仁 site (Suibin County), 250n67 Tongsa kangmok 東史綱目 (Annotated account of Korean history), 268n125, 313 Tongzhou 通州 (Liao prefecture), 262, 262n106, 318–22 passim, 326–33, 335; association with Puyŏ-bu, 329–30; location of, 318, 327, 331, 331n63; as site of Puyŏ capital, 312, 316, 327 trade, 63–64, 69, 80, 136–37, 187–88; with Han, 123, 137–39, 197, 207, 292; in state formation, 230, 285–89, 292, 294–95; with Wuhuan, 139; with Xianbei, 114, 138–39, 293; with Yan, 137, 224–25, 291, 291n37, 295 tribalization, 287 tripodal vessels, 66–67, 84–85, 87–88, 91, 92n58, 104, 127–28, 217 Tuchengzi 土城子 site (Jilin City), 72, 76, 92, 102, 104, 208–9, 208n60 Tuchengzi 土城子 walled site (Jilin City), 208–9, 208n60 Tudiji 突地稽 (Sumo Mohe chief ), 253–58, 336– 37, 343 Tuhe 屠何, 31, 31n9, 53n72; town of 徒河, 40n40, 53, 53n72 Tumen River 图们江: and Ch’aeksŏng, 242–43; and Eastern Puyŏ, 232, 240, 242, 346n17; and Northern Okchŏ, 156, 162, 169

396

index

Tuoba 拓跋 Xianbei, 237–38, 247 Tuoli 橐離 polity. See T’angni polity Ŭira 依羅 (Puyŏ king), 162 Ŭiro 依慮 (Puyŏ king), 157–58, 158n52, 161–62 Ŭlbul 乙弗 (Koguryŏ king, Mich’ŏn 美川王 [r. 300–331]), 163–64, 164n76, 246, 277n158 Ungjin 熊津 (Paekche capital), 274 Unyang-dong 雲陽洞 cemetery (Kimp’o City), 276n155 Upper Xiajiadian 夏家店上层 culture, 29, 35n21, 54, 54n74, 64, 66–67, 94n60, 95, 293n40 Upper Xinle 新乐 culture, 66–67, 83, 86, 88, 92, 92n58 Ut’ae 優台 (Paekche progenitor), 265–66, 268– 69, 268n126 Viscount of Ji. See Jizi walled sites, of Puyŏ, 195–226 Wang Chong 王充 (27–ca. 100 ce), 26, 182 Wang Mang 王莽 (r. 9–23 ce), 173–74, 173nn94– 95, 191n25; relations with Puyŏ, 142–45 Wang Mianhou 王綿厚, 53n72, 57n85, 338–40, 339n6 Wang Qi 王頎 (Xuantu governor), 156–58, 157n50, 185, 193 Wangbabozi 王八脖子 site (Liuhe County), 176n106 Wanghua 望花 culture, 66–67, 82–88, 83, 99n71, 125–28, 224, 224n85, 226, 226n88, 295; pottery of, 84 Wangjianglou 望江楼 cemetery (Huanren County), 177n109 Wangjiatuozi 王家坨子 site (Dehui County), 124 Wangping District 望平縣 (Liaodong Commandery), 57n87, 145, 145n12, 159n56 Wanyan Loushi 完顏婁室 (1077–1130), 312, 312n5, 319–20 Wanyan Jurchens, 297, 297n46 warfare, 137, 193; between Puyŏ and Koguryŏ, 172–77; mounted, 12, 67, 112, 135–36, 185, 187, 193–94; and ritual, 192, 293; in state formation, 285, 288–89, 295 Wei Man 衛滿, 10n4, 45n48, 48, 48n60 Wei 魏 empire (220–65), 12, 36, 155n45; conquest of Gongsun regime, 152, 154; description of Puyŏ, 26, 178, 185–95, 202, 229, 296; diplomacy with Puyŏ, 154–58; expeditions to the east, 26, 156, 160, 185, 234n11, 242n43, 246; relations with Puyŏ, 156–58; and Yilou, 36n27, 153n39, 159–60

Weifang 围坊 culture, 29n6 Weihu mountain range 威虎岭, 213, 355 Weilüe 魏略 (Brief history of Wei), 42–44, 57, 182, 185n12, 192n27 Weishu 魏書 (History of Wei), 170, 172n92, 177n107, 178, 238–50 passim Weiyingzi 魏营子 culture, 29, 35n21, 63–64, 63n2 Wen 燕文侯 (Marquis of Yan [r. 362–333 bce]), 39, 42 Wen 文帝 (Sui emperor [r. 581–604]), 253–55 Wigŏ 位居 (nephew of Puyŏ Ox ka), 154, 154n43, 156–58, 157n50, 185, 187n15, 189 Wigung 位宮 (Koguryŏ king [r. 227–48]), 156, 267n124 Wigut’ae 尉仇台 (Puyŏ crown prince), 147–49 Wigut’ae 尉仇台 (Puyŏ king), 152, 152n36, 154; and Paekche origins, 267–68, 167n124n, 269, 271, 274. See also Kut’ae Willow Palisade, 214, 215, 219, 310–19 passim, 344 Wiman 衛滿. See Wei Man wood-coffin burials, 94n60, 192–93; at Lamadong, 131–32; at Laoheshen, 108, 111, 132; at Maoershan, 117–23; of post–Xituanshan culture, 105, 136; of Xituanshan culture, 94 Wu 武王 (Zhou king), 28, 34–43 passim Wu Xuanming 烏玄明 (Dingan king), 262 Wu Zhaodu 烏昭度 (Wure leader), 263 Wuhuan 烏桓 / 烏丸, 49–51, 50, 130n54, 139, 141– 42, 145–46, 149, 154n44, 262n103 Wuji 勿吉, 239–41, 245, 249–52, 257 Wujiazi 五家子 walled site (Gongzhuling County), 351, 352, 352–53n11, 353, 355 Wujing zongyao 武經總要 (Essentials of the military classics), 259 Wujintang 乌金塘 site (Huludao City), 65–67, 80 Wulacheng 乌拉城 walled site (Wulajie Township), 351, 353–55, 354 Wulajie 乌拉 , 72, 80–81, 106, 251, 259, 261, 335, 343, 346; and Jurchen Ula kingdom, 80–81, 251n70; as site of Puyŏ-bu, 347–55 Wuling 武靈王 (king of Zhao [r. 325–299 bce]), 42n42, 43 Wunü Mountain 五女山 (Huanren County), 171 Wurecheng 兀惹城, 262–63, 262n106, 327, 352n11 Wusugu 烏素固 Shiwei, 256, 256n87 Wuzhong 無終, 31, 31n9 Xi 喜王 (king of Yan [r. 255–222 bce]), 47 Xiadu 下都. See Lower Capital of Yan Xiajiadian 夏家店 culture. See Lower Xiajiadian culture; Upper Xiajiadian culture

index

Xianbei 鮮卑, 12–13, 20, 50–51, 138–39, 145–57 passim, 219, 309; alliance with Koguryŏ, 148– 55, 167; confederation under Kebineng, 153; confederation under Tanshihuai, 149–51; relations with Puyŏ, 101–2, 114, 138–39, 150–51. See also Duan Xianbei; Murong Xianbei; Tuoba Xianbei; Yuwen Xianbei Xiangping 襄平, 44, 47n56, 57, 57n84, 57n85, 159 Xiangping 纕坪 spade coins, 57–58, 57n84, 59 Xi’anping District 西安平縣 (Liaodong Commandery), 156, 156n48 Xiaochengzi 小城子 walled site (Shulan County), 218, 218n77, pls. 36–37 Xiaohuangdi 小荒地 site, 52, 54n73 Xiaoling River 小凌河, 35n21, 63 Xiaoxishan 小西山 site (Panshi County), 82, 92, 94 Xiejiajie 谢家 type, 83, 85–86, 125, 127 Xifeng 西丰, as site of Koguryŏ Puyŏ-sŏng, 338–43 Xigaima District 西蓋馬縣 (Xuantu Commandery), 159n56, 173, 173n95 Xihuangshantun 西荒山屯 site (Huadian County), 82, 125 Xingjiadian 邢家店 site (Nongan County), 124, 124n39 Xingxingshao 星星哨 site (Yongji County), 78– 80, 79, 89–99 passim, 90, 92, 212 Xinjie 新街 walled site (Jiaohe County), 209–11, 210 Xinlun 新論 (New discussions), 182 Xintaizi 新台子 (Tieling County), 57–58, 159n56 Xin Tangshu 新唐書 (New history of Tang), 238n28, 239, 257–58, 258nn90–91, 329n55, 337, 347n1, 355 Xiongnu 匈奴, 41, 48, 51, 62, 106, 114, 130n54, 141– 46, 149; burials, 94; confederation, 137, 145; and Puyŏ, 142, 191; warfare with Han, 137 Xishan 西山 site (Jilin City), 117, 118, 122, 203 Xituanshan 西团山 culture, 61, 184–85, 201, 280, 290; bronzes of, 94–96; burials of, 92–94; description of, 69–82; developmental phases of, 94–98; distribution of, 69, 70; dwellings, 71, 77–78, 81, 84, 96–98, 97; ethnic attribution of, 69–70, 283; excavations, 70–80; pottery of, 89, 90, 91; related sites peripheral to, 82; tomb typology, 92–93 Xituanshan 西团山 site (Jilin City), 71, 72, 73, 92 Xuantu Commandery 玄菟郡, 46, 50, 61, 137, 142– 64 passim, 173–77, 179, 192, 288, 316, 320; districts of, 159n56, 173; establishment and reor-

397

ganization of, 49, 142, 144; frontier towers of, 146–47, 146–47n15; function of, 146–47, 155, 158–59; and Koguryŏ, 142–44, 147–49, 173n95, 235–36, 246, 272; Koguryŏ conquest of, 163n72; location of, 171–72, 292, 309, 309n1, 313n9, 316n22; and Puyŏ, 149–51, 185–86, 197, 274n149; and Puyŏ fortifications, 220, 222, 226; weakening of, 173–75, 177 Xue Rengui 薛仁 (Tang commander [614–83]), 337–38, 341–42, 344 Xuegu Dongshan 学古东山 site (Wulajie Township), 72, 81, 102, 104–5, 104n5, 106–7, 117 Yan Po 燕頗, rebellion of, 262–63, 262n106, 326– 29, 332 Yan-Bo 燕亳, 35, 35n21 Yangmaek 梁貊, 173n95, 174, 174n96 Yangtun Dahaimeng 杨屯大海猛 site. See Dahaimeng site Yanshan 燕山 mountain range, 29, 30, 40, 41, 63, 236n20 Yan 燕 state (ca. 1045 bce–222 bce), 28–61, 30, 41; archaeology of, 51–61; burials, 40, 40n38; capital location, 29n3; long wall, 43–44, 44, 51, 54, 56, 58, 58n89; relations with Chosŏn, 42; territorial expansion of, 41–51 Yantielun 鹽鐵論 (Salt and iron debates), 45 Yaogu 堯骨 (Khitan ruler), 261, 261n98, 323 Ye 鄴 (Anyang), 232–35, 232n4, 233n8 Yelu Helibi 耶律曷里必 (Liao commander), 262, 262n106, 327 Ye-sŏng 濊城 (Puyŏ capital), 190, 194, 202 Yeweng Pass 蠮螉塞, 235, 236n20 Yi Chong-hwi 李種徽 (1731–98), 19n33 Yi Kyu-bo 李奎報 (1168–1241), 168–69, 172–73, 172n93 Yi Pyŏng-do 李丙燾 (1896–1989), 11n5, 16, 242n38, 266, 268n125, 268n127, 269 Yilou 挹婁, 20, 36–37, 36n24, 37n27, 156–66 passim, 185–86, 194, 213, 227, 230, 244, 249, 251, 273, 293; as subject to Puyŏ, 36, 139, 153, 213; rebellion, 153–55, 153n39, 158, 162. See also Sushen, as reference to Yilou Yimiancheng 一面城 walled site (Siping City), 331–32, 331n63 Yingyang Commandery 滎陽郡, 234, 234n11 Yingzhou Route 營州道 (of Parhae), 259n93, 348– 50, 355 Yinma River 饮马河, 78, 218n75, 229n91, 312n5, 321n33 Yitong River 一统河, 176, 176n106, 312n5, 321, 321n33, 352n11

398

index

Yiwulu Mountains 醫巫閭山, 52, 54, 61, 64, 65, 66–68, 142 Yi Zhoushu 逸周書 (Remaining Zhou documents), 33, 41n41, 141n1 Yŏ Am 餘巖, 235–38 Yŏ Ch’i 餘熾, 238n27 Yŏ Ch’o 餘超, 238n27 Yŏ Hwa 餘和, 238n27 Yŏ Sung 餘崇, 236–37, 238n27 Yŏ Sung 餘嵩, 237n23 Yŏ Ul 餘蔚, 233–34; as former king of Puyŏ, 234n10, 236–37, 238n27, 276 Yŏ Ul 餘鬱, 238n27 Yŏmmo 冉牟 (Koguryŏ governor of Puyŏ), 244–45 Yŏn Kaesomun 淵蓋蘇文 (603–66), 337, 342n12, 344 Yŏn Namgŏn 淵男建, 337, 342 Yŏn Namsaeng 淵男生 (634–79), 337, 342 yŏnggo 迎鼓 ceremony, 191, 191n23, 191n25 Yongling 永陵 (Liaoning Province): burials at, 83, 87; site of Xuantu Commandery, 49, 142–47 passim Yŏngyang 嬰陽王 (Koguryŏ king [r. 590–618]), 253n75, 254 Yŏnu 延優 (Koguryŏ king, Sansang 山上王 [r. 197–227]), 191n22 Youbeiping Commandery 右北平郡, 44, 51–52, 52n68, 145, 263n109 Yu Huan 魚豢, 42, 185n12 Yuan empire (1271–1368), 263n109, 307, 310, 314– 16, 334 Yugi 留記 (Remnant records), 14n8, 247, 247n54

Yuhwa 柳花 (mother of Chumong), 170 Yuri 類利 (Koguryŏ king [trad. r. 19 bce–18 ce]), 170, 173–74, 174n99 Yuryu 儒留 (Koguryŏ king), 170, 265. See also Yuri Yuwen 宇文 Xianbei, 161, 163n75, 165, 273 Yuyang Commandery 漁陽郡, 44, 145 Zhai Rong 祭肜 (Liaodong governor [?–73 ce]), 145–46 Zhangguangcai mountain range 张广才岭, 213, 355 Zhangjiagou 张家沟 walled site (Qingyuan), 220 Zhangjiayuan 张家园 culture, 29n6, 63 Zhanguoce 戰國策 (Records of the Warring States), 39, 42 Zhao 昭王 (king of Yan [r. 312–278 bce]), 43 Zhao Wenhui 趙文翽 (Yingzhou governor), 257 Zhao 趙 state (453–222 bce), 42–43, 47, 48n60, 49, 176n106 Zhenfan Commandery 真番郡, 46n55, 49, 142 Zhengjiawazi 郑家洼子 cemetery (Shenyang), 65, 67, 94n60 Zhen 振 state. See Chin state Zhongshan 中山 state, 43 Zhoushu 周書 (History of Zhou), 170n86, 172, 267–69, 269n130 Zhou 周 state (1045 bce–256 bce), 15, 28–43, 47 Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 (Comprehensive mirror for aid in government), 140, 165, 233, 236–37, 273, 329, 341–42 Zuozhuan 左傳 (Zuo’s tradition), 32n13, 35 Zuzhou 祖州 (Liao prefecture), 261–62, 261n101

H a r va r d E a s t A s i a n M o n o g r a p h s (most recent titles)

287. Michael G. Chang, A Court on Horseback: Imperial Touring & the Construction of Qing Rule, 1680–1785 288. Carol Richmond Tsang, War and Faith: Ikkō Ikki in Late Muromachi Japan 289. Hilde De Weerdt, Competition over Content: Negotiating Standards for the Civil Service Examinations in Imperial China (1127 –1279) 290. Eve Zimmerman, Out of the Alleyway: Nakagami Kenji and the Poetics of Outcaste Fiction 291. Robert Culp, Articulating Citizenship: Civic Education and Student Politics in Southeastern China, 1912–1940 292. Richard J. Smethurst, From Foot Soldier to Finance Minister: Takahashi Korekiyo, Japan’s Keynes 293. John E. Herman, Amid the Clouds and Mist: China’s Colonization of Guizhou, 1200–1700 294. Tomoko Shiroyama, China during the Great Depression: Market, State, and the World Economy, 1929–1937 295. Kirk W. Larsen, Tradition, Treaties and Trade: Qing Imperialism and Chosŏn Korea, 1850–1910 296. Gregory Golley, When Our Eyes No Longer See: Realism, Science, and Ecology in Japanese Literary Modernism 297. Barbara Ambros, Emplacing a Pilgrimage: The Ōyama Cult and Regional Religion in Early Modern Japan 298. Rebecca Suter, The Japanization of Modernity: Murakami Haruki between Japan and the United States 299. Yuma Totani, The Tokyo War Crimes Trial: The Pursuit of Justice in the Wake of World War II 301. David M. Robinson, ed., Culture, Courtiers, and Competition: The Ming Court (1368– 1644) 302. Calvin Chen, Some Assembly Required: Work, Community, and Politics in China’s Rural ō Enterprises 303. Sem Vermeersch, The Power of the Buddhas: The Politics of Buddhism During the Koryŏ Dynasty (918–1392) 304. Tina Lu, Accidental Incest, Filial Cannibalism, and Other Peculiar Encounters in Late Imperial Chinese Literature 305. Chang Woei Ong, Men of Letters Within the Passes: Guanzhong Literati in Chinese History, 907–1911 306. Wendy Swartz, Reading Tao Yuanming: Shifting Paradigms of Historical Reception (427– 1900)

307. Peter K. Bol, Neo-Confucianism in History 308. Carlos Rojas, The Naked Gaze: Reflections on Chinese Modernity 309. Kelly H. Chong, Deliverance and Submission: Evangelical Women and the Negotiation of Patriarchy in South Korea 310. Rachel DiNitto, Uchida Hyakken: A Critique of Modernity and Militarism in Prewar Japan 311. Jeffrey Snyder-Reinke, Dry Spells: State Rainmaking and Local Governance in Late Imperial China 312. Jay Dautcher, Down a Narrow Road: Identity and Masculinity in a Uyghur Community in Xinjiang China 313. Xun Liu, Daoist Modern: Innovation, Lay Practice, and the Community of Inner Alchemy in Republican Shanghai 314. Jacob Eyferth, Eating Rice from Bamboo Roots: The Social History of a Community of Handicraft Papermakers in Rural Sichuan, 1920–2000 315. David Johnson, Spectacle and Sacrifice: The Ritual Foundations of Village Life in North China 316. James Robson, Power of Place: The Religious Landscape of the Southern Sacred Peak (Nanyue 南嶽) in Medieval China 317. Lori Watt, When Empire Comes Home: Repatriation and Reintegration in Postwar Japan 318. James Dorsey, Critical Aesthetics: Kobayashi Hideo, Modernity, and Wartime Japan 319. Christopher Bolton, Sublime Voices: The Fictional Science and Scientific Fiction of Abe Kōbō 320. Si-yen Fei, Negotiating Urban Space: Urbanization and Late Ming Nanjing 321. Christopher Gerteis, Gender Struggles: Wage-Earning Women and Male-Dominated Unions in Postwar Japan 322. Rebecca Nedostup, Superstitious Regimes: Religion and the Politics of Chinese Modernity 323. Lucien Bianco, Wretched Rebels: Rural Disturbances on the Eve of the Chinese Revolution 324. Cathryn H. Clayton, Sovereignty at the Edge: Macau and the Question of Chineseness 325. Micah S. Muscolino, Fishing Wars and Environmental Change in Late Imperial and Modern China 326. Robert I. Hellyer, Defining Engagement: Japan and Global Contexts, 1750–1868 327. Robert Ashmore, The Transport of Reading: Text and Understanding in the World of Tao Qian (365–427) 328. Mark A. Jones, Children as Treasures: Childhood and the Middle Class in Early Twentieth Century Japan 329. Miryam Sas, Experimental Arts in Postwar Japan: Moments of Encounter, Engagement, and Imagined Return 330. H. Mack Horton, Traversing the Frontier: The Man’yōshū Account of a Japanese Mission to Silla in 736–737 331. Dennis J. Frost, Seeing Stars: Sports Celebrity, Identity, and Body Culture in Modern Japan 332. Marnie S. Anderson, A Place in Public: Women’s Rights in Meiji Japan 333. Peter Mauch, Sailor Diplomat: Nomura Kichisaburō and the Japanese-American War 334. Ethan Isaac Segal, Coins, Trade, and the State: Economic Growth in Early Medieval Japan 335. David B. Lurie, Realms of Literacy: Early Japan and the History of Writing 336. Lillian Lan-ying Tseng, Picturing Heaven in Early China 337. Jun Uchida, Brokers of Empire: Japanese Settler Colonialism in Korea, 1876–1945 338. Patricia L. Maclachlan, The People’s Post Office: The History and Politics of the Japanese Postal System, 1871–2010

339. Michael Schiltz, The Money Doctors from Japan: Finance, Imperialism, and the Building of the Yen Bloc, 1895–1937 340. Daqing Yang, Jie Liu, Hiroshi Mitani, and Andrew Gordon, eds., Toward a History beyond Borders: Contentious Issues in Sino-Japanese Relations 341. Sonia Ryang, Reading North Korea: An Ethnological Inquiry 342. Shih-shan Susan Huang, Picturing the True Form: Daoist Visual Culture in Traditional China 343. Barbara Mittler, A Continuous Revolution: Making Sense of Cultural Revolution Culture 344. Hwansoo Ilmee Kim, Empire of the Dharma: Korean and Japanese Buddhism, 1877–1912 345. Satoru Saito, Detective Fiction and the Rise of the Japanese Novel, 1880–1930 346. Jung-Sun N. Han, An Imperial Path to Modernity: Yoshino Sakuzō and a New Liberal Order in East Asia, 1905–1937 347. Atsuko Hirai, Government by Mourning: Death and Political Integration in Japan, 1603– 1912 348. Darryl E. Flaherty, Public Law, Private Practice: Politics, Profit, and the Legal Profession in Nineteenth-Century Japan 349. Jeffrey Paul Bayliss, On the Margins of Empire: Buraku and Korean Identity in Prewar and Wartime Japan 350. Barry Eichengreen, Dwight H. Perkins, and Kwanho Shin, From Miracle to Maturity: The Growth of the Korean Economy 351. Michel Mohr, Buddhism, Unitarianism, and the Meiji Competition for Universality 352. J. Keith Vincent, Two-Timing Modernity: Homosocial Narrative in Modern Japanese Fiction 354. Chong-Bum An and Barry Bosworth, Income Inequality in Korea: An Analysis of Trends, Causes, and Answers 355. Jamie L. Newhard, Knowing the Amorous Man: A History of Scholarship on Tales of Ise 356. Sho Konishi, Anarchist Modernity: Cooperatism and Japanese-Russian Intellectual Relations in Modern Japan 357. Christopher P. Hanscom, The Real Modern: Literary Modernism and the Crisis of Representation in Colonial Korea 358. Michael Wert, Meiji Restoration Losers: Memory and Tokugawa Supporters in Modern Japan 359. Garret P. S. Olberding, ed., Facing the Monarch: Modes of Advice in the Early Chinese Court 360. Xiaojue Wang, Modernity with a Cold War Face: Reimagining the Nation in Chinese Literature Across the 1949 Divide 361. David Spafford, A Sense of Place: The Political Landscape in Late Medieval Japan 362. Jongryn Mo and Barry Weingast, Korean Political and Economic Development: Crisis, Security, and Economic Rebalancing 363. Melek Ortabasi, The Undiscovered Country: Text, Translation, and Modernity in the Work of Yanagita Kunio 364. Hiraku Shimoda, Lost and Found: Recovering Regional Identity in Imperial Japan 365. Trent E. Maxey, The “Greatest Problem”: Religion and State Formation in Meiji Japan 366. Gina Cogan, The Princess Nun: Bunchi, Buddhist Reform, and Gender in Early Edo Japan 367. Eric C. Han, Rise of a Japanese Chinatown: Yokohama, 1894–1972 368. Natasha Heller, Illusory Abiding: The Cultural Construction of the Chan Monk Zhongfeng Mingben

369. Paize Keulemans, Sound Rising from the Paper: Nineteenth-Century Martial Arts Fiction and the Chinese Acoustic Imagination 370. Simon James Bytheway, Investing Japan: Foreign Capital, Monetary Standards, and Economic Development, 1859–2011 371. Sukhee Lee, Negotiated Power: The State, Elites, and Local Governance in TwelfthFourteenth China 372. Foong Ping, The Efficacious Landscape: On the Authorities of Painting at the Northern Song Court 373. Catherine L. Phipps, Empires on the Waterfront: Japan’s Ports and Power, 1858–1899 374. Sunyoung Park, The Proletarian Wave: Literature and Leftist Culture in Colonial Korea, 1910–1945 375. Barry Eichengreen, Wonhyuk Lim, Yung Chul Park, and Dwight H. Perkins, The Korean Economy: From a Miraculous Past to a Sustainable Future 376. Heather Blair, Real and Imagined: The Peak of Gold in Heian Japan 377. Emer O’Dwyer, Significant Soil: Settler Colonialism and Japan’s Urban Empire in Manchuria 378. Martina Deuchler, Under the Ancestors’ Eyes: Kinship, Status, and Locality in Premodern Korea 379. Joseph R. Dennis, Writing, Publishing, and Reading Local Gazetteers in Imperial China, 1100–1700 380. Catherine Vance Yeh, The Chinese Political Novel: Migration of a World Genre 381. Noell Wilson, Defensive Positions: The Politics of Maritime Security in Tokugawa Japan 382. Miri Nakamura, Monstrous Bodies: The Rise of the Uncanny in Modern Japan 383. Nara Dillon, Radical Inequalities: China’s Revolutionary Welfare State in Comparative Perspective 384. Ma Zhao, Runaway Wives, Urban Crimes, and Survival Tactics in Wartime Beijing, 19371949 385. Mingwei Song, Young China: National Rejuvenation and the Bildungsroman, 1900-1959 386. Christopher Bondy, Voice, Silence, and Self: Negotiations of Buraku Identity in Contemporary Japan 387. Seth Jacobowitz, Writing Technology in Meiji Japan: A Media History of Modern Japanese Literature and Visual Culture 388. Hilde De Weerdt, Information, Territory, and Networks: The Crisis and Mainte of Empire in Song China 389. Elizabeth Kindall, Geo-Narratives of a Filial Son: The Paintings and Travel Diaries of Huang Xiangjian (1609–1673) 390. Matthew Fraleigh, Plucking Chrysanthemums: Narushima Ryūhoku and Sinitic Literary Traditions in Modern Japan 391. Hu Ying, Burying Autumn: Poetry, Friendship, and Loss 392. Mark E. Byington, The Ancient State of Puyŏ in Northeast Asia: Archaeology and Historical Memory 393. Timothy J. Van Compernolle, Struggling Upward: Worldly Success and the Japanese Novel 394. Heekyoung Cho, Translation’s Forgotten History: Russian Literature, Japanese Mediation, and the Formation of Modern Korean Literature 395. Terry Kawashima, Itineraries of Power: Texts and Traversals in Heian and Medieval Japan 396. Anna Andreeva, Assembling Shinto: Buddhist Approaches to Kami Worship in Medieval Japan