1 Xueqin, Li 李學勤, ed., Shangshu zhengyi 尚書正義, traditional character edition (Beijing: Beijing daxue, 2000), 392–403Google Scholar. The commentaries that I consult regularly are Karlgren, Bernhard, Glosses on the Book of Documents (Stockholm: Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities, 1970)Google Scholar; Yunru, Yang 楊筠如, Shangshu hegu 尚書覈詁 (Xi’an: Shanxi renmin, 2005), 224–36Google Scholar; and Yuanmin, Cheng 程元敏, Shangshu Zhoushu Mushi Hongfan Jinteng Lüxing pian yizheng 尚書周書牧誓洪範金縢呂刑篇義證 (Taipei: Wanjuanlou, 2011), 129–285Google Scholar. Important previous translations include Karlgren, Bernhard, The Book of Documents (Göteberg: Elanders, 1950), 35–6Google Scholar; and Nivison, David S., “Metal-bound Coffer,” in Sources of Chinese Tradition, Vol. 1: From Earliest times to 1600, 2nd ed., ed. de Bary, Wm. Theodore and Bloom, Irene (New York: Columbia University Press, 1999), 32–5Google Scholar. The latter can be read together with Nivison’s “A New Interpretation of the Jin Tvng,” Warring States Papers: Studies in Chinese and Comparative Philology 1 (2010), 84–92Google Scholar.

2 Kametarō, Takigawa 瀧川亀太郎 and Toshitada, Mizusawa 水澤利忠, Shiji huizhu kaozheng fu jiaobu 史記會注考證附校補 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 1986)Google Scholar, 33.1–18. See also the translation in Nienhauser, William H. Jr, ed., The Grand Scribe’s Records (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006), vol. 5.1, 131–40Google Scholar.

3 Xueqin, Li, ed., Qinghua daxue cang Zhanguo zhujian 清華大學藏戰國竹簡 (Shanghai: Zhong Xi, 2010)Google Scholar, vol. 1. Although the authenticity of this corpus is sometimes questioned, such doubt is not shared by the overwhelming majority of scholars who work on paleographical sources, and it can be put to rest by a simple observation: the back of the bamboo slips contain markings made by a sharp object, intended to facilitate the ordering of the slips. Such physical feature can be found in other provenanced Warring States manuscripts, but it was not known until pointed out by Sun Peiyang 孫沛陽 in “Jian’ce bei huaxian chutan” 簡冊背劃線初探, Chutu wenxian yu guwenzi yanjiu 出土文獻與古文字研究 4 (2011): 449–62. It would not have been possible for a forger to anticipate Sun’s finding and incise the markings before they were known to the scholarly world. For studies on the manuscript that also compare it with the other two versions, see the work by Cheng Yuanmin cited above in n.1; Chen Jian 陳劍, “Qinghua jian ‘Jin teng’ yandu santi” 清華簡《金縢》研讀三題, in idem, Zhanguo zhushu lunji 戰國竹書論集 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 2013), 404–33; and Feng Shengjun 馮勝君, “Qinghua jian ‘Jin teng’ ji Shi ‘Binfeng’ ‘Chixiao’ suo jian Zhouchu shishi zaiyi” 清華簡《金縢》及《詩．豳風．鴟鴞》所見周初史事再議, paper presented at the Zhongguo jianboxue guoji luntan 中國簡帛學國際論壇 at Wuhan University, October 10–11, 2017. The last item is especially noteworthy because it shares my own interest in the “Chixiao” 鴟鴞, and I am grateful to its author for providing me with a copy. Two studies in English are Dirk Meyer, “The Art of Narrative and the Rhetoric of Persuasion in the ‘*Jīn Téng’ (Metal Bound Casket) from the Tsinghua Collection of Manuscripts,” Asiatische Studien/ Études asiatiques 68.4 (2014), 937–68; and Magnus Ribbing Gren, “The Qinghua ‘Jinteng’ Manuscript: What it Does Not Tell Us about the Duke of Zhou,” T’oung Pao 102.4–5 (2016): 291–320. Both articles are reprinted in Martin Kern and Dirk Meyer, eds., Origins of Chinese Political Philosophy: Studies in the Composition and Thought of the Shangshu (Classic of Documents) (Leiden: Brill, 2017), though I have not been able to consult this collected volume.

4 In discussing these different parties, I prefer to put their dates aside for a moment and suspend any judgment regarding their relations with one another—except to point out that they all belong to roughly the same milieu. The fact is that ancient texts and commentaries were often accumulated over an extended period, and they were usually combined with sources hailing from different origins, whether this means different chronological layers, regional traditions, interpretative lineages, an author’s own literary or philosophical idiosyncrasies, or what not. To be flexible on such matters is to assume a broader background behind any given piece of information, not necessarily visible to the modern eye.

5 The Tsinghua manuscript actually gives a slightly different title for the poem, but as I point out below, it still identifies the same bird.

6 For previous discussions laying out the methodological issues involved in the examination of such variant readings, see William G. Boltz, The Origin and Development of the Chinese Writing System, 2nd ed. (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 2003), 156–77; idem, “Textual Criticism more sinico,” Early China 20 (1995), 393–406; and idem, “Manuscripts with Transmitted Counterparts,” in New Sources of Early Chinese History: An Introduction to the Reading of Inscriptions and Manuscripts, ed. Edward L. Shaughnessy (Berkeley: The Society for the Study of Early China, 1997), 253–83.

7 For a valuable study that, in spite of its primarily historical interest, covers a large number of sources about the Duke of Zhou, see Hayashi Taisuke 林泰輔, Shū Kō to sono jidai 周公と其時代 (Tokyo: Ōkura Shoten, 1920), known to many readers through Qian Mu’s 錢穆 partial translation as Zhougong 周公, in Qian Binsi xiansheng quanji 錢賓四先生全集 (Taibei: Lianjing, 1994), vol. 26, 1–118. See also Gu Jiegang 顧頡剛, “Zhougong dongzheng shishi kaozheng” 周公東征史事考證, in idem, Gu Jiegang quanji 顧頡剛全集 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 2010), vol. 11. More recent studies include Edward L. Shaughnessy, “Duke Zhou’s Retirement in the East and the Beginnings of the Minister–Monarch Debate in Chinese Political Philosophy,” in idem, Before Confucius: Studies in the Creation of the Chinese Classics (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997), 101–36; Mark Edward Lewis, Writing and Authority in Early China (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1999), 209–18; Tamaki Shigetoshi 玉置重俊, “Shūkō tensetsu no keisei ni tsuite” 周公伝説の形成について, Hokkaido jōhō daigaku kiyo 北海道情報大学紀要 18.1 (2006), 77–89; and Michael Nylan, “The Many Faces of the Duke of Zhou,” in Statecraft and Classical Learning: The Rituals of Zhou in East Asian History, ed. Benjamin A. Elman and Martin Kern (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 94–128. For useful summaries of traditional scholarships on various aspects related to the Duke of Zhou, see Benjamin A. Elman, “Ming Politics and Confucian Classicism: The Duke of Chou Serves King Ch’eng,” in Mingdai jingxue guoji yantaohui lunwenji 明代經學國際研討會論文集, ed. Lin Qingzhang 林慶彰 and Jiang Qiuhua 蔣秋華 (Taipei: Institute of Chinese Literature and Philosophy, Academia Sinica, 1996), 93–143; Peng Meiling 彭美玲, “‘Bin feng’ chuantong Shishuo yu Zhougong xingxiang”《豳風》傳統《詩》說與周公形象, Taida zhongwen xuebao 臺大中文學報 40 (2013), 1–54; and Liu Guozhong 劉國忠, “Qinghuajian ‘Jin teng’ yu Zhougong ju dong de zhenxiang” 清華簡《金縢》與周公居東的真相, in idem, Zuo jin Qinghua jian 走近清華簡 (Beijing: Gaodeng jiaoyu, 2011), 93–108. See also Sarah Allan, The Heir and the Sage: Dynastic Legend in Early China (San Francisco: Chinese Materials Center, 1981), 118–21. Especially interesting is Allan’s note that her teacher Peter A. Boodberg (1903–1972) “first pointed out to me the paradoxical position of the Duke of Zhou as both regent and potential usurper” (xiii).

8 Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 1476–85. The translation is from Karlgren, The Book of Odes: Chinese Text, Transcription and Translation (Stockholm: The Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities, 1950), 236–38, with slight modifications.

9 Old Chinese reconstructions are based on William H. Baxter and Laurent Sagart, Old Chinese: A New Reconstruction (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). The authors provide a list of reconstructed words online (http://ocbaxtersagart.lsait.lsa.umich.edu/, accessed March 1, 2017). Thus, xiao 鴞 is *[G]^w(r)aw, and xiao 梟 is not too different, since the sounds of the two words differ only in that one is division III in Middle Chinese, the other division IV.

10 See Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 524–27, 1642–54, 1587–91. In the last of these poems, a bird, taochong 桃蟲, is identified by Mao as jiao 鷦, though Zheng Xuan suggests that it is xiao 鴞, and once again, adds that it is e’sheng zhi niao “the bird of wicked sound.” Interestingly, the commentator Kong Yingda 孔穎達 (574–648) cites the following commentary by Lu Ji 陸璣 (c. third century): 今鷦鷯是也，微小於黃雀，其雛化為雕，故俗語鷦鷯生雕 “Nowadays this is the jiaoliao; it is smaller than the Yellow Sparrow; its chick transforms into the diao, hence the common saying: jiaoliao gives birth to diao.” See also Guo Pu’s 郭璞 (276–324) gloss under the Er ya 爾雅 entry for taochong in Hao Yixing 郝懿行, Erya yishu 爾雅義疏 (Ji’nan: Qi Lu, 2010), 3697–98. Cf. the Yiwen leiju 藝文類聚 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 1965), 92.1603 and the Taiping yulan 太平御覽, print edition circa 1022–1063 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1960), 923.7. Here the mentioning of diao explains why the manuscript version of “The Metal-bound Coffer” identifies the poem composed by the Duke of Zhou as “Diaoxiao” 周（雕）鴞. The diao is a later manifestation of the taochong, hardly small, and identical with the xiao 鴞. I also believe it is related to the name of another bird, zhoujiao 啁噍, seen in Lüshi chunqiu 呂氏春秋 “Qiu ren” 求人; see Chen Qiyou 陳奇猷, Lüshi chunqiu xin jiaoshi 呂氏春秋新校釋 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 2002), 1524. For a more detailed discussion of these bird names and the lore associated with them, see below.

11 As a further note on the xiao 鴞, I should point out that under the “Mu men,” Kong Yingda has the following commentary: 鴞，惡聲之鳥，一名鵬，與梟異；梟一名鴟 “The xiao 鴞 is the bird of wicked sound. One view is that it is called peng and is different from the xiao 梟, which some also call chi.” While agreeing with Mao and Zheng that xiao 鴞 is “the bird of wicked sound,” Kong notes the alternative view that it should be distinguished from xiao 梟. With regard to the peng 鵬 that Kong mentions as an alternative name for xiao 鴞, this is consistent with Lu Ji’s commentary under the “Mu men,” and it is collaborated by the Shi ji 史記 biography of Jia Yi 賈誼 (201–169 b.c.e.), where peng is given as the name for xiao 鴞 in the Chu 楚 region of the south. However, this equation is questioned in Ban Gu’s 班固 (32–92) version of the same biography, which hints that they are different by stating that the peng “resembles” (si 似) the xiao, thus implying that they are different. This last view is collaborated by Jia Gongyan’s 賈公彥 (fl. 650) commentary for a passage in the Zhou li 周禮. All of these texts are cited in Wang Xianqian 王先謙, Shi sanjiayi jishu 詩三家義集疏 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1987), 472–73. My sense is that ancient scholars disagreed about the identification of xiao 鴞 as peng, just as there were different views about the identification of xiao 鴞 as xiao 梟. Perhaps Kong Yingda was also torn between the two possibilities. It is interesting to note that under the line from the “Zhan ang”: “Beautiful is the clever woman, but she is an owl,” Kong understands “beautiful” (yi 懿) as a sigh and compares it to another exclamation in the “Jin teng,” yi 噫. Given that there is no other reason for Kong to make this connection, perhaps he does so because on some level, he accepts that wei xiao wei chi 為梟為鴟 of the “Zhan ang” is the same as chixiao of the “Jin teng.”

12 Wang Xianqian 王先謙, Kubo Ai 久保愛, Ikai Hikohiro 猪飼彥博, and Hattori Unokichi 服部宇之吉, Junshi 荀子, Kanbun taikei 漢文大系 15 (Tōkyō: Fuzanbō, 1913), 18.29–31. The translation is from John Knoblock, Xunzi: A Translation and Study of the Complete Works (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994), vol. 3, 202–203, with slight modifications.

13 Takigawa Kametarō and Mizusawa Toshitada, Shiji huizhu kaozheng fu jiaobu, 84.23–27; Wang Xianqian 王先謙, Han shu buzhu 漢書補注 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 2008), 3637–42; Wen xuan 文選 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 1986), 2590–94. The translation is from Nienhauser, ed., The Grand Scribe’s Records, vol. 7, 303–304, with slight modifications.

14 Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 1025. The translation is from Karlgren, The Book of Odes, 172, with slight modifications.

15 Su Yu 蘇輿, Chunqiu fanlu yizheng 春秋繁露義證 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1992), 373–74. The translation is from Sarah A. Queen and John S. Major, Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn (New York: Columbia University Press, 2016), 476–77, with some modifications.

16 There are additional references to the owl in ancient literature where the topic of slander is only implicit. In Liu Xiang’s 劉向 (79–78 b.c.e) “Jiu tan” 九嘆, there is the line: 葛藟虆於桂樹兮，鴟鴞集於木蘭；偓促談於廊廟兮，律魁放乎山間 “Weeds overrun and choke the cassia bushes; owls roost in the magnolia trees. Stupid bigots hold forth in hall and temple, while the great and magnanimous are banished to the mountains.” Wang Yi’s 王逸 (2nd century b.c.e.) “Jiu si” 九思 says the following about the guishu 桂樹 “cassia”: 實孔鸞兮所居，今其集兮惟鴞 “Truly a place for phoenixes to nest in! Yet now the owl alone roosts in them.” These two passages can be found in Hong Xingzu 洪興祖, Chu ci buzhu 楚辭補注 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 1983), 299–302, 326–27; and the translation in David Hawkes, Songs of the South: An Anthology of Ancient Chinese Poems by Qu Yuan and Other Poets (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1985), 293–95, 317–18. In addition, Yang Xiong’s 揚雄 (53 b.c.e.–18 c.e.) “Jie chao” 解謿 has the line: 今子乃以鴟梟而笑鳳皇，執蝘蜓而謿龜龍，不亦病乎！“Now you take the owl and laugh at the phoenix, grasp the gecko and mock the tortoise and dragon. Are you not ill with error?”; see Wang Xianqian, Han shu buzhu, 5389–90; also Wen xuan, 2009–2010; and the translation from David R. Knechtges, The Han shu Biography of Yang Xiong (53 B.C.–A.D. 18) (Tempe: Center for Asian Studies, Arizona State University, 1982), 51. In Guanzi 管子 “Xiao kuang” 小匡, the following statement suggests that the world has not seen true peace and prosperity: 夫鳳皇鸞鳥不降，而鷹隼鴟梟豐 “The phoenixes have not appeared, while hawks and owls abound”; see Li Xiangfeng 黎翔鳳, Guanzi jiaozhu 管子校注 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 2004), 425–26; and the translation in W. Allyn Rickett, Guanzi: Political, Economic, and Philosophical Essays from Early China (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), vol. 1, 340–41. See also Shi ji “Rizhe liezhuan” 日者列傳, which has the statement: 子獨不見鴟梟之與鳳皇翔乎 “Have you not seen owls soaring side by side with the phoenixes?” in Takigawa Kametarō and Mizusawa Toshitada, Shiji huizhu kaozheng fu jiaobu, 127.6–7; and the translation in Burton Watson, Records of the Grand Historian: Han Dynasty II, 2nd ed. (Hong Kong: Renditions, 1993), 428.

17 This is the date appearing on a calendar found in the same tomb. For both, see Yinwan Hanmu jiandu 尹灣漢墓簡牘 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1997). A study in English is Hans van Ess, “An Interpretation of the Shenwu fu of Tomb no. 6, Yinwan,” Monumenta Serica 51 (2003), 605–28.

18 Cf. Ting Nai-tung, A Type Index of Chinese Folktales—in the Oral Tradition and Major Works of Non-Religious Classical Literature (Helsinki: Academia Scientiarum Fennica, 1978), 43A, “Taking over another animal’s house.”

19 Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 1025. The translation is from Karlgren, The Book of Odes, 172, with slight modifications.

20 Or, more precisely, seven manuscripts of varying lengths, all recording the same poem. Although the date of the poem is uncertain, the fact that it mentions the Kaiyuan 開元 reign (713–741) suggests that it must be somewhat later. See Huang Zheng 黃征 and Zhang Yongquan 張涌泉, Dunhuang bianwen jiaozhu 敦煌變文校注 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1997), 376–422.

21 Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 599–606. The translation is based on Karlgren, The Book of Odes, 99–100, with modifications that reflect my own understanding of the poem; see below.

22 The “Chixiao” is often identified as the first fowl fable in Chinese literary history; see, for instance, Qian Zhongshu’s 錢鍾書 discussion of the Song poet Zhou Zizhi 周紫芝 (b. 1082) in Songshi xuanzhu 宋詩選注 (Beijing: Sanlian, 2001), 252–53. While non-literal reading is the norm in its interpretation throughout history, this practice can now be grounded based on evidence from the Tsinghua manuscripts, where “The Metal-bound Coffer” (with its reference to the “Chixiao”) is juxtaposed with such texts as the “Qi ye” 耆夜, “Zhougong zhi qin wu” 周公之琴舞, and “Rui liangfu bi” 芮良夫毖. All of these works supply historical context for poems now found in the Odes. As publication and study of the Tsinghua corpus are still ongoing, one can expect these sources to shed more light on the historicizing tendency that is so influential in the history of the interpretation of the Odes. For a previous discussion of the “Chixiao” and more generally the interplay between poetry and history, see Haun Saussy, The Problem of a Chinese Aesthetic (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1993), 139–47.

23 The compound yinqin can be seen in Zheng Xuan’s paraphrase of the line, though he is of the view that the action is directed towards the “children” of the Duke of Zhou; see below.

24 This reading of the “Chixiao” is consistent with the interpretation of Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) and several subsequent scholars; see the summary of their views in Peng Meiling, “‘Binfeng’ chuantong Shishuo yu Zhougong xingxiang,” 24–6. It is also the reading accepted in several translations of the poem into English. See James Legge, The Chinese Classics, Vol. 4: The She King (1893–94; reprinted in Taipei: SMC Publishing, 1991), 233–35; Arthur Waley, The Book of Songs: The Ancient Chinese Classic of Poetry (New York: Grove Press, 1996), 122–23; and Karlgren, The Book of Odes, 99–100. Of course, none of these scholars cites the evidence from the Odes and other ancient literature, as I have just presented. Nor do they explain the rationale behind Mao and Zheng’s interpretation, as I am about to do.

25 For Mao, the identification of chixiao as a bird that attempts to protect its own home, and in turn, the Duke of Zhou, involves a play of words. After commenting that the chixiao is the ningjue 鸋鴂, Mao goes on to point out that this bird ning wang erzi 寧亡二子 “would rather lose his two children,” which clearly takes advantage of the homophony or near homophony of ning 鸋 and ning 寧.

26 Once again, Zheng’s reading also involves a play of words. For Zheng, the repetition of the name chixiao indicates that this bird places special emphasis on what it is about to say, or dingning zhi ye 丁寧之也 “to serve as a reminder.”

27 See the particularly nuanced discussion of the different interpretative possibilities examined in Jeffrey Riegel, “Eros, Introversion, and the Beginnings of Shijing Commentary,” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 57.1 (1997), 143–77, in many ways a model for my own discussion of the “Chixiao.” See also Martin Kern’s brilliant summary of this article in “Early Chinese Poetics in the Light of Recently Excavated Manuscripts,” in Recarving the Dragon: Understanding Chinese Poetics, ed. Olga Lomová, (Prague: Karolinum Press, 2003), 54–60.

28 Note that Mao also thinks yuzi is King Cheng, but he does not suggest, as Zheng does, that King Cheng is in a position to harm the Duke of Zhou.

29 First, it is unreasonable that yuzi “the young one” would end up hurting the zi “children” of the phrase ji qu wo zi 既取我子 “you have taken my children.” Second, as already pointed out by Wang Su 王肅 (195–256), the Duke of Zhou’s followers are nowhere mentioned in “The Metal-bound Coffer” or indeed any other text, so there is no corroborating evidence for Zheng’s reading; see Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 602. Finally, it is possible to refer to a later line in the poem: 今女下民，或敢侮予 “Now you low-down people, does anybody dare insult me?” Following Zheng’s reading, which understands the poem as a plea to King Cheng, one has to take xiamin 下民 “low-down people” as a reference to the young ruler, an unacceptable choice for obvious reasons. This is the reason that Zheng’s wording in this part of the commentary is extremely vague, as he never directly names King Cheng. It is also why Kong Yingda, in his further elaboration of Zheng’s reading, attempts to smooth it over by suggesting that while the line shows discontent, it is really not directed at King Cheng: 喻先臣之怨恨耳，非恚怒王也 “[The line] illustrates only the grievances of the former ministers, not that they are angry at the king”; see Ibid., 603.

30 Jiao Xun 焦循, Mengzi zhengyi 孟子正義 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1987), 291–97. The translation is from D.C. Lau, Mencius, 2nd ed. (Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press, 2003).

31 Cf. the exchange between Wan Zhang 萬章 and Mencius in Mengzi 5A2, on whether the ancient sage Shun 舜 knew about his brother’s plot to kill him. This is basically the same question as that raised in 2B9, and for this Mencius also has an interesting reply; see Jiao Xun, Mengzi zhengyi, 618–28.

32 Jiao Xun, Mengzi zhengyi, 223–26. The translation is from Lau, Mencius, though I have replaced his translation of the Odes with the one cited at the beginning of this study, and I have also changed the wording in Confucius’ comment to be consistent with it. Note that the passage also includes quotations from the “Wen wang” 文王 of the Odes and the “Taijia” 太甲, the latter now attested as one of the “ancient script” texts of the Documents.

33 For a similar comparison, see Xu Weiyu 許維遹, Hanshi waizhuan jishi 韓詩外傳集釋 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1980), juan 8, 304–5.

34 Wang Xianqian tries to account for this by suggesting that when the Duke of Zhou submitted the poem, he might have done so under the pretense of criticizing the Bin ruler mentioned by Zhao Qi, so as not to offend King Cheng; see Wang Xianqian, Shi sanjiayi jishu, 529.

35 It is noteworthy that in the parallel to this passage in Kongzi jiayu 孔子家語 “Hao sheng” 好生, the rhetorical question from the “Chixiao,” huo gan wu yu 或敢侮予 “Does anybody dare insult me?” is echoed not only in Confucius’ comment, but also in a further question not seen in Mengzi 2A4: 武庚惡能侮 “How could Wu Geng insult me?” Wu Geng 武庚 is of course the Shang rebel contemporaneous with the Duke of Zhou. This is an indication that the Kongzi jiayu understands the “Chixiao” to concern the Duke of Zhou or events related to him, a rare instance where the Kongzi jiayu has preserved credible material unseen in other ancient texts. It also points to the likelihood that this text identifies Wu Geng to be villain of the poem. For the Kongzi jiayu, see Yang Chaoming 楊朝明, Kongzi jiayu tongjie–fu chutu ziliao yu xiangguan yanjiu 孔子家語通解──附出土資料相關研究 (Taibei: Wanjuan lou, 2005), 128–30. Note that the same identification is made by Zhu Xi; see Shi jizhuan 詩集傳 (Taibei: Taiwan guji, 1978), 93–4. Among the various proposals concerning chixiao, this must be my personal favorite.

36 Wang Shumin 王叔岷, Zhuangzi jiaoquan 莊子校詮 (Taipei: Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica, 1988), 1194–1205. The translation is from Burton Watson, The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu (New York: Columbia University Press, 1968), 331–35.

37 Xu Weiyu, Hanshi waizhuan jishi, 299–300. The translation is from James Robert Hightower, Han shih wai chuan: Han Ying’s Illustrations of the Didactic Application of the Classic of Songs (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1952), 283–84.

38 He Ning 何寧, Huainanzi jishi 淮南子集釋 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1998), 1395. The translation is from John S. Major, Sarah A. Queen, Andrew Seth Meyer, and Harold D. Roth, Huainanzi: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Government in Early Han China (New York: Columbia University Press, 2010), 810.

39 He Ning, Huainanzi jishi, 815–17; Major, et al., Huainanzi, 442–43.

40 He Ning, Huainanzi jishi, 961–62; Major, et al., , 510–12.

41 He Ning, Huainanzi jishi, 1408–1410; Major, et al., Huainanzi, 821–23.

42 Wang Xianqian, et al., Junshi, 4.1–4. The translation is from Knoblock, Xunzi: A Translation and Study of the Complete Works, vol. 2, 68–69.

43 Ma Chengyuan 馬承源, ed., Shanghai bowuguan cang Zhanguo Chu zhushu 上海博物館藏戰國楚竹書 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 2001–), vol. 8.

44 For a summary and discussion of this, see Bing Shangbai 邴尚白, “Shangbo Chu zhushu ‘Youhuang jiang qi’ xintan” 上博楚竹書《有皇將起》新探, paper presented at the conference, “Chutu wenxian de yujing” 出土文獻的語境, National Tsing Hua University, August 27–29, 2014.

45 After all, as Lu Ji explains in his commentary of the “Mao qiu” from the Odes: 流離，梟也，自關而西謂梟為流離 “Liuli is xiao; west of the pass, the xiao is called liuli”; see Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 182–88. Liuli 流離 is a variant of the name liuli 鶹鷅, just as xiao is a variant of the chixiao. Of course, the emphasis of the “Chixiao” is on the diligence of the bird defending its nest, not the indolence of the intruding bird that tries to take over the nest; but it is clear that these characters belong to the same story.

46 The identification of jiaofan as a bird is my proposal, based on the parallel between the discussion of this entity in the “Youhuang jiang qi” and that of liuli in the “Liuli.” For further discussion, see the appendix.

47 Here my treatment of the text is somewhat disjointed, because the text itself is disjointed. None of the seven bamboo slips from the two manuscripts is complete, making it difficult to determine whether they read continuously, and indeed, how much additional text has been lost.

48 One of these is the Warring States manuscript “Xi nian” 繫年 (Chronicle) now at Tsinghua University in Beijing; see Li Xueqin, ed., Qinghua daxue cang Zhanguo zhujian 清華大學藏戰國竹簡 (Shanghai: Zhong Xi, 2011), vol. 2. The expression sanjian appears in section 3, s. 13.

49 Besides the brothers Guan and Cai, two other candidates for the “three guards” are Wu Geng the Shang scion and a third Zhou royalty named Huo 霍. Wang Yinzhi 王引之 suggests that the combination of Guan, Cai, and Wu Geng is the earliest; see Jingyi shuwen 經義述聞 (1827 woodblock edition; Nanjing: Jiangsu guji, 2000), 3.50–3.

50 Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 1587–91. The translation follows the interpretation by Zheng Xuan, cited below.

51 Hao Yixing, Erya yishu, 3697–98.

52 Cf. Duan Yucai 段玉裁, Shuowen jiezi zhu 說文解字注 (1815 woodblock edition; Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 1988), 4a.44.

53 Guo Pu’s gloss is also found under the Er ya entry for taochong; see Hao Yixing, Er ya yishu, 3697–98.

54 Cf. the Yiwen leiju, juan 92, 1603, where the quotation of Lu Ji’s comment has two additional comments: 焦贑《易林》亦謂桃蟲生蜩，或云布穀生子，鷦鷯養之 “Jiao Gong’s Yi lin also says that the taochong gives birth to diao. There is also the suggestion that the bugu gives birth to a chick, and the jiaoliao rears it.” See also the Taiping yulan, 923.7.

55 Cf. the thoughtful reflections in Roderich Ptak, “Literary Species or Real Species? Some Notes on Animals in Chinese Classics,” in Zhengtong yu liupai: lidai Rujia jingdian zhi zhuanbian 正統與流派：歷代儒家經典之轉變, ed. Lin Qingzhang 林慶彰 and Su Feixiang 蘇費翔 (Christian Soffel) (Taibei: Wanjuanlou, 2013), 585–608. Ptak comments at length on Roel Sterckx’s earlier monograph, The Animal and the Daemon in Early China (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2002).

56 Previous efforts to sort through this body of lore range from Guo Pu of the third and fourth centuries to Duan Yucai (1735–1815). But they consider only a small number of sources, far fewer than what I report here, and consequently the value of their conclusions is somewhat limited. For Guo’s view, see Hua Xuecheng 華學誠, Yang Xiong Fang yan jiaoshi huizheng 揚雄方言校釋匯證 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 2006), 8.564–68. For Duan’s, see Shuowen jiezi zhu, 4a.43.

57 Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 182–88.

58 Wang Tianhai 王天海 and Wang Ren 王韌, Yi lin jiaoshi 意林校釋 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 2014), 324–25.

59 Chen Qiyou, Lüshi chunqiu xin jiaoshi, 1667–68. The translation is from John Knoblock and Jeffrey Riegel, The Annals of Lü Buwei: A Complete Translation and Study (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2000), 635, with slight modifications.

60 He Ning, Huainanzi jishi, 832–33; and Wang Liqi, Wenzi shuyi, 335–43.

61 Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 182–88. Similar accounts can be found in the Er ya: 鳥少美長醜為鶹鷅 “The liuli is the bird that is fine when young and ugly when grown”; see Hao Yixing, Er ya yishu, 3728–29. The same definition is found under the Shuowen jiezi gloss for liu 鶹; see Duan Yucai, Shuowen jiezi zhu, 4a.44.

62 Wang Xianqian, et al., Junshi, 1.5. The translation is from Knoblock, Xunzi: A Translation and Study of the Complete Works, vol. 1, 136–37, except that I romanize the name of the mengjiu rather than follow Knoblock in translating it as “dunce dove.” The same passage also appears in Da Dai liji 大戴禮記 “Quan xue” 勸學, where mengjiu 蒙鳩 is written mengjiu 鳩; see Huang Huaixin 黃懷信, Da Dai liji huijiao jizhu 大戴禮記彙校集注 (Xi’an: San Qin, 2005), 806–23.

63 Zuo Songchao, Shuoyuan jizheng, 695–700. The translation is from Knoblock, Xunzi: A Translation and Study of the Complete Works, vol. 1, 268, n. 17, with slight modifications.

64 The ellipsis indicates the possibility that some text may be missing.

65 Xu Weiyu, Hanshi waizhuan jishi, juan 8, 304–305. The translation is from Hightower, Han shih wai chuan, 289.

66 Xu Chuanwu 徐傳武 and Hu Zhen 胡真, Yi lin huijiao jizhu 易林彙校集注 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 2012), 595–96; see also 828, 1550, 2058, 2310.

67 Wang Shumin 王叔岷, Zhuangzi jiaoquan, 22–24; and the translation from Watson, The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu, 32–3, with slight modifications. An almost identical statement appears in Lüshi chunqiu “Qiu ren,” where the name of the bird is given as zhoujiao 啁噍; see Chen Qiyou, Lüshi chunqiu xin jiaoshi, 1524.

68 Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 601. The main part of Lu’s gloss is based on the Fang yan; see Hua Xuecheng, Yang Xiong Fang yan jiaoshi huizheng, 8.564–68.

69 As a note on the side, these texts mention that the bird builds its nest on the tip of the reeds, whether it is called weitiao 葦苕, jiawei 葭葦, or simply xiaozhi 小枝 “small branch,” and under the “Chixiao,” Mao’s commentary identifies huantiao 萑苕 as tu 荼. This last plant is identified by Zheng Xuan as maoxiu 茅秀 under the “Chu qi dongmen” 出其東門 of the Odes, and this is of course the same maoyou 茅莠 mentioned in Lu Ji’s gloss under the “Chixiao,” cited immediately above; see Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 373. This might give some hint for the content of a lost poem, “Mao chi” 茅鴟, mentioned but not cited in the Zuo zhuan 左傳 (Xiang 28); see Yang Bojun 楊伯峻, Chunqiu Zuozhuan zhu 春秋左傳注 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1981), 1145–49.

70 Wen xuan, 1984. Cf. Fengsu tongyi 風俗通義 “Guo yu” 過譽, which contains the following: 鴟鴞之愛其子，適所以害之 “That the chixiao dotes on its child is precisely what harms it”; see Wang Liqi 王利器, Fengsu tongyi jiaozhu 風俗通義校注 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1981), 183–86.

71 The basis in reality for this might be the phenomenon of a bird placing its egg into the nest of another bird, thus tricking the second bird into treating the chick that is soon to be born as one of its own. See the general discussion in Sterckx, The Animal and the Daemon in Early China, 165–204.

72 This is the view of the scholars Wang Niansun 王念孫, Yu Yue 俞樾, and Yang Yunru, commenting on ren 仁 in the received text. Note that kao 丂 and qiao belong to the same phonetic series. As for nian 年 (*C.n^ʕi[ŋ]) and ning (*n^ʕiŋ-s), they are placed in the same phonetic series by Zhu Junsheng (朱駿聲), together with ren 仁 (*n[ə]m-s), which I discuss immediately below. Zhu also cites an example of their interchange under nian; see Zhu Junsheng, Shuowen tongxun dingsheng 說文通訓定聲, 1851 woodblock edition (Taibei: Yiwen, 1975), 16.11–12.

73 Regarding the word neng 能 Wang Niansun says nothing, Yu Yue understands it as er 而 “and” and reads it with the following phrase, and Yang Yunru thinks it is excrescent. Given that all three testimonies have this word, I follow Kong Anguo in taking it as a verb placed in the sentence’s final position.

74 See the discussions in Shuo yuan 說苑 “Guide” 貴德, in Zuo Songchao 左松超, Shuoyuan jizheng 說苑集證 (Taipei: Guoli bianyi guan, 2000), 255–57; Xu Weiyu, Hanshi waizhuan jishi, juan 3, 94–7; and Liu Dianjue 劉殿爵 (D.C. Lau), ed., Shangshu dazhuan zhuzi suoyin 尚書大傳逐字索引 (Taipei: Taiwan Shangwu, 1994), 15.

75 The two dukes are the Duke of Shao and Taigong Wang 太公望, two other senior statesmen at court.

76 This is reported by Lu Deming 陸德明 (556–627) in the Jingdian shiwen 經典釋文, now included in the Shisanjing zhushu 十三經注疏. As Lu notes, the same reading is also shared by Ma Rong 馬融 (79–166). For further discussion of this line of thinking, see the discussion on Mozi 墨子 “Geng Zhu” 耕柱 and “Fei ru” 非儒 in the last section of this study.

77 Zheng Xuan’s narrative is also reflected in the placement of the “Dongshan” 東山 immediately after the “Chixiao” in the Odes. The “small preface” of that poem identifies it as concerning the Duke of Zhou’s campaign to the east. Its appearance after the “Chixiao” implies that the campaign takes place only after the Duke of Zhou has resolved his conflict with King Cheng. Similarly, in the received text of the Documents, the “Jin teng” is followed immediately by the “Da gao” 大誥, the “great proclamation” made by the Duke of Zhou prior to his campaign to attack the rebels.

78 Cf. the view of Wang Su 王肅, cited by Kong Yingda; see Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 602.

79 Here it is possible to note that there was an ancient tradition that the Duke of Zhou “was forced to run to Chu” (ben Chu 奔楚). This is mentioned in the Shi ji, in an account about the Duke of Zhou praying for King Cheng when the latter falls ill (see discussion below); and once again in another text from Sima Qian, the “Meng Tian liezhuan” 蒙恬列傳 in Takigawa Kametarō and Mizusawa Toshitada, Shiji huizhu kaozheng fu jiaobu, 88.9. It is also discussed in Lun heng 論衡 “Gan lei” 感類 and mentioned in the “Lei hai” 累害; see Huang Hui 黃暉, Lunheng jiaoshi 論衡校釋 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1990), 786–802, 15–17. Most importantly, it appears to be the basis of a reference in the Zuo zhuan (Zhao 7): when Duke Xiang of Lu 魯襄公 went to Chu in 545 b.c.e., he had a dream that he was being led by the Duke of Zhou, thus implying that the Duke of Zhou had also visited Chu; see Yang Bojun, Chunqiu Zuozhuan zhu, 1285–87. If this last account is valid, then the Zuo zhuan would attest to the pre-Qin roots of this tradition. Even if, as suggested by some scholars, the identification of Chu came about due to a mistaken reading of another character, this misreading would have occurred quite early on. Whichever the case, the rationales behind this tradition are complex and await further research. But I think a part of the reason must be the attempt to create a certain image of the Duke of Zhou, such as discussed here. Thus, if it was to Chu, rather than the east, that the Duke of Zhou went involuntarily, then this would be an even more benevolent, even more passive Duke of Zhou than described by Zheng Xuan, since he would have been physically so far removed from his brothers that it would have been out of the question for him to bring any action against them. For summaries of previous discussions about the Duke of Zhou’s activities in Chu, See Gu Jiegang, “Zhougong dongzheng shishi kaozheng,” 874–86; and Shaughnessy, “Duke Zhou’s Retirement in the East,” 121–25.

80 It is not clear how Zheng Xuan understands this point, because his views as reported by Kong Yingda are vague on this part of the text. For further discussion, see below.

81 For a recent discussion of Confucius as the “unadorned king,” see Asano Yūichi 淺野裕一, “‘Junzi wei li’ yu Kongzi suwang shuo” 《君子為禮》與孔子素王說, in idem, Shangbo Chujian yu Xian Qin sixiang 上博楚簡與先秦思想 (Taibei: Wanjuanlou, 2008), 55–81.

82 See the view of Liang Yusheng 梁玉繩 (1745–1819) and Wei Yuan 魏源 (1794–1857), cited in Takigawa Kametarō and Mizusawa Toshitada, Shiji huizhu kaozheng, 33.6–7.

83 The translation is from Nienhauser, ed., The Grand Scribe’s Records, vol. 5.1, 139.

84 I note with some interest that the Duke of Zhou is often credited with initiating the institution of joint burials. The relevant sources include Li ji 禮記 “Tan Gong” 檀弓 in Li Xueqin, ed., Liji zhengyi 禮記正義, traditional character edition (Beijing: Beijing daxue, 2000), 198, 228–29; Baihu tong 白虎通 “Beng hong” 崩薨 in Chen Li 陳立, Baihu tong shuzheng 白虎通疏證 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1994), 558; and Kongzi jiayu “Gongxi Chi wen” 公西赤問 in Yang Chaoming, Kongzi jiayu tongjie—fu chutu ziliao yu xiangguan yanjiu, 571–73.

85 Wang Kaiyun 王闓運, Shangshu dazhuan buzhu 尚書大傳補注, 1923 woodblock edition (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 1995), vol. 55, 5.7a-b.

86 See also the discussions in Baihu tong “Sang fu” 喪服 and “Feng gonghou” 封公侯 in Chen Li, Baihu tong shuzheng, 532, 156–57. It is also mentioned in a memorial submitted by Gu Yong 谷永 (d. 8 b.c.e.) to Emperor Cheng 成帝 (r. 33–7 b.c.e.), recorded in Han shu “Rulin zhuan” 儒林傳; see Wang Xianqian, Han shu buzhu, pp. 5436–38. Interestingly, in another text from the Han shu, a memorial submitted by Mei Fu 梅福, also to Emperor Cheng, the author observes that because King Cheng buried the Duke of Zhou with the rites befitting only a feudal lord (as opposed to the ruler), a storm came about; see Ibid., pp. 4601–04. This is elaborated further in a remark by Emperor Shun 順帝 (r. 125–144), made in 136 c.e., which points out that it was only after King Cheng reverted to the rites befitting a ruler that the storm subsided; see Hou Hanshu 後漢書 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1965), pp. 2027–28. These last two accounts are an effort to interpret the narrative of “The Metal-bound Coffer” in the light of the tradition about the Duke of Zhou’s burial.

87 Takigawa Kametarō and Mizusawa Toshitada, Shiji huizhu kaozheng fu jiaobu, 33.11–2. The translation is from Nienhauser, ed., The Grand Scribe’s Records, vol. 5.1, 136–37, with slight modifications.

88 Other references to the Duke of Zhou’s position vis-à-vis the ruler can be found in Xunzi “Ru xiao” 儒效; see Wang Xianqian, et al., Junshi, 4.1–4; Huainanzi “Fan lun” 氾論 in He Ning, Huainanzi jishi, 923–27; and Hanshi waizhuan, 7.241. A passage from Li ji “Mingtang wei” 明堂位 also contains the following: 昔者周公朝諸侯于明堂之位，天子負斧依，南鄉而立 “In the past the Duke of Zhou held audience with the feudal lords, with all in their respective places in the Bright Hall. The Son of Heaven had his back to the screen with axe-shape decorations, standing facing south”; see Li Xueqin, ed., Liji zhengyi, 1085–96. Note that Zheng Xuan equates the Duke of Zhou with the Son of Heaven (tianzi 天子), a move that is unproblematic for him, presumably because the reference to the fuyi 斧依 “screen with axe-shape decorations” clearly indicates the Duke of Zhou’s regency and hence the provisional nature of the arrangement. (The real Son of Heaven, or King Cheng, would be seated behind the same screen.) Zheng’s commentary, in fact, opens with the statement: 周公攝王位 “The Duke of Zhou served as regent to the king.”

89 Several other texts exploit and develop further the Duke of Zhou’s potential to subvert King Cheng’s authority. In Lüshi chunqiu “Li wei” 離謂, there is a discussion on how ministers are shang 傷 “maligned” when they have too many or too few achievements: 周公、召公以此疑 “The Duke of Zhou and the Duke of Shao were doubted because of this”; see Chen Qiyou, Lüshi chunqiu xin jiaoshi, 1187–88, and the translation from Knoblock and Riegel, The Annals of Lü Buwei: A Complete Translation and Study, 453–54, with slight modifications. In spite of the reference to Shaogong 召公 or the Duke of Shao, it is clear that the focus is on the Duke of Zhou, particularly his illustrious career and the threat he posed to the ruler. Even more extraordinary is a text collected in the Yi Zhoushu 逸周書 called the “Du yi” 度邑. In a private conversation that takes place on the eve of the conquest of the Shang, King Wu designates the Duke of Zhou, not King Cheng, as his successor: 乃今我兄弟相後，我筮龜其何所即？今用建庶建 “Now with us brothers succeeding one another, what is there to approach our milfoil stalks and turtle for? Now I will establish by establishing the concubine’s son”; see Huang Huaixin 黃懷信, Zhang Maorong 張懋鎔, and Tian Xudong 田旭東, Yi Zhoushu huijiao jizhu 逸周書彙校集注, 2nd edition (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 2007), 465–83. While the last sentence, like many parts of the “Du yi,” may be corrupt, the general sense is clear: King Wu is choosing his brother as the successor and noting the fact that the Duke of Zhou was the son of his father’s concubine, not of the principal consort. It is not difficult to see how such a text could have been used both to legitimatize the authority of the Duke of Zhou and to undermine that of King Cheng.

90 These are the “Meng Tian liezhuan” and the “Fengshan wen” 封禪文 cited in the “Sima Xiangru liezhuan” 司馬相如列傳; see Takigawa Kametarō and Mizusawa Toshitada, Shiji huizhu kaozheng fu jiaobu, 88.9, 117.93. See also Lüshi chunqiu “Xia xian” 下賢 in Chen Qiyou, Lüshi chunqiu xin jiaoshi, 886–87; Jia Yi’s biography in Wang Xianqian, Han shu buzhu, 3676–83; Xinshu 新書 “Bao fu” 保傅 in Yan Zhenyi 閻振益 and Zhong Xia 鍾夏, Xinshu jiaozhu 新書校注 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 2000), 183–84; Da Dai liji “Bao fu” in Huang Huaixin, Da Dai liji huijiao jizhu, 326–28; Huainanzi “Yao lue” 要略 in He Ning, Huainanzi jishi, 1457–59; Xu Weiyu, Hanshi waizhuan jishi, juan 7, 241; Yantielun 鹽鐵論 “Wei tong” 未通 in Wang Liqi 王利器, Yantielun jiaozhu 鹽鐵論校注 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1992), 192–93; and Kongzi jiayu “Guan Zhou” 觀周 in Yang Chaoming, Kongzi jiayu tongjie—fu chutu ziliao yu xiangguan yanjiu, 134–35.

91 Qin ying 親迎 “to greet personally” is from the text of Ma Rong, as noted by Lu Deming, but no further detail is available. It is also what one finds in the manuscript.

92 Contrary to what Karlgren suggests under Glosses on the Book of Documents, #1583. For the “Jiu yu,” see Li Xueqin, ed., Maoshi zhengyi, 622–26.

93 Cf. the discussion in n.86 above.

94 Su Yu, Chunqiu fanlu yizheng, 414–18. The translation is from Queen and Major, Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn, 532–34, with some modifications.

95 Li Xueqin, ed., Chunqiu Gongyang zhuan zhushu 春秋公羊傳注疏, traditional character edition (Beijing: Beijing daxue, 2000), Wen 13, 350–53.

96 This can be compared with the explanation by He Xiu 何休 (129–182), the Han commentator of the Gongyang zhuan: 周公死有王禮，謙不敢與文、武同也 “Though the Duke of Zhou received the rites befitting a king upon his death, he was humble in not daring being identical with King Wen and King Wu.” He explains the difference in terms of the color associated with each of the three dynasties: the Duke of Zhou received bull of the color esteemed by the Shang, rather than the Zhou, in order to differentiate himself from King Wen and King Wu before him. But such explanation is unfounded because, one, there is no reason to believe that the color of the sacrificial bull should have anything to do with the colors associated with the three dynasties; and two, it is odd that the Duke of Zhou, a royal member of the Zhou, should opt for the color preferred by the Shang. If anything, He Xiu’s explanation only indicates an effort to relegate the Duke of Zhou to a lower status.

97 This can be seen in two passages from the Li ji, “Mingtang wei” and “Ji tong” 祭統; see Li Xueqin, ed., Liji zhengyi, 1085–96, 1595–96. It can also be found in the passages from the Shangshu dazhuan and Baihutong, cited above.

98 The classic statement of what I am merely paraphrasing in this paragraph is Wang Guowei 王國維, “Yin Zhou zhidu lun” 殷周制度論, in idem, Guantang jilin 觀堂集林, in Wang Guowei quanji 王國維全集 (Hangzhou: Zhejiang jiaoyu, 2009), vol. 8, 302–320.

99 Lothar von Falkenhausen, Chinese Society in the Age of Confucius (1000–250 BC): The Archaeological Evidence (Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, 2006), Part I, especially 154–61. Thus, for instance, Falkenhausen comments insightfully on how the archaeological record reflects a changing conception of ritual that corresponds with or anticipates Confucian philosophy, but in my view this does not deprive the same conception of the possibility that it might have earlier roots.

100 Cf. Li Xueqin, “Shang shu ‘Jin teng’ yu Chujian daoci” 《尚書．金縢》與楚簡禱辭, in idem, Wenwu zhong de gu wenming 文物中的古文明 (Beijing: Shangwu, 2008), 408–12, especially 411.

101 See Hu Houxuan 胡厚宣, “Chong lun ‘yu yiren’ wenti” 重論「余一人」問題, Guwenzi yanjiu 古文字研究 6 (1981): 15–33. Among the examples from received literature cited by Hu, there are several spoken by the Duke of Zhou, though in every case except one, the context makes it clear that he is speaking either on the ruler’s behalf or about him. The exception is Yi Zhoushu “Huang men” 皇門, a text made famous in recent years thanks to the inclusion of an alternate version in the manuscripts kept at Tsinghua University. What this suggests is that the appearance of this expression in “The Metal-bound Coffer” is not an idiosyncrasy of the transmitter of this text, and it is echoed by at least one other. That being said, it is unusual for the Duke of Zhou to identify himself as “I the lone man,” and no doubt this was regarded as problematic by the various figures involved in the production of these discourses. In the case of the “Huang men,” this resulted in the exclusion of this text from the canon, or the received Documents, and the text would have remained mostly forgotten if it were not for the Tsinghua corpus. I suspect this is also what would have happened to “The Metal-bound Coffer” if it were not for its high literary merit and the succinct encapsulation of the Duke of Zhou’s virtue. Instead, as I will suggest presently, transmitters and commentators found another way to sidestep the problem, through reinterpretation and rewriting.

102 It is not impossible that the expression yu xiaozi refers to King Wu, in which case the “renewed mandate from the three kings” would be a new beginning for his reign after the temporary setback caused by his illness. As one will see below, this is also Kong Anguo’s understanding. But I still stand by the identification of the Duke of Zhou, for two reasons. The first is the text of the Shi ji, discussed immediately below, where yu xiaozi is replaced by the Duke of Zhou’s personal name. The second is the expression yuzi 鬻子 “this young one” from the “Chixiao,” which I also understand as the Duke of Zhou’s self-address in the face of the other Zhou royalties. In any case, the identification of yu xiaozi does not affect the meaning of the more important yu yiren, which in my understanding can only refer to the Duke of Zhou.

103 Wang Huanbiao 王煥鑣, Mozi jigu 墨子集詁 (Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 2005), 334–43. The translation is from John Knoblock and Jeffrey Riegel, Mozi: A Study and Translation of the Ethical and Political Writings (Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, 2013), 154–55, with slight modifications.

104 See the texts cited above in n.74, also the quotation of the same statement in Shuo yuan “Jun dao,” in Zuo Songchao, Shuoyuan jizheng, 20–1; and Han shu “Yuandi ji” 元帝紀, in Wang Xianqian, Han shu buzhu, 411–12.

105 Here it is possible to note that the wording of King Wu’s utterance or, in some cases, the Duke of Zhou’s advice, closely resembles the wording of a prayer made by Tang 湯, the founder of the Shang. This other prayer has not gone unnoticed by scholars of “The Metal-bound Coffer,” and indeed there are striking similarities between the two: both contain the statement by the speaker that “I the lone man” (yu yiren) am willing to sacrifice myself. See the passages in Guo yu 國語 “Zhou yu” 周語, in Xu Wengao 徐文誥, Guoyu jijie 國語集解 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 2002), 31–5; Lüshi chunqiu “Shun min” 順民, in Chen Qiyou, Lüshi chunqiu xin jiaoshi, 485; Mozi “Jian ai (xia)” 兼愛下, in Wang Huanbiao, Mozi jigu, 372–76; and Lun heng “Gan xu” 感虛, in Huang Hui, Lunheng jiaoshi, 245–49. See also the passages in Lun yu 論語 20.1, in Cheng Shude 程樹德, Lunyu jishi 論語集釋 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1990), 1345–70; and Liu Dianjue 劉殿爵 (D.C. Lau) and Chen Fangzheng 陳方正, eds., Shizi zhuzi suoyin 尸子逐字索引 (Hong Kong: Shangwu, 2000), 10. For these last two passages, Tang’s statement is juxtaposed with a discussion of the Zhou.

106 This last sentence is difficult to construe, and I have translated it to correspond with Kong Anguo’s paraphrase, cited below.

107 This is followed by Karlgren, though he takes the speaker to be King Wu (because, according to him, an introductory “The king says” has accidentally dropped out); see Glosses on the Book of Documents, #1576. By contrast, Nivison accepts Kong’s reading but suggests that this is the Duke of Zhou speaking in King Wu’s voice; see “A New Interpretation of the Jin Tvng,” 85–6.

108 One recalls that in the same prognostication, the received text has the Duke of Zhou referring to King Wu as wang 王 “the king.” Earlier in his prayer, when the Duke of Zhou is addressing the ancestors, he refers to King Wu as er yuansun 爾元孫 or nai yuansun 乃元孫, both “your chief descendent.”

109 See, for instance, Chen Jian, “Qinghua jian ‘Jin teng’ yandu santi,” 425–33.

110 Chen Jian, “Qinghua jian ‘Jin teng’ yandu santi,” 411–12. Chen’s view is that qiao 誚 came about due to confusion with a graphic form such as , which can be read yu 御, a word close to ni in both sound and meaning.

111 The phrase comes from one of the chapter titles of Bernard Cerquiglini’s In Praise of the Variant: A Critical History of Philology (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999).

112 Wang Huanbiao, Mozi jigu, 1017–22. The translation is from Knoblock and Riegel, Mozi: A Study and Translation of the Ethical and Political Writings, 332–33, with slight modifications.

113 Here my translation follows the text as given in Wang Huanbiao, Mozi jigu, 983–88, but note Sun Yirang’s 孫詒讓 view that the first part of the statement can be emended to the following: 周公旦其非人也邪, where ren 人 is read ren 仁 (benevolent). Sun’s emendation is accepted by Knoblock and Riegel in their translation; see Mozi: A Study and Translation of the Ethical and Political Writings, 324. Emended or not, it seems to me quite clear that the virtue of benevolence is at the center of Confucius and Mozi’s discussion.

114 For additional discussions of yi “righteousness,” the passage from Huainanzi “Fan lun” cited earlier suggests that in spite of his lack of ren, the Duke of Zhou has yi: 周公有殺弟之累，齊桓有爭國之名，然而周公以義補缺，桓公以功滅醜，而皆為賢 “The Duke of Zhou was saddled with the burden of killing a brother, and Duke of Huan of Qi had a reputation for competing with other states. Yet the Duke of Zhou relied on rightness to compensate for his shortcomings, and Duke Huan relied on his merit to eradicate evil, so that both became worthies.” Also cited before, in the second passage from Huainanzi “Tai zu” 泰族, one finds a criticism of the people of the present, who do not have the Duke of Zhou’s ren, but claim to have his yi: 分別爭財，親戚兄弟搆怨，骨肉相賊，曰「周公之義也」“When there is division, differentiation, and competition for resources; when relatives and brothers hold grudges against one another; when bone and flesh rob each other, people call this the ‘righteousness of the Duke of Zhou.’” For the two passages, see He Ning, Huainanzi jiaoshi, 961–62, 1408–1410; and the translation from Major et al., Huainanzi, 510–12, 821–23, with slight modifications.

115 Liu Dianjue and Chen Fangzheng, eds., Shizi zhuzi suoyin, 12. The translation is from Paul Fischer, Shizi: China’s First Syncretist (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012), 142–43, with slight modifications.

116 Such a question was once the subject of a scholarly debate on whether the Duke of Zhou ever formally declared himself “king,” a controversy of nomenclature, in my opinion. Until there is an excavated document descended directly from the Western Zhou, with the specific indication that the Duke of Zhou changed his title from “duke” to “king” (and even then one could question the validity of this source as a historical document), the traditional view that he did not should suffice for all practical purposes. For me, the more interesting question is not the nature of the Duke of Zhou’s authority, since one knows that he was the regent and the de facto ruler for several years at the beginning of the Western Zhou; but his psychology. For a review of this debate, see Shaughnessy, “Duke Zhou’s Retirement in the East,” 103–7.

117 According to the “preface” of the Documents, the Duke of Zhou composed the “Jun Shi” 君奭 in order to pacify the Duke of Shao; see Li Xueqin, ed., Shangshu zhengyi, 517. This is collaborated by the Warring States manuscript “Cheng zhi wen zhi” 成之聞之 excavated from Guodian, in the discussion accompanying a quotation of the “Jun Shi” on s. 29; see Guodian Chumu zhujian 郭店楚墓竹簡 (Beijing: Wenwu, 1998). For other related passages, see Takigawa Kametarō and Mizusawa Toshitada, Shiji huizhu kaozheng fu jiaobu, 34.3; and Wang Xianqian, Han shu buzhu, 6083.

118 He Ning, Huainanzi jishi, 722. The translation is from Major, et al., Huainanzi, 361. It is possible to consider this together with a statement about the Duke of Zhou in Mengzi 4B20: 周公思兼三王，以施四事；其有不合者，仰而思之，夜以繼日；幸而得之，坐以待旦 “The Duke of Zhou sought to combine achievements of the Three Dynasties and the administrations of the Four Kings. Whenever there was anything he could not understand, he would tilt his head back and reflect, if need be, through the night as well as the day. If he was fortunate enough to find the answer, he would sit up to await the daybreak”; see Jiao Xun, Mengzi zhengyi, 569–72, and the translation from Lau, Mencius.

119 Zuo Songchao, Shuoyuan jizheng, 962–63. The translation is from Hightower, Han shih wai chuan, 157, n.1, with slight modifications. Hightower cites the Shuo yuan because it is closely parallel with a passage from the Hanshi waizhuan. I discuss immediately below another parallel passage found in the Lüshi chunqiu.

120 Chen Qiyou, Lüshi chunqiu xin jiaoshi, 1177. Note that in this episode, the secret message for the Duke of Zhou is not about the punishment of the brothers, but the other “conspiracy” of the conquest of the Shang. I would understand this as a variation on the theme that I discuss here. Other anecdotes about the secrecy of the conquest can be found in Yi Zhoushu “Da kai wu” 大開武 and “Wu jing” 寤儆; see Huang Huaixin, et al., Yi Zhoushu huijiao jizhu, 257–71, 303–9.

121 Ma Chengyuan, ed., Shanghai bowuguan cang Zhanguo Chu zhushu, vol. 8. The observation that the two manuscripts are one has been made by several scholars. For a summary and discussion, see Bing Shangbai 邴尚白, “Shangbo Chu zhushu ‘Youhuang jiang qi’ xintan” 上博楚竹書《有皇將起》新探, paper presented at the conference, “Chutu wenxian de yujing” 出土文獻的語境, National Tsing Hua University, August 27–29, 2014.

122 The rearrangement of the “Youhuang jiang qi” is discussed by Bing Shangbai in Ibid. See also Cheng Shaoxuan 程少軒, “Shangbo ba ‘Liuli’ yu ‘Youhuang jiang qi’ biance xiaoyi” 上博八《鶹鷅》與《有皇將起》編冊小議, Zhongguo wenzi 中國文字 new series 38 (2012), 113–20.

123 It is also possible, since s. 6 ends with a full stop, indicated by a disyllabic particle, that there is an additional line after it, rather than before. This would affect my analysis somewhat, but it would not change the main point, which is to observe a parallel every other line. This is lines B and D according to my scheme, and it would not matter if the lines were designated A and C instead.

124 See also Bing Shangbai’s analysis, who adduces another example of she 舍 that matches the character from the “Youhuang jiang qi” even more closely.

125 None of these words is reconstructed by Baxter and Sagart, but they do give zheng 爭 as *[ts]^ʕreŋ and qing 青 as *[s.r̥]^ʕreŋ.

126 Li Xueqin, ed., Shangshu zhengyi, 46–53; and the translation from Karlgren, The Book of Documents, which I have modified according to my understanding. I believe my understanding of jing yan 靜言 as “to be clever with words” is consistent with Kong Anguo’s glosses of jing 靜 as mou 謀 “to scheme.”

127 Li Xiangfeng, Guanzi jiaozhu, 737–41; and the translation in Rickett, Guanzi: Political, Economic, and Philosophical Essays, vol. 2, 331.

128 Xu Fuhong 許富宏, Guiguzi jijiao jizhu 鬼谷子集校集注 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 2008), 131–34.

129 Li Xueqin, ed., Chunqiu Gongyang zhuan zhushu, 347–49. This is based on a passage from the “Qin shi” 秦誓 of the Documents, and I have consulted Karlgren’s translation in The Book of Documents.

130 Yang Bojun, Chunqiu Zuozhuan zhu, 639; and the translations from James Legge, The Chinese Classics, Vol. 5: The Ts’un Ch’ew with the Tso Chuen (1893–94; reprinted in Taipei: SMC Publishing, 1991), 283, and Stephen Durrant, Wai-yee Li, and David Schaberg, Zuo Traditions = Zuozhuan: Commentary on the “Spring and Autumn Annals” (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2016), 575, both modified according to my understanding.

131 Much of my discussion in this paragraph is based on Zhu Junsheng, Shuowen tongxun dingsheng, 17.12b.

132 Besides the ones cited below, references to the jiaoming (and variants thereof) can be found in Chu ci 楚辭 “Jiu huai” 九懷, “Zhu zhao” 株昭 and “Jiu tan” 九嘆, “Yuan you” 遠遊; see Hong Xingzu, Chu ci buzhu, 279, 310. It is also seen in the “Yuexie tuzheng” 樂叶圖徵; see Nakamura Shōhachi 中村璋八 and Yasui Kōzan 安居香山, Weishu jicheng 緯書集成 (Shijiazhuang: Hebei renmin, 1994), 560–61. See also Shuowen jiezi, 4a.19; and Wang Niansun, Guangya shuzheng 廣雅疏證 (1796 woodblock edition; Nanjing: Jiangsu guji, 2000), 10b.48–9.

133 Shuowen jiezi, 4a.13. This is corroborated by the Er ya: 雉之暮子為鷚 “Liu is the chick borne by an old pheasant,” for which Guo Pu adds: 晚生者，今呼少雞為鷚 “A chick born late; now a young chick is called liu”; see Hao Yixing, Er ya yishu, 3727–28.

134 Hua Xuecheng, Yang Xiong Fangyan jiaoshi huizheng, 8.578–79. The text originally gives Qiuhouzi 秋侯子 in the place of jiu, but the emendation as proposed by several Qing and modern authorities is supported by the Guang ya, which glosses jiu as chu 雛 “chick,” consistent with the Shuo wen and Er ya; see Wang Niansun, Guangya shuzheng, 10b.44. Jiu is also attested as qiuji 秋雞 in Gao You’s commentary to Huainanzi “Yuan dao” 原道; see He Ning, Huainanzi jishi, 11.

135 This is Yang Xiong’s “Yulie fu” 羽獵賦; see Wen xuan, 396, and the translation in David R. Knechtges, Wen xuan, or Selections of Refine Literature (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987), vol. 2, 115–36.

136 Rongbao, Wang 汪榮寶, Fayan yishu 法言義疏 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1987), 194–97Google Scholar. The translation is from Nylan, Michael, Exemplary Figures (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2013), 93–5Google Scholar, with slight modifications.

137 Another reference to the same bird in the Fa yan can be seen in the “Gua jian” 寡見; see Wang Rongbao, Fayan yishu, 228–29.

138 Takigawa Kametarō and Mizusawa Toshitada, Shiji huizhu kaozheng fu jiaobu, 117.49; Wang Xianqian, Han shu buzhu, 4140; and Wen xuan, 373.

139 Sima Xiangru makes another reference to the same bird in his “Nan Shu fulao” 難蜀父老; see Takigawa Kametarō and Mizusawa Toshitada, Shiji huizhu kaozheng fu jiaobu, 117.74–5; Wang Xianqian, Han shu buzhu, 4172; and Wen xuan, 1995.

140 Wang Shumin, Zhuangzi jiaoquan, 633, and the translation from Watson, Chuang Tzu, 188.