What would Chinese history look like with things taking the center stage? Our present understanding of this history is animated primarily by literate people in pursuit of examination degrees and sons, and often filtered through such modern social science categories as culture, ethnicity, and gender. In this introduction, I put the set of five articles in the special issue in conversation with recent research to identify new analytic categories and research strategies that accord agency to things, remap the parameters of Chinese history, and ponder the new directions afforded by the study of material cultures.

Tales of filial piety became a standard element of the annals-biography style of historiography early on. Starting from the Song shu 宋書, almost every dynastic history contains a chapter that is devoted to filial men. An early—but often neglected—precursor is Chapter 39 of Fan Ye's 范曄 (398–446) Hou Han shu 後漢書. Inspired by his predecessor Hua Qiao 華嶠 (?–293), Fan inserted a chapter on filial men. The chapter was therefore compiled in times when the recommendation system of the Han and especially the recommendation as “filial and incorruptible” (xiaolian 孝廉) had lost influence. This paper tries to shed some light on its origins, form, and content, and attempts to distinguish the most common motives that were used to describe filial (xiao 孝) behavior in this early stage of its historiographical representation.

My interest in Song history emerged well after my initial training in pre-modern Chinese literature. When I first began to read Song historical texts, I knew nothing about historiographical theory, so I blithely used the same techniques for close reading that I had used to decipher Tang-Song poetry. Using these strategies for reading literature—nothing much beyond old school European philology—I was able to document the different chronological layers in the Song History (Songshi 宋史) biography of Qin Gui 秦檜 (1090–1155). When this article appeared in 1998, several colleagues more attuned to theoretical issues than I was told me its approach and findings were very much au courant. It seems, stumbling around in the dark, I had unwittingly taken the linguistic turn.

This article provides a contextual analysis of an enigmatic object—dubbed the “Confucius Dressing Mirror” (Kongzi yijing 孔子衣鏡)—recently unearthed from the tomb of Liu He 劉賀 (Marquis of Haihun 海昏侯, d. 59 BCE) in 2015. I raise questions about the prevailing identification of this object as a “dressing mirror” and a “lived object,” used by Liu He for moral self-cultivation or political self-preservation in his volatile life as the deposed ninth emperor of Han. Instead, I treat the object as an assemblage and analyze its complete material composition and physical placement in Liu He's tomb in the broader context of funerary material culture and burial practice in early imperial China. I propose that the entombed object can be considered as a composite talisman to protect the deceased against baleful and harmful influences in the tomb and in his afterlife. Methodologically, this article stresses the importance of contextual analysis in shedding light on the traditional conceptual categories such as “lived object” (shengqi 生器) and “funerary objects” (mingqi 明器) in actual funerary ritual processes.

The names of dozens of artists from the tenth century have come down to us, for the most part with very little information about their lives and scarcely more about their art. Fortunately, the life and professional career of Guo Zhongshu 郭忠恕 (928–977) can be reconstructed in enough detail to give a sense of the personality of the artist and the world that he experienced. Indeed, we are doubly fortunate because Guo, it turns out, had no ordinary life. Known to art historians today primarily as one of the great painters of architectural subjects in Chinese history, Guo entered adult life in a different guise, as a brilliant young paleographer and calligrapher. This aspect of his career, no less important than his painting, is the subject of the present study. Although specialists have recognized his scholarly and calligraphic achievements, we still lack a contextualized account that incorporates what can be known of his biography and social circumstances. More important for the theme of this special issue, the material dimension of Guo's paleographic and calligraphic activities also remains to be explored. Any discussion can only be very partial, however, since no manuscripts or autograph calligraphies survive, only stone steles; fortunately, Guo's engagement with stele production is in itself of the highest historical interest. The chronologically organized text that follows tells a biographical story, with as much detail as the available sources allow, which eventually opens out onto the material world of steles, before returning to biography to recount the last chapter of Guo Zongshu's life. Rather than offering a conclusion, I end with a reflection on the materialities of transmission of paleographic and calligraphic knowledge. For the purposes of this article I have not thought it necessary to choose between the very different lenses of biography and material culture, since my goal is not to prove a thesis but to reconstruct an unfamiliar world. As I hope to show, the understanding of one person's life can enrich the understanding of artifacts associated directly and indirectly with the person, and vice versa.

Forging and using personal networks were and still are common in the Chinese government. Scholars often connect officials’ networking to corruption and factionalism. This article, however, offers a different perspective, through an examination of how Southern Song local officials used personal connections to facilitate their official businesses. I argue that local officials operated networks as an informal means of dealing with governmental affairs outside the normative administrative system. This informal means enabled more efficient political communication that bypassed regular procedures. It also provided local officials with more effective negotiations, especially when defending the interest of their jurisdictions against other agents of the state. Furthermore, the article demonstrates that using connections for governmental affairs, in turn, consolidated and expanded officials’ networks. Altogether, the article depicts a political world in which the interest of “the public” intertwined with that of the “the private,” and the official and non-official means of governing were fused.

Often termed as wenjian zhizhi 聞見之知 (knowing from hearing and seeing), sensory knowing was a prominent topic in Song (960–1279) writings. Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077) developed a systematic critique of sense perception in the broad context of learning. While endorsing its utility, Zhang considered this way of knowing to be partial, superficial, and prone to error. He located the source of sensory errors inside the human body, arguing that the sense organs’ vulnerability to pathological changes constituted the cause for perceptual fallibility. This line of argument had solid corroborating evidence in contemporaneous medical knowledge, a field of study Zhang was interested in pursuing. In sum, Zhang's critique demonstrated the importance of the senses and the different ways in which middle-period Chinese literati conceptualized the problem of perception in comparison with Western epistemological traditions.

Fang Yongbin’s (1542–1608) cache of paper-based ephemera—733 notes, invoices, and 190 name cards—now held in the Harvard-Yenching library, discloses the multidimensional expertise of the stationery dealer in late Ming China. This article explores how businessmen from Huizhou prefecture turned to the trade in writing materials to improvise with new forms of cultural entrepreneurship in the late sixteenth century. Introducing the diverse contents of the cache, I demonstrate how Fang’s involvement in the sale of desktop tools drew from, and creatively combined literary endeavors, shop-keeping, and artisanal labor. Unsettling discrete conceptions of “scholar,” “merchant,” and “craftsman,” Fang’s career reveals how stationery dealers vied to usurp custodianship over the material culture of calligraphy. The Harvard-Yenching cache registers the increasingly powerful influence exerted over the business of culture by those skilled in the making and marketing of writing materials: largely forgotten salesmen whose services made the art of writing possible in the first place.

This essay explores the non-luxury materialities through which most people experienced the world, argues for the possibilities of a geographically based view of Ming and Qing material history, and demonstrates some methods for approaching hard-to-find sources. It is my contention that not only will learning about and paying attention to such regional materialities open up new areas of research, but historians will also become better equipped to assess what we think we know about “China.” Here, I will concentrate on the geologically homogeneous region of the Greater North China Plain and focus on temple buildings, ritual vessels, and images of gods.

This article examines China’s efforts to restore cable telegraph rights from the establishment of the Republic of China to the end of World War II. Challenging the conventional dichotomy of “Chinese” and “Western” actors in rights recovery issues, this article explores the intricate power relations between foreign cable companies, international interests groups and various political factions in China. It analyses China’s reclaim of cable sovereignty in three phases, each characterised by a particular controversy—the intra-clique struggle of the Communications Clique during the early Republic and the warlord era; the rivalry between the Nationalist Party, military and the state during the Nanjing decade; and the direct Sino-Japanese conflict during wartime. The article presents the argument that for the various interest groups, ideologies such as imperialism and nationalism served as rhetoric in their respective pursuits. It was the daily political tensions that played a crucial role in shaping how cable policies were devised.

How is the craft history of ordinary woodcarvers different from the political and economic history of elites and literati? This article tells a transnational history of Ningbo miniature whitewood figurines that were first collected by Western travelers as souvenirs from the 1870s to 1940s and then shipped to the West as export craft from the 1950s to 1980s. The examination of the makers, buyers, and collectors of these figurines reveals a dialectic process between carving and collecting. Focusing on both the making and circulation of these figurines, the article uncovers a new layer in modern Chinese history: with the political regime changing from the imperial state to socialist state, the carving and business practices of local artisans continued at its own rhythm. Less than three and a half inches tall, Ningbo whitewood figurines represent a miniature China carved and consumed on a global scale during the long twentieth century.

Based on recently reopened files and publications in Nanjing, as well as published and newsreel accounts from the 1940s, this paper represents the first scholarly analysis of the rituals surrounding the death and burial of Wang Jingwei in Japanese-occupied China. Rather than locating this analysis purely in the literature on the history of the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937–45), however, this paper asks what Wang Jingwei's Re-organized National Government might tell us about personality cults in the political culture of modern China. While Wang's burial drew heavily on the precedent of Sun Yat-sen's funerals of the 1920s, it also presaged later spectacles of public mourning and posthumous commemoration, such as Chiang Kai-shek's funeral in 1975 in Taipei. In focusing on this one specific event in the life of a “puppet government,” this paper hopes to reignite scholarly interest in the study of “dead leaders” and their posthumous lives in modern Chinese history more generally.