Prince Lu, 1634, China. Displayed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (the MET), New York.
photo: from the MET
December 17, 2018, I was in a quiet and elegant tea house in the city center of Chengdu, China, waiting to meet for the first time Helan Ze (贺兰泽) , a qin（琴, zither) teacher who enjoys some reputation among the inner qin circle in Chengdu. A slender young man with thin-rimmed glasses, Helan showed up and asked for his usual tea from the receptionist, who apparently was an acquaintance. We settled in a small room on the side of the courtyard and started chatting about qin, an ancient seven-stringed Chinese music instrument currently having quite a revival in China, especially Chengdu. Trained as a western opera singer in college, Helan was trying to explain to me his unique approach to play qin, by singing along with it. “It involves completely different techniques to sing with qin, which is meant to be accompanied by singing, called “弦歌” （xián gē , song on the string).” To demonstrate, He took a qin conveniently available in the tea house, and started to sing. I sat across from him, with tea cups between us, listening.
qin, late 17th to mid-18th Century, China. Displayed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York
“绿丝低拂鸳鸯浦，想桃叶、当时唤渡。又将愁眼与春风。待去，倚兰桡，更少驻。
金陵路、莺吟燕舞。算潮水、知人最苦。满汀芳草不成归。日暮，更移舟，向甚处？”
Willow droops like green silk along Mandarin Duck Pier,
A reminder of Peach Leaf, at one time calling to cross the river.
Once again my sad eyes greet the spring breeze,
-- don’t leave yet,
Lean against the orchid-like oar, lingering a bit longer.
***
Path to Jinlin, warbler sings and swallow dances;
Supposedly, river tide knows the best of one’s sufferings.
The riverbank full of fragrant grass,
-- but cannot return,
The sun is setting down,
The boat is turning, again and again, but to where?
[translation by Shenzhan Liao, Carole Symer]
The poem, Apricot Blossom in the Sky Shadow, (杏花天影）was famously written by Jiang Kui（姜夔 , ca. 1155 – 1221) , a poet and musician from Song Dynasty. Jiang was passing Jinlin (金陵, current day Nanjing, an ancient capital and cultural center in southern China) at the time on his way to the north. As he was sailing further into unknown places and unsure of the returning date, the poem, about the sweet and sorrow memory of the past, expresses the melancholy of the sentimental moment of departure, and the helplessness when facing uncertainty.
Just as brush paintings and calligraphy, qin the instrument itself could be a priceless work of art. Typically about 48 inches long, 7 inches wide and 3 inches in depth, a qin is essentially a sounding-box, with an upper concave board made of paulownia (桐木) and a bottom flat board made of elm (梓木). Over the body, seven strings are placed over a bridge （called 岳山）made of a special kind of hardwood (typically red sandalwood, 紫檀). Each string ends with a peculiar knot called 琴軫（qinzhen）. The bottom of qin often has inscriptions indicating the creator or owner’s taste. One of the most famous qin is “冰磬” （bīng qìng , meaning “Icicle Sonorous Stone” ). Made in 1187, it has its name and an inscription carved in the base by Zhu Xi (朱熹), a famous Confucian philosopher in Song Dynasty. The inscription says:
宮應商鳴 (gōng yìng shāng míng )
擊玉敲金 (jī yù qiāo jīn)
怡情養性 (yí qíng yǎng xìng)
中和且平(zhōng hé qiě píng)
The tone Gong corresponds with the tone Shang.
The sonorous stones are tapped, bells are struck.
With calmed emotions nurturing one’s nature,
The music is harmonious and even.
(translation by Robert van Gulik)
Of course, the qin Helan played was only commercially made as those displayed in Chinese tea houses and restaurants to add a scholarly civil ambiance. Nevertheless, his singing accompanied by the subdued voice of qin quietly penetrated every corner of the room. Even after he stopped, it felt as if the music was still vibrating subtly in the wooden tables, pillars, window frames and the roof. The residual effect was so powerful that for quite a few seconds after it was all over, I wasn’t dare to utter any sound.
* * *
Riding in the New York subways these days, I now carry a book from 1930s, “The Lore of the Chinese Lute” by Robert van Gulik, a Dutch sinologist known by his Chinese name 高罗佩. First published in 1940 in Tokyo, this book is perhaps still the best in English about qin. van Gulik preferred to call qin “the Chinese lute” , as he thought the philosophical role qin plays in Chinese culture is similar to what the lute does in Europe.
Archlute, 1725, by David Tecchier (Austrian, Salzburg 1666-1747 Rome), Rome, Italy.
Allegory of Music, oil painting, 1649, by Laurent de La Hyre (Paris, 1606-1656）
the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York
photo credit: Shenzhan Liao
van Gulik, a diplomat in Japan with a Chinese wife from Chongqing, got himself deeply attracted to qin. He followed Yeh Shih-Meng, a great scholar, qin master, and a nephew of Dowager Cixi, to study the instrument. While his study with Yeh was very brief, van Gulik respected Yeh so much that he attributed the entire book to the great master. On the first page, the book reads:
“This essay is respectfully dedicated to the memory of my first teacher of the lute, Yeh Shih-Meng, a gifted musician and a great gentleman.”
The attribution summarizes the main point about qin, a gentleman’s companion that captures the imagination of Chinese intellectuals for over two thousand years. As one of the four essential skills an educated man shall possess -- qin the zither, 棋/Chinese chess, 书/calligraphy and 画/brush painting -- qin was idealized to symbolize the sophisticate, philosophical and intellectual life only a very few could enjoy in ancient China. A musical and meditative tool to cultivate one’s heart and soul, qin hardly changed since the latter Zhou Dynasty (1046 - 256 B.C.) once it’s matured from 5 strings to 7. While it had ups and downs during waves of foreign influences from central Asia and the West, it never fades out in the long history of China. In fact, van Gulik argues that qin survives without much change precisely because it is viewed as so pure and authentic to the “Chineseness” cherished by the cultural elites, whose role, one dynasty after another, is to ensure the lineage of “Chinese culture”, or at least the idea of a culture with the highest prestige, compared to almost everything else.
When a dear friend a year ago told me that she was studying qin and studios have been flourishing like mushrooms in Chengdu, I didn’t have the slightest clue that in the spring of 2019, I would sit across from 6 boxes of qin in my office at China Institute in New York, considering to join an introductory qin class opened just in March! Yes, as the small group class started, my office was temporarily turned into a storage.
* * *
As a good student of books, I dive into the history of qin before my fingers ever touch a string, and quickly find out its origin is quite mysterious. In “the Book of History” （《淮南子》, huái nán zǐ ) , compiled around 139 B.C., covering a variety of topics including philosophy, history, cosmology, geography, politics, you name it. It mentions that the pre-dynastic Emperor Shun (舜 , 2294 to 2184 B.C.), might have invented qin:
“舜彈五弦之琴而歌《南風》之詩, 以治天下。”《淮南子.诠言训》
“When Shun was Emperor, he played the five-stringed qin, and sung the song Nan-Feng (南风, air in the south), and the Realm was regulated.” (translation by Robert van Gulik)
The Classic of Mountains and Seas (《山海经》，shān hǎi jīng) attributes the invention of qin to Fu Xi (伏羲，fú xī ), a mythological hero who predates Shun and invented measurements, while other stories may claim the legendary Shen Nong (神农, shén nóng), a mythical emperor often associated with ancient Chinese medicine, was the creator of qin. While the earliest archeological evidence of qin was unearthed from the tomb of Marquis Yi of Zeng (曾乙父, zēng yǐ fù ), dated 433 B.C., it is generally believed that by the latter Shang dynasty (around 1,400 B.C.) qin already was one of the music instruments played in court orchestra. In the Book of Odes (诗经）, the oldest poetry collection from 11th - 7th Century B.C., qin is mentioned, in the very first poem The Osprey （关雎）:
“窈窕淑女，琴瑟友之。”
“Grace is the gentle beauty, with qin and se to sort after.”
By the way, Se (瑟） is a similar instrument often played together with qin. It’s bigger and has 25 strings.
Se, 19th Century, displayed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York
photo credit: Shenzhan Liao
While qin may first appear in the court orchestra, usually played along with se, flute, or other instruments, it quickly became a solo instrument as a unique symbol of literary, wisdom, and elegance.
Lu’s Commentaries of History (《吕氏春秋》) , a classical text compiled in 241 B.C., offers an account of the story between Bo Ya, a qin player, and his friend, Zhong Ziqi, who understands the essence of Bo Ya’s qin music. After Ziqi passes away, Bo Ya never touches qin again as he claims no one else in the world would be able to understand his qin music (and truly himself as a person) . Until today, a true friend in China is still called 知音. 知, is “to know”； 音, is “music, voice, or tone”. A true friend is indeed a 知音, someone who gets one’s inner music or voice.
Ji Kang (嵇康, ca. 223 - 262 ), one of the “Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove” (竹林七贤）who are renaissance intellectuals, poets and artists representing China’s elite literati tradition (and they love wine!), famously wrote “The Poetical Essay on the Lute” (《琴赋》). In conclusion, it says:
“愔愔琴德，不可测兮。体清心远，邈难极兮。良质美手，遇今世兮。纷纶翕响，冠众艺兮。识音者希，孰能珍兮。能尽雅琴，唯至人兮。”
“Solemn indeed is the virtue of the lute, it cannot be fathomed.
Purity of body and aloofness of heart, difficult indeed
it is to attain to these heights.
Good instruments and excellent players, where are those to be
found in the present age?
The silk strings resounding in harmony, this music surpasses
all the arts.
As those who understand music are few, who can truly
treasure this instrument?
Only to the Superior Man is it given completely to understand
the elegant lute.”
（translation by Robert van Gulik)
A little more than one hundred years later, Eastern Jin Dynasty poet Tao Yuanming (陶渊明，ca. 365 - 427) further coined the philosophical significance of qin, to the extent that the technique of playing qin itself becomes completely irrelevant. The History of Jin Dynasty (《晋书. 陶潜传》）records Tao’s widely quoted saying, “但识琴中趣，何劳弦上声。” （I have acquired the deeper significance of the lute; Why should I strive after the sound of the strings? -- translation by Robert van Gulik).
Not surprisingly, Tao Yuanming’s minimalist approach to qin is highly admired in Japan. Since its introduction to Japan around 6th Century, qin had its waves in Japanese literati culture. After Xinyue (兴越, ca. 1639 - 1696) , a Chinese immigrant to Japan also known by his Japanese name Shin’ etsu, brought the revival of qin to Japan in the 17th Century, references to Tao Yuanming’s life, poetry, and his “no-string qin“ are numerous. The reference also appears in haiku poetry, a Japanese poetic form. Yosa Buson (与谢芜村，1716 - 1784) writes：
Paulownia-wood hibachi----
Just like stroking
The no-string qin
Tao Yuanming (part), Minagawa Kien ( 1734 - 1807). Japan, Edo period, (1615- 1868). Hanging scroll, ink on paper. Private collection.
Surly the qin revival now has made its way to New York. In 1999, China Institute Gallery in New York had an exhibition, The Resonance of the Qin in East Asian Art, displaying the rare Icicle Sonorous Stone (how I wish I was able to see it with my own eyes!), among many other art objects from China, Japan and Korea. In March 2018, about two hours by train to the north of New York City along the Hudson River, a conference called “Harmony and Power” gathered (elegantly!) a group of musicians and ethnomusicologists to explore “the role of music in the cultivation of the literati in ancient China” at the Bard College Conservatory of Music. As conference participants (elegantly!) engaged in intellectual discussions, two concerts were prominently featuring qin with contemporary masters including Zhao Jiazhen (赵家珍) , professor of qin from Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing. Her qin performance with an unusual virtuosity provides a sharp contrast to the traditional calm and quiet voice of qin represented by previous masters such as Guan Pinghu (管平湖). A year later, a similar conference was held at the Bard College, this time called “Tradition and Discovery: Teaching Chinese Music in the West”. While some mentioned new qin pieces were created to demonstrate that Qin could perform with virtuosity, according to the western conservatory standards, others vehemently argued that there was no need to abide qin to western standards whatsoever. “It is the highest form of music by itself, period. Why do you want to play qin with virtuosity? It shall just play with virtue!” declared Randy Raine-Reusch.
Before I made up my mind to actually start learning to play qin, the first group class at China Institute was already full with 6 enthusiastic students. At least for now I could find peace after learning about the “no-string qin”. After all, as I am completely fascinated and charmed by the newly discovered rich yet complex cultural meanings of qin, I perhaps shall just settle with a “no-string qin”, or no qin at all!
qin, late 17th to mid-18th Century, in display with a Chinese vase and other contemporary western instruments. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Prince Lu, 1634, Hangzhou, China, in display with other Chinese and western music and art objects at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
“Sizhu: The Sound of Silk and Bamboo”, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (qin, 19th Century, Hebei, China)
Astoria, New York
3/19/2019
Other Resource
Stephen Addiss, The Resonance of the Qin in East Asian Art, New York: China Institute, 1999
Robert van Gulik, The Lore of the Chinese Lute, Tokyo: Sophia University, 1940
Robert van Gulik, Hsi K’ang and His Poetic Essay on the Lute, Tokyo: Sophia University, 1941
Kenneth Moore, the Qin, Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York
沈冬，”琴道”何在？——高罗佩与文人想象。人文中國學報(第二十期)
Tomb of Marquis Yi of Zeng, Asian Art Education