Performing For A Dead Audience?—The Spectacle of Xiao in the Western Zhou

While the main dramaturgical transformation of xiao occurred in the Eastern Zhou, the roots can be found in the late Western Zhou.Footnote ⁷ The dominant religious practice of the political elite was a form of ancestor worship that emphasized ritual sacrifices to ancestors of the Zhou political elite, often referred to as the great lineage (da zong 大宗). In short, the rituals of the Western Zhou were about feeding the dead. Xiao, as has been documented repeatedly, was not only about parents, and therefore not properly translated as “filial.” Rather, it was a ritual offering of food for recently deceased ancestors.Footnote ⁸ Xiao was largely transactional, such that the Zhou elite made offerings to the ancestors with the stated desire for them to send down blessings and longevity (shou 壽) in return.Footnote ⁹ The inscriptions that include xiao, however, do not tell the entire story, for these offerings were often part of a more elaborate, choreographed ritual performance.

The performative dimension of ancestral sacrifice and xiao is preserved in the Odes (Shijing 詩經), including the Zhou hymns, which are part of the oldest stratum of the text.Footnote ¹⁰ These hymns, though typically classified as “poetry,” were originally sung as part of ritual performances. Martin Kern has argued that the Zhou hymns, which probably date to the late Western Zhou, functioned as performance texts for ancestral rituals.Footnote ¹¹ These hymns not only reiterate the “feeding” function of xiao offerings to the ancestors, but also add the fuller context of sacrifice as a religious, political, and even aesthetic experience. For example, though the “You Gu” 有瞽 hymn (Mao 280) does not reference xiao, it does illustrate a performer/spectator relationship in these rituals:

有瞽有瞽

The blind musicians, the blind musicians

在周之庭

In the courtyard of Zhou.

設業設虡

We've set up the cross-board and stand,

崇牙樹羽

High hooks and feathers,

應田縣鼓

Small and large drums,

鞉磬柷圉

Hand-drums and chime stones, the mallet box and the stopper,

既備乃奏

All prepared and they play.

簫管備舉

The panpipes and flutes are ready to begin.

喤喤厥聲

Huang huang—they ring

肅雝和鳴

In solemn harmony they sound.

先祖是聽

The ancestors are listening,

我客戾止

The guests have arrived,

永觀厥成

Gazing long at the successful performance.Footnote ¹²

This hymn illustrates the musical element of late Western Zhou ritual, implying an aesthetic dimension to the ritual performance, but the audienceFootnote ¹³ is made explicit in the final lines in which living the ancestors “listen” (ting 聼) and the living guests “gaze” or “observe” (guan) the ritual. Kern notes that the late Western Zhou witnessed a merging of the religious with the political, as the ancestral temple was not only a ritual space for ancestral sacrifice, but also a place where he solidified ties with his regional lords. As Kern puts it: “the king presented his political and military feats both ‘vertically’ to his ancestor and ‘horizontally’ to his political community.”Footnote ¹⁴

Within this ancestral temple, however, the ruler making xiao offerings and the accompanying musicians were joined by another performer: the “impersonator of the dead” (shi 尸)—a living person who represented the ancestors, consuming their offerings and stating their blessings to one offering xiao and to the other attendants in the ritual space.Footnote ¹⁵ C.H. Wang claims that the impersonator of the dead was “the most important figure in the rite,” and interprets this individual as performing a dramatic role within a larger act of mimesis in a religious setting.Footnote ¹⁶ This characterization is significant, given that shi and xiao frequently appear together, especially in odes that provide fuller descriptions of ritual sacrifice.Footnote ¹⁷ As the representative of the ancestors, the impersonator announces the satisfaction of the ancestors for the xiao offerings, often stating that they are “drunk” (zui 醉).

As several scholars have noted, “Thorny Caltrop” (“Chu ci” 楚茨, Mao 209) provides the most detailed description of a ritual sacrifice—complete with descriptions of actions from the performers and even scripts of what is said by various participants. Kern's analysis of this ode divides it into several parts, including a narrator, thus replicating a ritual performance.Footnote ¹⁸ Even without Kern's insightful segmentation of the various stanzas into specific roles, however, the text remains evidence of a larger ritual spectacle that revolves around xiao offerings to the dead. Towards the end of this ode, the text oscillates between describing the acts of the spirits and the impersonator vis-à-vis the xiao descendant:

禮儀既備

The ritual ceremony has been completed,

鍾鼓既戒

The bells and drums are ready.

孝孫徂位

The xiao descendant goes to his seat,

工祝致告

And the officiating invoker announces:

神具醉止

“The Spirits are drunk.”

皇尸載起

The august impersonator then rises,

鼓鍾送尸

And drums and bells send him off;

神保聿歸

The spirit-protectors then return home.Footnote ¹⁹

Wang notes the significance of the alternation between references to the impersonator and the spirits as an indication that the poet-narrator sees the impersonator as the ancestor, but then ultimately acknowledges the impersonator as a living performer of a role.Footnote ²⁰ Regardless, in this performance of xiao, the impersonator is the main focus of spectatorship, such that the satisfaction of the ancestral spirits was of utmost importance. The poem concludes with a description of musicians performing, and asserts “No one is resentful, all are happy” (mo yuan ju qing 莫怨具慶). These positive feelings frame the entire ritual as a celebration in which the living has communed with their forebears, and then the living guests continue to commune with each other, once the formal elements of the ritual have concluded. Thus, the poem reiterates how the rituals were moments of both religious and aesthetic enjoyment. In other words, the ritual performances were celebratory spectacles for both the dead and the living, and the emphasis on spectacle not only continued after the Western Zhou, the act of xiao, itself, took a strong dramaturgical turn.

Ornamenting Emotions: The Dramaturgy of Filial Piety After the Western Zhou

This development of ritual spectacle in the Western Zhou served as a prelude to a more dramaturgical understanding of xiao (and ritual in general) in later periods up the Western Han Dynasty. The literary sources from the late pre-imperial period to the Western Han,Footnote ²¹ associate xiao more directly with parents (both living and dead) than what is found in Western Zhou sources (especially bronze inscriptions), and therefore may be translated more properly (and less controversially) as “filial piety.” In relation to Western Zhou materials, these sources not only reiterate the importance of rituals for the dead, they also demonstrate a growing dramaturgical significance for the filial son as a performative role. Given the textual issues pertaining to dating and authorship, of course, it is impossible to trace a neat chronology of this dramaturgical development. Nevertheless, one can still notice how these texts express either overlapping or combative attitudes towards filial dramaturgy.

The Analects (Lunyu 論語), for example, even with the controversy over its dating, still serves as an ideal introduction to the basic elements or Ruist filial dramaturgy.Footnote ²² To begin with, this text depicts Kongzi insisting on a particular way of performing sacrifices:

This “as if” (ru 如) behavior was far more than correct choreography. As Michael Puett has argued, it became fundamental to the Ruist subjunctive attitude in ritual performance, and emphasized the performer's attitude toward the deceased, rather than affirm, in any definitive way, whether spirits had power over the living.Footnote ²⁴ Though this behavior did not necessarily indicate a disbelief in the existence of the spirits, there was considerable attention placed on the filial performer, and not primarily on any transaction with the dead.Footnote ²⁵

The filial son's attitude toward a dead parent was an extension of his attitude toward living parents. In this context, Kongzi noted explicitly that what made behavior truly filial was not simply the act, but also a sense of “respect” (jing 敬) (Analects 2.7). Moreover, these dispositions needed to be noticeable:

The countenance (se 色) was a visual indicator of the respect for one's parents that could not be rest solely on the formal behavior. By describing it as “difficult” (nan 難), Kongzi emphasized that rote or perfunctory ritual behavior did not constitute real filial piety. However, the importance placed on the countenance also set up a performer/spectator relationship implying that filial sons must show/reveal this attitude to others.

Spectatorship is subtle in the above passage, because it is framed from the standpoint of the performers and their explicit expression of feelings toward their parents. Kongzi brings critical spectatorship to the forefront of filial piety in Analects 1.11:

Here, Kongzi's implied interlocutors are spectators of the potential “filial son,” who are instructed to observe (guan) not only actions (xing 行), but also “intentions” (zhi 志), which presumably come out through the son's countenance and demeanor. Though Kongzi distinguishes placing attention on intentions and actions based on whether the father is alive, the larger context of the Analects suggests that intentions and feelings are important in both cases. To be sure, Kongzi expresses this view in the Analects 3.26 when he says that for someone who “performs rituals without respect, and mourns without grief—how can I watch (guan) that?”Footnote ²⁸ This performer/spectator relationship within the confines of ritual behavior became the foundation of filial dramaturgy in the Warring States.

On the performer side of this relationship, the emphasis on expressing personal feelings was never meant to supersede the significance of the filial son's ritual scripts. Instead, Kongzi envisioned an ideal balance between what he termed “native substance” (zhi 質) and “ornamentation” (wen 文):

Dramaturgically speaking, the “perfectly blended” (binbin 彬彬) state of filial piety was when people could merge their dispositions with the ritual scripts. Spectators, then, would ideally perceive their “native substance” through the “ornamentation” of these scripts. This ability to perform in a binbin manner, however, was something Kongzi associated with a high level of moral self-cultivation. Thus, it was an ability one should aspire towards, though few in society would likely attain it.

Attaining a binbin performance was even more difficult when the ornamenting ritual script was controversial. For example, the three-year mourning period (san nian sang 三年喪) was a relatively recent element in filial performances, and it was the ritual (or set of rituals) that most explicitly depended on emotional expression.Footnote ³⁰ Kongzi's disciple, Ziyou 子游 is credited with asserting that “mourning should fully express grief, and then stop” (sang zhi hu ai er zhi 喪致乎哀而止).Footnote ³¹ But grief had to be expressed through this specific ritual script. Zaiwo 宰我 famously criticized the three-year mourning period for being too long and threatening the integrity of the wider program of ritual and music. To this, Kongzi replied:

Though Zaiwo claimed to be “comfortable” (an 安) with these activities, they run contrary to the accepted script of mourning, and Kongzi's apparent approval of Zaiwo modifying the ritual to suit his “comfort” was quickly followed by the implication that Zaiwo was no “gentleman” (junzi 君子), that he was not cultivated and could not achieve the binbin state of grief and the ornamentation of the three-year mourning period. Thus, though Kongzi's dramaturgy of mourning was founded on personal emotions, self-cultivation entailed engaging in behaviors that overcame the tension between one's personal feelings with the public obligations to embody the role of the filial son as naturally as possible—to become a cultivated spectacle for society to behold.

An Antitheatrical Backlash: Spectating the Filial Body in an “As is” World

The Ruist filial dramaturgy, consisting of an “as if” world for ornamenting emotions in rituals for the dead, became a key point of contention in Warring States thought. The Mohists, for example, had a reputation for frugality and practicality, and were generally against all forms of aesthetic entertainment enjoyed by the political elite to the detriment of the masses. But many of the Mohist criticisms of the Ruists can also be traced to the Ruist dichotomy between emotion and ritual scripts. They criticized Ruist filial performances as shallow and misguided forms of ritual theatricality, and their criticisms of the Ruists can be described as a form of “antitheatricality” that rejects any performative behavior that relies on some form of artifice.Footnote ³³ The result was a rejection of the Ruist “as if” project, and a defense of living in a world “as is.”

Contrary to their reputation from Ruist critics, the Mohists were not against filial piety,Footnote ³⁴ but their antitheatrical tendencies did lead them to criticize the three-year mourning period. Such a ritual, according to Mozi, led mourners to create absurd spectacles of themselves:

The text goes on to argue that, much like rulers’ obsessions with musical entertainment, such measures will result in economic disaster. But also like the criticism of elite entertainment, the passage above reveals a perception that mourners were acutely concerned with how they appeared. Aside from feeling hungry and cold, Mozi makes no mention of how the mourner really feels, especially about the deceased, implying that such emotions matter little—either to the mourners themselves or in Mozi's criteria for evaluating behavior.

In place of emotional expression toward the dead, the Mohists were more concerned with maintaining a relationship with the spirits. This attitude toward the living's relationship to the dead, then, resulted in a very critical and perplexed reaction to the bizarre spectacle that was the Ruist reaction to death:

This dichotomy between ignorance and artifice reveals a significant distinction between the Mohist and Ruist worldviews with regard to death and the spirits—and by extension, filial piety. While the Ruists expressed their grief by behaving “as if” they could call back the spirit of the deceased without an explicit commitment to a firm belief about this ritual's effect on the dead, the Mohists preferred behaving in the world “as is.” Thus, from the Mohist perspective, the ritual was not so much “ornamentation” of emotions, so much as “artifice” (wei 偽), enacting an expression of beliefs that the performers did not actually have.

Despite rejecting the three-year mourning period, the Mohists were not against the practice of ritual sacrifices to the dead. In fact, they adamantly supported these practices, specifically because of their firm belief in the power of the spirits. They lamented that some people doubted the existence of “ghosts and spirits” (gui shen 鬼神), and found it absurd that some people doubted their existence and still engaged in sacrifice:

If sacrifices were worth performing, it was because the Mohists believed that they actually functioned as a means of communicating with the spirits. Otherwise, again, such behavior was mere artifice.

Fear also lay at the foundation of Mohist views of sacrifices, for failure to present the ancestors with properly prepared offerings could result in death.Footnote ³⁹ Sacrifices were not spectacles for the living. Rather, actions of living people (both rituals and other moral actions) were a kind of spectacle for the spirits, who, according to the Mozi, saw everything:

Because one's acts—not emotions—were important, any ornamentation was simply a false overlay that the spirits could see through, even better than living humans. Comparing the observational power of the spirits to even that of the sages, according to the text, was “like comparing those with keen ears and sharp eyes (cong er ming mu 聰耳明目) to those who are deaf and blind.”Footnote ⁴¹ The ghosts and spirits, unlike living people, were “perspicacious” (ming 明).Footnote ⁴² Thus, though the Mohists eschewed any form of self-presentation of a person's “inner life,” they still framed morality as a kind of spectacle of actions for an omniscient body of spectators, who evaluated and passed judgment on living “performers” living in a world “as is,” with no need for any ornamentation.Footnote ⁴³

Antitheatrical Dramaturgy in Warring States Ruism

The concern for artifice in behavior also influenced Ruist conceptions of filial piety and morality in the mid- to late Warring States Period. Mengzi 孟子, in particular, developed his own antitheatrical tendencies, but not by embracing Mohist views. Rather, Mengzi placed an even greater emphasis on the internality of morality, while also acknowledging its visibility through the body:

Mengzi points to the “heart” or “mind” (xin 心) as the origin of these virtues, which was part of how Mengzi conceived of internality of one's morality, and particularly in goodness (shan 善) of one's human nature (xing 性).Footnote ⁴⁵ He then asserts these virtues come out in one's appearance and entire body. That these virtues are “clearly seen in the face” (sui ran jian yu mian 睟然見於面) indicates that Mengzi thought of one's morality as not only embodied, but also distinctly visible.

The body and visibility, then, became fundamental elements of his dramaturgy of filial piety, best illustrated through his imagined origin for funerals:

Like Kongzi in the Analects, Mengzi drew a connection between this internal feeling and an external manifestation: the countenance (mian mu 面目). Yet far from being “difficult,” this expression was involuntary. He was also conscious of spectatorship for these emotions, as they were visible in one's appearance. However, Mengzi insisted that the people's expression of their distress was “not for the sake of others” (fei wei ren 非爲人). In this way, Mengzi affirmed an antitheatrical stance on grief, while also affirming the public nature of the funerary performance.

This antitheatrical dramaturgy of filial piety—accepting spectatorship, but denying its significance for the performer's motives—was indicative of Mengzian Ruism's focus on the internality of morality. Nevertheless, Mengzi did not use personal emotions to reject or diminish the value of inherited ritual scripts. For example, when a disapproving disciple, Chong Yu 充虞, criticized him for using a casket that was too “fine” or “beautiful” (mei 美), Mengzi responded:

Thus, Mengzi provided two justifications: the standard inherited from the authoritative past, and also the authority of his personal emotions. In correlating the received standard (i.e., the ritual script) with genuine emotions, he then rejected the notion that his performance was intended as a mere spectacle for “observing beauty” (guan mei 觀美).

Beauty, then, was an important aspect for Mengzi's filial dramaturgy, even as he correlated it closely with the natural expression of emotions. Ritual, though rooted in the heart, still retained the element of ornamentation:

The ornamentation of these “cores” (shi 實), which are all based in familial morality, lead to an involuntary expression through movement of the body. Moreover, Mengzi links this ornamentation to music (even playing on the dual meaning of yue 樂 [“music”] and le 樂 [“delight”]) and ultimately dance. This acceptance of the ornamentation in filial rituals, especially as linked to the aesthetic elements of music and dance, further distinguished Mengzi's antitheatrical dramaturgy from the more radical antitheatricality of the Mohists.

The Nature of Artifice in Late Warring States Ruism

Though Mengzi tended to diminish ritual artifice by connecting it tightly to internally based morality, Xunzi 荀子 embraced it. As he famously wrote: “Human nature (xing) is bad; what is good is artifice (wei).”Footnote ⁴⁹ That is, though “artifice” was often used to denote something inferior or “fake,” (as seen in the Mozi), it could actually be a powerful and positive force within human civilization. Human nature, he asserted, was universal to all human beings, but the sages (sheng ren 聖人) distinguished themselves from the masses (zhong 眾) through artifice in the form of ritual.Footnote ⁵⁰ Therefore, unlike in the Mengzi, self-cultivation was not a matter of developing one's nature towards a more perfect form of goodness. Instead, one's nature should be transformed through ritual artifice.Footnote ⁵¹

The act of moral transformation, then, stemmed from a regulatory function of ritual on the emotions:

Aside from the regulation of emotions, the successful level of performance was a “pattern” (ze 則) for others to follow, implying that these cultivated performances were intended to be admired and emulated. Part of the admiration from others was due to the performance's “beauty” (mei). Indeed, Xunzi insisted that “without artifice, human nature would be unable to beautify itself” (wu wei ze xing bu neng zi mei 無偽則性不能自美).Footnote ⁵³ In short, Xunzi's ritual dramaturgy embraced artifice by explicitly linking aesthetics and morality.

In this way, he embellished upon Kongzi's proposed relationship between the emotions (qing 情) of the performer with ornamentation (wen):

Like Kongzi's “perfect blending” (binbin), Xunzi's “middle flow” (zhong liu 中流) idealized a balance between the individual's personal feelings and the social ritual scripts. Taken in conjunction with his negative view of human nature and the regulatory and transformational function of ritual, Xunzi could be even more emphatic about emotions conforming to the scripts, and was therefore less concerned with these scripts conforming to one's natural feelings in Mengzi's view.

Nevertheless, though Xunzi took a much more positive view of ritual artifice, he cautioned against shameless spectacle, using the ritual of mourning as an example:

Thus, like the Mohists, Xunzi was highly critical of mourning for the sake of appearance, but only because mourning was intended to be a matter of using this particular ritual script to regulate one's own feelings about the deceased, and (as Mengzi insisted), “not for the sake of others.” One's mourning was, in effect, for the sake of oneself, one's relation to the deceased, and one's relation to death.

Xunzi developed a robust, performer-centered dramaturgy of death. As part of his program of artifice, he insisted that various elements of funerary practices were forms of “imitation” or “symbolism” (xiang 象). Corpses were to be dressed like living people, and buried with certain objects that they would use, but Xunzi was very explicit that there should be indications that these objects were merely adornments. For example, people should be buried with empty jars, musical instruments that are not tuned, and carriages with no horses.Footnote ⁵⁶ The unusable nature of the adorning objects, he believed, “emphasized grief” (zhong ai 重哀) in the living participants at the funeral.Footnote ⁵⁷ In this way, the known fiction of the objects intensified real emotions in the mourner/filial son. Again, the fiction was not merely for display, but rather to help the performers fully engage their natural emotions for the deceased in a way that demonstrated the full respect they deserved, and come to terms with their death—for the living descendant to be transformed dramaturgically into a filial son.

The fiction of various objects or “props” for a burial was only part of the performative artifice of filial piety. Xunzi's dramaturgical technique provided a detailed description of part of the mourning process as well:

The final lines of Xunzi's essay mimic the reactions of spectators witnessing the ritual:

Xunzi's choreography of “as if” behavior for the performer, in conjunction with this comment illustrates Xunzi's elaborate dramaturgy in which the performer demonstrates to his living “guests” (bin 賓) his devotion to his deceased ancestor through his bodily movements.Footnote ⁶⁰ The performer, in turn, is praised for a performance that brings to life what was commonly understood to be scripted behavior.

Space, Spectacle, and Spectatorship in the Late Warring States and Western Han

Xunzi developed a dramaturgy of filial piety and ritual in which ornamentation factored into several elements of “expressing” (fa 發) emotions—not only the performer's face, voice, and clothing, but also the space itselfFootnote ⁶¹—thus creating a complete dramaturgical environment for filial piety. Indeed, the filial space was particularly significant for the potency of “as if” behavior. Prescriptive ritual texts compiled in the Western Han Dynasty (202 BCE–9 CE), such as the Liji,Footnote ⁶² illustrate how the “ancestral temple” (miao 廟) was intended to be a transformative space where ordinary behavior halted temporarily, and an alternative “as if” world prevailed. In particular, the Liji shows that, by the late Warring States Period and Early Han Dynasty, the dramaturgical significance of the filial son had surpassed even that of the impersonator of the dead:

The necessity of this strange performance preparation is explained later in the text, where it notes that the impersonator should actually be the deceased's grandson and the son of the main person interacting with the impersonator.Footnote ⁶⁴ Thus, in this scenario, not only is the ruler behaving “as if” he is interacting with his father, he is showing deference to someone to who, outside this ritual/performance space, is his clear subordinate. To express his grief publicly toward the impersonator is a major act of artifice on the part of the ruler, so not meeting the impersonator before the ritual helps him avoid “breaking character.”

That the filial son was someone who needed such performance preparation is a sign of how dramaturgically developed that role became. The “Ji Yi” 祭義 chapter, for example, describes how the filial son, while in a state of fasting (zhai 齋), deliberately contemplates (si 思) his deceased parents, especially their physical characteristics and even their likes and desires, to the point when he actually sees (jian 見) them.Footnote ⁶⁵ The text continues to insist that the (ideal) filial son does not forget (bu wang 不忘) the sense experiences (i.e., sights and sounds) of his deceased parents to the point that they seem to still exist (cun 存), and such memories are kept in his heart/mind (xin).Footnote ⁶⁶ This deliberate corporal preparation allows him to give a sincere performance. As the text says, “Thus, the filial son faces the impersonator of the dead without shame” (shi gu xiaozi lin shi er bu zuo 是故孝子臨尸而不怍)Footnote ⁶⁷—all the while understanding that this impersonator is not his father. But the filial son's deliberate and methodical self-manipulation for remembering and contemplating these individual details that are specific to his father infuses a personal truth into the artifice of the ritual script. The result for the performer is a more therapeutic experience for dealing with the loss of a parent.Footnote ⁶⁸

Though the filial son's performance of rituals for the dead served as a kind of personal catharsis, the authors of the Liji made it clear that the entire role of the filial son—and not merely his relationship to his dead parents—was a public spectacle:

As implied in other passages, the filial son was supposed to be introspective and not ostentatious, but the end result was still a performance that was a visible expression of his feelings to a viewing audience in the wider community. The personal qualities of obedience, grief, and respect were visible only through the artifice of ritual performance. Or more precisely, ritual artifice provided an acceptable form of expression to the wider public.

In rituals for dead parents, in particular, with the filial son's performance preparation and the elaborate “as if” behavior in mourning and sacrifices, he became a kind of “tragic” role that was both unique and familiar to his spectators.Footnote ⁷¹ Though the spirit of the ancestor was represented through an impersonator, the filial son was also “ghosting” his role.Footnote ⁷² That is to say, each filial son expressed his own personal emotions, but through the same ritual scripts spectators had seen others perform before him. The impersonator may have represented his esteemed deceased parent, but the attention of the other living participants and spectators were squarely on the filial son. The filial son, then, in his fully developed and cultivated role, and in contrast to the impersonator of the dead, became the most important figure in the rite.

The tragic performance of the filial son, however, was not for its own sake. The largest significance of public filial performance was for the political elite. Mengzi 3A2, for example, notes the power of “correct” filial mourning rituals over an initially skeptical audience to the crown prince of Teng 滕 as he attempted to mourn for his father. As part of his encouragement to the crown prince to follow the standard mourning script, Mengzi quotes Kongzi on the political power of morality:

The prince of Teng ultimately takes Mengzi's advice, and the final lines of this passage illustrate the perceived power of a filial ruler performing for his subjects:

The prince affects his spectators in such a way that they cannot help but react positively to his very personal, yet scripted, performance. The passage is a prime example of the belief in moral exemplarism in early Ruism: the idea that if a person (particularly a ruler) demonstrates a strong moral character—in this case, through ritual performance—others will notice and be influenced to become moral themselves.Footnote ⁷⁵

This aspect of filial rituals for the dead is expressed even more strongly in the Western Han text, the Xiaojing (Classic of filial piety), which concludes with Kongzi describing a ruler's filial performance for his dead parents:

This formalized performance of grief has a didactic quality, such that it “teaches” (jiao 教) and “displays” (shi 示) for the people how they, in turn, should behave. The ruler as filial son becomes the model for all.

The Liji, however, paints a more complicated picture. For instance, in the “Fang Ji” 坊記 chapter, Kongzi reiterates the ideal exemplarist qualities of the ruler performing filial rituals for the dead, and his effect on his spectators, but acknowledges the imperfection of this performance model:

Later, he says,

Kongzi uses the same main verbs as he does in the Xiaojing, “teach” and “display,” and yet he acknowledges the performance can fail, revealing that at least some early Ruists understood, as Michael Ing states, “[o]ther powers, and in particular other people, determine the success of our rituals.”Footnote ⁸⁰ In cases such as these, spectators were as engaged in the performances as the filial sons and the impersonators of the dead. That is, they were not meant to be mere passive observers; they were as much performers as spectators, and had an active, albeit fallible, role in the dramaturgy of filial piety.

The significance of the cultivated spectator was most important in unconventional situations. As a prescriptive text, the Liji offered numerous examples of special circumstances that called for adjustments to the ritual protocol, especially for filial rituals for the dead.Footnote ⁸¹ The general assumption was that if the filial son performed his role correctly and sincerely, according to the circumstances, others would notice, and respond positively. Nevertheless, the authors of the Liji were also aware that there may be circumstances that even they had not imagined. To illustrate how a cultivated performer would handle such a situation, the “Tan Gong shang” chapter offers the following example:

The son's improvisation is not a raw expression of emotions. He devises formalized expressions to match the unique situation. In one sense, this anecdote illustrates the son's uncanny ability to perform the role of filial son when there was no set script for his unique situation, but Ziyou's role is far from insignificant. He functions as a first-hand observer, and his status as a disciple of Kongzi gives his judgment a special authority. He is, in effect, the only reason a reader (classical or modern) could understand that this son's performative choices were admirable, given the unique situation. Thus, while this passage certainly illustrates the possibilities for virtuoso performers, it also indicates that early Ruists saw a necessity for cultivated spectators not only to ensure that filial rituals were performed correctly, but also to confirm when deviations and innovations were permissible and even laudatory.

The belief in self-cultivation's impact on spectatorship, specifically one's ability to recognize another self-cultivated individual, existed as early as the Warring State Period. For example, a passage from the Guodian version of the Wu Xing 五行 (Five aspects of conduct)Footnote ⁸³ illustrates this special power:

The “jade-like countenance” (yu se 玉色)Footnote ⁸⁵ is something the text also associates with people who are “humane” (ren 仁), indicating that the “wisdom” (zhi 智) that comes from “seeing worthy people” (jian xian ren 見賢人) most likely also makes one a worthwhile performer. Recall that “perspicacity” (ming) was a level of visual perception the Mohists attributed to ghosts and spirits, but this text attributes it to cultivated living individuals. It is unlikely that the authors of the text thought cultivated people were omniscient spectators, but the ability to notice the moral value of another's behavior, was important, especially when ritual dramaturgy was a fundamental part of moral, religious, and political life.

To return to the opening anecdote, one can also notice that within the Liji, sometimes cultivated spectators can disagree on whether a performance is truly filial. Kongzi sees the man's performance as “adept” (shan), and points specifically to his “as if” behavior for revealing his emotions. Zigong, on the other hand, cannot understand why the Master makes such a fuss over him, insisting that it would be better for the man to shift more quickly to the next ritual. The yu 虞 sacrifice to which Zigong refers involved an impersonator,Footnote ⁸⁶ and given the above discussion about the performance preparation for interacting with an impersonator, one need not assume that Zigong was completely disinterested in emotional expression.Footnote ⁸⁷ Even if we follow the commentarial tradition that interprets Kongzi's view as more authoritative, Zigong's challenge signifies that there could be reasonable disagreements over the quality of performances, especially when there was no obvious or egregious mistake on the part of the performer. Kongzi's insistence that the man should serve as a model (fa 法) filial son to his disciples reinforces the exemplarist quality within ritual performance. He and Zigong, however, demonstrate that cultivated performers and cultivated spectators had become inseparable entities in the dramaturgy of filial piety.