The Sinologist’s bookshelf has become richer with the addition of Dominik Declercq’s A Prince of Martial Splendour in the Sixteen Kingdoms: Li Hao (351–417), Ruler of Western Liang. Providing a thorough deep dive into a topic that most of us probably know too little about, Declercq’s study of Li Hao 李暠, otherwise known as Prince Wuzhao of Western Liang 西涼武昭王 (r. 400–417), takes its reader on a wide-ranging journey through the polities and personalities that dominated the Gansu corridor throughout the first five centuries of the Common Era. In so doing, Declercq works through difficult questions of historical colonization and multi-ethnic state formation, all the while telling the story of Li Hao, who, if the sources are to be believed, kept “the flame of Chinese civilisation alight” (182) in the far-off regions of Chinese empire that he was ruling.

A packed and fast-paced 208 pages—including two useful appendices that chronicle the Commandant Protectors of the Qiang as well the Prefects of Wuwei, Zhangye, Jiuquan, and Dunhuang, with citations to passages on these men in dynastic histories—A Prince of Martial Splendour is an indispensable guide to this dizzying period in Chinese history. Not only does Declercq lead his reader through the complex state relations that typify the era, but he also meticulously cites his sources so that future researchers will much more easily be able to follow up with individuals and events in the formation and decline of the various polities of the Sixteen Kingdoms period (304–439). Without exaggeration, I would say that A Prince of Martial Splendour can serve as a reference manual to the period. With its reliable index and careful citation of primary sources, I, at least, will use it that way.

Yet much more than a reference guide, Declercq has provided us with a compelling story of one man and his world. I appreciate Declercq’s focus on the single figure of Li Hao because such a method provides an even-keeled approach; steadying its reader through the violent tides of the Sixteen Kingdoms, A Prince of Martial Splendour brings new and judicious insights to the fore. Declercq’s narrative of Li Hao’s background, rise, rule, death, and the demise of his state illustrates the themes that Declercq himself lays out in the book’s “Introduction” (Chapter 1): 1) that, by any measure, the kingdoms of the Sixteen Kingdoms were failures in that the population of northern China declined by more than half; 2) that within this smaller population up to 50 percent of the people were not of Han Chinese ethnicity, at least according to how ethnicity was measured at the time; 3) that the geographical areas of most intense violence were precisely those border areas on the map where Han Chinese populations lived in close proximity to non-Han populations who had already adopted useful parts of Han culture for the project of state building, such as the Chinese language; 4) that within this context of inter-ethnic competition for political dominance a new “Chinese” identity formed, one in which prior ethnic markers, often linguistic affiliation, started to make little sense, so that what we know as “Chinese” throughout the remainder of the first millennium of the Common Era was, in fact, a multi-ethnic identity forged in the fire of the Sixteen Kingdoms.

Beyond the book’s thematic introduction, Chapters 2–5 provide crucial background to the study of Li Hao by detailing historical and geographical information about the Hexi corridor, the colonization of Liangzhou 涼州, the Former Liang 前涼 (320–376), the Former Qin 前秦 (351–384), and Later Liang 後涼 (385–403). Declercq’s overview of the Hexi corridor in Chapter 2 focuses on the variety of ethnic groups that were living in the area prior to its annexation by the Western Han state in 121 BCE, just as it describes local rebellions against Han settlements and garrisons. This culminates in an analysis of the Liangzhou Rebellion, which Declercq characterizes as a reaction to Han revival led by members of the Qiang ethnic group. Chapter 3 picks up this theme of the establishment of the sovereignty of the Han state in the Hexi corridor by chronicling the vicissitudes of the colonization project. A particularly enlightening chart on page 50 records a 58 percent decline in Han population in the area during the first 150 years of the Common Era, but Declerq suggests that, on the other hand, general population in the region may have increased. Such a change in population leading up to, and in fact surviving, the fall of the Han state in the year 220 then brings us to Chapter 4, a study of the formation of the Former Liang state. It describes Li Hao’s forebears as émigrés to the region who had fled violence in Henan by migrating to Hexi and, because of their reputation as “gentleman-officials” became associated with the Zhang 張 ruling house. Finally, Chapter 5 sets the stage for the eventual rise of the Western Liang and Li Hao’s rule by tracing a number of allegiances, including those that led to the rise of Lü Guang 呂光 (338–399) to ruler of the Later Liang and his defeat of the Zhang family.

The background information in the first five chapters sets the stage for what I see as the heart of the book: Chapters 6–9, which focus on Li Hao’s “Linked Destiny” with Juqu Mengxun 沮渠蒙遜, ruler of the Northern Liang 北涼 (397–439) and the intertwined histories of their states. Chapter 6 offers annotated translations from the Jin shu: excerpts from Li Hao’s official biography alongside sections from the Jin shu’s treatment of Juqu Mengxun, for whom the text does not offer an official biography but dedicates a chapter of “Documentary records” (zaiji 載記) that are assembled at the end of it. Here, Declercq provides a fascinating discussion of the Jinshu treatment of these two rulers: Li Hao as model ruler in Chinese fashion deserving of an official biography, and Juqu Mengxun as an acculturated barbarian whose state came into conflict with that of Li Hao. Chapters 7 and 8 deal with the formation of Li Hao’s and Juqu Mengxun’s states, relying on biographical details from these same passages. Perhaps most intriguingly, Chapter 7 discusses Li Hao’s use of Han-dynastic symbols and strategies of rule such as the calculations of the five phases and the acquisition of a jade seal (110), whereas Chapter 8 reflects on Juqu Mengxun’s identity as a Lu River nomad (a group elsewhere identified as a branch of the Qiang), and suggests how nomadic beliefs and practices became part of his rule (123). Both chapters introduce the question of rising interest in Buddhist texts and persons among the ruling elite (111–12; 120–22). In Chapter 9, Declercq offers translations of three memorials sent to the Eastern Jin 東晉 (317–420) court in Jiankang: two by Li Hao (127–30; 133–35) and one by Juqu Mengxun (p. 136–37). In all cases, these memorials communicated the desire for reunification of the realm under the leadership of the Eastern Jin; however, Declercq characterizes the memorials as strategic communication meant to appease the then-dominant empire.

If Chapters 6–9 are the heart of the book, then chapters 10–13 are its soul. Chapter 10 focuses on Li Hao’s move of the Western Liang capital from Dunhuang to Jiuquan, a move that was intended to unite first the northern regions and then the whole north and south under the leadership of the Eastern Jin. The move, however, created additional, sometimes violent, tension between Li Hao and Juqu Mengxun, who had similar intentions. Chapter 11 is perhaps my favorite chapter. Offering a full annotated translation of a lengthy rhapsody composed by Li Hao near the end of his life (p. 152–63), Declercq shows us Li Hao’s self-understanding as a man fit to reunify a great Chinese empire despite the troubles and tribulations of navigating a world defined by multi-ethnic state formation. In Chapter 12, however, Li Hao’s rhapsody becomes ever more poignant as Declercq artfully chronicles the events that followed Li Hao’s death, including the transfer of power to his son, the simultaneous consolidation of power by Juqu Mengxun in the Northern Liang, and the latter’s final defeat of Li Hao’s Western Liang in the year 421. In his final chapter, Declercq nods to the fact that although the Northern Liang successfully united the Hexi corridor, it was also the last of the Sixteen Kingdoms. In 439 it was defeated by the Northern Wei 北魏 (368–534 CE), which ushered in a new era of state formation that saw the eventual unification of the north and the south. This glance forward is a mere nod, however, because Declercq closes his book with his own goals in mind. His closing sentences bring us back to Li Hao, situating the man and his state as integral to the formation of a medieval, multi-ethnic “Chinese” identity.

Though Declercq consistently provides citation to relevant secondary studies, primary sources drive A Prince of Martial Splendour. Throughout all thirteen chapters of the book, Declercq provides reliable annotated translations of primary texts, and his selection of those texts reveals his own deep understanding of the history of the period. I will certainly revisit Declercq’s translations many times. The translations could be usefully excerpted for teaching at both graduate and undergraduate levels, with the instructor providing additional interpretive explanation. Given Declercq’s evident mastery of the textual sources available, I would have appreciated his analysis of the limits of textual witness to the period, particularly given that these are texts written in the Chinese language and, often, from the perspective of history’s “winners.”

A Prince of Martial Splendour is likely a book for specialists. Those who are already interested in early medieval China but who find it difficult to make head or tail of the tumultuous Sixteen Kingdoms period will find the book a welcome companion. However, non-specialized readers and students may find it a challenge. Indeed, the brief overview of the book’s contents and arguments that I have provided here merely scratches the surface of all that is on offer in Declercq’s treatment of the period. A Prince of Martial Splendour is a rich and remarkable work that will surely inspire future research on this little-understood and critically understudied period in Chinese history. In sum, Dominik Declercq has done us a great service with his new book, and I will return to it again and again.