2 | Early Ming Legal Cosmology

THE RULING ELITE ON COSMIC ORDER

The founding of the Ming Dynasty, as was noted at the beginning of the preceding chapter, was closely associated with the conviction of divine endorsement. Subsequently, in their efforts to reconstruct the empire, the early Ming interacted with what they envisioned as a powerful superhuman world. To the ruling elite, the cosmic order was an organic entity. Zhu Yuanzhang, the architect of this empire-building enterprise, envisioned a dynamic cosmogonic process: The Supreme Ultimate (Taiji) first engendered Heaven and Earth during the times zi (11 P.M.–1 A.M.) and chou (1–3 A.M.), respectively, and left an empty place between them called huanyu. Subsequently, human beings were created there at the time of yin (3–5 A.M.), thus completing the cosmos with Heaven and Earth (YZWJ, 176). In this triadic cosmos, Heaven, Earth, and subordinate deities and spirits all belong to the superhuman realm; they scrutinize and govern human affairs, and are the ultimate source of human authority. As the children of Heaven and Earth, human beings must behave in accordance with the principles manifest in the cosmos (ZSTX, 1476). Throughout his life, as John Dardess notes, Zhu Yuanzhang took this “classical religion” (the belief in and worship of Heaven, Earth, and a variety of spirits) with the “greatest seriousness” (Dardess 1983, 221).

The dynastic founder’s belief in the superhuman world is also clearly illustrated in his attitude toward ghosts. In an essay that specifically discusses “whether or not there are ghosts and spirits,” he challenges the argument that upon death a human’s spirit-soul (hun) scatters into the atmosphere and his body-soul (po) becomes mud, and therefore ghosts do not exist. He maintains that ghosts and spirits do exist and that this was why the sage-kings of antiquity established the “sacrificial statutes” (sidian). Ghosts and spirits are sometimes visible and sometimes hidden, he further explains, because some people die a timely or worthy death, while others die an untimely or unworthy one. Superhuman beings govern the blessings or misfortunes that befall to human beings. Only if the sacrifices to ghosts and spirits are appropriately carried out would weather be favorable, harvests abundant, and potential disasters be averted. In the end, the ruler ridicules the questioner: “If you, sir, say there are no ghosts and spirits, then you are not going to stand in awe of Heaven and Earth and will not offer blood and food to your ancestors. What kind of man are you?” (YZWJ, 160–61; Dardess 1983, 222; Langlois and Sun 1983, 111–12)

Based on such a conviction, therefore, when the meritorious general Zhu Liangzu (d. 1380) memorialized that hundreds of ghosts marched in the wild countries with torches scaring local people, the emperor sent an imperial rescript to question the ghosts: What kind of ghosts are you? Are you orphaned ghosts who need to be worshipped? Separated family members who need to be reunited? Innocent people who were killed and demand redress of injustices? Or are you not being worshipped because of official negligence? Zhu explained to the ghosts that no matter who they were, he could only perform sacrifices according to the dynasty’s sacrificial statutes. He urged them to harm the people who should be harmed and bless those who should be blessed, but not to bring calamity to the innocent recklessly and thereby violate the “heavenly constitution” (tianxian) (TS, 1924–25). This imperial appeal evinces a deep-rooted belief in spirits—not only in the emperor’s worldview, but also in the minds of other members of society. At the same time, it indicates that the ruling elite were confident about their cosmic authority/obligation to establish and observe the hierarchy of the spirits. After all, the emperor considered himself to be the son of Heaven, and hence could claim precedence over the spirit world.

How did spirits interact with human beings? The most important event in the dynasty’s history, according to the early Ming ruling elite, was when heavenly sanction was accorded to the new ruling house. Having ascended the throne from an extremely humble background (Langlois 1988), the dynastic founder seems sincere in his belief that he could pacify the world with the Lord on High’s blessing, along with the sanction of August Earth and all other celestial and terrestrial deities and ancestor spirits (TS, 392, 482, 486, 599, 635; YZWJ, 21, 175). He evidently attributed the founding of the Ming to heavenly will rather than to human effort.⁶ On numerous occasions, therefore, Zhu claimed that it was the “Mandate of Heaven” (TS, 482, 486, 635, 1935–36), the divine approval to govern and transform the human realm,⁷ which had established the dynasty.

The Mandate of Heaven was to be observed in celestial or terrestrial omens, evil or auspicious, that delivered messages from superhuman forces. While Zhu was pleased to see favorable signs such as multi-eared wheat, sweet dew, melons growing from a single stem, and five-colored clouds, anomalies were a cause for concern since they were warnings from the deities. Any such signs in the empire, he ordered, should be swiftly memorialized (TS, 880, 922–23, 1031, 1280, 1370, 2872). Standing in awe of the Mandate of Heaven, he anxiously observed heavenly phenomena; a single disordered star would cause him tremendous anxiety (TS, 1882). In order to understand portents more accurately, he had two books compiled: one for himself—Records of a Constant Heart-and-Mind (Cunxin lu), a collection of historical events of cosmic consonance relating to rulers; and another for his ministers—Records of Self-Reflection (Gongxing lu), which catalogued portents regarding officials from the Han dynasty to the present (TS, 2684). Heeding potential bad omens constituted an essential part of Zhu’s daily life.

From time to time, Zhu admonished his heir apparent Zhu Biao (1355–1392) (DMB, 346–48) and other princes to work diligently and honor Heaven, the ancestors, and other spirits; negligence and disrespect would lead to loss of the Mandate of Heaven and dynastic collapse (TS, 879, 1913). In the eighth month of 1391, for example, Zhu sent the heir apparent on an inspection tour to Shaanxi. During the tour, two conflicting celestial signs caught the emperor’s attention: while the heir apparent was crossing the Yangzi River in a northeasterly direction, the “heavenly way” (tiandao) suddenly changed and thunder began to rumble in the southeast. Thunder, according to the emperor, symbolized heavenly majesty. By following the heir apparent across the river, it showed heavenly support for their mission. On the other hand, for ten days during the tour it had been cloudy but had not rained; divination concerning this sign indicated that illicit plots were afoot. The emperor worried about how his son would respond to these omens, and warned him that he could not solely rely on the thunder while ignoring the cloudiness. To alter the “heavenly will,” he should act with extreme circumspection, cultivating a benevolent nature and showering grace upon his subjects.⁸

In 1397, toward the end of his life, Zhu Yuanzhang still worried that his sons did not understand the movement of heavenly bodies. In the third month of that year, the planet Mars entered the celestial region Taiwei, staying there for eighty days. Taiwei was the symbol of imperial and princely palaces. Any brief intrusion of Mars into this important area would indicate grave danger, let alone an eighty-day conjunction.⁹ Taiwei belonged to the constellations yi and zhen that governed the human territory of Chu, so Zhu sent a messenger to his son Zhu Zhen (1364–1424), the Prince of Chu. Zhu inquired whether the prince had reviewed the Book of Astrology (Tianwen shu) that he had recently sent him, and alerted him that no one could protect both territory and people unaided by knowledge of the close relationship between deities and humans. He further asked: “Now, your son has just died of illness. Doesn’t that show that heavenly phenomena are believable?” The emperor urged his son to examine himself and correct any errors so as to change the “heavenly heart” (TS, 3634–35).

The emperor was not talking nonsense. In both cases, he saw potential threats to the new government. The heir apparent had been assigned his particular mission because the Prince of Qin, Zhu Shuang (1356–1395), the emperor’s third son, “had committed many errors” in performing his princely duties (MS, 3560). An envoy to the Prince of Chu had to be dispatched because the emperor’s sixth son, as the commander of an expeditionary army to quell a local rebellion, had neglected his duty by not personally commanding the troops (MS, 3570). Shielding the core Han Chinese cultural territories, both Shaanxi and Huguang were strategic areas for the Ming; hence, Zhu could by no means allow any “mistakes” to happen there. His sons’ failure to heed divine messages and take the appropriate precautions was a grave danger threatening the security of the empire that might even lead to loss of the Heavenly Mandate.

Indeed, the Mandate theory seems to have played a key role in the early Ming dynasty-building enterprise. It not only provided a divine foundation for the government, but also influenced and guided imperial actions. On his road to the throne, Zhu Yuanzhang relied heavily on prophecies showing heavenly sanctions or warnings. One day in the eighth month of the Yuan regnal year Zhizheng 21 (1361), he personally led troops to attack the then-powerful Chen Youliang (1320–1363) (DMB, 185–88). The campaign was initiated in part because Zhu had obtained information that Chen’s troops lacked unity. According to the Veritable Records, however, the campaign was directly caused by an alignment of the planets observed by both Zhu and the well-known strategist and astrologer Liu Ji (1311–1375) (DMB, 932–38). Venus was standing in front, with Mars behind—a portent of military victory (TS, 117–18). In a series of battles against Chen Youliang, Zhu even consulted the casually-encountered Buddhist Meng Yueting and two Daoists: Crazy Zhou the Immortal and Iron-Cap Master Zhang Zhong.¹⁰

After seizing the realm, Zhu continued using portents to examine his personal behavior and government policies. If the weather suddenly changed, he would leave the main hall of the palace, a sign showing his modesty and humbleness. He insisted that he should not return to the hall until he had corrected his mistakes and thus moved the “heavenly heart” (TS, 2099). When sunspots appeared, he ordered court officials to examine and correct ritual worship (TS, 953–54); a thunderstorm was interpreted as a heavenly warning, leading to the termination of construction projects so as not to exhaust the laborers (TS, 2123–24). On many occasions, Zhu served as a mediator to invoke blessings from deities in times of drought or floods. He believed that such disasters resulted from human acts that had damaged the harmony of the cosmic atmosphere. One way to ward off disaster was for the ruler to cultivate virtue. Zhu would therefore restrict his food intake as an attempt to appease Heaven (TS, 339, 1350), personally act as a rainmaker to pray for rain (TS, 53.1033; Langlois and Sun 1983, 109), or exempt calamity-stricken people from taxation (TS, 2543). Once, when rain did pour down and the empress Ma approached to congratulate him, Zhu humbly expressed his modesty: it was Heaven on high that had sent down blessings, therefore the sweet rain had fallen (TS, 1350).

One essential component of the Mandate theory is the concept of sagehood. Zhu Yuanzhang believed that he was a sage-ruler who had appeared to restore China (TS, 1046–48, 1752). A sage-ruler was created by Heaven to nourish the people: “When a multitude of people were generated [by Heaven], they could not be ruled without a ruler. [Therefore,] Heaven created rulers to establish the lives (liming) of the people” (YZWJ, 176). People as well as Heaven occupied a prominent position in early Ming cosmology. The cosmic pair, Heaven and human beings, was the philosophical foundation of imperial rulership. A sage-ruler’s mission was to connect Heaven on high with the people below. Only by dreading Heaven and fearing the people would he not violate the heavenly will and lose the people’s hearts, causing heavenly rage and the people’s anger (TS, 572, 1981, 2290). In short, holding the people in reverence and standing in awe of Heaven were indivisible cosmic duties for a sage-ruler.

Serving the people entailed both material and spiritual responsibilities for the ruler, one of whose main objectives was to transform people’s hearts and minds. John Dardess (1983, 183–253) has convincingly noted that Zhu saw his role as both ruler and teacher. As a ruler, he sought to foster the people and to organize creation on behalf of Heaven (HMZL, 48; TS, 756; Langlois and Sun 1983, 111). Zhu Yuanzhang claimed that a ruler’s sacrifices to spirits like Heaven and Earth were enacted to request happiness for the “living beings under Heaven,” rather than for any private gain (TS, 806): a ruler should secure material benefits for his subjects (MS, 44).

In the role of teacher, the ruler’s goal was to purify people’s minds so they could achieve spiritual transformation, i.e., changes in their thinking or worldview. Present-day scholarship shows that the ruler’s role as teacher had long existed in Chinese cosmology. In describing Confucianism as essentially “apolitical,” Robert Eno (1990, 42) argues that the core of early Confucianism (which he calls “Ruism”) was perfecting the self and transforming society. This tradition was reformed by Han Confucians, who modified the idea of human nature, and by Song Neo-Confucians, who linked heavenly principle with human nature (Tu 1990). In addition to the individual’s responsibility for cultivating his own Heavenly nature, the ruler was also responsible for correcting the “essential waywardness of humankind.” At times, as Romeyn Taylor (1990, 127) suggests, the necessary cooperation between human beings and Heaven and Earth could only be achieved if humankind were taught and even compelled to act rightly.

Zhu carried on this intellectual tradition. As a matter of fact, he had laid guidelines for the two imperial roles of ruler and teacher even before founding the dynasty. In 1367, having reviewed the reports submitted by Censor-in-Chief of the Right Deng Yu (1337–1377) (DMB, 1277–80) and others, Zhu told them:

In governing the realm, the more important and urgent things should be done first, while less important things should be done later. Now that the realm has just been pacified, what is urgent is food and clothing; what is important is education and transformation (jiaohua). When food and clothing are supplied then the people’s livelihood can be gained; when teaching is done then customs will be beautified. (TS, 387–88)

Here, material benefits and spiritual cultivation are categorized as important and urgent tasks that a ruler should accomplish. Only when these were done could human beings be transformed and exist in harmony with Heaven and Earth in the cosmos.

The founding emperor’s views on cosmic structure and the ruler’s twofold role were shared and to a great extent shaped by other members of the ruling elite. John Dardess (1983) has shown convincingly that the powerful Confucian profession, especially the Confucian elite in east Zhejiang, made a profound impact on Zhu Yuanzhang in his quest for world salvation in a time of chaos. In one of his essays, for example, the Jinhua Confucian advisor Hu Han (1307–1391) (MS, 7310) emphasized the three fundamental principles of government. The first principle was Heaven and its Mandate that was conferred upon the ruler; the second was Earth and earthly boundary lines between the Chinese and barbarians; the third was the Five Constant Virtues (wuchang) within the Chinese world (Dardess 1983, 173–74). Hu apparently envisioned a cosmic trinity of Heaven-Earth-humans, and identified Confucian ethical principles with the cosmic order. To him, the sage’s mission was to transform people’s minds in line with the cosmic order (ibid., 178).

In 1368, when the government was just about to establish law and create rules, Wang Yi (1323–1374) (DMB, 1444–47)¹¹ another key Confucian advisor to the emperor, memorialized that Zhu should “imitate the Way of Heaven and follow the human heart” (TS, 603–4). Even facing death at Yunnan at the hands of the Yuan Prince of Liang, he still believed that the Mandate of Heaven had been transferred to the Ming and that heavenly troops would soon exterminate the Yuan remnants (MS, 7415). Like Hu Han, Wang Yi also stressed the emperor’s ruler-teacher role:

In ancient times, emperors all undertook the missions of ruler and teacher. From the Three Dynasties onwards, rulers knew government but did not know education. Today, your majesty’s injunction is no different from a strict teacher instructing his disciples. What a magnificent grace! This is indeed what is called the way of combining government and education. (TS, 965–66)

For Hu Han and Wang Yi, then, Heavenly principle and human nature were an indivisible whole. In addition to bringing order and prosperity to the human world, the sage-ruler should also be committed to transforming people’s hearts and minds and to establishing a state of cosmic harmony.

How did the compilers of The Great Ming Code view the cosmic order? Throughout the Hongwu reign, dozens of high officials and court advisors participated in the compilation and revision of this legal document.¹² Due to a dearth of historical records, however, we know very little about where most of those law compilers stood on this issue. This study will focus on the cosmological ideas of Song Lian (1310–1381) (DMB, 1225–31) and Liu Ji, two leading Confucians of the early Ming who played a key role in creating the Code in 1367 and 1374 respectively.¹³

Regarding Song Lian, Langlois and Sun (1983, 101) note that his works “are a vast store of information about late-Yuan beliefs in spirits, magic, immortals, and ghosts.” Indeed, as a cosmologist, Song’s thinking revolves around the triad of Heaven, Earth, and human beings in the cosmos and the “resonance” between Heaven and the human world (Song 1968, 4). He states that “the emperor acts by following Heaven” (ibid., 379). In his Records of the Imperial Government during the Hongwu Reign (Hongwu shengzheng ji), the first chapter is “Seriously Performing Sacrifices” (Yan jisi) (Song 1967, 9–15). His viewpoint on the relationship between cosmology and legal institutions, as will be seen in section five of this chapter, is vigorously reflected in his memorial on The Great Ming Code.

In Liu Ji’s view, Heaven takes material force (qi) as its substance (zhi), and principle (shanli) as its mind (xin). Principle is essentially good; material force, which is incarnated as the myriad things, has two forms: healthy (zheng) and perverse (xie). Human beings are Heaven’s children; they are produced by means of material force and take principle as their mind. Since material force takes different forms, people become either good or evil. It is the sages’ role to correct or eliminate evil and to protect and promote the good.¹⁴

Liu Ji’s life vividly reveals his cosmological visions. Langlois and Sun (1983, 101) note that Liu Ji’s professional competence as a diviner was greatly revered by Zhu Yuanzhang. Even in his early years, Liu Ji had mastered astronomy, astrology, and divination from various sources.¹⁵ When Liu and the Daoist master Iron-Cap Zhang were ordered by Zhu Yuanzhang to simultaneously but separately reconnoiter possible sites for a new palace, it is said that they presented maps of the same location without knowing about each other’s work (Lu 1987, 117). In 1367, Liu was appointed as the Director of the Astrological Commission (Taishi yuan), a strategic office tasked with observing the interaction between cosmic order and human realm.¹⁶ In this capacity, he was in charge of drafting the Calendar of the Great Unification (Datong li) (MS, 3779). Not only was he frequently called upon to perform divination prior to military campaigns (Langlois and Sun 1983, 101), he also actively applied his knowledge of correlative cosmology to governmental policies. When the planet Mars entered the lunar mansion xin, Liu Ji petitioned Zhu Yuanzhang to issue an edict blaming the emperor himself for maladministration (MS, 3779). Even on his deathbed, Liu Ji remembered to ask his son to submit the Book of Astrology (Tianwen shu) to the throne (MS, 3781).

It is ironic that while Liu Ji rose to political prestige thanks to his astrology-based strategies, he fell into disfavor with the emperor due, directly or indirectly, to events with cosmological implications. After the founding of the dynasty, three cases that particularly affected Liu Ji’s political career and personal life were all related to the envisioned connection between humans and superhuman forces. The first case occurred in the fourth month of 1368. When Liu and the grand councilor Li Shanchang (1314–1390) (DMB, 850–54) were entrusted by Zhu to administer the capital city, Nanjing, Liu insisted on punishing the corrupt office manager Li Bin of the Secretariat despite a request for leniency from Li Shanchang, the head of the Secretariat. When imperial approval for the execution arrived, Liu and Li Shanchang were preparing for a ceremony to pray for rain. The grand councilor again requested that the execution be suspended: “Today we will pray for rain—can we kill people?!” Liu Ji angrily replied: “After Li Bin is executed, it will certainly rain.” Eventually, the execution was carried out and it did rain. But after Zhu Yuanzhang returned to the capital, Li Shanchang accused Liu Ji of “irreverence” for conducting an execution in front of the sacrificial altar and thus offending heavenly will.¹⁷

The second case took place four months later in the same year. When a serious drought occurred and government officials had obtained no response after praying to the deities, Zhu Yuanzhang blamed judicial officials for causing the drought by wronging innocent people, and instructed other high-ranking officials to present advice. In a memorial to the throne, Liu Ji, the vice censor-in-chief, proposed that three factors leading to the drought be corrected. First, widows of deceased military personnel were forced to live together in camps, generating a strongly depressed yin atmosphere. Second, corpses of deceased laborers were not buried. And third, the surrendered army leaders of Zhang Shicheng (1321–1367) (DMB, 99–103), one of chief rivals of Zhu Yuanzhang during his campaign to reunify China, were in military exile. All of these factors, according to Liu, had caused an inharmonious atmosphere. The emperor believed Liu and decided to modify these policies. After ten days, however, it still did not rain. The emperor became enraged; and Liu Ji took the pretext of his wife’s death and begged leave to return home (MS, 3780; MTJ, 199–200; Liu Chen 1993, 98).

The third case happened at the end of Liu’s life. After he retired from government office in 1371, Liu Ji returned to his hometown, Qingtian, Zhejiang. In 1374, grand councilor Hu Weiyong (d. 1380) (DMB, 638–41), Liu’s recent political antagonist at the imperial court, had one of his underlings accuse Liu of seeking a gravesite at Tanyang, some fifty miles south of Qingtian, averring that through knowledge of geomancy, Liu had deduced that Tanyang was where a future ruler would emerge who, as a member of his own family, would replace Zhu’s dynasty. The emperor was influenced by the accusation and suspended Liu’s stipend, and Liu Ji was so frightened that he went to the capital to beg for forgiveness. Liu did not return home until the third month of 1375, and died one month later.¹⁸

These three cases illustrate the strong cosmological beliefs held by Liu Ji and other key members of the ruling elite that influenced their fierce political struggles. Indeed, cosmological beliefs were utilized as political tools in all three cases. In case one, the desire for certain cosmological consequences justified both Li Shanchang’s practice of nepotism and Liu’s enforcement of law. In case two, Liu’s cosmological claims were intended to reform harsh imperial policies. And in case three, geomancy served as an effective weapon for attacking a political enemy. Nevertheless, the fact that cosmological ideas were used as political tools does not necessarily preclude the political actors’ belief in these ideas. For example, Liu Ji’s cosmological beliefs seem firm regarding his suggestions to reform government policies and end the drought; otherwise, why would he risk his career—or even his life—by “playing tricks on” the unpredictable emperor? Similarly, when he was accused of seeking an auspicious gravesite, he came straightaway to the capital to prove his innocence. The emperor must have shared the same belief—that human actions elicit celestial response and that geographical locations determine human fate—when he accepted Liu’s advice to change his policies and suspended Liu’s stipend. Similarly, when Li Shanchang and Hu Weiyong accused Liu of irreverence and disloyalty, their logic reflects an intellectual milieu in which cosmological beliefs prevailed. In fact, other sources show that both Li and Hu believed in the interaction of humans and superhuman forces. As an architect of official religious rituals who opposed “heretical” practices (MS, 3770; DMB, 851–52), Li recommended Song Lian to Zhu in part because Song had “mastered astrology and divination”;¹⁹ he also accused artisans who were constructing the imperial palace at Fengyang of practicing black magic—“capturing spirits” (MS, 3973). It is said that Hu Weiyong plotted rebellion because he believed to some degree in auspicious omens: the sudden emergence of a stalagmite in an old well at his hometown, and leaping flames that lit up the sky above his ancestors’ graves (MS, 7906). Hence, when Li and Hu attacked Liu for political reasons, it is quite possible that they themselves also held firm cosmological convictions.

In sum, the early Ming ruling elite shared the vision of a dynamic cosmic order in which the superhuman domain and human world were in dynamic correspondence. Acting as the more powerful cosmic force, deities—especially Heaven and Earth—supervised and guided human affairs. In order to govern the myriad masses on earth, Heaven created sage-rulers who were authorized by the Mandate of Heaven. As a mediator between Heaven and human beings, the ruler was endowed with the cosmic mission of bringing harmony and prosperity to the human world and transforming the hearts and minds of his subjects. This mission was the raison d’être for the Mandate of Heaven. And law, as will be shown next, was considered a key instrument in manifesting the Mandate of Heaven and completing the ruler’s double-faceted mission.

HEAVENLY PRINCIPLE AND HUMAN SENTIMENT: THE COSMOLOGICAL FOUNDATION OF LAW

In mediating between Heaven and human beings, Zhu Yuanzhang and his law compilers placed great emphasis on the role of law. Even before ascending to the throne, Zhu had frequently discussed the urgency of establishing a legal system with his officials. One lesson they drew from the collapse of the Mongol Yuan dynasty (1271–1368) was that its legal system was lax and its “net-ropes” (jigang, i.e., principles of government) were not shaken.²⁰ One of the most important things for the new regime to do was compile strict laws to eliminate “evil practices” (TS, 211). In enacting a great number of legal regulations during the Hongwu reign,²¹ what constituted the nature of law for the early Ming ruling elite?

The nature of law, according to Zhu Yuanzhang and his law compilers, lay in manifesting tianli and renqing, the two fundamental elements of the Mandate of Heaven. Heaven, principle (or reason), and human sentiment were age-old themes in Chinese intellectual history, but they had been vested with new meaning by Song Neo-Confucians (Hou et al. 1987; de Bary 1981; Mizoguchi 1993). To what extent Neo-Confucian thought influenced Zhu is a question that may never be definitively settled, but it is known that although he rose from a humble background, in the course of seizing imperial power and establishing and consolidating his authority, Zhu was actively influenced and instructed by Confucian advisors holding various governmental posts. In his study of the close relationship between Confucianism and the early Ming autocracy, John Dardess (1983, 24–32) persuasively demonstrates that late Yuan and early Ming Confucians possessed a kind of “professional knowledge” centered on the Confucian Four Books and Five [or Six] Classics that served as the philosophical foundation of the early Ming government. In particular, Edward Farmer (1989, 171–74; 1990, 107–11) notes that Neo-Confucianism was a crucial component of Zhu’s lessons from his court Confucians. Wing-tsit Chan (1970, 44) also observes that, a man of little education, the Ming founder “depended greatly on the scholars of the time, and turned to the Neo-Confucianists.” Indeed, the former peasant and Buddhist novice discussed many issues involving heavenly principle, human sentiment, or human heart with his court officials. As early as 1358, Zhu was presented with the Great Learning (Daxue), one of the core classics esteemed by Song Neo-Confucians, by the Jinhua Confucian Fan Zugan. Fan advised the future emperor to study the principles of the kingly way, learning the proper steps to follow in investigating things, extending knowledge, making the will sincere, rectifying the mind, cultivating personal life, regulating the family, bringing order to the state, and pacifying the world. All of these were essential for obtaining and preserving the Mandate of Heaven (TS, 74–75; BX, 415). Before the dynasty was founded, Zhu asked Song Lian what the most essential book on governing a realm was. Song recommended the Expanded Meaning of the Great Learning (Daxue yanyi) by the Song Neo-Confucian Zhen Dexiu (1178–1235), a book expounding the Neo-Confucian principles of self-cultivation, managing the family, governing the country, and pacifying the realm. Zhu was very pleased with this advice, and ordered that the text be copied on the walls of the palace for his daily study. He also encouraged court officials to listen to Song Lian’s lectures on the book (MS, 3784–86). Nearly twenty years after the dynasty was founded, the emperor still praised this book as a mirror for government (TS, 2489; BX, 447).

During the Hongwu reign, despite the fact that Zhu Yuanzhang showed some distrust of elite scholar-officials (Andrew 1991) and had arbitrarily expunged eighty-five sections from the Mencius (Mengzi) (DMB, 956–58), he still drew predominantly on Neo-Confucian doctrine as a source of wisdom. In addition to advisors like Song Lian, Liu Ji, and Hu Han, a large number of other well-known contemporary Confucian scholars assisted the emperor and profoundly influenced him (BX, 443–49). To cite several examples: Tao An (d. 1368) (DMB, 1263–66; MS, 3925–27) and Cui Liang (MS, 3930–31) designed ritual institutions as Chancellor of the Hanlin Academy and Minister of Rites respectively; Zhang Meihe, who wrote the Classified Encyclopedia on the Learning of Principle (Lixue leibian), served as a compiler in the Hanlin Academy (TS, 2078–79; MS, 3954); Wu Chen (d. 1386), the Grand Academician of the East Hall, presented to the throne the Record of Absolute Sincerity (Jing cheng lu), consisting of excerpts from the Confucian classics in three categories—reverence for Heaven, loyalty to the ruler, and filial piety to parents (TS, 2386–87; MS, 3947–48). Through the efforts of Confucian officials, the Four Books and Five Classics with appended Neo-Confucian interpretations were issued to schools as standard textbooks (TS, 2154).

In part due to court contacts, Zhu Yuanzhang achieved great attainment in understanding the Neo-Confucian classics (HWYZQS, 24–29). Heavenly principle and human sentiment, the essential components of Neo-Confucian cosmology, defined the emperor’s worldview in many ways. Shortly after he joined the Red Turban rebels, for instance, Zhu suffered a serious illness; a doctor called Hao Zhicai cured him with acupuncture and herbal medicine. Many years later, Zhu still remembered that event, marveling that at the time his life had no more value than any other, although he was later to rise to preeminence. “Was the doctor so skillful, or my life so durable?” He concluded: “The doctor’s curing me must comply with heavenly principle,” he saved the life of the Son of Heaven (YZWJ, 223–24). In discussing the good and ill portents indicated in the classic Book of Documents (Shangshu), Zhu articulated the belief that Heaven and humans were founded upon a single principle; therefore, the best way to influence Heaven was to manage human affairs according to the way of Heaven (TS, 298–99).

What exactly were heavenly principle and human sentiment? Although Zhu and his officials did not offer any firm definitions, they did perceive some essential elements—both social and metaphysical—regarding these fundamental cosmic forces. From a metaphysical perspective, heavenly principle first meant a pattern of harmonious hierarchy, as displayed in the Heaven-Earth-humankind triad and yin-yang. Everything had its fixed position (fen), was either superior or inferior, and functioned within a concordant whole (TS, 2657; Romeyn Taylor 1989). In addition, heavenly principle denoted values like resoluteness, uprightness, ceaseless motion, impartiality, using surplus to supplement insufficiency, and loving to create things (TS, 1658, 2645–47, 3096–97, 3400–3401). As for human sentiment, Zhu Yuanzhang high-lighted qualities such as love of life and unwillingness to die, favoring rest above labor, preferring wealth to poverty, loving the good and abhorring evil, and having affection for relatives, especially parents (TS, 2645–46, 2675–76, 962–63). Translated into a social agenda, these attributes would promote filial piety and brotherliness, and inspire benevolent government policies, such as lenient laws, light taxation, emphasis upon agriculture, and impartiality in punishments and rewards. In his Imperial Commentary to the “Hongfan” Section of the Book of Documents (Yuzhu Shu Hongfan), Zhu delimited the social obligations of the imperial government to manifesting cosmic principles, establishing law, protecting the masses, following the four seasons, and achieving abundant harvests, all of which showed the heavenly way in human affairs (TS, 2727–28). Most important was developing the “Three Bonds and Five Constants” (sangang wuchang), principles that had been cultivated by the sages of previous dynasties and that were crucial in fostering the people.²² With such policies, the early Ming, in Donald Munro’s words, “read the human social order into the structure of the universe” (Munro 1969, 29).

The Neo-Confucian worldview shaped the early Ming understanding of the nature of law. Zhu Yuanzhang saw in law an indispensable tool for structuring the ideal society and transforming human hearts; to him, the foundation of law was heavenly principle and human sentiment, evinced in both legislation and judicature. In compiling law, Zhu exhorted himself to “revere the Mandate of Heaven” (TS, 280); hence, establishing law and governing the people was a way to carry out the Mandate of Heaven (YZWJ, 73). During the formation of The Great Ming Code, he required the compilers to base all rules on the cosmic order and human sentiment so that they could lead subjects to “abide by law and follow principle” (fengfa xunli) (TS, 423). The specific goal in legislation was to codify the above-mentioned social ideals as dynastic laws, turning state values into social norms.

In law enforcement, Zhu also requested his officials to take heavenly principle and human sentiment as standards. In 1367, when the first version of The Great Ming Code was still being compiled, he instructed the vice censor-in-chief Liu Ji and others:

“Net-ropes” and legal institutions are the roots of government; and [the office] that is in charge of shaking the net-ropes and manifesting the legal institutions is the Censorate.… When you enforce law, [it is essential that] you respond to Heavenly phenomena. If there is a slight deviation [from the Heavenly will], the net-ropes and legal institutions will become lax, and people will not stay in peace. (TS, 389–90)

The emperor thus articulated how law followed heavenly principle: legal institutions should be established on the basis of heavenly patterns, and law applied in accordance with heavenly phenomena.

Zhu Yuanzhang seems to have been serious in connecting law enforcement with heavenly phenomena. In 1368, a fire broke out in the capital city. Associating the incident with floods and droughts that were occurring across the empire, Zhu worried that straying from the “middle way” (zhong) in meting out punishments might have caused an imbalance in the cosmic yin-yang forces. He thus ordered his officials to guide his own self-cultivation, so that those “heavenly sanctions” (tianqian) would disappear (TS, 600–601). In responding to anomalies, he would limit executions and issue general amnesties to move the “heavenly heart” (TS, 1164–65; HMZL, 30–31). In the winter of 1381, imitating the ancient convention of “following celestial seasons to improve the law,” Zhu sent investigating censors to various localities to redress injustices. He told them that since the weather had grown cold—a sign that the yin force prevailed—it was time to improve legal statutes. By doing this, he hoped that “the Code will echo the human heart and law will respond to heavenly principle” (TS, 2196).

The idea of adherence to the mean, or middle way, occupied an important place in early Ming legal cosmology; it embodied the proper interaction of law and the cosmic order. In 1391, when a second edition of the law was published, Zhu Yuanzhang again stressed the importance of observing principle and maintaining a happy medium in government administration:

In the world, every matter has perfect principle. With different understandings, however, people tend to hold to biased opinions when judging law cases. It is therefore difficult for them to reach the acme of perfection. Only by observing principle can such a malpractice be eliminated. From now on, whenever a government decree is issued, it is essential that you officials meet to deliberate on them carefully. The decree will not be carried out until it is considered appropriate by all of you. In order to make every matter perfect, it is necessary to follow this [procedure].… Sincerely hold fast to the “happy medium” so as to fulfill my entrustment. (TS, 3105)

In Zhu Yuanzhang’s legal philosophy, keeping a happy medium in administering punishment was closely linked to a state of harmony existing between Heaven and Earth, and to goodness prevailing within the human realm (TS, 2085–86, 2384). In the summer of 1391, a long period of drought worried the emperor: was it the result of incorrectly handled law cases? He ordered officials to review law cases throughout the empire. The following case was reported: A woman was sentenced to tattooing and enslavement according to “regulations” (li) because she had “recklessly lodged a suit” to rescue her husband, who had committed a capital crime. The emperor questioned the officials: why was the woman punished so severely? After all, she had filed the suit out of love for her husband. Remember, unsuitably harsh penalties would interfere with the harmony between Heaven and Earth. Finally, the punishment was changed in accordance with The Great Ming Code (TS, 3119). Here, the emperor emphasized the importance of a happy medium in achieving cosmic harmony. The impartial administration of justice, then, was an essential way to preserve the Mandate of Heaven.

A happy medium in administering punishment, however, does not always mean leniency toward the accused. According to specific circumstances, penalties for criminals could be extremely harsh. Zhu Yuanzhang was known for his ruthlessness in meting out punishments; this has often been labeled by present-day scholars as Ming “despotism” (Mote 1961). For instance, in the cases of Hu Weiyong (d. 1380) (DMB, 638–41; MS, 7906–8) and Lan Yu (d. 1393) (DMB, 788–91; MS, 3863–66), who were both charged with plotting rebellion, tens of thousands of people were implicated and executed (Fu 1963; Massey 1983). But for Zhu, the problem was not whether the penalties were too harsh, but whether they fit the crimes. As long as legal decisions complied with the Mandate of Heaven and human sentiment, they were correct. Accordingly, Zhu justified his massive employment of severe punishment in the Hu Weiyong case from the perspective of cosmic order. Law, he said, should be impartially (gong) applied so that Heaven would respond to justice and maintain peace in the human realm. He even denied that the Son of Heaven could arbitrarily exercise power over lives and property; on the contrary, he claimed that he cautiously and conscientiously spoke every word and conducted every act in rewarding and punishing, bestowing and taking away, fearing lest he should “violate the Mandate of Heaven on high and thwart human sentiment down below.” He wanted to get rid of personal love, hatred, anger, and grudges, and to follow the way of great impartiality and absolute justice (TS, 2054–55).

In early Ming legal cosmology, Heavenly principle and human sentiment represented the same cosmic ideal. The former, representing the will of Heaven, was mirrored in the latter. Donald Munro (1969, 57) finds in Confucianism a belief that “all things somehow derive their being from a common source (Heaven); all, therefore, equally possess a ‘Heavenly nature’ (t’ien-hsing [tianxing]).” In other words, heavenly principle and human nature/sentiment were indivisible; they were two aspects of the same thing. Zhu and his official advisors often emphasized this unity; the root of the realm lay in human sentiment, and human sentiment was where the Mandate of Heaven was located. In governing the empire, to obtain the heavenly heart meant precisely winning popular sentiment (TS, 345, 573–74, 634, 2333, 3397). Law should be a perfect manifestation of both cosmic principles.

Nevertheless, in legal practice, discrepancies often arose regarding the interpretation of heavenly principle and its correlate, human sentiment. Several law cases illustrate this problem.

THE NATURE OF CRIME: BREAKING THE LAW AND VIOLATING “PRINCIPLE”

Having discussed the nature of law in general, let us now turn our attention to an important issue in early Ming legal cosmology: What is crime? And why do people commit crimes? In Ming legal culture, it is difficult to locate a formal definition of criminality as it exists in present-day law codes. But these questions were not left unanswered; there is an identifiable common conception of criminality among the ruling elite.

Zhu Yuanzhang and his officials perceived crime as existing on two levels, legal and cosmological. The legal definition was concerned with the aspects of crime expressly stipulated in law codes. It required that a crime (either the commission or omission of an act) be clearly defined by law; consequently, no punishment could be administered without legal authority. This notion was already well-established in Chinese legal history. In the Warring States period (Zhanguo shidai), for example, Mozi (ca. 478–392 BCE) said: “Crime is a violation of prohibition”; “If an act is not prohibited, it shall not be considered a crime even though it is harmful” (Zhang and Rao 1984, 137). What Mozi stressed was exactly the legal nature of crime—crime is an act forbidden by law; conversely, no act not forbidden by law is a crime. The early Ming accepted this concept. In 1371, two people were arrested while out walking on the road in front of the Wu Gate because they had stepped on the “imperial pathway.” At the time, however, a law on imperial pathways had not yet been enacted. When Zhu Yuanzhang heard the case, he ordered the two people freed, because “there is no such a prohibition in the Code” (TS, 1219). For him, then, an act that was not prohibited by written law did not constitute a crime.

While Zhu strictly required that his officials abide by the law, he himself often penalized transgressors “outside the prescribed Five Punishments” (wuxing).²⁶ Ironically, when some officials braved death to admonish the throne to observe established law, they also grounded their arguments on the notion that no act should be judged criminal without written legal stipulations. Zheng Shili’s (DMB, 1575–76) questioning the imperial decision on the “Prestamped Documents Case” (Kongyin an) is illustrative. “Prestamped documents” referred to blank but sealed forms used by local officials for reporting tax revenue shipments to the central government (Meng 1981, 55–56; DMB, 1575–76). Due to logistic difficulties in transporting tax materials and calculating and reporting exact amounts, the practice of bringing prestamped documents to the capital and filling out the figures once these materials had been checked in situ had become popular among local officials. In 1376, when Zhu Yuanzhang learned of this practice, he suspected a conspiracy against him and ordered that all district and prefectural officials in charge of such seals be executed, with their assistant officials sentenced to one hundred strokes of beating with the heavy stick and banishment to distant places. Zheng Shili remonstrated with the emperor, trying to persuade him to withdraw the order. One of the main points in his memorial was about how crime should be defined:

When dynastic law codes are established, it is essential to publicize them to the realm in explicit terms first and punish violators afterward, for they violate [the law] intentionally. Since the founding of the dynasty, there has never been a law on prestamped documents. Government officials, succeeding one after another, have never known such a crime. Today, if [you have those in charge of the seals] executed, how can [you] make the executed have no words of complaint? (MS, 3997)

Zheng Shili was sentenced to performing hard labor because of this memorial. But his argument indicates a shared conviction in the early Ming that crimes could not be defined and punished retroactively, although it was often difficult for the all-powerful emperor to refrain from such action. In the early Ming, then, a legal culture is evident that espoused concepts similar to the Western nullum crimen sine lege (no act is a crime without being specifically defined by law), nulla poena sine lege (no punishment is administered without specific authority in law), and an ex post facto prohibition (no law shall make conduct criminal retroactively or increase the punishment for a specific crime after it is committed).

As the dynasty’s fundamental law, The Great Ming Code incorporates these principles. It required that in judging law cases, judicial officials must cite relevant articles of the Code or Great Ming Commandment (Da Ming ling)²⁷ and that imperial decrees to decide individual cases could not be used by analogy (Art. 439).²⁸ Therefore, officials were forbidden to decide crimes without specific stipulations in the written law codes. In a case where some harmful act was not regulated by either the Code or Commandment, officials could cite a closely analogous article in the Code to decide the case. But the punishments proposed had to be sent to the Ministry of Justice for deliberation and memorialized to the throne for final approval. A judge who deliberately or negligently reduced or increased a punishment (Art. 46) violated the law. Therefore, although the principle of analogy seems contrary to nullum crimen sine lege, the procedure of referring a verdict to higher authority was intended to reduce the risk of arbitrary decisions.

Another article related to criminality involved the time at which a new law went into effect. Article 45 of The Great Ming Code reads: “The Code shall take effect from the day it is promulgated. If crimes are committed before then, they shall all be judged in accordance with the new Code.” By authorizing the new Code to operate retroactively, this article seems to redefine criminality. In fact, as John Langlois Jr. (1998, 178) observes, the intention here is only to “change the punishment for actions which had already been deemed criminal,” rather than incriminating people for previous deeds. Furthermore, the spirit of this principle was to reduce penalties for earlier crimes rather than increase them. For example, while Article 119 forbids government officials or functionaries to marry musicians as wives or concubines, it allows those who married before the first year of the Hongwu reign (1368) to maintain the relationship and be exempt from punishment. Another example is Article 90, which prohibits peasants from fleeing to other subprefectures or districts to evade corvée service; it exempts those who left before the seventh year of the Hongwu reign (1374) from punishment, as long as they registered themselves and performed the service required. Retroactively, these regulations benefited the defendants instead of increasing their suffering. In essence, then, the Code’s stipulated period of activity (Art. 45) does not go against the concept of ex post facto prohibition.

This study is mainly concerned with the cosmological definition of crime in the early Ming legal cosmology: crime was considered a violation of principle. On the eve of his dynastic founding, Zhu Yuanzhang directed the enactment of the first two law codes: the Great Ming Code and the Great Ming Commandment. He instructed his officials:

Reading books is for the purpose of probing into principle (qiongli); observing law is for the purpose of restraining passions. Therefore, officials who are said to be upright and good are not those who display a stern demeanor, but rather those who abide by law and follow principle (fengfa xunli). Now that you read the Code as a book, you should know that, generally speaking, people commit crimes because they violate principle (weili). Gentlemen (junzi) uphold principle; this is why they do not violate the law. Mean persons (xiaoren) take law lightly; that is why they are punished severely. Now each of you has your own position and duties; you should understand what to guard against. (TS, 423)

That “people commit crimes because they violate principle” indicates that the essential nature of crime lay in its violation of the cosmic order. Zhu Yuanzhang was urging his officials to learn about principle from law codes, using legal documents as moral textbooks; this would not only prevent crime, but also differentiate morally superior gentlemen from morally inferior, mean persons.

This concept of crime can also be inferred from Xiao Qi’s effort to correlate the Confucian classics with legal texts. A native of Taihe (Jian prefecture, Jiangxi), Xiao Qi was one of the few scholar-officials at the Hongwu court who were not punished due to their straightforward criticism of the emperor’s harsh legal policy. One of his accomplishments was to elucidate “principle” through legal texts. He himself compiled a book entitled The Essential Meanings of the Five Classics (Wujing yaoyi). To illustrate the book’s main concepts, he correlated them with legal regulations selected from the law textbook Eight Rhyming Explications of the United Code (Bayun Xingtong fu). He explained why he had interpreted Confucian texts by using law articles: “There is of course only one principle in the world. ‘Departing from’ (chu) the Way, one will certainly ‘enter’ (ru) punishment. I combine the two books to help readers better comprehend [such concepts]” (MS, 3984). Here, Xiao Qi implied that cosmic principle was embodied in law codes. Any crime, conduct that deviated from the Way and should incur punishment, was a violation of principle. This cosmological interpretation of crime accorded with the basic conception of law, as is shown in the preceding section. Since law was the concrete embodiment of heavenly principle and human sentiment, criminal acts must operate in contradistinction to these cosmic forces.

In his interpretation of the case of Guo Huan (d. 1385), Zhu Yuanzhang elaborated this proposition. A vice-minister of revenue, Guo was charged with having embezzled seven million piculs (dan) of government grain. As a result, several tens of thousands of people, including Guo himself and all other vice-ministers in the Six Ministries, were executed (MS, 42, 2318; YZDG, 233). Zhu justified the massive killing on cosmological grounds: the Way of Heaven demanded that those who had a surplus should help those who did not have enough. If someone required those who had too little to serve those who enjoyed a surplus, it was a heinous crime that would enrage the spirits and lead to “heavenly sanctions” (tianqian). This was exactly what Guo Huan and other officials had done in embezzling government grain. Zhu claimed that the execution of these corrupt officials followed the example of antiquity in carrying out “heavenly punishment” (tiantao) (HMZL, 143–44). According to this argument, law was no different from the direct articulation of heavenly principle and human sentiment. Crimes, then, were committed against the cosmic order and human nature.

As a violation of principle, crime would eventually be punished by Heaven at some point. When discussing with his court advisors why good or evil deeds sometimes reaped unexpected consequences, with the good going unrewarded and the evil unpunished, Zhu said:

Sometimes those who do evil may escape disaster, but principle permits no evil. Perhaps those who do good may not receive blessings; but principle does not prohibit doing good. People can only cultivate themselves; disasters and blessings all depend on the commands of Heaven. That doing good does not bring blessing and doing evil does not incur disaster is only because [the] time has not yet arrived. (TS, 2741)

Zhu articulates two interesting points in these remarks. One is the connection between principle and good or evil deeds. In committing a crime, it is principle that is infringed upon. The other point concerns trust in Heaven. If principle represents the will of Heaven, it seems that only Heaven has the ultimate authority and capacity to safeguard it. Without doubt, Zhu strongly believed that superhuman forces were watching every human’s conduct. Even if someone escaped punishment for a while, “the law in the nether world is slow and sure; the statutes in this world are quick but evadable. Such persons [the wrongdoers] cannot avoid recompense, if not for themselves, then for their sons” (ZSTX, 1459).

Article 410 of The Great Ming Code, “Doing What Ought Not to be Done,” provides insight into the relationship between principle and crime. It states:

In all cases of doing what ought not to be done, the offenders shall be punished by forty strokes of beating with the light stick. (This refers to cases where neither the Code nor the Commandment has an article dealing with the act, but the act shall not be done according to principle [li].)²⁹ If the circumstances are serious, the penalty shall be eighty strokes of beating with the heavy stick.

This is a catchall provision, for it might be used flexibly to regulate any unacceptable form of conduct. Indeed, no law code can explicitly address every harmful act. It comes as no surprise from a legal point of view that such a clause was enacted to make good omissions in the Code and the Commandment. Taking the aforementioned principle of analogy into account, however, this article by no means encourages arbitrary judgments. Here, what should be noted is the definition of crime. This article concerns acts that are prohibited by principle, and crime is defined as a violation of principle. The “Collected Commentaries” (Zuanzhu) on the Code reiterates: “What principle prohibits means ‘what ought not to be done.’ It is also a crime to proceed to do it” (JJFL, 1889). The relative lightness of the penalties prescribed in this article (either forty strokes of the light stick or eighty strokes of the heavy stick) demonstrates that more serious crimes, all of which are acts against principle, were already regulated in the law codes. To be sure, this article, including the word “principle” (li, or “reason”), already appeared about seven hundred years ago in the Tang Code (Tang lü, 653) (TLSY, 522; Wallace Johnson 1997, 510). But, as discussed earlier, the early Ming (after the Song and Yuan Neo-Confucians) had reinvested “principle” with metaphysical meaning—the old word was made to bear new connotations.

Why do human beings commit crimes? Two causes were enunciated by Zhu Yuanzhang. One was the impact of social environment, especially the “pollution” (wuran) that Mongol rule had brought to Chinese civilization. On many occasions, Zhu attributed the relaxation of the “net-ropes” and the degeneration of morality to Mongol governance. The Yuan regime had introduced “barbarian” customs (yiyi bianxia) into Chinese culture. As a result, people in China engaged in deviant behavior and harmed the Way of Heaven. Zhu was especially determined to correct social customs that had been influenced by Mongol practices, such as keeping slaves, the rich and the poor in mutual estrangement, and being overly fastidious about wedding gifts in marriages, geomancy in funerals, and the intermingling of Buddhist and Daoist men and women (BX, 461).

Another major cause of crime, according to Zhu, concerned the criminal’s personal subjectivity, i.e., their wayward minds-and-hearts had not been transformed by the age-old sagely way (YZDG, 197). They “do not learn the principles, mix themselves with unmannerly, mean persons daily, accumulate evil and wickedness in their hearts, and cannot be changed, so they must be executed” (ZSTX, 1474). Zhu called not learning ethical principles and thus not knowing the way of the ancient sage-kings “ignorance.” In the Comprehensive Instructions to Aid the Realm (Zishi tongxun, 1375), he summarized seven types of ignorant behavior: (1) not knowing principle, (2) being unfilial, (3) not knowing shame, (4) injuring people without reason, (5) being robbers, (6) being sorcerers, and (7) being idiots. All of these start with not knowing the principles of the sages and ancients, leading to “reckless acts.” If someone has been in a state of ignorance for a long time, he will eventually become an idiot—a person who does not do what he ought to do or does what he ought not do. Zhu Yuanzhang likened such deviant behavior to illness caused by the internal deterioration of the body’s five vital organs, as opposed to illness caused by cold or heat piercing the body from without. In other words, human crimes arise from the inner spiritual world, rather than from the external environment (ZSTX, 1471–72). In the end, they will be punished by Heaven through the ruler. To Zhu, blessings from the Lord on High, the people’s transformation, and harmony in the cosmic order all relied on the establishment and enforcement of law (ZSTX, 1478–79).

In order to elaborate on the internal causes of crimes, Zhu Yuanzhang compared the hearts of “sages, worthies, and gentlemen” with those of “robbers, thieves, wicked persons, and mean people.” He held that originally, human hearts were all the same; differences arose due to individual self-cultivation, the process of “spiritual movement.” One category of people cultivates their hearts and knows that they will lose their social standing and reputation if they commit crimes, so they do not break the law. They seek “to broaden love and apply benevolence, and to benefit the myriad things.” Relying on a cultivated heart, they will be worthy ministers when they assist the ruler; they will put their family matters in order; they will be called “gentlemen” when they live in villages; and they will become sages when they rule the realm.

The other category of person does just the opposite. They see that the way of sages and worthies is “subtle in matter and esoteric in principle” and thus difficult to grasp, so they give up. At the same time, they find that taking the evil path not only “can be quickly rewarded and easily done,” but the gains are also “abundant”; hence, they pursue the latter path. With evil hearts, they are treacherous and disloyal and will not have a happy end when they serve the ruler; they will become mean people when they make friends; they will become robbers or thieves in villages; and they will not create good relationships when regulating their families. In Zhu’s view, self-cultivation—or lack thereof—results in different types of human hearts and behavior. People with worthy, sagely hearts will be nobles, become wealthy, or at the very least, “will not be found guilty even though they are poor”; whereas mean people “will be executed generation after generation.” Zhu warns that “those who give heed to these words will prosper; and those who ignore them will perish” (YZWJ, 226–27).

Based on their understanding of the nature of law, the early Ming ruling elite defined crime as a violation of “principle,” and additionally as a breach of law. In doing so, they emphasized that the cause of crime lies in a person’s inner world. In this context, crime prevention is a battle against human ignorance and waywardness.

THE FUNCTION OF LAW: ELIMINATING VIOLENCE AND WICKEDNESS AND PROMOTING EDUCATION AND TRANSFORMATION

Law played a significant role in the early Ming empire-building enterprise. Zhu Yuanzhang repeatedly justified his harsh legal policies by claiming that he was ruling a disorderly country (MS, 2285–86). Indeed, the Ming founding was a process of arduous struggle against various forces that were alien to the Ming ruling house. To Zhu and his law compilers, the attacks from Mongols in the North and the Japanese along the coast, revolts initiated by both officials and civilians, tension between corrupt officials and weak commoners, and “polluted” social customs, all indicated a time of chaos. Zhu drew a very depressing picture of his world: officials did not know the “three recompenses and one sacrifice”;³⁰ commoners did not behave in line with the principles regulating father and son, husband and wife, elder and younger brothers, and mutual friends; scholars were pedantic; farmers were lazy; craftsmen were unaware of government prohibitions; merchants were thievish and deceitful; the Buddhist and Daoist clergy were greedy and self-indulgent; and some people even rose up in rebellion (ZSTX, 1453–77). Such chaos suggested that the legal apparatus should play a crucial role in establishing and maintaining an ideal social order.

But why punish at all? So far, the focus here has been on factors leading to the harsh legal institutions of the early Ming, leaving this fundamental question untouched. In fact, the doctrinal grounds for punishment—or penology—was an essential component of early Ming legal cosmology. The ruling elite viewed the emperor as both ruler and teacher, and saw law as an instrument for prohibiting violence and eliminating wickedness (jinbao zhijian), and as a way to promote education and transformation (mingyang jiaohua). Legal prohibitions were intended to foster a safe, well-organized social order, while education was intended to reform people’s hearts—although in practice the two functions were often indistinguishable.

“THE TEN ABOMINATIONS”: AN EXAMPLE OF COSMOLOGY EMBEDDED IN THE LEGAL CODE

In 1374, when presenting the revised Great Ming Code to the throne, the law compilers articulated the cosmological nature of the law:

Since the august lord Your Majesty received the Mandate of Heaven on High to be the ruler and teacher and ascended the throne, you have always been diligent and never indolent in protecting the myriads of people.… Your Majesty, in your deep and sage considerations, examined the Heavenly Principle on high, and estimated human sentiments down below, and finished making this “yardstick” [i.e., the Code] for a hundred generations. This indeed integrates the essence of the Book of Changes (Yi) and the Book of Documents (Shu), and implements the virtue of loving growth in harmony with people’s minds. For all human beings who are illuminated by the sun and moon, who are exposed to frost and dew, and who have blood and energy, there is none who does not receive the sacred transformation from above, correct their errors, and revert to good deeds; thus the great government of harmony and peace will be achieved. (Song 1968, 380–81)

The early Ming ruling elite seems to have envisioned the entire Great Ming Code as a codification of the cosmic order. Below, the Code’s principle of “Shie” (Ten Abominations, Art. 2), legal deterrents embodying heavenly principle and human sentiment, will be examined.³⁹ In the next three chapters, it will be shown how the Code supported the three basic components of the cosmic order.

As stated earlier, in Chinese legal cosmology, the essential components of the cosmos are Heaven, Earth, and humankind. This is a hierarchical structure: Heaven and Earth are the cosmic parents of humankind, generating and nurturing all mortal beings. In each domain of the cosmos, this hierarchical principle is evident. Romeyn Taylor suggests a model of “encompassing hierarchy” in Chinese cosmology, and analyzes the hierarchical structure in the three domains of cosmos, pantheon, and humankind (Taylor 1989, 493–99). Edward Farmer also notes hierarchical elements in the social, administrative, kinship, communal, and religious aspects of human society (Farmer 1990, 111–25). This harmoniously hierarchical cosmic order is composed of two fundamental cosmic forces—yin and yang—and manifested in the movement of the Five Phases (Graham 1986).

For the early Ming ruling elite, the most fundamental principle of the hierarchical cosmic order was the “Three Bonds and Five Constants” (sangang wuchang), which posited the superiority of the ruler, fathers, and husbands over ministers, sons, and wives, as well as the virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and fidelity. For Zhu Yuanzhang, “the Way that the sage kings of antiquity upheld was identical to [the Way of] Heaven,” i.e., the “Three Bonds and Five Constants” (ZSTX, 1446; YZWJ, 162). The Way of the Three Bonds and Five Constants, he stated, “has been inherited successively by various sages from remote antiquity. It has been manifested to nourish the people, and will evolve for ten thousand generations without change” (TS, 2191; YZWJ, 250–51). People committed crimes, according to Zhu, because they did not understand that law was the exact articulation of heavenly will; they should show reverence to Heaven by observing the law. If one did not follow the “five teachings,” namely, the teachings on the five relationships between father and son, ruler and subjects, husband and wife, elder and younger, and mutual friends, it would provoke spirits and human beings to anger. Then the five punishments would be inflicted, heavenly disaster and man-made calamities would occur, and the offender would be executed and his family ruined (YZDG, 221–22). When criminals suffered governmentally inflicted punishment, the emperor maintained, they in effect were being tormented by ghosts and spirits (ZSTX, 1457).

Among a number of general principles stipulated in The Great Ming Code, the “Ten Abominations”⁴⁰ most explicitly manifests the value of the Three Bonds and Five Constants, regulating the ten most heinous crimes: (1) plotting rebellion, (2) plotting great sedition, (3) plotting treason, (4) contumacy, (5) depravity, (6) great irreverence, (7) lack of filial piety, (8) discord, (9) unrighteousness, and (10) incest (Art. 2). These crimes not only entailed severe penalties but also led to loss of legal privileges (Jiang 2005, lxvi). Most significantly, for the purpose of this study, such acts disrupted the fundamental cosmic order.

These ten crimes are examined below. The first crime, plotting rebellion, implies plotting to endanger the emperor; the second, plotting great sedition, means planning to destroy imperial ancestral temples, mausoleums, or palaces. Both of these serious offenses were included in one article (Art. 277)⁴¹ because they threatened the safety, authority, and dignity of the throne. The law was clearly intended to safeguard the Mandate of Heaven for the ruler:

The ruler occupies the most honorable position and receives Heaven’s precious Mandate. Like Heaven and Earth, he acts to shelter and support, thus serving as the father and mother of the masses. As his children and subjects, they must be loyal and filial. However, when they dare to cherish wickedness and have rebellious hearts … [it] runs counter to Heaven’s constant virtues and violates human principle.⁴²

Any attempt to steal the “divine utensil” (shenqi, i.e., the dynasty) or “Heavenly throne” (tianwei) was an offense against Heaven and would merit the harshest penalty (XTFL, 9.1a–2a).

The third criminal offense, plotting treason, means plotting to betray the country or defecting to another country (Art. 278). Such acts of disloyalty defied the dynasty but did not directly harm the throne per se. According to the commentaries on the Code, they violated three cosmic principles. The first principle likens the way of subjects to that of wives who serve their husbands faithfully to the end of their days. Good subjects should follow this example in serving the ruler. The second principle involves the celestial sphere: since there is only one sun in the sky, there should only be one ruler in the human realm, whose subjects should not betray their master. The third principle has to do with the spatial order: since it is located at the center of the world, China should be served by “barbarians” located at the peripheries. The Ming people, therefore, should not leave the country to serve inferior outsiders (ZPZZ, 8.3b). In this way, plotting treason was a breach of cosmic principle and political loyalty.

The fourth “abomination” is contumacy: to strike (Art. 342) or plot to kill (Art. 307) paternal grandparents, parents, or a husband’s paternal grandparents or parents; or to kill paternal uncles or their wives, paternal aunts, elder brothers or sisters, maternal grandparents, or a husband (Arts. 307, 338). The seventh abomination, lack of filial piety, means to accuse before the court (Art. 360), to swear at using spells, or to curse with bad language (Art. 352) one’s paternal grandparents, parents, husband’s paternal grandparents or parents; to establish a separate family registration or separate property while paternal grandparents or parents are still alive (Art. 93), or to fail to provide sufficiently for them (Art. 361); to arrange for one’s own marriage during the period of mourning for parents (Art. 111), making music or taking off mourning garments and putting on ordinary clothing (Art. 198); to disregard the news and not mourn upon hearing of the death of paternal grandparents or parents (Art. 198); or to state falsely that paternal grandparents or parents have died (Art. 198). Discord, the eighth abomination, involves plotting to kill (Art. 307) or to sell (Art. 298) relatives of the fifth degree of mourning or closer; or to strike (Arts. 338, 340, 341) or accuse before the court (Art. 360) one’s husband, senior or elder relatives of the third degree of mourning or closer, or senior relatives of the fourth degree of mourning or closer. Finally, incest, the tenth abomination, means to commit fornication with relatives of the fourth degree of mourning or closer, or with one’s father’s or paternal grandfather’s concubines, or [for those women] to give their consent (Art. 392).

These four types of crimes are all concerned with the violation of family and kinship orders. These acts are defined according to several criteria: their severity (against life, health, person, and dignity of relatives); the distance of the relationship between the offender and the victim (from parents down to the relatives of the fifth degree of mourning); and the act itself (such as fornication). While their object is to protect the older generation and the male gender, these rules also emphasize two cardinal relationships within the family and cosmos. The first is children’s filial piety toward parents (Ch’ü 1961, 20–40). In the commentaries on the Code, this fundamental obligation of children is based on both cosmological and social considerations. As soon as children are born, they owe their lives to their parents, “whose grace is as vast as the boundless Heaven” (LJBY, 31). Children and parents seemingly bear different bodies, but in essence they are “one person”: as “blood relatives” (tianqin) they breathe the same breath and share the same pulse, and together, they continue the family line (XTFL, 10.3b–4a). All members of this family line, from ancestors down to future generations, form one common “cosmic being” that is both symbolic and real. In addition, when children treasure the source of their bodies by repaying parental grace and by being filial, their own children will in turn do the same for them: while they are living, they will be supported, and after they die, they will be remembered and served (ibid.). When this harmonious relationship is established, morality will be promoted and the social order stabilized, people’s livelihoods will be guaranteed and consequently, the government’s financial burdens will be reduced. For children who fail to perform their filial duties, there are both legal and cosmological consequences: “Those unfilial persons will receive punishment by the ruler’s law in this world and retribution in the nether world” (ibid.).

The second cardinal relationship mentioned above is the wife’s obligatory obedience toward her husband. The early Ming government inherited an intellectual tradition positing “three followings” and “four virtues” for women and a rather strict boundary line between “inner” and “outer” spheres, the basic “pillars of Confucian gender ethics” (Ko 1994, 6, 8).⁴³ In early 1368, at the outset of the dynastic founding, Zhu Yuanzhang ordered his Confucian officials to compile the Admonitions for Women (Nüjie), prohibiting palace ladies from interfering in governmental affairs. He had drawn some lessons from court politics in previous dynasties, and believed that “deception by female favorites is even more [dangerous] than poisoned wine” (TS, 535). Empress Wu (624–705), who enthroned herself in the early Tang Dynasty, was perceived as a perfect example of women crossing the gender line and encroaching upon the masculine realm (TS, 2383). Based on yin-yang cosmology, the early Ming ruling elite associated women with the qualities “gentle and weak” (rouruo), while men were “resolute and strong” (gangqiang) (TS, 349, 2433; ZSTX, 1463). The commentaries on the Code elucidate legal regulations precisely along these lines: by definition, the husband is the wife’s “Heaven” (JJFL, 1599; XTFL, 6.20a); by nature, the husband is resolute and the wife gentle (ZPZZ, 9.21b). In the family, therefore, “the husband sings and the wife follows,” as stipulated in the “Three Bonds” (ibid.). One model verdict even sets priorities among the Confucian “three followings” and “four virtues”: “Of a wife’s four virtues, the virtue of obedience is the most significant; and of a woman’s three followings, following her husband is the most important” (XTFL, 11.14a). According to this hierarchical system, when a wife offends her husband, she will receive harsher penalties than will a husband who offends his wife, or ordinary persons who offend each other (Ch’ü 1961, 105–8); moreover, no husband’s act against his wife is regulated in the “Ten Abominations.”

Although emphasizing the authority of parents and husband, the “Ten Abominations” does not completely ignore the “inferior” side in terms of generation, age, and gender within the family/kinship hierarchy. Indeed, while hierarchy is intrinsic to the cosmic order, this does not preclude the protection of inferior elements. In a harmonious cosmos, those in higher positions may be superior in character to those in lower positions, but the latter are also indispensable, just as parents need to be “completed” by children (Taylor 1989, 495). While the yang force—corresponding to Heaven, spring and summer, virtue, human rulers, officials, the male gender, fathers, husbands, and so on—is important for government, the yin force—corresponding to Earth, autumn and winter, punishment, subjects, commoners, the female gender, sons, wives, and so on—is also viewed as essential in completing a harmonious cosmic order. To uphold family harmony, the “Ten Abominations” prohibits the serious crimes of plotting to kill, selling, or committing fornication with junior and younger relatives (Jiang 1997a, 179–80).

Regarding gender relations, while Chinese cosmology placed men in a leading position, it did not reduce women in importance. Just as the cosmos was balanced by complementary yin and yang forces, the human realm was harmonized by interaction and mutual support between male and female (Guisso 1981). Indeed, recent scholarship on gender relations in pre-twentieth-century China reveals women’s active and positive roles in society. Lisa Raphals (1991, 1), for example, finds that in ancient Chinese texts, women were not always portrayed as “eternally oppressed, powerless, passive, and silent”; instead, they also served as “exemplary for their sagacity, prescience, expertise, political acumen, and rhetorical skill.” Dorothy Ko (1994, 8) also challenges the “widely shared assumption of the universal oppression of women in traditional China” and sees women “as architects of concrete gender relations, the building blocks from which the overarching gender system was constructed.”

The early Ming ruling elite did acknowledge the value of women in social reform programs. In 1378, when the twenty-one-year-old (née) Zhao committed suicide on the death of her husband, Zhu ordered that the lady be honored as “pure and virtuous” and exempted her household from performing labor services. The emperor praised Zhao for her fidelity, a virtue that first gained official recognition during his reign (Elvin 1984, 127; T’ien Ju-k’ang 1988, 1–5). This implied that the relationship between husband and wife constituted the foundation of the human ethical principles (dalun) central to the Three Bonds and Five Constants and necessary for the purification of social customs. What impressed the emperor was that Zhao was so devoted to her husband that she vowed not to serve “two heavens” (ertian, i.e., husbands) and chose to die together with her husband. This extremely difficult act, according to the emperor, was more virtuous than a widow’s gouging out her eyes or cutting off her nose in order not to remarry. Thus, while Zhu Yuanzhang here reiterated male social dominance, he also confirmed that women’s virtues were crucial factors in purifying social customs (TS, 1925). Because of the wife’s role in maintaining her husband’s “inborn natural character,” the emperor urged people to marry their sons early. Otherwise, he warned, if males of marriageable age met debauched women outside the family and became contaminated, it might be too late for them to be reeducated (DGXB, 854–55). According to the throne, then, men could be the beneficiaries of female education inside the family, as well as the victims of female pollution. Despite their potential danger as a source of pollution, women could also serve as positive tools for the salvation of society. When Zhu made his wife Ma the empress in early 1368, he compared “a good wife at home” to “a good minister for a dynasty” (TS, 2306; DMB, 1024–26). In short, the early Ming ruling elite conceded distinctive qualities and roles for women. Representing the cosmic yin force, women could serve as “agents of virtue and [of] destruction” (Raphals 1998, 11). As the “soft and weak” gender, women would have to accept men’s dominance in human affairs. At the same time, however, women were by no means dispensable. While efforts to distinguish between men and women reinforced the gender hierarchy, they also validated the active roles played by women in social reform programs.

The Code’s “Ten Abominations” indicated that among the three hierarchies, generation and age took precedence over gender. Belonging to the category of “superior or elder” (zunzhang), senior or elderly female family members were entitled to special protection against crimes committed by junior or younger members, including males; they were also endowed with various kinds of authority over junior and younger members, including the right to take charge of family property and to maintain family unity (e.g., Art. 93; Ch’ü 1961, 41–78). In addition, the “Ten Abominations” also provided special protection for junior and younger female relatives. In the category “incest,” for example, the victims include both senior/elder and junior/younger female relatives. And committing fornication with one’s younger sister, wives of sons or sons’ sons, or daughters of both elder and younger brothers would be punished like crimes against the father’s concubines—by decapitation. Here, the punishment is more severe than in the case of fornicating with the mother’s sisters (Art. 392). The Code, as demonstrated in the “Ten Abominations,” aims to establish a harmonious family order rather than an absolute gender hierarchy. It “imagines kinship units as a social construct, not as a natural unit” (Waltner 1996, 39).

The “Ten Abominations” also suggests modifications to the age-old principle of the “three followings.” For example, both male and female junior or younger relatives (son/younger brother and daughter/younger sister) are subject to the control of the father and elder brother. This power structure seems to be more a generation/age issue than a gender one. In this sense, women were not subject to special rules involving gender oppression. In terms of the mother/son relation, as the “Ten Abominations” shows, a son should obey his mother’s instructions, honoring and supporting her. In this respect, a son ought to follow his mother, instead of the other way around. In the Code, the dictum that the “mother follows her son” only makes sense when a woman has become a “court lady” (mingfu) through her husband or son (Art. 12), because only males were eligible to serve in government offices.⁴⁴ The “Ten Abominations” suggests a more nuanced view on husband-wife relations than outright male supremacy. Although the “three followings” stresses “following the husband” after a woman’s marriage, offences against parents—the mother included—receive more attention than those committed specifically against the husband. For example, contumacy (the fourth abomination) only involves striking or plotting to kill parents, as opposed to killing the husband. In the cases of striking parents or a husband, although the act is the same, the crimes fall into the two different categories of contumacy and discord, with the former being punished more severely than the latter (Arts. 342, 338). For “accusing” (Art. 360) and “concealing the mourning of” (Art. 198) parents or a husband—comparable acts entailing the same penalties—these acts directed against parents fall into the category of “lack of filial piety,” whereas when they are directed against the husband, they are considered to exemplify “discord” and “unrighteousness” (see the ninth abomination below). The difference lies in the nature of the relationships. Parents are one’s blood relatives, like the source of a stream or the roots of a tree; parents are also one’s cosmic origin (ZPZZ, 9.27b), which cannot be changed under any circumstance. The husband, however, is a relative created by the bond of “righteousness” (yi), which can be broken under certain conditions.⁴⁵ Indeed, locating crimes against the husband in three different categories of the “Ten Abominations” reveals an intricate definition of the husband’s position in the husband-wife relationship. While the law promotes the husband’s superiority, it still places limits upon male authority. The “three followings,” therefore, does not necessarily underscore total female submission to male dominance, and contrary to what Dorothy Ko (1994, 6–7) holds, does not “deprive a woman of her legal identity.”⁴⁶

In sum, the above discussion of family relations as prescribed in the “Ten Abominations” indicates a complex principle: on one hand, the law upholds the authority of the superior (senior, elder, and male) family members; and on the other, it protects the rights of inferior members. Harmony is the goal, reciprocity the means, and “hierarchy is contingent” (Waltner 1996, 39); harmonious yet hierarchal family relations are seen as rooted in the cosmic order.

The fifth abomination, depravity, means to kill three members of a family who have not committed any capital crime (Art. 310), to dismember people (Art. 310), to mutilate living people (Art. 311), to make or keep insect poisons (Art. 312), or to practice sorcery (Art. 312). This group of acts not only involves extreme cruelty, but also the use of “heretical” magic powers that challenge government-endorsed cosmic forces. These problems will receive detailed attention in the next chapter on the world of spirits.

The sixth abomination, great irreverence, includes stealing objects for the Great Sacrifices to the spirits (Art. 280) or the clothing or personal effects of the emperor; stealing or counterfeiting imperial seals;⁴⁷ mistakenly not following the correct prescription when preparing imperial medicines, or incorrectly writing or attaching a medicine label (Art. 182); mistakenly violating dietary proscriptions when preparing imperial food (Art. 182); or failing accidentally to make the imperial touring boats sturdy (Art. 183). Apart from rules safeguarding imperial dignity and safety, a topic discussed above, this category also includes offences against deities in the official pantheon. While legal regulations concerning the world of spirits will be discussed in the next chapter, it is interesting to note here that although the Code’s compilers repeatedly claimed the significance of the deities (especially Heaven, which had bestowed its Mandate on the human ruler), by including only one rule regarding the deities in the “Ten Abominations,” they seem much less concerned with the protection of these deities than of the human ruler. In defending the official cosmic order, therefore, the law devotes its most serious attention to the Son of Heaven, rather than Heaven itself.

The ninth abomination, unrighteousness, applies to commoners who kill their own prefect, subprefect, or magistrate (Art. 306); soldiers who kill their own guard commander, battalion commander, or company commander (Art. 306); functionaries who kill their own department head official of the fifth rank or above (Art. 306); killing the teacher from whom one has received education (Art. 334); or upon hearing of one’s husband’s death, concealing and not mourning the death, making music, taking off mourning garments and putting on ordinary clothing, or remarrying (Art. 198). This group of acts involves offences against superiors and teachers—aside from husbands, who are not blood relatives. It is called “unrighteousness” because the acts violate the principles of propriety, righteousness, and benevolence (LJBY, 32). “Superiors” receive special protection because, as “father-and-mother” officials, they receive their credentials and appointments from Heaven, or the “sun.” Crimes against superiors—the representatives of the Son of Heaven in a given locale (see the detailed discussion in chapter six)—are considered violations against imperial authority (ZPZZ, 8.47b). Teachers, of course, are supposed to teach people to do good, thus helping to construct an ideal society, so their status is also endowed with cosmological significance: “Between Heaven and Earth, humans cannot be born without parents; cannot be governed without the ruler; and cannot be taught without teachers. All three are equally important in the cosmos and should be served as if they were one” (ZPZZ, 9.15b). Teachers, then, are comparable to the major cosmic forces of Heaven, Earth, ruler, and parents.⁴⁸

In short, the “Ten Abominations” epitomizes the fundamental cosmic order. While protecting superior elements within the cosmos and the human world, this set of injunctions emphasizes cosmic and social harmony, at times by means of restricting the authority of superior members of society. The principles of hierarchy, reciprocity, and harmony manifest the law compilers’ basic understanding of the cosmic pattern. Criminals who commit one of the ten abominations “turn their back on the [five] human relationships and defy Heaven, destroy propriety and injure righteousness. They have to be executed under dynastic law. Therefore, such acts are strictly forbidden” (JJFL, 191). Due to the extreme severity of acts that “harm morality and destroy ceremony,” the article on the ten abominations is located at the very beginning of the law code to serve as a clear warning (LJBY, 30).

In conclusion, by arranging and ordering components of the cosmos, the early Ming ruling elite gave particular meaning to the world they lived in. They envisioned the superhuman world as a powerful realm where Heaven and subordinate spirits controlled human affairs. In mediating between the spirit world and human society, the ruler and his officials compiled law codes that followed the Mandate of Heaven, basing law on what they understood as Heavenly principle and human sentiment, making it a concrete embodiment of the cosmic order. Hence, crimes specified in law codes were defined as violations of cosmic principles—not just as a breach of law; in preventing and punishing crimes, law codes were designed to transform people’s spiritual world, as well as to control their behavior.

Derk Bodde and Clarence Morris have repeatedly argued for the connection between crime and cosmic order in Chinese thought:

Law was traditionally viewed in China—though perhaps not consciously—as primarily an instrument for redressing violations of the social order caused by individual acts of moral or ritual impropriety or criminal violence.… [S]uch violations, in Chinese eyes, really amounted to spheres of man and nature were thought of as forming a single continuum. (Bodde and Morris 1967, 43)

To the ancient Chinese, with their insistence upon a basic harmony existing between a man and nature, human crime—particularly homicide—was regarded as a disruption of the overall cosmic order that could only be redressed through adequate requital for what had been destroyed—a life for a life, an eye for an eye (ibid., 331).

Bodde and Morris’s argument is challenged by the Chinese legal historian Hsu Dau-lin. Hsu (1970, 112) finds no evidence in Chinese sources for a correlative relation between human crimes and cosmic order. He refutes the “Western misconception” with the proposition “[i]t is then not the crimes themselves which ‘disturb nature’s harmony’ … but the unjust punishment of crimes,” and argues that a fundamental characteristic of Chinese legal thought is the request that “punishment should exactly fit each crime” (ibid., 115).

Recently, Geoffrey MacCormack repeats this criticism of Bodde and Morris’s argument.⁴⁹ He finds it misleading to make the broad generalization that the Chinese of all periods and social groups all held the same concept. He sees it particularly problematic to “surmise” (Bodde and Morris 1967, 4) that the Chinese thought every individual crime would disturb cosmic harmony unless “requited” by the exact proportion of punishment. According to MacCormack, “such a view of the relationship between crime and punishment is nowhere explicitly stated in the legal sources” (MacCormack 1990, 42–43; also 1989, 271). Further, he regards some evidence that might suggest a connection between crime and cosmic harmony, like carrying out executions at a particular time of year or granting amnesties, as an “innate conservatism” or “lip service” (1990, 44–45).⁵⁰

Hsu’s and MacCormack’s critiques are not without merit. To be sure, any attempt to argue about Chinese thought as a simple, unified entity risks falling into overgeneralization (MacCormack 1989). I, too, find Bodde and Morris’s proposition problematic; their assessment of the secular nature of Chinese legal culture, the concept of “naturalization of law” (1967, 44), their assumption of the “unconsciousness” of Chinese thinking, and their emphasis on “homicide” vis-á-vis other crimes in connection with the cosmic order all seem questionable. Furthermore, the scope of Bodde and Morris’s exposition is narrowly focused: their main point is the “correlation in early China of legal procedures with the rise and fall of animal and plant life through the seasons of the year” (Bodde 1981, 16; Bodde and Morris 1967, 43–48), rather than an assessment of Chinese legal culture as a whole. Nonetheless, Bodde and Morris’s observations concerning the connection between crime and cosmic order can be supported by the sources used in this study. Indeed, the Ming ruling elite “consciously” regarded “every crime,” including the “unjust punishment of crimes,” as a violation of the cosmic order and its manifestation in Heavenly principle and human sentiment. This violation would cause natural anomalies and eventually be punished by Heaven, either in the world of the living or in the nether realm.

Nor did the early Ming’s legal cosmology count only as “lip-service”—although it would be naive to believe that Zhu Yuanzhang and his officials completely practiced what they proclaimed. As noted above, Zhu imposed extremely cruel punishments in the Grand Pronouncements and in his decisions on certain cases like those of Hu Weiyong and Lan Yu. It is also evident that many of the emperor’s remarks and practices, as depicted in the Veritable Records and other materials, were polished and even changed by his Confucian advisors and later officials.⁵¹ Nevertheless, taken as a whole, the evidence would seem to point to Zhu Yuanzhang and his officials sincerely accepting the Heaven-Earth-human cosmic triad and regarding Heavenly principle and human sentiment as the cosmological foundation of their legal establishment. Zhu seems to have sincerely believed that he inflicted harsh penalties and executed a great number of people in accordance with the Mandate of Heaven in order to save the world. His practices, as Edward Farmer (1995, 101) points out, did not contradict his values or the collective values of the ruling elite.