References

Habermas, Jürgen. 2001. The Postnational Constellation. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Slimbach, Richard. 2011. “The Transcultural Journey.” Frontiers: The Interdisciplinary Journal of Study Abroad 11, 205–30.

1 For detailed information about the project, including its description, outcomes, team members, and more, please visit the official project website: https://www.unipa.it/progetti/china-mediterranean/en/.

1. For a “New Thalassology” in the Study of Sino-Western Relations

In today’s postnational era (Habermas 2001), as sinologists and scholars interested in the circulation of reciprocal knowledge between China and foreign countries, we too are called to reconsider the relevance of national borders in our own research. This comes as a response to an extended demand to rethink the ties imposed by concepts such as nation, language and heritage in favour of essential inclusive sentiments of shared interests and belonging. This is even more true in light of the new perspective in regional history that has been encouraged by an inclination toward the “erasure of established disciplinary and historical frontiers” (Horden and Purcell 2006, 723). In this perspective, the history of seas (both physical and virtual) developed as a form of reinterpretation of traditional geography. Horden and Purcell have labelled this new historical and geographical perspective “a new thalassology,” stemming from the Greek word thalassa (sea). They proposed to focus on seas as politically neutral areas that ignore national boundaries and subvert hierarchies of powers, not only as geographical spaces. This does not intentionally exclude the role of politics and power, being that a Sea-based political hegemony was already part of traditional Western historiography since Herodotus and Thucydides had coined the idea of “thalassocracy” (sea rule) in the 5th century BCE. It also considers that the Mediterranean Sea has staged conflicts and imperialist narratives from remote times until World War II (Horden and Purcell 2006, 723–4), not to mention the 21st century migrant crisis.

This, together with the Greek etymology behind the name of this new proposed approach, may already be considered proof of the central role that the Mediterranean region plays in this postmodern mode of investigation. In fact, it constituted as a paradigm for maritime historians to reflect upon other sea regions all over the world. This allows the Mediterranean to become a “non-Mediterraneist” concept, a model that interlaces “new alliances and agglomerations capable of generating novel and interesting heuristic options” rather than focusing on the limited space of its enclosed coastal perimeter (Herzfeld 2005, 50).

A modest attempt to draw a path to a further “novel and interesting heuristic option” is what the research project The Mediterranean Through Chinese Eyes: An Analysis Based on Geographical and Travel Sources from the Song to Qing Dynasties (960–1911) aspires to do. Stemming from a research group which connects four Italian universities located at the centre of the investigated geographical and cultural region, this project explores the formation of the Chinese perception of the Mediterranean from the Song to the Qing dynasties (960–1911), taking into account geographical works and travelogues written during the last four imperial dynasties. In particular, it assesses through which channels and to what extent the Mediterranean came to be described and perceived as a “transcultural space” in China in the concerned period.

This opening chapter serves as a theoretical and methodological foundation to introduce the discourse on the possibility of identifying a transcultural awareness in the Chinese perception of the Mediterranean. This discussion will be explored through individual evidence and case studies, starting from paragraph 3 of this chapter and continuing in subsequent chapters. The proposed perspective of this volume is thus based on three initial theoretical and methodological questions:

1. Why should we embrace the concept of a “transcultural” Mediterranean?

2. What were the conventional methods used to investigate Chinese sources on the Mediterranean in the past, and why is a fresh approach needed?

3. Is it appropriate to discuss a “transcultural” perception of the Mediterranean from the Chinese perspective?

To address these three questions and investigate Sino-Western relations, the exchange of knowledge between China and foreign countries, and the Chinese perception of “the others,” various disciplines and fields of study come into play. As evident from this brief introduction, we must not only consider Chinese Studies, but also include disciplines such as History of Geography, Mediterranean Studies and Transcultural Studies. Additionally, Comparative Literature, particularly the branch of Imagology, plays a crucial role, extending its focus beyond literary analysis to encompass broader areas within the human and social sciences (Beller and Leerssen 2007, xv). Furthermore, it is essential to acknowledge not only Sino-Western interactions, but also Sino-Arab contacts and the History of Arab Geography. Finally, we must consider the traditional national historiography of the countries and regions involved in this research. By incorporating these diverse disciplines and perspectives, we gain a comprehensive understanding of the intricate dynamics that shaped the relationship between China and the wider world throughout history.

2. Why “Transcultural” Mediterranean?

Fernand Braudel, considered the pioneer of Mediterranean Studies, is known for his expanded definition of this region which, according to him, also stretched onto the surrounding non-coastal internal area. His famous answer to the question “What is the Mediterranean?” is often quoted:

A thousand things at once. Not one landscape, but landscapes without number. Not one sea, but a succession of seas. Not one civilisation, but a number of civilisations, superimposed one on top of the other (Braudel 1985, 8).

Braudel’s manifest relation of this sea with the surrounding lands is explicit in its Latin etymology: Medi-terranĕus (“among lands”). This mirrors a long series of names adopted by the many people which crossed its waters and their respective languages: Mare Nostrum (“Our Sea”) by the Romans, Akdeniz (“White Sea”) by the Turks, or Yam gadol (“Great Sea”) by the Jews, just to mention a few. The latest definition of the “Liquid Continent” by David Abulafia intends to label it as “a real continent, [which] embraces many peoples, cultures and economies within a space with precise edges” (Abulafia 2011, xxiii). Unlike Braudel, he adopts a stricter stance, focusing solely on the Mediterranean’s water and coastal landscape, including its islands and port cities, while disregarding “sedentary, traditional societies […] who never went near the sea” (Braudel 2011, xxiiii).”

Because it existed as a homogenous political entity only at the time of the Roman Empire (1st cent. BCE–3rd cent. CE), and despite embracing many “people, cultures and economies,” the Mediterranean is a fragmented space politically and economically (Abulafia 2023, 14–15). What we know today as the Mediterranean is actually the result of centuries of travels, trades and exchanges, but also a result of epidemics, conflicts and wars, which have always been a relevant power in human history. However, the cultural mixture inaugurated by the era of peace and travel during the Roman Empire still continues today. At certain points, it even extended with the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869, when the role of maritime connection with the Indian Ocean and East Asia became more explicit.

Whether one approaches it in Braudelian perspective, considering the Mediterranean as a space of unity, or as Abulafia suggests, resembling a cauldron of fragmented identities,2 one cannot overlook the undeniable diversity within this region. In this regard, Abulafia aptly adds that

we should note diversity. At the human level, this ethnic, linguistic, religious and political diversity was constantly subject to external influences from across the sea, and therefore in a constant state of flux (Abulafia 2011, 641).

Hence, due to its unique geographical and physical characteristics, the Mediterranean has historically been — and continues to be — a place of both plurality and unity, where cultural differences and national boundaries tend to blur, creating an inclusive and cohesive territory. Thus, the concepts of coexistence and hybridity among various people, traditions, and cultures have become the central theme of the Mediterranean discourse.

The countless historical events and happenings that are seen as a direct consequence of geographical closeness of people facing the sea have been largely explored in the past by historiography studies on the Mediterranean, including studies by Braudel (1985, 1986, 1998) Norwich (2006) and Abulafia (2011), among others. Yet, one must not forget that the strategic position of this peculiar sea also made it historically relevant for encounters among civilisations located very far from each other, at the opposite sides of two continents. This is the case for China, whose sources mention the Mediterranean as far back as the Han dynasty (202 BCE–220 CE), when it was addressed as Xihai 西海 (Western Sea). This toponym persisted for centuries until it was eventually supplanted by the semantic loan of Romance etymology, Dizhonghai 地中海 (translated as “sea between lands”), first featured by the Italian Jesuit Matteo Ricci on his world map in 1602.3 In contrast to many other foreign toponyms translated in Chinese, which varied greatly from source to source, this remained the prevailing Chinese name for the “Mediterranean” until present times, which seemingly conveys the idea of the Mediterranean as an interstitial space located among cultures (Tomas 2020, 1–6), a “transcultural space” where cultures cross and mix.

3. Chinese Sources on the Mediterranean and Existing Studies

4. Transcultural Mediterranean in the Chinese Cultural Sphere

To underscore the significance of adopting a transcultural perspective when examining Chinese sources on Europe and the Mediterranean region, this chapter will provide examples extracted from late-Qing travel diaries, which represent the final and most refined stage of Chinese observation and interaction with the West.

Information presented in the odeporic production was collected first-hand, representing “first-sight” encounters, rather than being solely mediated by written accounts composed by Westerners, as had been the case in previous centuries. To this end, Kang Youwei’s diary can be considered a valuable and privileged source of observation for at least two reasons. First, because of his syncretic background, Kang Youwei emerged as a pivotal figure during the final years of the imperial regime. Hailing from the province of Guangdong, he received an education in Confucian Classics, which he complemented with an in-depth study of numerous Western works translated into Chinese, including Wei Yuan’s Haiguo tuzhi and Xi Jiyu’s Yinghuan zhilüe. This synthesis of Eastern doctrines and Western culture allowed him to use Confucianism as a bridge to embrace and assimilate Western ideas. Secondly, at the time of his travels, Kang had already become an experienced globetrotter, with first-hand everyday life experiences in several foreign countries. It is well known that after the failure of the Hundred Days Reforms in 1898, he sought refuge in Hong Kong to evade a death sentence. Subsequently, in 1899, he journeyed to Japan, and later Canada, from where he also visited Great Britain. Between 1900 and 1901, he sojourned various Asian destinations, including Singapore, Malaysia, and India. In the autumn of 1903, he returned to Hong Kong briefly, only to embark on an extensive journey lasting until 1909, during which he visited Europe, the United States, Canada and Mexico. Throughout this period, he moved restlessly, making multiple visits to France and England, as well as traveling to Germany, Italy, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Holland, Belgium, Spain, Portugal, Austria, Hungary, Serbia, Romania, Turkey and Greece. Though he wasn’t confined to the European continent alone, as he extended his explorations to Morocco, Egypt, Palestine and Jerusalem. He ultimately returned to China in 1914 after 16 years of exile.

His travel notes are collected in his book Ouzhou shiyiguo youji 歐洲 十一國遊記 (Notes on my Travels to Eleven European Countries), from which only the diaries about Italy and France have been published. One of the opening chapters of Yidali youji 意大利遊記 (Notes of my Travel to Italy, 1905), where he recounts the sea crossing from Port Said along the Mediterranean until he lands in Brindisi in Southern Italy, is dedicated to the Mediterranean Sea and therefore titled Dizhong hai 地中海 (Kang 2016, 77–79). As soon as he departs from Port Said on the Egyptian coast on June 14th, 1904, and throughout the entire north-westward sea crossing of the Mediterranean, the description of the view from the boat seamlessly intertwines with inspirations from his knowledge about ancient Mediterranean cultures. This boat trip also provides him with the opportunity to compose a quatrain (jueju 絕句) and a 63-verse song (ge 歌) dedicated to the Mediterranean. These poetic works, along with the prosaic section of the account, which all together cover approximately 1,200 characters, are filled with references to Mediterranean civilisations and historical figures from the Classical, Hellenic, and Roman eras, as well as from more recent times (Kang 2016, 77–80). Here is a synoptic overview of these references arranged in chronological order:

Mediterranean civilisations

Aijji [wenming] 埃及[文明]

Egyptian [civilisation]

Feinishi [wenming] 腓尼士[文明] Feiniji 腓尼基

Phoenician [civilisation]

Phoenicia

Yashu 亞述

Assyria

Babilun 巴比倫

Babylon

Jiataiji 迦太基

Carthage

Xila [wenming] 希臘[文明]

Greek [civilisation]

Luoma 羅馬

Rome

Historical figures

Yaoli 邀釐

Ulysses7

Hemei’er 賀梅爾

Homer

Luomulu 羅慕路

Romulus

Bigutala 畢固他拉

Pythagoras

Suoladi 索拉底

Socrates

Bolatu 柏拉圖

Plato

Yalishiduode 亞里士多德

Aristotle

Yalishan dadi 亞力山大帝

Alexander the Great

Hanniba 漢尼巴

Hannibal

Bengbiao 繃標

Pompey

Kaisa 愷撒

[Julius] Ceasar

Nai’ersun 鼐爾孫

[Horatio] Nelson

Napolun 拿破侖

Napoleon

In Kang’s account, the diverse people of the Mediterranean and the prominent figures from its shared history come together to create what can be aptly described as a “cultural landscape.” This intricate context is shaped not only by the physical environment, but also by historical and social intersections, contributing to its multifarious nature. In Kang’s account, the remarkable personalities of Aristotle, Plato and Homer, as well as the achievements of conquerors like Hannibal, Alexander the Great and Romulus, go beyond celebration. They become part of a collective cultural heritage that transcends the conventional concept of national borders and plays a vital role as fundamental models in Kang Youwei’s discourse on the advancement of modern Chinese society.

However, this discourse owes much to the contribution of Jesuit missionaries who began promoting the excellence of studies and scholars in ancient European culture a couple centuries before Kang Youwei. In this sense, Giulio Aleni’s description of Sicily in his Zhifang waiji is particularly noteworthy. In his account, he narrates the extraordinary achievements and inventions of figures like Dedalus (Dedalu 德大禄) and Archimedes (Ya’erjimode 亞而幾墨得), both exemplifying the profound knowledge and heritage of Classical Mediterranean civilisation. By examining this source, we can trace the roots of Kang’s fascination with the cultural world he was about to encounter and explore:

Long ago, there lived an ingenious craftsman named Daedalus, who crafted a hundred birds capable of flying on their own, even the tiniest ones resembling insects. Additionally, an astronomer named Archimedes had three extraordinary ideas. Once, when an enemy country with a hundred ships approached the island, the inhabitants believed there was no escape; he built an enormous mirror that reflected the sun’s rays, directing them against the enemy fleet and igniting a fire that swiftly burned down hundreds of ships. Later, the king tasked him with constructing a colossal ship who could cross the sea; as the ship was completed and they had to send it to sea, it was estimated that even the combined strength of the entire country, using a thousand or ten thousand oxen, horses, and camels, would not be enough to move it; but Archimedes devised a method to transport it, so that the moment the king raised his hand, the ship moved gracefully and smoothly descended into the sea. Finally, he created an automatic armillary sphere with twelve levels, each one distinct from the others. Each of the seven Regulators of Time had its own movement, precisely mirroring the motions of the sun, moon, five celestial bodies, and various constellations in the heavens. This remarkable glass sphere allowed one to see through it, layer after layer, making it a truly rare and extraordinary treasure (Aleni 1996, 87).8

The enduring presence of such descriptions in Chinese imagery, as well as their diffusion throughout the Chinese cultural sphere, is further evidenced by the fact that similar passages can be found in other works and travelogues dating up to the 19th and 20th centuries. Aleni’s Zhifang waiji enjoyed remarkable success and significant influence, as it was frequently cited in various geographical treatises and encyclopaedias, including those authored by Verbiest, Xu Jiyu and Wei Yuan. In the travel account Xiyou bilüe 西遊必略 (Brief Account of a Travel to the West, 1921) by Guo Liancheng 郭連成, which records his travel between 1859 and 1860, one can still discern precise traces of Aleni’s words on the two Greek inventors, demonstrating the longevity of certain topoi from the Classical Mediterranean cultural heritage in the Chinese cultural context for centuries (Guo 2003, 51–52).9

The cultural permeability of the Mediterranean civilisations’ heritage also emerges from the pages of Xue Fucheng’s Chushi Ying Fa Yi Bi si guo riji 出使英法義比四國日記 (Diary of an Embassy to Britain, France, Italy, and Belgium, 1889). In the section dedicated to Romania, the long-lasting influence of Roman customs and traditions can be observed, showcasing the enduring impact of the Classical Mediterranean culture on distant lands:

In the present day, Romania stands as an independent nation, dispatching its envoys to numerous countries, with a territory surpassing that of Denmark and Belgium. One can trace its origins back to its Ancient Roman heritage; their customs and culture are shaped on those of Ancient Rome, as Rome’s power extended to these distant lands (Xue 1985, 328).10

Braudel and Abulafia offer distinct and evolving perspectives on the concept of the Mediterranean as a transcultural space: Braudel’s approach is more encompassing, highlighting historical interactions and exchanges between all of the lands surrounding the Mediterranean, even those more internal and lacking direct access to the sea; on the other hand, Abulafia’s perspective is more focused on the water and coastal landscape, including mostly islands and port cities, disregarding the influence of “sedentary, traditional societies” that have not had direct contact with the sea. On this point, the example of Romania in Xue Fucheng’s travelogue provides an interesting case study to consider in the context of Braudel and Abulafia’s perspectives: Xue Fucheng highlights the influence of the Ancient Roman heritage on Romania’s customs, suggesting a continuity of cultural interactions that have shaped the region over time. This resonates with Braudel’s vision of the Mediterranean as a space of unity, where civilisations and cultures have been superimposed on each other over centuries.

The Mediterranean, whether seen as a space of unity or a cauldron of fragmented identities, represents a region where cultural differences and national boundaries blur, creating an inclusive and cohesive territory. Coexistence and hybridity among diverse people, traditions and cultures have become the leitmotif of the Mediterranean discourse. Looking at Chinese sources on the Mediterranean from a transcultural perspective allows us to appreciate the rich history of interaction, exchange and coexistence between China and the Mediterranean region. By understanding the Mediterranean as a “transcultural space,” we can transcend the limitations of national boundaries and gain a deeper understanding of the interconnectedness and complexity of historical relations between China and the wider world. This approach opens new avenues for research and enriches our knowledge of the multifaceted cultural heritage that has shaped our global history.

References

Abulafia, David. 2011. The Great Sea: A Human History of the Mediterranean. Oxford: Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780195323344.001.0001

Abulafia, David. 2023. “Il mare tra le terre.” In The Passenger – Mediterraneo: 12–33. Milano: Iperborea.

Aleni, Giulio (Ai Rulüe 艾儒略), and Xie Fang 謝方. Zhifang waiji jiaoshi 職方外記校釋 (Edited and Explained Edition of the Zhifang Waiji). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1996.

Aleni, Giulio. [1623] 2009. Geografia dei paesi stranieri alla Cina. Introduzione, traduzione e note di Paolo De Troia. Brescia: Fondazione Civiltà Bresciana.

Almonte, Victoria. 2020. The Historical Value of the Work Lingwai Daida by Zhou Qufei. Roma: Aracne.

Beller Manfred, and Joep Leerssen. 2007. Imagology. The Cultural Contruction and Literary Representaion of National Characters: A Critical Survey. Amsterdam-New York: Rodopi.

Bertuccioli, Giuliano, and Federico Masini. 2014. Italia e Cina. Roma: L’Asino D’Oro. First published 1996 by Laterza (Bari).

Borbone, Pier Giorgio. 2008. “A 13th-Century Journey from China to Europe. The Story of Mar Yahballaha e di Rabban Sauma.” Egitto e Vicino Oriente 31: 221–42.

Braudel, Fernand. 1985. La Méditerranée. L’Espace et l’Histoire. Paris: Flammarion.

Braudel, Fernand. 1986. La Méditerranée. Les Hommes et l’Héritage. Paris: Flammarion.

Braudel, Fernand. 1998. Les Mémoires de la Méditerranée. Paris: De Fallois.

Budge, Ernest Alfred Wallis. 1928. The Monks of Kûblâi Khân, Emperor of China; or, The History of the Life and Travels of Rabban Sâwmâ, Envoy and Plenipotentiary of the Mongol Khâns to the Kings of Europe, and Markôs Who as Mâr Yahbh-Allâhâ III Became Patriarch of the Nestorian Church in Asia. London: Religious Tract Society.

Castorina, Miriam. 2008. “Breve relazione del viaggio in Occidente. 西遊筆略. Il resoconto del viaggio in Italia di Guo Liancheng.” PhD diss., Sapienza University of Rome.

Fidan, Giray and Janovič, Ana. 2015. “Kang Youwei’s Visit to Serbia.” İstanbul Gelişim Üniversitesi Sosyal Bilimler Dergisi 2,1: 101–23. http://dx.doi.org/10.17336/igusbd.64833

Guo Liancheng 郭连城, Xiyou bilüe 西游笔略 (Brief Account of a Travel to the West), Shanghai, Shanghai Shudian Chubanshe, 2003.

Habermas, Jürgen. 2001. The Postnational Constellation. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Harris, William V., ed. 2005. Rethinking the Mediterranean. Oxford: Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780199265459.001.0001

Herzfeld, Michael. 2005. “Practical Mediterraneanism: Excuses for Everything, from Epistemology to Eating.” In Rethinking the Mediterranean, edited by W. V. Harris, 45–63. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hirth, Friedrich and William W. Rockhill. 1911. Chau Ju-kua: His Work on the Chinese and Arab Trade in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries, Entitled Chu-fan-chï. Edited, Translated from the Chinese and Annotated by Friedrich Hirth and W. W. Rockhill. Saint Petersburg: Printing Office of the Academy of Sciences.

Horden, Peregrine and Nicholas Purcell. 2006. “The Mediterranean and ‘the New Thalassology’.” The American Historical Review 111, 3: 722–40. http://dx.doi.org/10.1086/ahr.111.3.722

Kang Youwei 康有為. 2016. Ouzhou shiyi guo youji 歐洲十一國遊記 (Notes on my Travels to Eleven European Countries). Guilin: Guangxi Normal University Press.

Lee, Thomas H. C., ed. 1991. China and Europe. Images and Influences in 16th to 18th Centuries. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press.

Meng Hua 孟华. 2004. Tazhe de jingxiang: Zhongguo yu Falanxi 他者的镜像： 中国与法兰西 (Visions of the Other: China and France). Beijing: Beijing Daxue Chubanshe.

Norwich, John. 2006. The Middle Sea: A History of the Mediterranean. New York: Doubleday.

Park, Hyunhee. 2012. Mapping the Chinese and Islamic Worlds: Cross-Cultural Exchange in Pre-Modern Asia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139088329

Tomas, David. 2020. Transcultural Space and Transcultural Beings. London: Routledge. http://dx.doi.org/10.4324/9780429269714

Xue Fucheng 薛福成. 1985. Chushi Ying Fa Yi Bi si guo riji 出使英法义比四国日记 (Diary of an Embassy to Britain, France, Italy, and Belgium). Changsha: Yuelu Shushe.

Yu, Timothy. 2013. China and the Ancient Mediterranean World: A Survey of Ancient Chinese Sources. Sino-Platonic Papers. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania.

1 “[…] I have seen your shores, Trojans or Phoenicians / on your edge the rosy sphinxes meditate / the friezes of the grape harvest and wars between olive trees / pink foam of the must for naked dances. […]”

2 Abulafia also stressed that during the course of history, nations such as France and Italy took advantage of the idea of a “Mediterranean identity” as an excuse for imperialistic actions in North Africa (Abulafia 2023, 16).

3 Regarding the earliest Chinese references to the Mediterranean and Chinese toponyms for this sea, readers can refer to chapter 8. Additionally, for a comprehensive exploration of Chinese ancient sources related to this topic, see Yu Taishan’s China and the Ancient Mediterranean World: A Survey of Ancient Chinese Sources (Yu 2013).

4 Regarding this topic, see Chapters 4 and 6.

5 Rabban Sauma’s travel account is the focus of Chapter 5.

6 Among them, we should mention Federica Casalin, who contributed to this research field with several essays on the representation of Italy, Italian cities and the Italians national character in late-Qing sources, and has recently published an Italian translation of the travel diary by Xue Fucheng: Un diplomatico cinese a Roma. L’Italia di Xue Fucheng (1838–1894) (A Chinese Diplomat to Rome. Italy According to Xue Fucheng (1838–1894)) (2023). Seemingly, Miriam Castorina worked on late-Qing travel diaries to analyse the representation of Italy and Western women. Her latter contribution to the topic is In the Garden of the World. Italy to a Young 19th Century Chinese Traveler (2020). Alessandra Brezzi, who mostly works on the early reception of Italian literature, also translated the travel diary by Grand Minister Qian Xun’s 錢恂 wife: La diplomazia vista dall’interno: Il Diario di viaggio di Shan Shili (Diplomacy form the Inside: The Travelogue of Shan Shili) (2021). Lastly, the author of this chapter contributed to this topic with research on the representation of Italy in the Shanghai newspaper Shenbao and with the volume La Sicilia in Cina. Una raccolta di testi cinesi sull’isola (1225–1911) (Sicily in China: A Collection of Texts (1225–1911)) (2019).

7 Despite being a fictional character, he is included in this table due to the cultural value that this figure has exercised throughout the Mediterranean area.

8 有巧 工，德大禄者，造百鳥能飛，即微如蠅虫，亦能飛。更有天文 師，名亞而幾墨得者，有三絶:昔敵國駕數百艘，臨其島，彼 則鑄一巨鏡映日，注射敵艘，光照火發，數百艘，一時燒盡。 又其王命造一極大舶，舶成，將下海，雖傾一國之力，用牛馬 駱駝千萬，莫能運。幾墨得，營運巧法，第一舉手，舟如山岳 轉動，須臾下海。又造一自動渾天儀，十二重，層層相間，七 政各有本動，凡日月五星列宿，運行遲疾，與天無二。以玻璃 爲之，重重可透視。 A complete translation in Italian is provided by Paolo De Troia (Aleni 2009).

9 Guo was a young Chinese convert who, when he was only 19 years old and after receiving a traditional education, embraced Catholicism and joined a delegation going to Rome in 1859. Miriam Castorina provided a comprehensive Italian translation of his travelogue (Castorina 2008).

10 今羅馬尼亞遣使分駐各邦，儼然自立，且其地較丹馬、比利時諸國為大。然溯其淵源，實古羅馬之遺裔也；其土俗，則古羅馬之遺風也。羅馬之氣脈亦長矣。

Renata Vinci, University of Palermo, Italy, renata.vinci@unipa.it, 0000-0003-3841-5386

Referee List (DOI 10.36253/fup_referee_list)

FUP Best Practice in Scholarly Publishing (DOI 10.36253/fup_best_practice)

Renata Vinci, Why Should We Look at Chinese Sources on the Mediterranean from a Transcultural Perspective?, © Author(s), CC BY 4.0, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6.03, in Renata Vinci (edited by), Navigating the Mediterranean Through the Chinese Lens. Transcultural Narratives of the Sea Among Lands, pp. -24, 2024, published by Firenze University Press, ISBN 979-12-215-0598-6, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6

1. Chinese View of the West from the Zhou to the Han: A Complex Interaction

In the early Zhou 周 period (c. 1046–256 BCE), it is challenging to identify a clear distinction between a “Chinese” world (often referred to as Xia 夏 or Huaxia 華夏: Chen 2004) and a “barbarian” world: in the clash between the Zhou and other external political entities, there is hardly trace of any manifesto of cultural or moral superiority. On the contrary, practical necessities often favoured alliances between the lineages of the Central Territories (zhongguo 中國) and “barbarian” peoples (Di Cosmo 2002, 93–8; see also Goldin 2015).

This recurrent interaction between the Zhou (as well as the principalities of the Central Plains) and other peoples was perhaps one of the causes (together with the consolidation of a bureaucratic state structure) that starting from the period of the Springs and Autumns (Chunqiu 春秋, 770–453 BCE) led to a redefinition of the identity of the political and social group, that we can include under the definition of Huaxia. This new self-perception had as its raison d’être an exclusive view of the “barbarians” (Li 2006, 279–96).

With the Warring States (Zhanguo 戰國 453–221 BCE), the differentiation from the “barbarians” appears to be increasingly founded on a kind of culturally based paradigm, reinforced by the further consolidation of a hierarchical social structure based on ritual normativism (von Falkenhausen 1999). The view of foreign peoples does not seem to be based on ethnic markers, but on the observation of an environmental distinctiveness, which takes on not only cultural, but also political and economic aspects (for a later example of this point, related to the southern peoples known as Man 蠻, see Lycas 2019). The very definitions of an ethnically distinguished “Han people” and a Hanzu 漢族 seem to be a posteriori constructions, “linguistic products of ‘translingual practices’” (Chin 2012), resulting from a long literary and historiographical tradition that reaches up to modernity.

The blurred boundary between the Zhou and the “others” finds in some cases an echo in the not always conflictual relationship with foreign peoples entertained by single principalities. A clear example is the interaction between the western Principate of Qin 秦 and the group known as Rong 戎 (a pseudo-ethnonym, indicating “bellicosity”: Li 2006, 286; Goldin 2011, 235), in the period between 8th and 4th century BCE (Lewis 2007; Li 2013; but also Pines 2005–06).

Within this framework, the West very soon became a territory characterised by the interweaving of actual geographical data and fantastic details in texts such as the Shanhaijing 山海經 (Fracasso 1993; Fracasso 1996; Dorofeeva-Lichtmann 2003) and the Mu Tianzi zhuan 穆天子傳 (Mathieu 1993; Shaughnessy 2023; Frühauf 2024).

The era of the Western Han (Xi Han 西漢, 206 BCE–9 CE) saw the appearance of another type of source, which we could define as anchored to more practical aspects: the travel reports composed by imperial emissaries sent westwards, beyond the areas that from 60 BCE by were under the control of the Protectorate General (Duhufu 都護府). The increase in knowledge would have led to the introduction, as early as the Hanshu 漢書, of a geographical section within dynastic histories and, more generally, to the inclusion of a certain amount of toponyms and ethnonyms that appear to be phonetic transcriptions from external idioms: for the Han period, a large portion of them refer to western territories (Schuessler 2014).

The costly strategy of control of the routes to the western territories was not, however, embraced by the entire court. A well-known passage from the Yantielun 鹽鐵論 recounts a dispute that took place in the Han court in 81 BCE, in which two factions faced each other: one defending the traditional “centralist” view, and the other more inclined to extend Chinese influence beyond the borders (Lewis 2006). The second intended to continue Emperor Wu’s (Han Wudi 漢武帝, r. 141–87 BCE) monopolistic policy of economic engagement: in the Yantielun it appears inspired by the cosmographic vision of Zou Yan 鄒衍 (c. 305–240 BCE), according to whom China was only one of the 81 parts of the world (Sima 1982, 2344).

Zou Yan’s theory also appears in Daoist Han texts, such as the Huainanzi 淮南子 (Liu 1989, 39b). Daoist currents may have played some role in the dissemination of this tianxia 天下 theory during the Han era: one may in this regard recall the widespread narration (found in the Shiji biography of Laozi) of Laozi’s final journey to the West (possibly to India or to Da Qin 大秦); the traditions (including iconographic ones) that associated the immortality of the xian 仙 not only with the islands of the Eastern Ocean, but also with the far West; or, finally, one can cite a passage in the Qiushui 秋水 chapter of the Zhuangzi 莊子, in which the Central Territories within the Four Seas are compared to “a small grain in a large granary” (計中國之在海內，不似稊米之在大倉乎: Zhuangzi 1989, 87a).

The conflicts inherent in the interaction between Han China and the world beyond its western borders are particularly evident in the contrast between Chinese expansion and the Xiongnu 匈奴. However, this should not overshadow the many inclusive aspects of the relationship between these two political entities, as reflected in the “historiography of the barbarians” itself (Di Cosmo 2010). Even the historian Ban Gu 班固 (32–92 CE), who in the Hanshu often depicted the barbarians as irredeemable “different” and resistant to the Chinese civilisation (Pines 2005), had partial Xiongnu or hu 胡 ancestry (Chen 2011), dating back to the Xiutu Prince (Xiutu wang 休屠王, ?–121 BCE). His brother Ban Chao 班超 (32–102 CE) gave impetus to the deepening of knowledge about the Far West, through his decision to send Gan Ying 甘英 in 97 CE to hitherto unreached territories in order to make contact with the political entity called Da Qin 大秦.

2. Haixi: The Sources

Within the context of historiographical sources which references to Da Qin and the West, the toponym Haixi 海西 recurs in the Hou Hanshu 後漢書, the Hou Hanji 後漢紀 (for this source see Eicher 2018) and the Weilüe 魏略. Haixi has mainly been identified with the Italic peninsula or Rome itself (Leslie, Gardiner 1996, 263–4; Yu 2013, 40, n. 68), and with Egypt (“Country of the Red Sea” in Hirth 1885, 163–4, 180–5; Egypt in Hill 2004; Hill 2015). I will review these passages, and then elaborate on a few points:

Hou Hanshu (juan 86)

永寧元年，撣國王雍由調復遣使者詣闕朝賀，獻樂及幻人，能變化吐火，自支解，易牛馬頭。又善跳 丸，數乃至千。自言我海西人。海西即大秦也。撣國西南通大秦。In the first year of the Yongning era [121 CE], the ruler of the Kingdom of Shan, Yong Youtiao, sent again an ambassador, who, in the presence of His Majesty, offered musicians and illusionists, capable of performing transformations and breathing fire, of freeing their limbs, and of exchanging the heads of oxen and horses. They were also skilled at throwing up to a thousand balls into the air. Of themselves they said: “We are men of Haixi”. Haixi is none other than Da Qin; the region south-west of the Kingdom of Shan communicates with Da Qin (Fan 1973, 2851).

Hou Hanji (juan 15):

及安帝元初中，日南塞外檀國獻幻人，能變化吐火，自支解，又善跳丸，能跳十丸。其人曰：「我海西人。」則是大秦也。自交州塞外檀國諸蠻夷相通也，又有一道與益州塞外通。During the Yuanchu reign of Emperor An [114–120 CE], the kingdom of Shan, outside the borders of Rinan [central Vietnam], offered illusionists, who were able to perform transformations and breathe fire, free their limbs, and were also skilled at throwing ten balls into the air. They claimed: “We are from Haixi”. It is therefore Da Qin. In the region outside Jiaozhou [North Vietnam], the Shan kingdom and the Man and Yi peoples are in communication; there is also a route connecting to the region outside the border with Yizhou [Sichuan] (Yuan 1780, 15.6ab).

Hou Hanshu (juan 88)

九年，都護班超遣甘英使大秦，抵條支。臨大海欲度，而安息西界船人謂英曰：「海水廣大，往來者逢善風三月乃得度，若遇遲風，亦有二歲者，故入海人皆齎三歲糧。海中善使人思土戀慕，數有死亡者。」英聞之乃止 […]。自安息西行三千四百里至阿蠻國。從阿蠻西行三千六百里至斯賓國。從斯賓南行度河，又西南至於羅國九百六十里，安息西界極矣。自此南乘海，乃通大秦。其土多海西珍奇異物焉。大秦國一名犁鞬，以在海西，亦云海西國 […]。或云其國西有弱水、流沙，近西王母所居處，幾於日所入也。漢書云「從條支西行二百餘日，近日所入」，則與今書異矣。前世漢使皆自烏弋以還，莫有至條支者也。又云「從安息陸道繞海北行出海西至大秦，人庶連屬。十里一亭，三十里一置，終無盜賊寇警。而道多猛虎、師子，遮害行旅，不百餘人，齎兵器，輒為所食」。[…]。In the ninth year [of the Yongyuan era of Emperor He: 97 CE], Governor Ban Chao sent Gan Ying as ambassador to Da Qin. He arrived at Tiaozhi; being on the coast of the Great Sea, he wished to cross it. But the sailors on the western border of Anxi addressed him, saying: “The waters of the Sea are vast. If those who cross it encounter favourable winds, it can be crossed in three months. If they encounter unfavourable winds it can also take two years. For this reason, those who face the Sea always carry provisions for three years. In the sea, something makes men long for land, feeling love at a distance; many are those who have died”. Hearing this, Ying stopped […]. From Anxi, proceeding west for 3,400 li you reach the kingdom of Aman. From Aman, proceeding west for 3,600 li you reach the kingdom of Sibin; from Sibin going south you cross a river, and then going southwest you come after 960 li to the kingdom of Yuluo, which is the extreme western border of Anxi. From here you proceed by sea southwards, and communicate with Da Qin. In this territory there are many precious, extraordinary and rare objects from Haixi. The country of Da Qin is also called Lijian. Since it is located to the west of the sea, it is also called the country of Haixi […]. It is also said that to the west of this country are the Weak Waters and Flowing Sands, close to the place where the Queen Mother of the West resides, near the point where the sun sets. The Hanshu states that “if you go west from Tiaozhi for more than two hundred days, you get close to the place where the sun sets”: therefore there is a difference with the present documents. The Han envoys of previous generations all returned from Wuyi, there were none who reached Tiaozhi. It is also said that leaving Anxi (Parthia) by the land route, you follow a curved route through Haibei (“North of the Sea”); you go out from Haixi and reach Da Qin. The population is well connected: every ten li there is a rest stop, and every thirty li there is a post station. So there are no alarms due to the attack of marauders, but on the way there are many tigers and ferocious lions that block and harm the travellers: if [the expedition] does not include a hundred or more armed people, they invariably end up being devoured […] (Fan 1973).

Weilüe (in Sanguozhi, juan 30):

大秦國一號犁靬。在安息條支西。大海之西。從安息界安穀城乘船。直截海西。遇風利二月到。風遲或一歲。無風或三歲。其國在海西。故俗謂之海西。有河出其國。西又有大海。海西有遲散城。從國下直北至烏丹城[…]。凡有大都三。卻從安穀城陸道直北行之海北。復直西行之海西。復直南行經之烏遲散城[…]。The kingdom of Da Qin is also called Lijian. It lies to the west of Anxi and Tiaozhi, and of the Great Sea. From the city of Angu on the border of Anxi, if you take a boat, you go directly to Haixi. With favourable winds it can be reached in two months, with unfavourable winds it can take up to a year, and if there are no winds, three years. This kingdom is located west of the sea: for this reason, it is popularly called Haixi. There is a river that flows out of this kingdom. To the west [of Haixi] there is another great sea. In Haixi lies the city of Chisan. If you go straight north from the end of the kingdom, you come to the city of Wudan […]. In all there are three great cities: from the city of Angu, proceeding straight north you reach Haibei; proceeding west again you reach Haixi; and proceeding south again you reach the city of Wuchisan […] (Chen 1975).

3. Some Considerations on the Sources

In the passage in juan 86 of the Hou Hanshu there is an early mention of Da Qin, a place-name about which countless interpretations have been made, most of which tend to identify it with the Roman Empire or its eastern territories (Egypt and the Near East). Da Qin seems to have been very popular at the end of the first century CE: it is mentioned as a symbol of the extreme west in Dongjingfu 東京賦 by Zhang Heng 張衡 (78–139 CE), composed in the Yongyuan 永元 era (89–105 CE) of the reign of Emperor He 和帝 (Knechtges 1982).

The jugglers-illusionists sent to the Chinese court by the ruler of the kingdom of Shan 檀國 (located probably in northern Burma) in 121 CE (or shortly before, if one follows the Hou Hanji) are defined as coming from Haixi, while in juan 88 their place of origin is Lijian 犁鞬; in earlier sources the reference is to Tiaozhi 條枝 (a country where “people are skilled in the arts of illusionism”, guo shan xuan 國善眩: Sima 1982, 3163) or Lixuan 黎軒 (Sima 1982, 3173; the toponym corresponds to Ligan 犂靬 in the Hanshu and Weilüe 魏略).

The identification of Lixuan has been the subject of a considerable interpretative debate, also due to the choice of a different punctuation of a passage in juan 123 of the Shiji: this led to different conclusions and geographical collocations of this place-name (see e.g. Leslie, Gardiner 1996; Pulleyblank 1999). Tiaozhi, on the other hand, appears to correspond with the territory of Characene/Mesene in southern Mesopotamia or its political centre Charax Spasinou (Fariello 2025). Charax was located at the western end of the Iraqi coast of the Persian Gulf: it was a centre of great importance both in the maritime trade route connecting the Indian coast to the Red Sea emporiums, and in the land connections with centres such as Palmyra. The site of Charax has been the subject of recent archaeological exploration (Campbell 2019). In the past, it retained a certain de facto autonomy under both the Seleucids and the Parthian empire, maintaining great economic prosperity until the early 3rd century CE, when Parthian rule was replaced by the more centralised Sasanian empire.

The kingdom of Shan seems to have been located near the communication route that according to juan 123 of the Shiji (1982, 3166) would have connected Bactria (Da Xia 大夏) to the territory of Shendu 身毒 (identified with the Ganges river valley), passing through Sichuan and Yunnan. The Chinese attempt to control this route under the reign of Han Wudi would not succeed.

The passage in juan 86 of the Hou Hanshu identifies Haixi with Da Qin (however we do not know whether in whole or in part). Da Qin is also mentioned in juan 88, in the famous account of Gan Ying’s mission, sent in 97 CE by the duhu 都護 Ban Chao. According to this passage, Da Qin’s name was therefore already known, and was the trigger that prompted Ban Chao to dispatch the mission (as already pointed out in Pulleyblank 1999, 78). Here we find a route from Anxi 安息, i.e. the Parthia (or, more likely, from its capital), to Sibin 斯賓 and finally to Yuluo 於羅, identified by J. Hill respectively with Susa and Charax itself, which is “the extreme western border of Anxi” (Hill 2015; but see also Zanous, Yang 2018; Fariello 2025 for considerations on the toponym Yuluo as a probable phonetic transcription of Charax). A sea route departed from Yuluo, making it possible to reach Da Qin in two months if the winds were favourable (three months in a similar passage in the juan 15 of Hou Hanji). The passage notes that in the territory of Yuluo “there are many precious, extraordinary and rare objects from Haixi”, a place-name that can be explained in geographical terms: it is so called because it lies west of the sea. However, here we also find the statement that Haixi is an alternative name for Da Qin (and also for Lijian).

The passage shows the evident presence of different documentary sources on the territories of the Far West. The Hou Hanshu fits into a particularly rich historical phase of the Chinese historiographical tradition (Durrant 2019): its compilation, directed by Fan Ye 范晔 (398–446 CE) in the years 432–445 CE in Jiankang, capital of the Liu Song dynasty, was based on various sources from the 2nd–4th centuries CE, such as the Dongguan Hanji 東觀漢記 and the Hou Hanji 後漢紀. For the section on the Western Territories, the privileged source seems to have been the Xiyu fengtu ji 西域風土記, the report written in 125 CE by General Ban Yong, son of Ban Chao, and delivered to Emperor An 安帝.

The compilation work was likely not without difficulties, as evidenced by various aspects of the text: for instance, in the passage from juan 88 quoted above, in Yuan Hong’s 袁宏 (330–378 CE) Hou Hanji, Gan Ying’s mission and the reference to the “illusionists of Haixi/Da Qin” are more logically placed in the section on Da Qin. However, similar examples of a weak systematisation of sources should not automatically lead to discredit the value of the geographical information in the Hou Hanshu (see for a different position Thierry 2005).

In the passage from the Hou Hanshu, the location of traditional Western topoi (the Weak Waters Ruoshui 弱水, the Flowing Sands Liusha 流沙 and Xiwangmu 西王母, the Queen Mother of the West) west of Da Qin does not replicate the Hanshu, where such places are located west of Tiaozhi (Characene) (Ban 1975: 3876–7). It is also recalled that, in the generations before Gan Ying’s mission, Han envoys who were sent on a western mission returned to China from Wuyi 烏弋, a term that appears to be a shortened version of the toponym Wuyishanli 烏弋山離.

Wuyishanli, described in the Hanshu as a warm, lowland country, is generally identified with Alexandria in Arachosia, founded in 329 BCE by Alexander the Great and corresponding to present-day Kandahar in Afghanistan (Pulleyblank 1999; Pulleyblank 1962, 116, 128; Zanous, Yang 2018, 127–8 associate the toponym with the Indo-Parthian kingdom in the 1st century CE). Wang Tao (2007) instead identifies Wuyishanli with Alexandria Prophthasia (Farāh), south of Herat. In any case, the phonetic reconstruction of the toponym Wuyishanli seems to corroborate its correspondence to an Αλεξάνδρεια (Schuessler 2014, 267; Baxter, Sagart 2014, 66, 96, 116, 137).

Arachosia and its capital city were characterised by Hellenistic culture (Bernard 2005): in the Parthian Stations (Σταθμοί Παρθικοί) of Isidore of Charax (late 1st century BCE-early 1st century CE), this territory is the easternmost stopover of the overland route that connected Antioch to the East via a series of trade centres located in the territory of the Parthian empire (Fariello 2025). It therefore seems perfectly logical that, prior to Gan Ying’s journey, the Chinese envoys who undertook the voyage along the southern route from Yumenguan, some 90 km west of Dunhuang, or Yangguan (43 km south-west of Dunhuang), would pass through Loulan and Yarkand, cross the Congling Mountains (Pamir) to the south, and reach the Kushana-controlled territories and Anxi/Parthia, with Arachosia as their final stop. This location was also the easternmost starting point of the other trade route, ending on the eastern shores of the Mediterranean.

Gan Ying’s voyage, which probably took place along this geographical guideline, was clearly in accordance with Ban Chao’s desire to learn more about this international trade network. However, the Chinese envoy made a diversion along the way (likely from the Susa area), – which in my opinion was planned from the beginning –, taking him south to Tiaozhi/Characene coastal area. From here, the sea route to the Mediterranean begun, following the coast of the Arabian Peninsula south by sea, then went up the Red Sea and reached one of the trading emporiums of the Egyptian coast, controlled by the Romans from the end of the 1st century BCE, such as Myos Hormos or the more southern Berenice Troglodytica/Baranis: the relevance of this centre is underscored by the recent discovery by archaeologists of a 2nd century CE statue of Buddha at the entrance to a temple area dedicated to Isis (Sidebotham 2023; for trade routes between Rome and the East, McLaughlin 2010; Cobb 2018).

The last part of the passage I quoted from Hou Hanshu, however, seems to indicate at least a geographical distinction between Haixi and Da Qin: “It is also said that, leaving Anxi (Parthia) by the land route, you follow a curved route through Haibei (“North of the Sea”); you go out from Haixi and reach Da Qin”. The difficulty in interpreting the sentence lies mainly in the rendering of rao 繞, usually understood as the verb “surround, encircle, move or circle around”. For some, rao takes hai 海 as its object, suggesting a land route that from Anxi would “encircle the sea” moving north to Haixi and eventually to Da Qin (see e.g. Zanous, Yang 2018). I personally agree with the view expressed by F. Hirth (1885; reprised broadly in Hill 2015) that rao here takes the binomial haibei 海北 has as its object.

Haibei would denote a territory encompassing Mesopotamia and the area to the west, extending to present-day Jordan and the territory of the Nabataeans (under Roman control from the end of the 1st century CE and fully absorbed into the empire in 106 CE), which included the Gulf of Aqaba and the Sinai peninsula. The final stages were Haixi and Da Qin: it is not far-fetched to identify the first toponym as the Egyptian territory (under Roman control from 30 BCE), from which one could reach Da Qin (perhaps here the Italic territory of Rome).

The last passage I quoted belongs to the Weilüe, composed between 239 and 265 by Yu Huan 魚豢 (fl. 3rd century CE), an official of the Cao Wei kingdom (220–265 CE). Only the section of the work on western peoples and regions survived as a long quotation in juan 30 of the Sanguozhi 三國志 (late 3rd century CE). The information in the surviving section dates to the late 2nd or early 3rd century CE (Hill 2004; Leslie, Gardiner 1996). Here we find again the equation Da Qin = Lijian. The Weilüe also seems to indicate that Haixi is a part of Da Qin; in the text, the port “at the border of Anxi” from which one can embark for Da Qin is no longer Yuluo but Angu 安穀, a site of difficult identification (Orchoë in Hirth 1885, 187; Gerrha in Hill 2004; Antioch in Leslie, Gardiner 1996, 67). For the Later Han period, Angu is rendered as *ʔan - *kok (Schuessler 2007). Perhaps the toponym Αντιόχεια may be closer to the Chinese phonetic reading: in this case, the reference could be to Antioch, the name given to Charax in 166–5 BCE by the Seleucid ruler Antiochus IV, who rebuilt the city destroyed by river flooding. One would have to assume in this regard that this name survived over time: a plausible possibility in a region where Hellenistic culture continued to flourish throughout the Parthian period.

The identification of Haixi here can be clarified by other elements. Rather than the reference to the “river that flows out of this kingdom” (the Nile?) and the “great sea” that would still lie to its west (the Mediterranean?), it is the city of Chisan 遲散, also called here Wuchisan 烏遲散, that appears to provide more solid elements. The identification with Alexandria, already proposed by Hirth (1885) and rejected by Leslie and Gardiner (1996, 185), was in fact defended on solid linguistic grounds by E. Pulleyblank (1999, 76).

As for the toponym Wudan 烏丹, the identification appears uncertain. Hirth (1885, 181) proposed it as the important trading emporium of Myos Hormos on the Egyptian Red Sea coast; regarding the construct cong guoxia 從國下, he stated that it could mean “before one arrives in the country”. The phonetic reconstruction for Wudan, particularly for the Eastern Han period, is ʔa-tân (Schuessler 2007, 204, 507); Old Chinese *ʔça-*tçan according to Baxter and Sagart (2014). If the meaning of guoxia is “the end of the kingdom (or country)”, this may indicate the southern part of the Egyptian territory, known as Upper Egypt. The phrase cong guoxia zhibei zhi Wudancheng 從國下直北至烏丹城 might also be translated as “if you go down straight to the north you reach the city of Wudan”, imagining the text as elucidation of a map where the north was represented at the bottom, as was traditional.

Additionally, based on Wudan’s possible location, it might be associated with Aten, an ancient city located near Luxor, founded in the 14th century BCE. This archaeological site, excavated only in 2020, has already been identified as the most important administrative centre of this region under Amenhotep III (r. 1386–1353 BCE) (Hawass 2021). However, identifying Wudan from the Chinese text with Aten would imply the toponym survived through the Ptolemies and beyond: a hypothesis that, despite the existence of settlement layers on the site dating to the Coptic era (3rd–7th century CE), remains unconfirmed.

4. A New Source for a Mediterranean Clue?

The possibility that Haixi corresponds to the Egyptian territory may be further supported by another element that, to my knowledge, has so far escaped research. The phoenix, a mythical bird of Western tradition, appears in a well-known passage by Herodotus (5th century BCE: Histories, II, 73), which refers to its longevity and describes its journey from Arabia to Egypt, to the temple of Heliopolis, where it buries its deceased father preserved in a myrrh egg. The longevity of the phoenix is also noted in an earlier passage attributed to the poet Hesiod, cited in Plutarch’s De defectu oraculorum (11, 415c) (van den Broek 1972; Lecocq 2022).

The symbolism of the phoenix has also been linked linguistically to the sacred bird of ancient Egypt called benu, associated with the supreme solar deity Atum and Re, the sun god. The phoenix has often been compared to the traditional Chinese bird known as feng 鳳 or fenghuang 鳳凰, defined as a “numinous bird” (shen niao 神鳥) in the Shuowen jiezi 說文解字 (1st century CE) (Xu 1991, 79a). In a more detailed study, I have noted that the functional elements shared by the phoenix and the feng (both auspicious animal, linked to essence, sincerity, loyalty, sacred royalty, crimson colour, Sun, fire, cyclicity, oneness, centrality, axiality) are more numerous than previously emphasised (Paolillo 2025).

In this regard, it is useful to cite a source that has so far escaped the notice of previous studies. It is a poem by Fu Xuan 傅玄 (217–278 CE), entitled Hongyan sheng saibei xing 鸿雁生塞北行 (Ballad of the Swan Goose Born North of the Wall). Here is my translation attempt:

鳳凰遠生海西。及時昆山岡。五德存羽儀。和鳴定宮商。百鳥並侍左右。鼓翼騰華光。上熙遊雲日間。千歲時來翔。孰若彼龍與龜。曳尾泥中藏。非雲雨則不升。冬伏春乃驤。退哀此秋蘭草。根絕隨化揚。靈氣一何憂美。萬里馳芬芳。常恐物微易歇。一朝見棄忘。The fenghuang bird was born far away in Haixi and has come timely to the crest of Kunshan (i.e. Mount Kunlun). The Five Virtues are present as a model on its wings; with its harmonious call, it establishes the gong and shang notes.The hundred species of birds surround him; he beats his wings, spreading the light. He wanders on high, shining between the sun and the clouds. After a time of a thousand years, he comes in flight. How could the dragon and the turtle be like it, dragging their tails and concealing them in the mud! Without clouds and rain, they would not ascend; in winter they conceal themselves, to soar in summer.Orchids and autumn grasses here retreat in sadness; broken roots rise following change. One is the holy qi: why be concerned with beauty? Fragrance spreads for ten thousand li. Constant, the fear of the minuteness of things and their easy coming to an end; seen for a moment, they are put aside and forgotten (Zhao and Wang 2014, 438).

There are interesting elements in the poem, such as the reference to the Five Virtues (wu de 五德) on the body of the feng, which is also mentioned in the Shuowen jiezi, and the cyclical temporal nature associated with the bird. However, what stands out most is the opening line, with its mention of Haixi in relation to the fenghuang. Haixi is described here as the bird’s place of origin: if one considers the possibility of Greek-Hellenistic ideas on the relation between the phoenix and Egypt, this provides a strong clue supporting the identification of Haixi with Egypt.

It is also noteworthy that Fu Xuan (biography in Fang and Chu 1973), the author of the poem, was selected in 245 CE (when he held the position of Editorial Director zhuzuolang 著作郎 of the Palace Library) as one of the main figures responsible for compiling the Weishu 魏書, the historical chronicles of the Cao Wei kingdom, which were later lost. This work appears to have been the source Yu Huan used for composing the Weilüe (completed before 265 CE), with its account of Da Qin and the Western territories.

In a recent study, Fu Xuan has been included among the court literati of the Cao Wei and Jin periods whose writings often focused on the exotic lands, revealing “the ‘shared codes’ among Chinese, Central Asians, and Indians through religious and commercial exchanges” (Kong 2022, 16). It is thus plausible Fu Xuan was aware of information about the distant lands where the sun sets, and perhaps – through a form of cultural assimilation – drew this unique (and quite rare in Chinese sources) association between the fenghuang and a place that we may – tentatively – identify with Egypt.

References

Ban Gu 班固, ed. 1975. Hanshu 漢書. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju.

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van den Broek, Roelof. 1972. The Myth of the Phoenix according to Classical and Early Christian Traditions. Leiden: Brill.

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Maurizio Paolillo, University of Naples L’Orientale, Italy, mpaolillo@unior.it, 0000-0002-6063-8917

Referee List (DOI 10.36253/fup_referee_list)

FUP Best Practice in Scholarly Publishing (DOI 10.36253/fup_best_practice)

Maurizio Paolillo, Following a Mediterranean Clue. A Reconsideration of the Sources About the Country of Haixi 海西國 (2nd–3rd Cent. CE), © Author(s), CC BY 4.0, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6.04, in Renata Vinci (edited by), Navigating the Mediterranean Through the Chinese Lens. Transcultural Narratives of the Sea Among Lands, pp. -37, 2024, published by Firenze University Press, ISBN 979-12-215-0598-6, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6

1. Introduction

This chapter deals with a preliminary analysis of the journey that Du Huan 杜環 took toward Western countries, during the Tang dynasty (618–907). In particular, it focuses on the perception of the Mediterranean area, conceived as a transcultural and transnational territory, as reflected in the eyes of a Chinese traveller of the 8th century. The idea for this study emerged from research questions that arose through discussions with colleagues. Among these research questions were: did the Chinese know the Mediterranean area in ancient times, before the arrival of the Jesuits in China? How did the Chinese perceive this portion of the ecumene during the Tang and Song dynasties? These inquiries prompted me to delve into the past and examine one of the earliest travel works written in Chinese by a real traveller, thereby exploring how the Chinese image and representation of the Mediterranean territory evolved over hundreds of years.

One of the most important studies in this field was carried out by Yu Taishan 余太山, who collected and analysed Chinese references to the Mediterranean territory (including the Eastern Roman Empire) in ancient Chinese sources, labelled according to literary genre. He scrutinised dynastic histories, travel works, geographical treatises, Taoist and Buddhist works as well as supernatural writings (Yu 2013; Li and Yu 2009). He studied Du You’s 杜佑 (735–812 CE) work, Tong dian 通典 (Encyclopaedic History of Institutions), which mentioned Du Huan’s work several times, but he did not mention Du Huan’s travel book, Jing xing ji 經行記 (Memories of a Journey or Records of My Travels).

Du Huan is thought to be one of the first Chinese travellers to have visited and recorded his observations about the north-western coast of Africa and other territories, under the influence and the control of the Arab-Islamic empire during the 8th century. His work reveals a prominent interest in the customs and habits of the local populations, which he described with great ability. Unfortunately, his work Jing xing ji has been almost completely lost except for a few extracts found in the Tong dian written in 801 by Du You – a relative of Du Huan. These fragments contain 1,513 Chinese characters and form just two out of 200 chapters (or scrolls) of the Tong dian. They reveal some very insightful observations of various places that Du Huan visited, and pioneering impressions about faraway places almost unknown to the Chinese in the 8th century. I tried to read Du Huan’s work with an overall vision of his knowledge of the Mediterranean area (and regarding the ecumene as a whole), not focusing on one country at a time. This analysis will bring out how already in the very early geographical sources the Mediterranean area was seen as a transcultural entity and his perception went beyond all imperial, national and geographical borders.

Du Huan’s work has been analysed and annotated by several Chinese scholars. Among them, Ding Qian 丁謙 (1843–1919), who wrote the essay Jing xing ji dili kaozheng 經行記地理考證 (Philological Analysis of the Geographical Work Jing Xing Ji), deserves a mention, as well as Zhang Yichun 张一纯 who in 2000 compiled the Jing xing ji jianzhu 经行记笺注 (Commentary on Jing Xing Ji), a fully annotated version of Du Huan’s work. Zhang’s study includes a rich preface and has been inserted in the book series Zhonghua jiaotong shiji congkan 中外交通史籍丛刊 (Series on Historical Contacts between China and the Rest of the World). In more general terms, in 2011 the Chinese Arabist Song Xian 宋岘 wrote the history of the cultural relationships between China and the Arab empire (Zhongguo Alabo wenhua jiaoliu shi hua 中国阿拉伯文化交流史话) and largely quoted Du Huan’s manuscript, since it can be considered one of the most relevant works about Chinese Arabic contacts (Song 2011, 11). In 2022 Xiao Chaoyu 肖超宇 wrote a very interesting essay, highlighting the ethnographical value of Du Huan’s work, Minzuzhi shijiao xia de Jing xing ji 民族志视角下的《经行记》 (Xiao 2022).

Although the first complete translations only came to light very recently (in the last two decades as we will soon see), over the last two centuries various scholars dedicated articles to specific chapters of the work, providing useful annotated translations; moreover, short mentions of passages from Jing xing ji are scattered throughout several other works and papers, such as H. Yule (1871), Hirth (1885), Chavannes (1903), Pelliot (1929),1 and W. Smidt (2001) who focused on the section about Molin 摩隣 country (Smidt 2001, 4). It is worth noting that a very incisive graphic biography of Du Huan’s life and journey is available online, provided by the Khan academy, that offers young readers an important tool for understanding Du Huan’s value.2

Two annotated translations of Du Huan’s manuscript are available so far: one published by Alexander Akin (2000) and one by Wan Lei (2017). Their works reveal remarkable differences: in describing the countries visited by Du Huan, Wan followed the order reported by Du You’s Tong dian, whereas Akin preferred to follow an imaginary geographical line of Du Huan’s journey from the East to the West and vice versa (his journey back to China).3 We will see this in more detail in the next paragraph. I am extremely grateful to all of the scholars who approached this work before me for inspiring me to further investigate Du Huan’s Jing xing ji.

Du Huan’s manuscript gives a crucial contribution to the studies regarding China’s contacts with the rest of the world, particularly about the historical exchanges between China and Africa and China and the Arab-Islamic world (Song 2011, 8; Smidt 2001, 3). Furthermore, his writings testify to the extent of the knowledge of the far West (intended as the Mediterranean area) that the Chinese already had in the 8th century, and reflect Du Huan’s interest for new original aspects (never mentioned in earlier works), probably based on first-hand observations, noted down by the author himself: for instance, the expressions related to the concept of multiculturalism and to the perception of religion that Du Huan mentions in his description of the Arab-Islamic world, and not only in this section.

This chapter offers an innovative interpretation of Du Huan’s work, looking into it with a more open and flexible approach than the traditional method, which confines his words within geographical borders. It presents a multicultural and transnational viewpoint of the ecumene as reflected in Du’s accounts, aiming at grasping the extent to which his perception of the ancient world was global, globalised and cosmopolitan (Frankopan 2015, 28).

To address the previously proposed research questions, this chapter will examine not only Du Huan’s narrative regarding encounters with the Mediterranean portion of the ecumene, but also the political landscape he described. His account of alliances and conflicts further emphasises the interconnected nature of ancient civilisations. These political dynamics frequently transcended regional boundaries, impacting multiple territories and peoples, thereby contributing to a globalised perspective.

The chapter is divided into two sections: the first section provides some information about Du Huan’s life and the events that led him to reach such faraway territories; the second section is focused on his work, Jing xing ji, and some interesting and noteworthy aspects about it, seen from a multicultural point of view.

2. Du Huan and His Lost Travel Record

We have very little information about Du Huan’s life. While his exact dates of birth and death remain unknown, we know from Du You’s writings that Du Huan was a Chinese soldier of the Tang dynasty army, who was involved in the Talas battle in 751, near the city of Ṭarāz, in what is today southern Kazakhstan. Most likely, he was born in Wannian 万年, near what is today the city of Xi’An, in Shaanxi province.

In the battle of Talas, the Abbasid military army, sent by the first Abbasid ruler Abu al-‘Abbas al-Saffah (721/2–754, who ruled from 750 to 754) alongside their Tibetan allies, and the Tang military general Gao Xianzhi 高仙芝 (died in 756) fought for the control over the territories in Central Asia.4 The defeat of the Chinese army allowed Muslim soldiers to conquer a large portion of those lands and marked both the end of the Chinese western expansion and the Abbasid Caliphate’s eastern expansion. Control of this region was economically beneficial to the Abbasid because it was important on the Silk Roads (Bo 1979, 547).5 Following the defeat of the Tang army, Chinese soldiers were captured; among them Du Huan, who embarked on a long journey through Arab countries to Yajuluo 亞俱羅 (the ancient capital of the Arab empire, in Iraq, near Baghdad) (Smidt 2001, 4). After eleven years he returned by ship to the city of Guangzhou in Southern China in 762.

Du Huan travelled a long away through Arab countries from Talas up to the northern coast of Africa by land via the traditional Silk Roads, then he returned by ship via the maritime Silk Roads, to Guangzhou, in southern China (Xiong 2019, 89; Liu and Shaffer 2007). There he wrote his travel diary, titled Jing xing ji 經行記 (Record of my Travels or The Travel Record), which deserves to be considered one of the earliest works dedicated in its entirety to the description of the western populations, in particular the Arab empire and the Islamic religion in the 8th century (Song 2011, 8).

Unfortunately, the Jing xing ji was almost completely lost, except for a few fragments chosen by Du You as a portion of his 200-volume encyclopaedic work, Tong dian. The Tong dian is a well-organised collection of laws, regulations, and general events from ancient times to his own time. Du You was one generation senior to Du Huan and a member of the same clan, he was therefore familiar with Du Huan. Right from its publication, Du You’s work represented a rich source of information for officers and literati in the Tang court. (Hoyland 1997, 244; Wan 2017, 8).

Du You mentions Du Huan first in volume 191, chapter 7, entitled Bianfang dian 邊防典 (Border Defense), sub-chapter Xirong zongxu 西戎總序 (Summary of the Sub-chapter about the Xirong-Tribesmen of the Western Borders). He writes:

Huan, a person of my clan, followed the military governor (Hucker 1985, 144) of the city of the West, Gao Xianzhi 高仙芝, marching westward. The tenth year of the Tianbao reign (about 751) they reached the Western Sea (Xihai). At the beginning of the Baoying reign (762), thanks to a merchant ship he returned to Guangzhou and there he wrote the Jing xing ji.6

3. The Jing Xing Ji

Du You’s selections of the Jing xing ji all appear in volumes 192, chapter Bianfang ba 邊防八 (Border Defense Number 8), sub-chapter Xirong si 西戎四 (Western Border Tribes Number 4), and 193, chapter Bianfang jiu 邊防九 (Border Defense Number 9), sub-chapter Xirong wu 西戎五 (Western Border Tribes Number 5), and include fragments related to the following countries:7

1. Bahanna Guo 拔汗那國: Ferghana valley, the territory to the north of Samarkand;

2. Kang Guo 康國: Samarkand in today’s south-east Uzbekistan;

3. Shizi Guo 師子國: Ceylon, the island of Sri Lanka;

4. Folin Guo 拂菻國: Roman Eastern Empire or Byzantine empire;

5. Molin Guo 摩隣國: Morocco or Eritrea;

6. Dashi fa 大食法, Da Qin fa 大秦法, Xun Xun fa 尋尋法: the law of the Dashi countries, the law of Da Qin countries and the law of Xun Xun;8

7. Bosi Guo 波斯國: Persia;

8. Shi Guo 石國: Tashkent territory, the capital of the modern Uzbekistan;

9. Suiye Guo 碎葉國: Tokmak in Kyrgyzstan;

10. Dashi Guo 大食國: Arab-Islamic empire;

11. Molu Guo 末祿國: Merv city in modern Turkmenistan;

12. Shan Guo 苫國: Syria.

These twelve sections appear in this order in Du You’s work, and they are often combined with other information collected from earlier sources or travel books. Since Du You was a fine and conscientious philologist, he handled the quotation references with care, and almost always indicated where he copied verbatim Du Huan’s work.9

It is worth noting that we have no way of knowing for certain the order and the structure of the original work. Although the order of Du You’s selections does not seem to be the most congruent and fitting with Du Huan’s theoretical route, I chose to follow the organisational scheme of Tong dian.10 It is extremely difficult to understand the motivations that led Du You to mention these territories in this order. The writer does not seem to have followed either a geographical criterion (from the nearest to the farther country taking Talas as point of departure) or a chronological criterion (from the first country Du Huan visited throughout Central Asia to the last one). If we assume that Du Huan followed this route on his journey, then we have to admit that his travel plans were haphazard, at best. He would have had much more time to travel from Kang Guo (Samarkand) to Sri Lanka Island, and then from there to Folin country (Roman Eastern Empire), or even more unlikely from Molu country (Merv in today’s Turkmenistan) to Shan country (modern Syria).

Du You probably organised his work following the typical structure of the encyclopaedic treatises about historical events and institutional issues: from the smallest details, up to the macrostructure. In fact, in the first chapter we find information regarding food and trade (all related to the subsistence of the people); then, in the second chapter, the selection of imperial officers, their careers, the rites related to the imperial administration, the music for the official ceremonies, military issues, laws and regulations, the administrative division of the imperial territory, and so on. In the ninth chapter, Du You finally deals with the border defence, and here he quotes Du Huan, since the latter was very familiar with many foreign countries.

Now two questions arise: how much of Du Huan’s data did Du You use for his work? And how did he treat that information?

We can argue that Du You only used information that could be considered useful for his treatise: for filling in gaps about certain topics and for satisfying the knowledge requirements regarding foreign countries and customs. In my opinion, Du You’s selection could have followed two different paths: in copying Du Huan’s section, Du You may well have decided to leave out some details, including those considered unimportant and useless (or unsuitable, inappropriate) in his eyes; as an alternative, he could have decided to completely omit some “unnecessary” sections of the Jing xing ji (maybe because he already had other more accurate sources or because he gave more importance to some countries over others). Therefore, it is quite conceivable that Du Huan’s work was much more complex and composite than those few sections copied by Du You. Additionally, it is plausible that those few sections were manipulated by removing some aspects, by re-elaborating sentences and by changing words in order to make them suitable for the encyclopaedic work compiled by Du You.

During the Tang and Song dynasties, most of the literati, devoting themselves to transmitting (geographical) knowledge, did not have the opportunity to travel beyond the empire’s borders. Du You was not an exception in this sense. He probably only compared Du Huan’s data with the previous dynastic histories, earlier geographical works and local gazettes, all of them compiled thanks to second-hand information.11

Below, I highlighted the Jing xing ji sections that contain the most relevant statements on Mediterranean transculturality and transnationality as reflected in Du’s eyes, providing:12 a) sections titles, volume numbers, chapters and subchapters from the Tong dian; b) probable title of the related Jing xing ji sections; c) Chinese excerpts; d) a comment on Du Huan’s transnational perspective reserved to these countries.13

Before delving into the text analysis and attempting to provide the most accurate analysis of Du Huan’s perspective on the Mediterranean area, it is essential to note that Du Huan used the toponym Xihai 西海, literally “Western Sea,” seven times in his descriptions. Scholars should carefully consider his choice of terminology, as the term Xihai in Du’s context does not necessarily refer to the Mediterranean Sea, contrary to what later travellers and geographers might lead us to believe (as discussed in other chapters of this volume). Additionally, it is important to recognise that Du occasionally employed other toponyms to denote the Mediterranean Sea. For instance, in the section on Folin, he mentions not only Xihai (Western Sea) but also Nanhai 南海 (Southern Sea).

The sections in which Du Huan mentioned this toponym are: Bahanna Guo拔汗那國, Folin Guo 拂菻國 (twice), Suiye Guo 碎葉國, Dashi Guo 大食國 (twice) and Molu Guo 末祿國. Du Huan’s use of the toponym Xihai consistently serves as a geographical reference point, indicating either a point of departure or a direction of travel. He never provides a comprehensive description of this sea. In my view, only the sections on Folin and Dashi, where the connections to the Mediterranean area are clear and undeniable, deserve a more accurate analysis.14 Additionally, two other sections warrant closer examination due to their descriptions of this area, despite Du Huan not mentioning the toponym Xihai: Molin Guo (the northern coast of Africa or Eritrea) and Shan Guo (Syria). Both regions bordered the Mediterranean Sea, and Du provided readers with substantial information about this geographical area. Therefore, these sections will be analysed in this context.

The following text analysis therefore focusses on the four territories or countries of 1) Folin Guo (Eastern Roman Empire), 2) Molin Guo (northern coast of Africa or Eritrea), 3) Dashi Guo (Arab countries), and 4) Shan Guo (Syria).

4. Final Remarks

I am conscious that Du Huan’s work and its historical value are certainly worthy of deeper investigation. With these limited notes I hope I can provide new insight into such a rich topic: Chinese knowledge about foreign countries and in particular, Du Huan’s perception of the ecumene.

My intent is to emphasise that the relationship between Chinese and Arabs from the 7th century onwards should not be underestimated, given the circulation of knowledge (and goods) from East to West and vice versa.20 Du Huan was one of the most representative characters of these contacts: suffice it to know that he was able to travel as far as the westernmost territories “thanks” to the encounter of the Arabs and Chinese in the Talas battle. His words reveal a very extensive knowledge of Arab-Islamic territories (and not only), and he was able to gather many pieces of original material (drawn from personal observations), reflecting his astonishing aptitude in seeing and perceiving the “Other” (foreignness) without prejudices. His curiosity about different characteristics related to the “Other” permeates his work. Indeed, he appears to be interested in various aspects of the foreign countries: the markets, the way people used to do commercial exchange (as in the section about Dashi), the richness of their cities, their religious creeds and so on. He did not waste words in describing military events (not even the Talas battle), and judging from the content of his words, one actually has the impression of a man much more interested in describing the ethnographic and anthropological features of the people.

Du Huan’s work deserves further investigation, since it offers new insights into the circulation of geographical (and ethnographical) knowledge during the Tang period. Additionally, his bird’s eye perspective is a precious source to assess the extent of Chinese geographical knowledge at the beginning of the 9th century and to what extent the Mediterranean came to be perceived as a transcultural space in China.

It suffices to read the Molu section (Merv in Turkmenistan). Although in this chapter I do not take in account the 320-characters long description about the country of Molu, I believe that this extract deserves more attention. Du Huan testified that in the area of the Mediterranean Sea (Xihai 西海), Dashi people and Bosi people (from Persia) live in a mixed manner (congci zhi xihai yilai, dashi, bosi canza juzhi 從此至西海以來，大食、波斯參雜居止). I contend that this quotation could be considered, since the 8th century, the most representative idea of the Mediterranean area, described as a liquid region, that embraces many peoples, cultures and economies, which cannot be enclosed by the traditional concept of national borders (Abulafia 2011, xxiii).

Du Huan’s work, when viewed through this lens, reveals an ancient world that was far more interconnected than traditionally perceived. His detailed observations and descriptions of various cultures, economies, religions, and political systems illustrate a world where boundaries were fluid, and interactions were complex and multifaceted.

By adopting this innovative interpretation, we can appreciate the extent to which Du Huan’s perception of the ancient world was global and cosmopolitan. His writings serve as a testament to the rich tapestry of human civilisation, woven together by countless threads of cultural, economic, religious, and political exchanges.

References

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1 H. Yule (1820–1889) mentions Du Huan several times, when he describes the Women country, quoted by Marco Polo (Yule 1871, vol. II, 684; vol. I, 518). F. Hirth (1845–1927) studies the identification of the toponyms Molin 摩隣 and Laobosa 老勃薩, used by Du Huan and in the Xin Tangshu 新唐書: according to Hirth these two toponyms indicate territories on the Eastern coast of Africa (Hirth 1885, 204–205). E. Chavannes (1865–1918) translates the brief passage about Suiye 碎葉 country, in Central Asia (Chavannes 1903, 298, note). P. Pelliot (1878–1945) deals with Du Huan and his journey on his work regarding the Chinese historian Wang Guowei 王國維 (1877–1927) in 1929 (Pelliot 1929). Wang Guowei collected the quotations from the Jing xing ji, contained in the Tong dian by Du You, annotated by Li Yuanyang 李元陽 (1497–1580). Wang inserted the Jing xing ji in a group of four works, titled Gu xing ji jiaolu 古行記校錄 (including also the Xishi ji 西使記, An Embassy Towards the West written by Liu Yu during the Yuan Dynasty).

2 See the pdf at https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/whp-origins/era-4-regional/43-a-dark-age-betaa/a/du-huan-graphic-biography.

3 Akin adopts the order proposed by Chen Yunrong 陳運溶 (1858–1918) in 1911 in the work Lushan jingshe congshu 麓山精舍叢書, Gu Haiguo yishu chao 古海國遺書鈔, (1898–1911), pp. 42–46.

4 In Arabic sources there is little information about the Talas battle: a brief description in the Kāmil by Ibn al-Athīr (1160–1233), quoted by Sir Hamilton Alexander Gibb (1895–1971) in his work The Arab Conquests in Central Asia, Project Gutenberg, ebook 2020, pp. 95–6; al Fasawī (806–890 circa) better described the Chinese debacle (Dunlop 1965, 328–30). Even though nobody provided a precise description of the battle (Akin 2000, 98). The main Chinese source is the Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 (Comprehensive Mirror in Aid of Governance), volumes 215, 216 and 217, an historiographical work written by Sima Guang 司馬光 in 1084, which deals with the history from 403 BCE up to 959 CE.

5 About the control of the Silk Roads after the Battle of Talas see also Thubron, Navajas 1989; Tucker, Tozer 2003; Hannawi 2012; Liu 1995; Donvito 2015.

6 The English translation is mine. The Chinese text is as follows: 族子環隨鎮西節度使高仙芝西征，天寶十載至西海，寶應初，因賈商船舶自廣州而回，著經行記. See the Chinese Texts Project: https://ctext.org/tongdian/191/zhs. Otherwise, the annotated version of Jing xing ji by Zhang Yichun (Zhang 2000, 2). Please compare with the English translation provided by Akin 2001, 78.

7 Actually, section number 6 does not deal with a specific country, but it is focused on three different religious creeds, as encountered by Du Huan on his western journey.

8 Wan Lei’s translation is as follows: Islamic Law, Nestorian Law and Zoroastrian Law (Wan 2017, 13–4). I prefer to use the original Chinese terms. Besides, Akin’s translation includes this section in the description of Molin country (Akin 2000, 95–6).

9 Du Huan’s quotation is always preceded by a sort of disclaimer, saying “Du Huan Jing xing ji yun” 杜環經行記云: “The Jing xing ji by Du Huan affirms”, otherwise “Du Huan ji yun” 杜環記云: “Du Huan’s memories affirm”.

10 As already mentioned, the scholar Alexander Akin preferred the order proposed by Chen Yunrong, in which the sections order seems to have been restored and rearranged in the original sequence, on the base of Du Huan’s real route, overland from Talas to the Arabs land and then back to China by boat via Sri Lanka (Akin 2000, 98). Chen’s restored scheme is: Suiye, Shi, Kang, Bahanna, Zhulu, Shan, Da Shi, Bosi, Fulin, Molin, Shizi.

11 Some of the sources used by Du You and quoted in chapters 192–193 and 194 were Hou Wei shi 后魏史 (or Hou Wei shu 後魏書), (The Book of the Northern Wei), the official dynastic history of the Northern Wei dynasty (Bei Wei 北魏, 386–534); Xi fan ji 西蕃記 (The Record of the Western Barbarians), written by the Chinese envoy to Central Asia, Wei Jie 韋節, during the reign of the second and last Sui emperor Yangdi 煬帝 (605–616); Futu jing 浮屠經 (The Buddhist Classic), one of the earliest works on the transmission of Buddhism in China, (orally) compiled by Yi Cun 伊存, an envoy from the country of Da Yuezhi, during the first century BCE; Baopuzi 抱樸子/抱朴子 (Master Embracing Simplicity) is a Daoist treatise written in the Jin 晉 period (265–420) by Ge Hong 葛洪; Guang ya 廣雅 (Extended [Er]ya), a glossary edited by Zhang Yi 張揖 during the Three Kingdoms period (220–280 CE); Suishi隋史 or Suishu 隋書 (The Book of the Sui), the official dynastic history of the Sui dynasty 隋 (581–618); Weilüe 魏畧/略 (The People of the West), composed between 239 and 265 CE, by Yu Huan 魚豢 (see the translation online at https://depts.washington.edu/silkroad/texts/weilue/weilue.html); Yiwuzhi 异物志 (Record of Foreign Matters), an ethnographical treatise written by Eastern Han (25–220 AD) court advisor Yang Fu 杨孚, dealing with the people, fauna, rice cultivation and so on of the Lingnan area, South China Sea region.

12 For the original Chinese texts see Zhang 2000.

13 As two scholars in recent years have already published the English translation of Du Huan extracts, as I already said previously (Akin 2000; Wan 2017), I have not provided one here. More specific considerations about some descriptions reported by Du Huan will be analysed in a forthcoming paper (2025), focusing on Du Huan perception of the multi-culturalism and of the several faiths he approached within the Mediterranean Sea.

14 The section on Molu Guo, which focuses on the Merv territory in modern Turkmenistan, reflects significant aspects of transculturality, fluid boundaries, and multifaceted interactions as perceived by Du Huan. Although it is not included in the main text analysis, it has been briefly analysed at the end of this chapter due to its unique characteristics.

15 Due to space limitations, I did not copy Du You’s section. Please see the Chinese Texts Project for the Chinese text. https://ctext.org/tongdian/193/zhs.

16 Folin country is described in the wider section focused on the Eastern Roman Empire, called Da Qin, to which Du You dedicates almost 1,000 characters. Du Huan in his description mentioned the toponym Da Qin as the second name for Folin country. After his description, Du You adds 200 characters dealing specially with Folin country, copied from the Jing xing ji. The scholar Song Xian affirms that Folin could be identified with modern Egypt or in some cases with the Byzantine Empire. (Song 2011, 9).

17 The toponym could be transcript also as Yangsaluo 秧薩羅.

18 In the same above section, titled Da Qin, soon after Folin description, you find the extract about Molin country as well. It identifies the northern coast of Africa, under the control of Eastern Roman Empire. Du You copied 65 characters from Du Huan’s work.

19 Du Huan used the toponym Yajuluo 亞俱羅 as second name to indicate this territory. It could stay for the center of Abbasid caliphate (near Baghdad in Iraq) according to Smidt (2001, 6), or the term that the Arabs used to call the Mesopotamia, according to Zhang (1998, 46). Yajuluo might correspond to the Arabic toponym Aqūr (Al Jazira) or Upper Mesopotamia.

20 See the toponym Yajuluo 亞俱羅, a clear transliteration of the Arabic toponym Al Jazira, the upper portion of Mesopotamia, in the section focused on Dashi countries.

Victoria Almonte, Tuscia University, Italy, victoria.almonte@unitus.it, 0000-0001-6948-9690

Referee List (DOI 10.36253/fup_referee_list)

FUP Best Practice in Scholarly Publishing (DOI 10.36253/fup_best_practice)

Victoria Almonte, Du Huan’s 杜環 Perception of the Ecumene in the 8th Century, © Author(s), CC BY 4.0, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6.06, in Renata Vinci (edited by), Navigating the Mediterranean Through the Chinese Lens. Transcultural Narratives of the Sea Among Lands, pp. -67, 2024, published by Firenze University Press, ISBN 979-12-215-0598-6, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6

1. Introduction

In 1287, a man from China named Rabban Sauma arrived in Europe as the Ilkhan Arghun’s envoy. He was a monk from the Church of the East, popularly known as the Nestorian Church. His visit to Latin Europe marked a significant landmark in history, for it was the first time that a man of Chinese birth reached the western Mediterranean from Asia. Sauma was, technically, the first known Chinese-born person in history to reach the European Mediterranean, even though Isa Kelemechi, a Syriac Christian of western Asian origins based in Khubilai Khan’s China, had reached Italy two years earlier (Boyle 1973, 558–60; Borbone 2008, 221–22, 240; Rossabi 1992, 22–23).

Sauma’s writing about his mission to Europe has survived, albeit in an abridged and altered form (Borbone 2008, 222). Upon his return to the Ilkhanate from the Latin West near the end of the thirteenth century, he wrote an account of his journey to Latin Europe in Persian. That original is now lost, but a shortened redacted version of it in Syriac survives in a work of history of unknown authorship, entitled History of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma (referred to hereafter as History). This Syriac work documents the lives and times of Rabban Sauma and Mark, two Nestorian monks who made great contributions to the leadership of the Church once they reached the Ilkhanate from China. In the History, the two monks’ personal stories chronicle the way the Nestorian Church weathered the vicissitudes of power under the Ilkhans.

As Pier Giorgio Borbone, editor and translator of the History, has shown, the portion of the book based in Sauma’s writing about Europe retains at least some of Sauma’s own phrasing and intentionality as a writer (Borbone 2008, 226–34). Moreover, what has survived of Sauma’s writing cannot be understood apart from the History as a whole, since Sauma’s personal influence shaped and enriched the entire narrative of the History. The anonymous author, almost certainly a member of the Church’s clerical elite, most likely knew both subjects of his book and worked on the book while the two men were alive, eliciting information and advice from them (Borbone, 2008, 223; Borbone 2021 Introduction, 17–18; Vinci 2013, 344). The book was completed sometime between Mark’s death in November 1317 and the middle of 1319 (Borbone 2021 Introduction, 14–15).

This chapter, therefore, analyses the China-Mediterranean connection of Sauma’s story in terms of the History’s form and expression. In particular, it suggests that this connection is centered on the imagination of political power within the framework of the monk’s journey. The book is a mirror of princes that projects good governance and enlightened civilisation onto the Latin European other as a lesson for the Ilkhans. The narrative of Sauma’s journey unfolds as a sequence of visits to different regions of Asia and Europe, and it serves as a precious witness to the historical encounter between a man from Mongol China and political personalities of two continents. From the Mongol elite to princes of the Latin West, the History delineates the monk’s journey as a series of encounters with princes. And this engagement and study of power is inextricably bound up with the notion of the journey as a process of undergoing trial and attaining visionary fulfilment in the Chinese Buddhist tradition of travel. The western Mediterranean marks Sauma’s vision of benevolent rule, order, and paradise beyond a border of ordeal and death. The History holds up this vision of the European Mediterranean as a mirror to the princes of the Ilkhanate, a land the anonymous author saw beset by strife.

2. The History of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma

The History provides most of the known facts about Sauma and Mark. Both protagonists of the book were Önggüd Turks from Nestorian families (Rossabi 1992, 23–24, 34). Born in Beijing sometime between 1220 and 1230, Sauma was an only child. When Sauma demonstrated an interest in monastic life as a young man, his parents pressured him to marry. They, however, eventually consented to their son’s wish to become a monastic. Mark was Sauma’s pupil and about two decades younger. He was the youngest of four sons of an archdeacon from Koshang, a city south of the Gobi Desert.

Around 1275, the two men left the country of their birth for the Holy Land. War re-directed them to the Ilkhanate, where Mark was elected Patriarch of the Nestorian Church. He was enthroned as the Catholicos Mar Yahballaha in 1281. Early in 1287, on the advice of the young patriarch, the Ilkhan Arghun, seeking an alliance with Latin Europe against Islamic states, dispatched Rabban Sauma on a mission to the Latin West as his envoy. Returning to the Ilkhanate by late 1288, Sauma would live out his life there. The narrative of the History continues beyond his death in January 1294, to describe increasingly adverse circumstances for the Church under later Ilkhans. Mar Yahballaha’s death in 1317 marks the end of the History.

The lexicon of the History, as Borbone has pointed out, makes “cosmopolitan” use of words from languages as different as Turkic, Arabic, Persian, Chinese, and Latin (Borbone 2021 Introduction, 21–22; Borbone 2023, 333). The text also embodies a plurality of literary forms and rhetorical traditions from diverse civilisations, from the exemplum and historiography to Syriac hagiography and Biblical narrative (e.g., Borbone 2021 Introduction, 15–17). My analysis suggests that the text systematically draws upon the exemplum in the tradition of advice to the prince and the Buddhist pilgrimage writing of Chinese literature. Just as Rabban Sauma visited with princes as a wise man of the Church, the History engages with the Mongol political elite in lessons of order and sound rule. The Chinese Buddhist trope of travel as a process of undergoing conditions of ordeal and ideal, trial and bliss, frames the moral basis of the History’s politics of counsel.

3. The Ilkhanate and the Study of Power in the History

As Nestorians both Rabban Sauma and Mar Yahballaha belonged to a minority community within Persia and China that historically depended on the protection of rulers (Baumer 2016, 183, 224). The narrator openly acknowledges the political basis of Mar Yahballaha’s elevation to the patriarchate: “They chose him for this reason: the kings who held the reins of government in the entire inhabited world were Mongols, and no-one was more familiar with their customs or proficient in their language” (85).1 It was because of Mar Yahballaha’s connections and familiarity with the Mongol elite and its ways that the Church fathers elected him as catholicos (Borbone 2008, 226). The narrator’s comment on the relation between political condition and the Church’s leadership affirms the Church’s historical policy of deference and accommodation to reigning power (Borbone 2021 Introduction, 29, 32).

In the History, the Ilkhanate under rulers from Abaqa to Öljeitü represents the political centre that is the basis of the book’s study of power, for the survival of the Church is intimately bound up with elite power for the anonymous author. Ilkhans receive more concrete and detailed descriptions on the whole than other rulers. With the exception of Ahmad, who is openly denounced in the book, the History refers to individual Ilkhans with flattering characterisations, regardless of their religious faith and personal moral condition. Geikhatu, whose brief reign as Ilkhan ended in violent death, is the “undefeated king Geikhatu,” “blessed king Geikhatu” (139, 141). Likewise, Öljeitü, who ruled as a Muslim despite having been baptised as a child, is the “undefeated king” (213, 229).

The two protagonists reached this centre after undergoing extreme conditions of war and famine in Central Asia. Indeed, the period between the two men’s westward journey from China and Mar Yahballaha’s death in 1317 saw turbulent struggles between Mongol princes, as Khubilai’s ascension as Khagan in 1260 marked the irreversible fragmentation of the Mongol empire (e.g., May 2018, 181). Informed by this historical reality, the book alludes to the horror and devastation of Mongol warfare that Sauma and Mark braved to reach the Ilkhanate. The war between Mongol princes and specifically the atrocities afterwards were disastrous, in the two monks’ recollections:

At the time of their arrival in Khotan there had just been a conflict between the King of Kings, the Qa’an, and King Oqu. The latter, having escaped from the Qa’an, had arrived there, where he had slaughtered thousands of people. The roads and tracks were interrupted, and the wheat supplies had run out. Since wheat could not be procured, many died of starvation (73).

After their stay at Khotan, the two protagonists came upon Kashgar, yet another community that was “depopulated,” having been “looted by enemies” (73).

The two men reached the Ilkhanate as the new centre of their lives after suffering the extreme trial of their journey. In the narrative, the ordeal of travel vividly demonstrates the protagonists’ resolve to make the Ilkhanate their new home: “We have not come from there to return, and we do not think we would be able to endure all the hardships we have experienced a second time” (81). The trope of enduring unspeakable pain and suffering to reach one’s new home in a foreign country in the narrative here draws on the discourse of Chinese Buddhist travel writing (Tian 2011, e.g., 88–110). This trope, in fact, frames the entire narrative of the History. As a Nestorian monk Sauma came from a religious tradition that had assimilated the influence of Buddhism in its doctrinal articulation and aesthetic expression in his native China (Baumer 2016, e.g., 188–89, 220–22). Both he and Mark as well as the anonymous author would also have been familiar with Buddhists at the Ilkhanate, where they prospered under the favor of three generations of rulers, from Hülegü to his son Abaqa, and then to his grandson Arghun, before the fourteenth century. Certainly, during Sauma’s lifetime, Buddhists interacted with Muslims and Nestorians at court, and like the other religious groups they sought to engage the Ilkhans in their ideas of kingship and authority (Brack 2023, e.g., 19–82).

The political centre of the Ilkhanate that Sauma and Mark achieved after risking their lives to travel through Central Asia was itself fraught with danger and suffering. The Mongol-ruled state periodically lapsed into crises of authority, as it was increasingly plagued with succession disputes and factional tumult (De Nicola 2017, e.g., 65). Changes in fortune for the Church under different Ilkhans inform the core of the History’s study of princely power. After Abaqa’s approval for his elevation to the patriarchate, Mar Yahballaha was imprisoned by the Muslim Ilkhan Ahmad, who, “devoid of far-sightedness and wisdom,” accused him of attempting to turn Khubilai Khan against him (89, 91). At the heart of stories of princes and the two Nestorian monks’ relations with them is the History’s politics of legitimation. The figure of the ruler who respects counsel and surrounds himself with wise men is a major trope of authority in the political tradition of the steppes of Inner Asia (Amitai 2014, e.g., 16–18). Whereas Ahmad was a tyrant who oppressed a holy man such as Mar Yahballaha, his successor Arghun was the good ruler who respected the patriarch’s leadership of the Church.

In the History, to investigate power is to peel off or to remove irrelevant and superfluous material, to condense the historical narrative down to its proper focus, and to extract the lesson of wise counsel from the dense reality of history. While the book is conceived overall as a work of history (Borbone 2021 Introduction, 15–17), its narration constantly distils historical material in order to present the essential lesson of political counsel, that is, “essential” in authorial terms. Such a strategy does not just apply to the content of the book, but also to its very style. Within the text, the effect of this is an overall abstraction of the historical narrative into a series of emphatic contrasts and exemplary forms.

The anonymous author maintains that his abridgement of the narrative material about Sauma is intentional: “Since it is not our aim to write a full account of what Rabban Sauma did and the things he saw, we have considerably shortened what he personally wrote in the Persian language” (131). Speaking in the first person, he leaves out Sauma’s description of non-religious architecture of Rome in order to focus strictly on the religious buildings of the city (Borbone 2008, 230–31). The author characterises the excluded material as distracting from the “aims of our narrative” (113).

Beyond the detailed material descriptions of the Ilkhans, economy of expression shapes mentions and characterisations of rulers in the History. All Mongol rulers discussed in the book are named except Khubilai, who is “King of Kings, the Qa’an” (71, 91). The Khagan Möngke, to distinguish him from Khubilai, is named: “King of Kings Möngke Qa’an” (157). The caliphs are “Arab kings” (153). Borbone has shown that the author retains in the text Sauma’s practice of identifying rulers of Europe as embodiments of their nation or dignity rather than by their regnal names (Borbone 2008, 234). Philip IV of France is “King Fransis” (115, 117). Edward I of England is “King Ingaltar” (119), and the Byzantine emperor is “King Baselios” (101, 103). The King of Aragon is “Irad Arkon” (103), that is, roi d’Aragon, as it would have been a practice in Sauma’s Turkic to add a vowel before the initial “r.” Sauma’s identification of the Angevin ruler of Naples, however, is by his regnal name, “Irad Sharlado,” roi Charles deux (105; Borbone 2008, 228; see also Borbone 2021 Commentary, 276). For both Sauma and the author, the comparison with the Mongol ruling elite underlines references to European kings. Sauma notes that the “king of kings,” the Holy Roman Emperor and the Latin European counterpart to the Khagan, was crowned and invested by the pope (111).

The History’s pursuit of the pure idea and abstraction of princely power even strips women from its narrative, especially in association with power. Remarkably for a book about two men from the Turkic-Mongol elite, the book takes little interest in the powerful ladies of the Mongol nobility, whose political influence and advice Sauma and Mar Yahballaha must have been aware of at the Ilkhanate. Besides victims of unspeakable violence, most of the other women in the History are portrayed flatteringly as sweet royal mothers and kind religious patrons. The book minimises any political influence that they wielded in the kingdom.

The History corroborates the fact that the Ilkhan Ahmad released Mar Yahballaha from prison on the advice of his mother and others. But the royal mother, Qutui Khatun, a formidable political personality who was known to have been actively involved in her son’s rule, is not named in the book (De Nicola 2017, e.g., 94–95, 97–99, 107). Downplaying her role as a royal manager and adviser, the History ascribes the catholicos’ release to the “guardian angel who protected the holy patriarchal see” by making use of the “king’s mother and the amirs” (93).

The effect of this radically masculine imagination of political power is to elevate the stature of the Nestorian clergy, a male body represented in the History by Sauma and the catholicos, as advisers to the Ilkhans. In scene after scene of visits with rulers, the two men appear as wise men whose blessing and kind advice legitimate the Ilkhanid throne. Geikhatu, who did not “stray or depart from justice” (135), “remained for three days with the catholicos; he rejoiced greatly and presented lavish gifts” (137). The narrative also portrays Ghazan as a good king who received Mar Yahballaha and other high churchmen as holy men: “The king [. . .] had him seated to his right and, having had wine brought, he bid the catholicos and all the bishops who accompanied him a cup” (155). Even Öljeitü, a Muslim ruler, sought religious advice from Nestorian monks (185). Despite his favor for Islam, wise counsel prevailed. His decision to reverse his adversarial policy against the Church was the result of visits with Mar Yahballaha: “The king honoured the catholicos a great deal”; “the king again summoned him to Tabriz, where he presented him with a saddle mule and a precious robe. [. . .] God had reawakened the mercy in him” (185, 187). The politics of counsel as portrayed in these instances reflects a prevailing trope as well as time-honored practice in Mongol history. Famous Chinggisid princes such as Khubilai and Hülegü frequently staged the reception of counsel and cultivated the image of themselves as rulers who sought learning and wisdom (Rossabi 1988, 137–39; Amitai 2014, 16–18).

The narrative refers to the hospitality of two kings who married Khubilai’s daughters when the two protagonists visited Koshang, Mar Yahballaha’s hometown. The two royal sons-in-law’s effort to retain them indicates their interest in recruiting wise learned men in their government: “We strive to summon fathers and monks from the West; how can we afford to let you leave?” (71; e.g., Rossabi 1992, 50). Their lavishing them with “gold, silver, and robes,” gifts and supplies for their journey, is another sign of their appreciation of wisdom and talent (71). A crucial scene took place between Mar Yahballaha and Arghun after the fall of Ahmad: “The catholicos thus saw King Arghun and blessed him, praying for the stability of his reign. The king honoured him and exalted his position” (95). Even though Arghun had removed Ahmad from power violently, the scene was meant to legitimate his ascension as Ilkhan.

4. The Paradise of Christian Order: A Vision of the Western Mediterranean

Sauma’s recollections of his visits with Christian princes of Europe are consistently favourable, compared with his varied assessments of rulers in Asia. The European Mediterranean represents the westernmost point of Sauma’s journey. While Sauma’s personal journey from China to the Ilkhanate had taken place within the Mongol empire, his visit to the Latin West marked his movement beyond Mongol dominion. His vision of the western Mediterranean as a land of Christian order and unity came not only at the end of an extended journey, but it was attained by crossing a major divide between continents and civilisations. Beyond the familiar empire of the Mongols, Sauma entered a land that was utterly unknown to him. Sauma’s favorable impressions of the European Mediterranean and its Christian princes, therefore, were inextricably bound up with the dynamic process of his crossing boundaries and engagement with otherness.

As Renata Vinci has pointed out, the History’s economy of expression and basic simplicity of observation in its account of Sauma’s diplomatic mission reflect the influence of Chinese travel writing (Vinci 2013, 344). This influence, moreover, can be traced specifically to Buddhist pilgrimage writing that has had a powerful impact on the popular imagination in China from the early fifth century, when the account of the Chinese monk Faxian 法顯 (337–422 CE) about his journey to India began circulating in China. In her pioneering scholarship on Chinese travel literature, Tian Xiaofei has shown that the tale of the Buddhist monk journeying from China to India to obtain sacred texts is a prevailing “cultural narrative,” a story long embedded in the Chinese imagination with popular themes and images of travel (Tian 2011, 89). In this cultural narrative, the votary crosses borders under dire conditions to reach the far western land of India, where he witnesses an ideal society under good rule and peaceful order. The extreme opposition of hell and paradise organises the narrative in temporal as well as spatial terms, for paradise is achieved only after the pilgrim endures the hell of deadly terrain in the deep interior of Central Asia. The very act of moving through an area of catastrophic devastation signals the crossing of a crucial border beyond which lies paradise (Tian 2011, e.g., 88–118).

Sauma’s westward journey also resembles the Buddhist monk’s pilgrimage to India in its paradoxical conception of encounter as the achievement of one’s true centre or identity (Tian 2011, e.g., 3, 97–104). The Chinese monk braved unfamiliar terrain to arrive at India as the spiritual centre of his world. Travel through foreign and harsh terrain to attain the ideal state of enlightened Buddhist teachings was bound up with who he was as a Chinese Buddhist. Likewise, Sauma and Mark were joyful to arrive at the home of the Nestorian Church in Mesopotamia. Immediately upon arrival, they settled in a monastery as their new home (81).

In Sauma’s account of his mission to Latin Europe, paradise lay beyond the infernal conditions of travel. While Latin Europe was entirely alien to him, well beyond the vast Mongol empire that he had travelled, it was also a place of Christian dominance that appealed to him. The sight of an active Mount Etna served as the liminal boundary of otherness that Sauma crossed to reach the civilised world of the western Mediterranean:

Then he got on a ship and, once out in the open sea, he saw a mountain from which smoke rises all day, while at night fire appears on it; no-one can venture nearby because of the smell of Sulphur. People say that there is a great snake there, and that is why the sea is called Sea of the Dragon. It is indeed a scary sea, where many ships full of men have been lost (103).

The recorded eruption of Mount Etna on 18 June 1287 marked Sauma’s arrival in Sicily and his very first moment of encounter of the western Mediterranean. The History’s description of the active volcano, however, is based on a formula in the work of geography, Athar al-bilad wa-akhbar al-ibad (Monuments of the Lands and Historical Traditions about Their Peoples), written in 1275 in Arabic by Persian writer Zakariyya al-Qazwini. While Qazwini’s work might have been familiar to the anonymous author as well as to Sauma, geographical lore about volcanoes was printed and circulated in China before Sauma departed the country, and it might also have shaped Sauma’s own observation of Mount Etna (Vinci 2013, 342–45; Vinci 2019, 39–44; Borbone 2008, 227–28; Borbone 2021 Introduction, 21). The fact that this passage is taken from a stock description in Arabic geography suggests that it serves a formal function of marking a liminal, unstable site of deadly otherness which the traveller must cross in his undertaking to reach the land of the Christians.

Beyond the border of disastrous nature and death lay an ideal place of grace and order. In contrast to Mongol turmoil and pluralism, this ideal place shone forth as a mirror of Christian discipline and unity. Even a war between Christian kings stood in sharp contrast to the conflict between Mongol rulers. Sauma stresses that Europeans did not harm civilians, as he and his entourage watched the battle between the troops of Aragon and Charles II from afar on the rooftop of his residence and “wondered at the customs of the Franks, who did not harm anybody, apart from the combatants” (105). Borbone reasons that Sauma very likely never witnessed the killing and devastation of civilians that occurred after this particular battle (Borbone 2008, 228). Beyond Sauma’s historical experience, the assertion that European soldiers did not kill civilians is a deliberate rhetorical projection of the land of the Franks as a community of order and good rule. While in Central Asia Sauma and his pupil Mark suffered the ordeal of famine, violence, and death in the wake of military conflicts, in the European Mediterranean, warfare became a picturesque experience observed from the rooftop, removed of any sense of threat. Certainly, the assertion of the orderliness of European warfare in the History is meant to contrast with Sauma’s experience of the dire conditions of Mongol conflicts in Asia.

At the heart of this mirror that Sauma holds up for the princes of the Ilkhanate is Genoa. No prince ruled there. The brief allusion to the city’s popular election of its leader is quickly followed by an extensive description of the city’s great church that shows the piety of its citizens (115). Designated specifically as a “paradise,” it is the city where Sauma met his counterpart in the Roman Catholic Church, a visitor-general: “We went back to spend the winter in the city of Genoa. When we arrived there, we saw once again that it resembled the garden of paradise: its winter is not cold, nor is its summer hot; there, greenery lasts all year round” (121). It is there, in a city blessed with ideal natural conditions and without monarchs, that he spoke candidly about why he served infidel rulers. He spoke about princes rather than to them. To his equal in the Roman Church, he made the case for Latin Europe’s alliance with Mongol power in political terms. The Mongol rulers were not the model of Christian piety; their heart was “harder than rock,” he admitted to the Catholic prelate. But Christians could work with them to achieve the Holy Land: “Yet they are hoping to conquer the Holy City, while those whose duty it would be do not even consider doing it or think of such an undertaking” (121).

The natural affinity between Sauma as a wise man of the Nestorian Church and the Catholic prelacy extends beyond the conversation with the visitor-general in Genoa. The cardinals of the Roman Church accepted Sauma as their equal. Their first concern, upon meeting him, was to make sure that he was rested and had received proper care and attention in Rome (105). Other princes of Latin Christendom, from the kings of France and England to the newly elected Pope Nicholas IV, also presented themselves as figures of empathy and intimate conversation. The pope “honoured Rabban Sauma more than usual” (123). Philip IV of France, a gracious host to Sauma, responded favorably to the envoy’s proposal of alliance (117). Edward I eagerly received Sauma’s embassy and likewise indicated an interest in his proposal (119). He impressed upon Sauma the unity and complete dominance of Christianity in the Latin world: “In the land of the Franks there are no two religions, only one, the one professed by Jesus Christ, and everybody is Christian” (119).

Later in the narrative, the ideal of faraway lands remains a powerful trope. Responding rhetorically to a political proposal to force Christians under siege at Irbil to leave the citadel, Mar Yahballaha resorted to the trope. Rather than support such a proposal, he would wish to “return to the East,” his homeland, or end his life in “the land of the Franks,” the home of Christian unity that could never be for him (165). The rhetorical appeal of Sauma’s memoirs continued to exert an influence, even after his death, on both Mar Yahballaha and the anonymous author.

The account of Sauma’s mission in the History holds up the land of the European Mediterranean as a mirror of ideal governance and order under which civilians lived unharassed by princes, blessed and united in their faith in the one true God. Informed by Chinese-Buddhist ideas of crossing extreme borders and attaining enlightenment, the story of Sauma’s mission to the Latin West functions as a masterful rhetoric of counsel in the History’s study of princely power. Rabban Sauma, the wise man of the Nestorian Church, tells the story of his journey to the ideal land to address the turmoil of the Mongol ruling elite.

References

Amitai, Reuven. 2014. “Hülegü and His Wise Men: Topos or Reality?” In Politics, Patronage and the Transmission of Knowledge in 13th–15th Century Tabriz, edited by Judith Pfeiffer, 15–34. Leiden: Brill. https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004262577_003

Baumer, Christopher. 2016. The Church of the East: An Illustrated History of Assyrian Christianity. New York: I.B. Tauris. Google Book.

Borbone, Pier Giorgio. 2008. “A 13th-Century Journey from China to Europe. The ‘Story of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma.’” Egitto e Vicino Oriente 31: 221–42.

Borbone, Pier Giorgio, ed. and trans. 2021. History of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma, translated by Laura E. Parodi. Hamburg: Verlag Tredition.

Borbone, Pier Giorgio. 2003. “Syriac Sources.” In vol. 2, Cambridge History of the Mongol Empire, edited by Michal Biran and Hodong Kim, 324–40. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1017/9781316337424.036

Boyle, John Andrew. 1973. “The Il-Khans of Persia and the Christian West.” History Today 23, no. 8: 554–63.

Brack, Jonathan Z. 2023. An Afterlife for the Khan: Muslims, Buddhists, and Sacred Kingship in Mongol Iran and Eurasia. Oakland, CA: University of California Press. Google Book.

De Nicola, Bruno. 2017. Women in Mongol Iran: The Khatuns, 1206–1335. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781474423403

May, Timothy. 2018. The Mongol Empire. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781474417402

Rossabi, Morris. 1988. Khubilai Khan: His Life and Times. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.

Rossabi, Morris. 1992. Voyager from Xanadu: Rabban Sauma and the First Journey from China to the West. New York: Kodansha International.

Tian, Xiaofei. 2012. Visionary Journeys: Travel Writings from Early Medieval and Nineteenth-Century China. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. https://doi.org/10.1163/9781684170623

Vinci, Renata. 2013. “The Descriptions of Sicily in Chinese Travel Diaries and Geographic Works until Qing Dynasty.” Ming Qing Studies 2013: 339-69.

Vinci, Renata. 2019. La Sicilia in Cina: Una raccolta di testi cinesi sull’isola (1225–1911). Palermo: Palermo University Press.

1 References to the History, ed. and trans. Borbone, are to page numbers and they will appear in the text proper.

Margaret Kim, National Tsing Hua University, Taiwan, kim@mx.nthu.edu.tw, 0009-0000-1655-7311

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Margaret Kim, Princes and Paradise: Rabban Sauma in the Western Mediterranean, © Author(s), CC BY 4.0, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6.07, in Renata Vinci (edited by), Navigating the Mediterranean Through the Chinese Lens. Transcultural Narratives of the Sea Among Lands, pp. -78, 2024, published by Firenze University Press, ISBN 979-12-215-0598-6, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6

1. Introduction

The reception of Roman law in China is a complex process rooted in more remote periods, manifesting itself concretely during the second half of the 19th century. Despite a handful of interesting isolated studies (for example, Wang 2002), it remains overall little known.

One aspect still scarcely investigated is the image of the Romanist legal tradition emerging from Chinese sources during the late Qing and early Republican Era. This was a fundamental phase in China’s decision to adhere to the continental system, or to draw inspiration from it in its implementation of national legal reform. In this sense, a significant yet under-examined element is the perception of the role of Roman law exerted well beyond the Italic territory, primarily within the vast cultural area of the Mediterranean. This concept, in fact, has long been known and self-evident in the Western world, but it begins to become clear in China between the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, by being included in a small but increasing number of valuable sources.

This chapter aims to highlight how Roman law is presented in Chinese sources of the aforementioned period. More specifically, it examines how Roman law is presented not only as an element strictly connected to the city of Rome and the Italian peninsula, but also as a transnational1 element that transcends Italic borders, influencing Western and Mediterranean non-material culture.

2. The Expansion of Rome and Roman Law in the Mediterranean

In this introductory paragraph, I will present contents that are well-known in scholarly literature but necessary to fully understanding the following paragraph which is specifically related to the primary Chinese sources analysed and therefore constitutes the core of this study. Starting from general considerations on various intrinsic characteristics of the Mediterranean reality and the Romanist legal experience, I will try to outline a synoptic picture of the primarily political, but also social and cultural role of Rome. This therefore will lead to an outline of Roman law in the Mediterranean, ranging from shortly after the unification of the Italic peninsula (3rd century BCE) to the first phase of the Eastern Roman Empire. During this period, Rome and its legal tradition developed a relationship with the Mediterranean, a vast aquatic (but not only) entity that witnessed the birth or blossoming of multiple civilisations. The Mediterranean, as pointed out by Norwich (2016, 37–38), “is a miracle. […] Something utterly unique, a body of water that might have been deliberately designed, like no other on the surface of the globe, as a cradle of cultures. […] It links three of the world’s six continents; its climate for much of the year is among the most benevolent to be found anywhere. Small wonder, then, that the Middle Sea […] nurtured three of the most dazzling civilisations of antiquity”. In this sense, it is easy to understand how the Mediterranean has been the subject of numerous academic investigations, especially in the West. Starting with Braudel, several scholars have dedicated their research to the Mediterranean (to mention a few: Braudel 1985; 1986; 1998; Abulafia 2011; Horden-Purcell 2006; Matvejević 2006; Norwich 2006). Due to obvious spacial limitations, a full review of these studies is beyond the scope of this essay. Instead, what is most relevant is one distinctive feature of the “Liquid Continent,”2 an element on which most scholars substantially agree, regardless of the variety of analytical perspectives adopted. Specifically, it is the intrinsically unitary character of the vast Mediterranean cultural area: the Mediterranean is a conglomeration and amalgamation of peoples, customs, and cultural traditions; it is a hybrid and, in some respects, fragmented3 space in which different national identities and boundaries tend to blur.

At the same time, another nearly universally acknowledged characteristic is the long-duration of the Mediterranean’s history, originally highlighted by Braudel. In his renowned answer to the question “What is the Mediterranean?”, cited countlessly (therefore not quoted here fully), he defines the “sea between lands”4 as “non pas une civilisation, mais des civilisations entassées les unes sur les autres” (1985, 8) and subsequently specifies that “les civilisations […] traversent le temps, elles triomphent de la durée. […] elles restent maîtresses de leur espace, car le territoire qu’elles occupent peut varier à ses marges, mais au cœur, dans la zone centrale, leur domaine, leur logement restent les mêmes. […] et cette longue durée s’incorpore forcément à leur nature” (1985, 160). Later studies, specifically archaeological ones, have pointed out the vastness of the Mediterranean’s phenomenological landscape, leading us to avoid generalisations that do not fit well with the richness and diversity of what can be physically contained in the Mediterranean area (Tusa 2014, 100). However, the concept of long duration remains applicable to the Mediterranean reality, as “les civilisations ne sont pas mortelles […]. Elles survivent aux avatars, aux catastrophes. Le cas échéant, elles renaissent de leurs cendres” (Braudel 1985, 160). In this sense, the history of the Mediterranean and its varied yet unitary civilisation shows a remarkable analogy with the dimension of law, primarily of Roman law. In fact, the latter has remained grounded in the fundamental principle of the long, or even eternal, duration of law despite constantly evolving over the centuries. The eternity of law was transmitted from the archaic ages up to Emperor Justinian I (527–65). It is he who in the constitution Dedoken,5 opposing the absolute perfection of divine things to the condition of human law, affirmed the latter in infinitum decurrit. This concept was contested in more modern centuries, yet without shaking the multi-millennial idea that the authority of law lies in its long duration. In fact, after the French Revolution, the jurists of the Code Napoléon (1804) once again justified the force of codified law as founded on the eternal laws of nature (Casavola 2004).

With these preliminary remarks, I will now try to recall the main stages in the history of Rome and Roman law in the Mediterranean, necessarily synthesising them in an extremely schematic manner. Following Abulafia (2011, xvii), I will expound “the process by which the Mediterranean became in varying degrees integrated into a single commercial, cultural and (under the Romans) political zone”. As is well known, the prominence of Rome in the Italic peninsula by 300 BCE was the result of land-based wars. At that time, Rome had no aspirations of becoming a naval power, nor did this change until the Punic Wars. Their significance extended far beyond the western and central Mediterranean. With the fall of Carthage, Rome consolidated its control over Greece, opening up the possibility of intense competition with the rulers of Egypt and Syria for mastery over the eastern Mediterranean (Abulafia 2011, 189). From the fall of Carthage to Egypt’s conquest, the Romans extended their control over the entire Mediterranean, which then became their “Mare Nostrum” (Our Sea), constituting a vast area characterised by political, economic, and cultural unity. By the reign of Emperor Hadrian (117–138 CE), “the outline of the Empire represented an immense ellipse around the Mediterranean, […] with the sea providing the basic shape: essentially the Roman Empire was the land surrounding the Mare Nostrum” (Braudel 2002, 632). Single rule over the “Mare Nostrum” and the resulting so-called pax romana ensured freedom of movement and cultural mixing in the Mediterranean on an unprecedented scale. This political and economic unity began to weaken around the 5th century, with a gradual detachment of the western Mediterranean from the eastern Mediterranean. By the 6th century, the unity of the Mediterranean had been shattered politically and commercially (Abulafia 2011, 241). However, the cultural unity developed in previous centuries continued to endure in a number of ways. As previously mentioned in scholarly literature (Ivetic 2022), a truly integrated world was created, one that wasn’t undone by later divisions in the Mediterranean. Romanisation was not a unidirectional process: on one hand, the vast area of the Mediterranean conquered by Rome had absorbed its cultural and social elements; on the other hand, Roman culture itself had become Mediterraneanised, in the sense of adapting to the political and economic circumstances of the Mediterranean, even before the unity of Roman Italy (Augustus’ Italy) was achieved. In this sense, Roman law is one of the primary manifestations of this shared cultural substrate. Particularly, the ius gentium, beyond constituting a sector of Roman private law, acted as transnational law by regulating relations between individuals of different nationalities and served to facilitate commercial exchanges in the Mediterranean. After the First Punic War, it was increasingly understood and accepted as the law of the Mediterranean world, often applied standardly at the provincial level in relations between foreigners or between foreigners and Romans (Giliberti 2015, 5–7). As previously pointed out by Braudel (2001, 312), Rome “could not maintain contact with its Empire – the rest of Italy, the provinces, the cities – without the legal regulations essentials to the maintenance of political, social and economic order”, and Roman law, extending to the conquered territories, was a key element in maintaining the unity of the empire. It continues to impress with its “extraordinary success story […] which has remained in evidence to the present day”. Today, the crucial role of the Romanist legal tradition is not only recognised from a strictly political and institutional point of view by legal literature. It is also acknowledged from a broader cultural perspective by scholars of Mediterranean Studies. For example, Matvejevic includes Roman law among the main components of the “Mediterranean mosaic” (2006, 18). Braudel not only underlines its importance in the Imperial Era, but also highlights its imperishable character as a legal tradition that outlasted the fall of the empire and became the foundation of Western law and, in several aspects, of Western civilisation (2001, 312). This concept, as we will see, is frequently mentioned in late Qing Chinese sources and this is presumably one of the main factors that led the Chinese intelligentsia and government to opt for a Romanist-style legal reform in the beginning of the 20th century.

3. Roman Law in Late Qing and Early Republican Chinese Sources: A Constitutive and Transnational Element of the Mediterranean and Western Civilisation

As is well known, the history of Roman law did not end with the fall of the empire. After a period of stagnation in the evolution of the Romanist science, a revival of Romanist studies occurred with the Bolognese School of Glossators (11th–13th centuries) and with the Commentators (14th century), reaching the era of the great codifications in the 19th century. It is therefore undoubtedly true that Roman law has constituted the foundation of all Western law (partially influencing the countries of the Common Law as well). Similarly, it is well known that in modern times, extra-European countries, including China, reformed their national legal system inspired by the Romanist one. This occurred for a series of reasons that cannot be completely summarised here. However, the primary reason was the systematic and universalistic character of Roman law.

As has been mentioned, the reception of Roman law in China began towards the end of the 19th century. Regarding Chinese sources, there are three main phases that characterise this process: 1) the appearance of the earliest references to Roman law in works translated (or, rarely, composed) by Western missionaries; 2) the inclusion of references to Roman law in documents directly composed by Chinese authors; 3) the writing of the earliest Roman law manuals translated or composed in Chinese. Of this vast quantity of documents, this paper limits itself to analysing some of the works aligning closely with the subject of investigation (i.e., those that describe Roman law as a transnational element in relation to the Mediterranean civilisation) and provides a specific example for each of the three types of sources.6

As for the first type of sources analysed, one of the main works containing relevant references for the present study is Luoma zhilüe 羅馬誌略 (Brief History of Rome, 1886) which is the translation of M. Creighton’s History of Rome (1879) by the English missionary J. Edkins. This volume is rich in references to specific laws and institutions of ancient Rome. Above all, it highlights how Roman law constituted an indispensable cultural heritage on which the law of the European nations (and more specifically, the peoples of the Mediterranean) was based. In the first pages of the volume, it is clearly illustrated how Roman law was extended to the areas of the Mediterranean conquered by Rome and inhabited by peoples defined as “civilised” precisely because of this law:

The people of Rome first of all overcame all the other people of Italy and then went on to overcome all the nations that lived round the Mediterranean Sea. Also, besides conquering these nations, they governed them, and gave them their own laws, and made them all like themselves in some degree or another. Now, these nations who lived round the Mediterranean Sea were the only people who lived in cities, and made themselves laws, and wrote books, and were what we in these times call civilised. […] Rome was a great link in the history of the world, for all the nations of old times were conquered by Rome, and so came under Rome’s power, while all the European nations of our own days were formed out of Rome’s overthrow and learnt a great deal from her (Creighton 1879, 5–6).7

In the following pages, the history of Roman expansion is narrated in detail. Therefore, it is reinforced how Rome, starting from the Punic Wars, conquered the entire Mediterranean area, placing itself at the head of the “civilised” world:

Thus, you see that in the year 133 <BCE> Rome, besides ruling Italy, was ruler also of Macedonia, Greece, Asia, Spain and Africa, in fact all the countries round the Mediterranean Sea, which thus became a Roman lake. Also, these were all the countries which at that time were civilised, that is, had made themselves into regular states, whose citizens lived together for their common good, and built cities, and made and obeyed laws. You see, then, how important was the position of Rome after these wars: she was the head of the civilised world. (Creighton 1879, 51).8

The use of the expression “Roman lake” to refer to the Mediterranean is quite widespread in Western historiography (Abulafia 2011, 199; Norwich 2006, 143; etc.). Although in this specific case, the Chinese translation (“是瀕地中海之諸國，幾盡服屬羅馬矣” or “all of the countries around the Mediterranean Sea were subject and belonged to Rome”) is not literal, the meaning is faithfully conveyed by the translator and highlights the extent of Roman dominion over all of the countries of the Mediterranean area. This unity was not only political but also cultural, as “the Mediterranean had become Mare Nostrum, ‘our sea’, but the ‘our’ referred to a much larger idea of Rome than the Senate and People of Rome itself, Senatus Populusque Romanus. Roman citizens, freedmen, slaves and allies swarmed across the Mediterranean: traders, soldiers and captives criss-crossed the sea. They carried with them a predominantly Hellenistic culture, which had penetrated deeply into Rome itself” (Abulafia 2011, 199). In particular, the Greek influence on Roman culture, by way of “Mediterranean” syncretism, also emerges from Creighton’s work, thus reaching the Chinese readership of the late Qing period:

Of course, when the Romans conquered Greece and the East, they saw a great many things which they had never seen before […]; all the best books and statues and pictures of the old world had been made by the Greek writers and artists. So, the Romans not only learned many new things from the Greeks, but gave up a great many of their own early beliefs (Creighton 1879, 52).9

Subsequently, following the foundation of the Empire, a crucial step in its consolidation was the extension of Roman citizenship to all free men of the provinces, an aspect clearly illustrated in Creighton’s volume (and in its Chinese translation):

One good thing, however, came out of this; Caracalla gave the rights of Roman citizenship10 to all the provinces, so that all who were governed by Rome called themselves Romans alike. Italy and the provinces were now equal, and there were no differences between one free man and another. […] It drew the Empire much more together, and made it entirely one. Roman ideas had long been spreading among the people of the provinces, but now everyone was in name, as well as in thought, a Roman (Creighton 1879, 105–6).11

In this sense, it is worth recalling that granting of Roman citizenship to all free men of the provinces, as sanctioned by the Constitutio Antoniniana (212 CE), was the “solution to strengthen the unity of the empire, centred, as is known, on the Mediterranean part” (Ivetic 2022).

As for the second type of analysed sources, I focus on Bali fu youren shu 巴黎復友人書 (Letter from Paris to a Friend), a document written by Ma Jianzhong 馬建忠 (1845–1900) in 1878 and included in the anthology Shike zhai ji yan 適可齋記言 (Annotations from the Shike Study), vol. 2, published in 1896. It is significantly relevant regarding the universalistic character of Roman law as well as its pan-Mediterranean and transnational value. In this work, after underlining how Greek and Roman cultures are the cradle of Western civilisation, Ma Jianzhong briefly summarises the history of Rome.12 On one hand, it is first illustrated how Roman dominion gradually extended beyond the city of Rome by conquering Greece and the entire Mediterranean area.13 On the other hand, it is correctly stated that, in ancient times, the original nucleus of Roman law (ius civile) and the rights provided for therein applied exclusively to Roman citizens (while foreigners were excluded).14

Afterwards, Ma Jianzhong continues to briefly narrate the history of Rome until the reign of “Justinian, emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire, who fixed the laws”.15 In this regard, to properly understand the importance of this reference for this study, one should recall the relevance of the role of Justinian in the legal field, as well as in the broader cultural field. His role was so crucial that it is the subject of great attention beyond legal literature, also in Mediterranean studies. For example, Norwich describes Justinian’s complete recodification of Roman law as astonishing, as he removed all contradictions, substituting clarity and conciseness for confusion and chaos (Norwich 2006, 190). Similarly, Braudel underlines the essential function of Roman law for the maintenance of social order and communications between the centre and the periphery of the empire (Braudel 2001, 311). Therefore, even though concise, this reference by Ma Jianzhong to the Byzantine emperor and his monumental codification work is both precious and accurate.

Finally, Ma Jianzhong’s work is noteworthy for yet another reference to the role exerted by Roman law in the West (and thus in the Mediterranean area, although the Mediterranean Sea is not directly mentioned). It is contained in Ni she fanyi shuyuan yi 擬設翻譯書院議 (“Proposal on Establishing a Translation Academy”), written by Ma in 1894 and included in the aforementioned Shike zhai ji yan (vol. 4). This document describes the laws of Rome as the foundation of the laws of all countries (“羅馬律要為諸國定律之祖”). The concept of Rome as “the place of origin of the laws of all countries” had already been illustrated in earlier volumes translated into Chinese, but this is one of the earliest references of this kind that can be found in a document composed by a Chinese intellectual. It illustrates how the process of reception of Roman law had progressed further.16

Lastly, a specific reference to the Romanist legal tradition as typical of the Mediterranean area (but not only) appears again in a more recent work which belongs to the third type of sources analysed. It is the third edition (1930) of the Roman law manual composed by Huang Youchang 黄右昌.17 In this volume, the author presents Constantinople as the place where Emperor Justinian had the Corpus Iuris Civilis (534 CE) compiled (“優帝編纂法典之地，在東羅馬君士但丁堡”), describing the city as a majestic urban centre, located on the western shore of the Bosphorus strait (“該城地勢居博斯破魯斯［Bosphorus］海峽西岸，雄壯秀麗”). From here, one could observe the strategic junction of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea (“其險要扼地中海黑海之咽喉”). As a central place of connection between Europe and Asia, Constantinople is portrayed as a crossroads of cultures where the customs and traditions of the East and the West meet (Huang 1930, 18–19). The crucial role of Constantinople in the Mediterranean area and its cultural and political significance is an objective fact, repeatedly highlighted in Mediterranean Studies. As pointed out by Norwich (2006, 28), the city itself perhaps commanded only the Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmara, but the two successive empires of which it was the capital (the Byzantine and the Ottoman) occupied well over half the shoreline of the Mediterranean at various times. Similarly, Abulafia (2011, xxiii) includes this city inside the boundaries of the “Liquid Continent”, because it functioned as a bridge between the Black Sea and the White Sea.18 At the same time, the importance of Constantinople from a specifically legal point of view is also emphasised, not only in legal literature but also in the field of Mediterranean studies. For example, Braudel underlines that law schools in Rome, Constantinople and Beirut in the late Empire19 “played a leading role in the fifth century” and they “would preserve Roman law, enabling the renaissance under Justinian to take place” (Braudel 2001, 312). Therefore, the description of Constantinople and its cultural and legal value as presented by Huang, being one of the earliest of this kind included in Chinese sources, is particularly valuable.

4. Conclusions

As we have seen, the Chinese sources analysed clearly illustrate the process of Rome’s expansion throughout the entire Mediterranean area. At the same time, they also emphasise how Roman law was used throughout this vast territory, characterised by legal unity and (more generally) cultural syncretism. From this analysis emerges a perception of the Romanist legal tradition as a pillar and common denominator of Western and Mediterranean legal science in a transcultural sense. One can understand it as an element that is not only Italic, but instead of a Western (and specifically Mediterranean) civilisation that transcends regional and national boundaries. As has been said, this concept has long been well known in the Western world, but it was undoubtedly not so obvious in late Qing and early Republican China.

As mentioned, the image of Roman law emerging from the sources is firstly that of an essential tool for guaranteeing the cohesion and management of a vast empire and, subsequently, that of the foundation of all Western law. In other words, it is described as the indispensable political and legal basis of the “Western powers” that appeared to late Qing intellectuals as strong and “civilised”. This image therefore not only contributed to increasing knowledge of the external world in China, but it very likely oriented, to some extent, the Chinese government towards the adoption of the civil law system within the national legal reform’s implementation.20 In this sense, the information provided in the primary sources examined can be considered even more valuable.

References

Abulafia, David. 2011. The Great Sea: A Human History of the Mediterranean. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Braudel, Fernand. 1985. La Méditerranée. L’Espace et l’Histoire. Paris: Flammarion.

Braudel, Fernand. 1986. La Méditerranée. Les Hommes et l’Héritage. Paris: Flammarion.

Braudel, Fernand. 1998. Les Mémoires de la Méditerranée. Paris: De Fallois.

Braudel, Fernand. 2001. Memory and the Mediterranean. New York: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group.

Casavola, Franco. 2004. “Il tempo del diritto”. Studium 100, 4–5: 687–92.

Colangelo, Lara. 2015. “L’introduzione del diritto romano in Cina: evoluzione storica e recenti sviluppi relativi alla traduzione e produzione di testi e all’insegnamento”. Roma e America. Diritto romano comune, 36: 175–210.

Colangelo, Lara. 2020. “Ershi shiji chuqi Zhongguo dui Luoma fa tixi de jishou: zui zao yong zhongwen xiezuo de Luoma fa jiaokeshu yiji Zhongguo de fadianhua guocheng 二十世纪初期中国对罗马法体系的继受: 最早用中文写作的罗马法教科书以及中国的法典化过程”. In Luoma fa, Zhongguo fa yu minfa fadianhua (wenxuan). Ershiyi shiji minfa dian de kexue tixi 罗马法、中国法与民法法典化（文选）—— 二十一世纪民法典的科学体系, edited by Fei Anling 费安玲 and Sandro Schipani, 76–87. Pechino: Zhongguo Zhengfa Daxue chubanshe.

Colangelo, Lara. 2022. “La recezione della tradizione giuridica romanistica in Cina: il diritto romano negli scritti dei letterati di epoca tardo Qing”. InVerbis. Lingue, letterature, culture, 12 (1): 117–130.

Creighton, Mandell. 1879. History of Rome. London: MacMillan and co.

Creighton, Mandell [克赖顿]. 2014 (first ed.: 1886). ‘Xila zhilüe’ ‘Luoma zhilüe’ jiaozhu 《希臘誌略》《羅馬誌略》校注. Translated by Joseph Edkins. Beijing: The Commercial Press.

Horden, Peregrine and Purcell, Nicholas. 2006. “The Mediterranean and ‘the New Thalassology’.” The American Historical Review 111 (3): 722–40.

Giliberti, Giuseppe. 2015. “L’ius gentium romano come ordinamento transnazionale”. Cultura giuridica e diritto vivente, 2: 1–14.

Huang, Youchang 黄右昌. 2006 (first ed. 1930). Luoma fa yu xiandai 罗马法与现代. Beijing: Zhongguo fangzheng chubanshe.

Ivetic, Egidio. 2022. Il Mediterraneo e l’Italia. Catanzaro: Rubettino editore.

Ma Jianzhong馬建忠. 1896. Shike zhai ji yan. Accessed August 30, 2024. https://www.zhonghuadiancang.com/leishuwen- ji/8246/166875.html.

Matvejević, Predrag. 2006. Breviario mediterraneo. Milano: Garzanti.

Norwich, John. 2006. The Middle Sea: A History of the Mediterranean. New York: Doubleday.

Talamanca, Mario. 1989. “Editto del pretore, ius honorarium e ius civile”, in Lineamenti di storia del diritto romano, edited by Mario Talamanca, 171–82. Milano: Giuffrè editore.

Tusa, Sebastiano. 2014. “Attualità del Mediterraneo di Braudel.” In Ricordando Braudel. Mediterraneo, un mare condiviso, edited by Angela Accardi, 96–105. Palermo: Regione siciliana, Assessorato dei beni culturali e dell’identità siciliana, Dipartimento dei beni culturali e dell’identità siciliana.

Wang, Jian 王健. 2002. “Luoma fa chuanbo zhongguo wenxian jikao 罗马法传播中国文献稽考”. In Luoma fa yu xiandai minfa 罗马法与现代民法, edited by Xu Guodong 徐国栋, 59–98. Beijing: Zhongguo fazhi chubanshe.

Yu, Taishan. 2013. China and the Ancient Mediterranean World: A Survey of Ancient Chinese Sources. Sino-Platonic Papers 242. Philadelphia: Department of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies, University of Pennsylvania.

1 In this chapter, the term ‘transnational’ is used broadly, not only referring to the current nations that occupy the Mediterranean area and, generally speaking, Europe and the Western world. It also refers to the various countries (regions, territories) that were formerly independent and were subsequently conquered and incorporated into the Roman Empire.

2 For this definition of the Mediterranean, see Abulafia 2011, xxiii.

3 On the presumably fragmentary nature of Mediterranean civilisation(s), see Abulafia (2011), whose perspective is generally in antithesis with that of Braudel.

4 Meaning suggested by the etymology of the Latin name Mĕdĭterrānĕus.

5 Bilingual (Latin-Greek) constitution, issued by Justinian in 533 and introductory to the Digest.

6 This study will not investigate the first mentions of the Mediterranean which appeared in much earlier sources, starting from the Han period, 202 BCE–220 CE (Yu 2013). For further details on these aspects, readers may refer to Chapters 1 and 8.2 of this volume.

7 The Chinese translation of Creighton’s work is faithful to the original. Therefore, for this quote and the subsequent quoted passages, I directly provide the text of History of Rome, including the corresponding passages of the Chinese version by Edkins (for which the 2014 edition was used) in the footnote: 閱乎此書，則知羅馬先如何據有意大利諸他國地，繼如何評定瀕臨地中海之四周諸國。不惟有是，並能分設方伯，治理諸地頌予羅馬律例，教導多人，使與羅馬人有多寡不等之相似，而瀕地中海之諸國，與未經王化者不同，俱旅居城內。自訂有條例，書籍成卷䊿，且禮儀制度，文雅有序，益可顯羅馬之声威矣。[…] 羅馬國實為歐洲古今數代之樞紐也。往古歐洲諸國，舉經羅馬征服。邇時諸國，當羅馬衰落時，乘勢自強興。於其往昔之條教號令，決有心得耳 (Creighton 2014, 195–96).

8 觀上所載，是於漢武帝即位八年時，羅馬已得有意大利、馬其頓、希臘、小亞洲、西班牙、亞非利加，是瀕地中海之諸國，幾盡服屬羅馬矣。希臘人、西米族人均彬彬而遵國制王化。且諸國盡城居，制有律例，為久有風化者，益可昭明羅馬威權之大。(Creighton 2014, 241–42).

9 羅馬人於平服希臘亞洲地時，素未經見之事。[…] 羅馬人多加之意。[…] 彼時極善之書籍，多為希人著作，雕鏤、繪畫等工，亦擅长著名。羅馬人步趨追随希人之習俗時，將夙昔信守之條道，棄置多端 (Creighton 2014, 143).

10 The translation of the expression ‘rights of Roman citizenship’ is not perfectly faithful to the original (羅馬民所有之利益, ‘all of the advantages of Roman citizens’). However, immediately afterwards, it is clearly indicated how the inhabitants of the provinces could now define themselves as full-fledged citizens of Rome, being in an equal position with them.

11 時帝政於極虐中，而得有一至善者，即以羅馬民所有之利益全賜與諸省民人。俾諸省人，除奴隸外，皆與意大利人平等，咸可自稱為羅馬民之一事也。[…] 按噶喇此命，實可使天下人合而不散，前此羅馬風教，皆由漸而遍傳行於諸省內。茲諸省人，既皆同於羅馬，則不能與羅馬殊 (Creighton 2014, 300).

12 Ma Jianzhong was one of the first Chinese students sent by the Qing government to study abroad. He studied law in Paris (1877–1880) where he had the chance to acquire a relatively deep knowledge of Roman history and law. For further information on his study experience in France, see: Colangelo 2022.

13 羅瑪創始之初，地廣人稀，[…] 遂奄有地中海周圍諸國 (Ma 1896).

14 然後閉門謝使，禁絕外人，即有至者，不得與本國人民同享權利 (Ma 1896). In a later phase, following the intensification of trade relations with foreign people, the need to regulate business relationships between Roman citizens and peregrini led to the formation of the ius gentium, a normative system subsequent to the original core of the ius civile and intended to provide legal protection to foreigners in Rome (see, for instance: Talamanca 1989, 153–64).

15 東羅馬瑪至儒斯定王大修律例 (Ma 1896).

16 For a more in-depth overview of Chinese sources containing similar references, see: Colangelo 2015.

17 The volume by Huang (first edition: 1915) dates back to the early republican era. For information on earlier Roman law manuals written in Chinese in the late Qing period, see: Colangelo 2015; Colangelo 2020.

18 “White Sea” is the name by which the Turks used to call the Mediterranean.

19 Justinian decreed that no other law school except Beirut and the ones of Rome and Constantinople shall be recognised by the imperial authorities. In this sense, it should be kept in mind that the city of Beirut, in the heart of the Mediterranean area, also greatly contributed to the development of the Romanistic legal tradition and was therefore given by the emperor the title Berytus Nutrix Legum (“Beirut, Mother of Laws”).

20 At the beginning of the 20th century, the Chinese government specifically sent a delegation (1905) to various Western countries in order to observe their legal and institutional systems and to identify the model that best suited the reform of the national legal system. China at that time was therefore undoubtedly aware of the existence of the Common Law system, but chose to refer to the Romanist tradition for various reasons that, as metioned, cannot be illustrated in this brief essay (for further informazion see: Colangelo 2015). A concrete first step in this direction was the draft Civil Code (Da Qing Min lü cao’an 大清民律草案, 1911). Although the document never came into force, due to the collapse of the empire in the same year, China confirmed, in the following decades, its willingness to reform the national legal system drawing inspiration from the Romanist legal tradition. For further information on this process, see: Colangelo 2015.

Lara Colangelo, University of Chieti-Pescara G. D’Annunzio, Italy, lara.colangelo@unich.it, 0000-0003-0284-1359

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Lara Colangelo, Roman Law in Late Qing and Early Republican Chinese Sources: A Founding Element of the Mediterranean and Western Civilisation, © Author(s), CC BY 4.0, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6.09, in Renata Vinci (edited by), Navigating the Mediterranean Through the Chinese Lens. Transcultural Narratives of the Sea Among Lands, pp. -101, 2024, published by Firenze University Press, ISBN 979-12-215-0598-6, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6

1. Introduction

The life work of Fernand Braudel (1902–1985) establishes the Mediterranean Sea not only as a physical space but also as a historical and cultural one, fundamental for the human history of civilisation. Cardinal to the cultural construction of ‘Western’ civilisation, or better yet, Mediterranean civilisation, this ‘internal sea’ should not be conceived as a singular space, but rather a plural one. As Braudel warns ([1998] 2001, 23), the “plural always outweighs the singular. There are ten, twenty or a hundred Mediterraneans, each one sub-divided in turn.” ‘Mediterranean’ is not only a toponym, but also an adjective that recalls different lands, peoples, coasts, islands, stories, heroes, mores, wars, travels, trade routes, and much more.

Recently, another articulation of plural ‘Mediterraneans’ comes from those arriving from elsewhere—visions from the Far East. For these ‘outsiders’, whose origin resides far away from the cradle of civilisation par excellence (according to an attitude of European cultural hegemony), the Mediterranean was of small significance, and its central role in European, Asian, and African history had to be ‘discovered’ by these other distant societies—first through word-of-mouth transmission, and then through increasingly more detailed writings and sources.

This chapter aims to investigate the Chinese knowledge and narratives about the Island of Malta over the centuries. This choice depends on several factors, one intertwined with the other. The first reason has to do with space: Malta, as an island,1 offers interesting research insights. The central role of islands in shaping the economy, societies, and cultures of the Mediterranean Sea has already been emphasised by Braudel ([1949] 1995), who defines some of them—such as Sardinia, Corsica, Sicily, Cyprus, Crete, and Rhodes— “miniature continents”, and “indispensable landfalls on the sea routes” (Braudel [1949] 1995, 148, 149). Despite their ‘isolation’, some of the Mediterranean islands were, for geographical or historical reasons, “integrated into shipping routes” since ancient times, becoming “one of the links in a chain” ([1949] 1995, 150). This is the case of Malta, right in the middle of the “ancient geological ‘bridge’ stretching from North Africa to Sicily” (Braudel [1949] 1995, 116), whose inter- and transcultural connections with Sicily and southern Italy are increasingly supported by archaeological evidence and recent studies (Cazzella, and Recchia 2013), and which has been a “hub for mercantile trade for at least 7000 years” (Avellino 2016, 25). Notwithstanding its historical significance as a mercantile hub, Malta has typically been situated outside the primary vessel routes due to prevailing wind conditions.

The second important reason for choosing Malta is, in fact, time. The history of Malta, with its succession of migration, ethnic and religious mix, foreign occupations, smuggling spots, and colonialism, is a good example of Mediterranean multiculturalism, transculturality and hybridity, both ancient and modern. This may be one of the reasons why the Maltese identity has been shaded for centuries, and was only fully formed (and even imprinted with other kinds of shade and ambiguity) after its independence. Given that the ‘identity’ of Malta has been so nuanced and transcultural for centuries, one might wonder whether or not some of these characteristics have also been noted by Chinese travellers. Regarding Malta’s modern history, in modern times it has been a disputed territory. In 1530 Malta was given to the Knights of the Order of St. John, then in 1798 it was occupied by the French and became a colony of the French Revolutionary Republic, until the arrival of the British, who set up a protectorate. In fact, Malta was under British power from 1813 until its independence in 1964.

Far from reviewing all the existing Chinese sources on Malta, this research provides a general overview of the Chinese sources citing and/or describing the island and drawing a panorama concerning the knowledge of Malta in China. To this end, this research concentrates on written texts, first exploring Chinese geographical sources and then Chinese travel literature taken from the Ming-Qing period and written before 1866. This period has been chosen for two main reasons. First, new maritime trade routes were opened along with the arrival of Christian missionaries in China during the Ming period (1368–1644). This initiated a period of direct contact between China and the Mediterranean world which altered the world’s cultural landscape. Prior to this period, there had been sporadic contacts between China and the Mediterranean world in the course of history. The first ones date back to the Han dynasty and the Roman Empire. These earlier attempts in the classical era failed to establish direct and lasting contact and, from both sides, succeeded only in producing a vague knowledge of the ‘Other’. Secondly, 1866 has been chosen as the cut-off year for this study because it marks the first Chinese mission to be sent to Europe. Afterwards, travels from China to the rest of the world increased, influencing the Chinese publishing world with the popularisation of the youji 遊記 (travel notes) genre.2 Consequently, knowledge about Malta also improved, moving in many cases from hearsay to first-hand experiences. As a result, this attempt to reconstruct Chinese sources about Malta up to the second half of the 19th century should be considered a short anthology of the most significant sources on the subject.

2. Chinese Geographical Knowledge of the Mediterranean Sea and Its Islands

Before focusing on Malta, a few words on the Chinese knowledge of the Mediterranean Sea are necessary. Since ancient times, people coming from Asia reached the European continent following many ‘silk roads’, by land or by sea. Depending on the period, and especially starting from the 16th century, people from the Far East had to sail the Mediterranean Sea, whose existence was known since ancient times, as Chinese classical sources testify. The existence of the sea is acknowledged, but the name and the precise location of this sea is a question that has intrigued scholars for decades.

A careful analysis of ancient sources—including the Shiji 史記 and Hanshu 漢書—allowed Yu Taishan (2013, Chap. 1) to reconstruct and identify the Mediterranean Sea with the toponym Xihai 西海, in use at least until the Han-Wei period (ca. first century BCE to third century CE). In his work, Yu reconstructs the knowledge and location of the Mediterranean Sea by reviewing Chinese historical and geographical sources from the past, both official and unofficial. Over the years, the difficult task of determining the geographical location of some toponyms such as Tiaozhi 条枝, Lixuan 黎轩, and Da Qin 大秦 has engaged many prominent scholars.3 In Yu’s review, the presence of the sea called Xihai 西海 (lit. the Western Sea) is fundamental to locating these toponyms, even though the “Western Sea” as Yu writes (2013, 6), “is not a specific term in Chinese historical works for a particular sea: it is also used of the Qing Sea, the Aral Sea, the Caspian Sea and Persian Gulf in distinct cases”, and for the Mediterranean Sea as well. It is noteworthy that despite the limited knowledge of this sea, its plurality was reflected in the many uses of the toponym Xihai. Nevertheless, the ancient sources analysed by Yu do not mention this sea with any precision, therefore it is very difficult to find explicit information about the countries that surround it or the islands that characterise it, including Malta.

The place name Xihai continued to be used for some time, but the toponym for the Mediterranean Sea did not remain fixed. This can also explain why a more complete and concrete idea of the Mediterranean Sea, so cardinal to European history and culture, entered so slowly into the Chinese world. The source texts that reached China provided only a vague idea of the Mediterranean Sea and never mentioned Malta explicitly, making it easy to see why the island remained enigmatic.

Over time, the situation did not improve significantly. As Ronald Po highlights, despite the great voyages undertaken by the Chinese in the following centuries, and despite their geographical writings, “most geographers and literati in the Ming were nevertheless almost unaware of the Mediterranean” (Po 2015, 347). We must wait for the Ming-Qing transition period to have more and precise information on the Mediterranean Sea and the island of Malta. New geographical notions, as well as a new concept of the world, came to China mostly through the contribution of Jesuit missionaries. It was the Italian Jesuit Matteo Ricci (Li Madou 利瑪竇, 1522–1610) in his Kunyu Wanguo Quantu 坤輿萬國全圖 (Complete Map of all the Nations of the Earth, 1602)4 who coined the term Dizhonghai 地中海 (lit. Sea in the middle of lands) to indicate the Mediterranean Sea, a term that gained significant success and remain part of Chinese modern lexicon. Based on the Latin term medius (middle) and terra (land), Ricci made a literal translation using di 地 (land) and zhong 中 (middle) adding the suffix hai 海 (sea). It is interesting to note, as Paola Zaccaria underlines, that “most European and Eastern names for this sea signify that it is sea between lands/earths/continents (Europe, Africa, and Asia)”, and that:

in many different languages – from the German Mittelmeer to the Hebrew Hayam Hatikhon, to the Berber ilel Agrakal, to the Albanian deti mesdhe and even the Japanese Chichūkai5 – have drawn on the Latin word “Mediterraneus” thus establishing an almost worldwide perception of the Medi-terranean sea as the water that laps the shores of three continents which are apparently seen as a continuum, a terra which has been parted into three territories by the infiltration of the water. (Zaccaria 2012, 106)

The persistence and success of this place name coined by Matteo Ricci is also due to geographical books by Giulio Aleni (Ai Rulüe 艾儒略, 1582–1649)6 and Ferdinand Verbiest (Nan Huairen 南懷仁, 1623–1688),7 respectively titled Zhifang waiji 職方外紀 (Record of the Places Outside the Competence of the Office of Geography, 1623), and Kunyu tushuo 坤輿圖說 (Illustrated Explanation of the Entire World, 1674). The first, in particular, is quoted in almost all Chinese geographical works up until the second half of the 19th century, to the point that the description of the Mediterranean Sea written by Giulio Aleni is also included in the famous Haiguo tuzhi 海國圖志 (Treatise on the Maritime Countries) by Wei Yuan 魏源 (1794–1857), published for the first time in 1842 and enlarged in the following years.

Aleni also composed the first description of this sea, in juan 6 of his Zhifang waiji, entitled Sihai zongshuo 四海總說 (General Remarks on the Four Seas). Explaining the seas of the world, the Italian Jesuit writes: “There are two kinds [of seas], the sea surrounded by land is called the Mediterranean Sea [Dizhonghai 地中海]” (Aleni [1623] 2009, LXI).8 Aware of the large area and rich diversity of the Mediterranean, Aleni does not provide here a general description of the sea (its climate, products, etc.), which instead can be inferred from brief descriptions of the countries and islands for each continent. In juan 1, entitled Yaxiya 亞細亞 (Asia), Aleni mentions the many islands of the Asian continent stating that “several islands in the Mediterranean Sea can be considered part of this continent” (Aleni [1623] 2009, I, XII)9. Only a few of these Asian “Mediterranean islands” (Dizhonghai zhudao 地中海諸島) are cited: Chios, Rodhes, and Cyprus (Aleni [1623] 2009, I, XX). In the chapter dedicated to the European continent (juan II, Ouluoba 歐邏巴), the Jesuit missionary lists some Mediterranean islands he believes worthy because of their dimension or their historical relevance, citing “the isles of Candia” (Aleni [1623] 2009, XXIV).10 When describing the Mediterranean islands of the European continent, Aleni only adds some details on Candia/Crete and very little information on the sea itself (Aleni [1623] 2009, XXXVII).

3. Malta in Ming-Qing Geographical Sources

Among the many Mediterranean islands, only a few captured the imagination of the Chinese audience, who were most fascinated by one in particular: Sicily. This island is the first geographical region of the Italian peninsula to appear in a Chinese source, and also a constant presence in many Chinese texts, as it was an essential stopover for all travellers heading to northern European regions.11 Despite being in the middle of the Mediterranean and the centre of people’s mobility, many islands were—and still are—considered peripheral, even in European sources, and remained unknown (or semi-unknown) to Chinese readers until Ricci’s world map.

Although neglected in the sources, Malta is an excellent example of interculturalism and transculturality. As a result of its characteristics, it is possible that the development of a well-defined national identity may have been gradual (considering that the concept of nation-state was only developed in the 18th century). On the other hand, its mix of cultures, religions, people, and architectures has made Malta the perfect example of the many different ‘souls’ of the Mediterranean region, that coexisted and evolved on the island for centuries. This is especially true when we consider Malta’s most characteristic institution, the Knights of Malta, for which the island has been internationally known for centuries, and which is itself an ‘international’ institution,12 bound to the Catholic Church which, de facto, is a religious and cultural element that characterises different areas of the Mediterranean.

As for Chinese sources on Malta, in the Kunyu wanguo quantu Ricci coined a toponym by simply transcribing its sound as Ma’erda 馬兒大. The place name coined by Ricci did not achieve the same popularity as Dizhonghai, since in Aleni’s work of geography, it already appears in two forms: Ma’erda dao 馬爾達島, and Ma’er dao 馬兒島 (lit. Island of Malta) (De Troia 2007, 254). While Ricci’s map allowed Chinese readers to locate Malta in the world, Aleni’s geography gave a brief description of the island in two different passages. The first one is in Chapter 2, dedicated to the general description of Europe, and refers to the Knights of Malta:

In addition to the regular armies maintained by the governments in these countries, there are heroic individuals, both intelligent and brave, coming from noble families, who in the past formed an association of thousands of people. Each of them is worth ten men, and each of them has the will to defend the country and protect its people. Those who join this association for the first time are tested [to verify] their resolution, and once [it is proved] they are not afraid of the [many] difficulties [of this task], then they can join the association. This association is based on the island of Malta [Ma’erda dao 馬兒達島] in the Mediterranean Sea, and its oldest member serves as its leader. When an alarm is raised, they gather into an army and always manage to repel the invaders.13 (Aleni [1623] 2009, XXVIII).

It should be noted that in his Kunyu tushuo, Ferdinand Verbiest replicates this passage almost word by word but omits the reference to Malta:14

In addition to the regular armies maintained by the governments, in these countries there are heroic individuals, both intelligent and brave, coming from noble families who formed an association of thousands of people, to defend the country and protect its people. Those who join this association for the first time are tested [to verify] their resolution, and once [it is proved] they are not afraid of the [many] difficulties [of this task], then they can join the association. When an alarm is raised, they gather into an army and always manage to repel the invaders.15 (Verbiest [1674], 13a).

It is worth noting that in both of these accounts, written by Jesuits, significant emphasis is placed on the presence of a Catholic institution on Maltese soil. Malta itself is not described in terms of its unique characteristics—Verbiest did not even mention it, perhaps because the Order was also present on other Mediterranean islands—but rather highlighted solely for its association with noble and heroic men. In these descriptions, it is not ‘nationality’ (so to speak) that matters, but rather moral virtue, which serves as a tool to reinforce the message the Jesuits sought to communicate in their missions to China.

A longer but still quite short and vague description of Malta is in the part dedicated to Italy, where Aleni explains that “in Italy, there are three famous islands” (Yidaliya zhi ming dao you san 意大里亞之名島有三, Aleni [1623] 2009, XXXIII), before actually listing four of them: Sicily, Malta, Sardinia, and Corsica, in this order. After a description of Sicily, the author writes:

Not far from here is the island of Malta [Ma’er dao 馬兒島], where no poisonous animals are born. Snakes and scorpions that live here do not bite humans. Poisonous animals brought from elsewhere die slowly on arrival on the island. (Aleni [1623] 2009, XXXIV)

This description obviously refers to the fact that the snakes living on this island are not poisonous, and especially to the legend of the Apostle Paul who survived being bitten by a snake after his arrival on this land.

Malta is also described in the work Wanguo dili quanji 萬國地理全集 (World Geography, 1844), written by the Protestant missionary Karl F.A. Gützlaff (Guo Shilie 郭實獵, 1803–1851).16 More than two centuries after Zhifang waiji, Gützlaff’s work is one of the few providing new information on the island. Apart from geographical works like those illustrated here, Malta is in fact almost absent in other Chinese sources dating from the 17th to 19th century. Contrary to what happened in the Jesuits’ works, Gützlaff’s account is not included under a generic description of Italy, but under a description of the Kingdom of Naples (Napoli guo 拿破利國):

The southwest terrain of the Island of Malta [Malita dao 馬里他島] is characterised by huge rocks. Nevertheless, its inhabitants work hard to heap up the soil in order to plough the fields. [The island] is densely inhabited, people make moderate use of food and beverages because they gratify their hearts by giving food and beverages to the troops […].17 (Gützlaff [1844] 2019, 257)

The author then goes on to recount the legend of St. Paul’s miraculous shipwreck and healing from a snakebite. He concludes the description with a brief reference to Malta’s recent history. A very similar description, but written in a more elegant Chinese, can also be found in Yinghuan zhilüe 瀛環志略 (Brief Survey of the Maritime Circuit, 1849) by Xu Jiyu 徐繼畬 (1795–1873). Here we read:

In the southwest of Italy, there is an Island called Malta [Malita dao 馬里他島], which is mostly rocky, [so that] its inhabitants have terraced the soil in order to plough the fields. They are frugal and hardworking, and the population is very numerous. In ancient times, Paul sailed the sea and ended up on [these shores] swimming until he reached the island. He cured people’s diseases, leaving traces of his miracles, and because of this, the fame of this island spread to all the Western lands. As the Ottoman empire grew stronger, its armed forces threatened the island, but Malta’s chieftains led its brave and valiant soldiers to withstand the invaders and, in the end, the Ottomans could not conquer it. During the reign of Jiaqing [1796–1820], The French lured the chieftains into surrender but shortly after [the island] was taken by the British [empire] and guarded by a large number of troops; it then became a mooring point for [their] warships in the Mediterranean Sea.18 (Xu ([1849] 2001, 186–7)

As can be seen from these examples, descriptions of Malta in Chinese geographical sources are brief and vague, and do not provide the Chinese reader with any real knowledge of the island, its history, its geographical features, or its system of government. If we turn to travel literature, details remain scant, but we can occasionally find more personal and emotive descriptions of Malta.

5. Malta in Chinese Travel Notes of the Qing Period (Up to 1866)

As discussed above, people from Asia were reaching the European continent by sea with increasing frequency, especially after the 16th century. More meaningful encounters between Chinese and Europeans, especially missionaries, had a great impact on all fields of knowledge, and led to a gradually growing number of Chinese travellers to Europe. However, it was only in the 18th century that Chinese written accounts of their experiences in Europe began to appear. Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, several Chinese travellers documented their European journey, with most having to sail the Mediterranean Sea to reach the European continent. Few of them, however, happened to land in Malta or recorded anything about the island. Below, I will provide some examples of the travel notes where I found traces of this ‘Chinese passage’.

One of the first Chinese travellers to write about his stay in Europe is the Catholic Fan Shouyi 樊守義 (1682–1753) in his Shenjianlu 身見錄 (Report About What I Saw in Person, 1721).19 Fan Shouyi arrived in Europe with the Italian Jesuit Francesco Giuseppe Provana (Ai Xunjue 艾遜爵, 1662–1720)20 and stayed in Italy between 1709 and 1719. Once he was back in China, he wrote a report for the emperor in 1721.21 Although Fan does not explicitly refer to Malta, the passage cited below suggests that Malta is the land he is reporting about:

There is also a land, whose inhabitants are all happy to do their duty, shy away from riches and honours, [and they] love distinction and nobility, pleased only with what they have. More or less, they’re all like that.22 (Fan [1721] 1999, 384)

As Giuliano Bertuccioli writes in his Italian translation (1999, 359, note 64), it is evident that Fan Shouyi refers to Malta and its knights. In other travel sources of the first half of the 19th century, Malta is rarely mentioned, even indirectly.

Among Chinese travellers’ accounts on the West, one of the first and most exhaustive reports is that of Guo Liancheng 郭連城 (1839–1866). Guo had left China in September 1859, when he was only twenty years old, in the company of an Italian priest, Luigi Celestino Spelta (1818–1862). Spelta, working as a missionary in the province of Hubei, had taken the young convert under his wing and decided to take Guo with him to Italy. Before leaving the motherland, Guo Liancheng decided to keep a daily journal of his experience far from home, starting from day one, April 6, 1859, and ending the day he returned safe and sound on July 27, 1860. His journal was published the following year under the modest title of Xiyou bilüe 西遊筆略 (Brief Account of the Journey to the West, 1863).23 Guo provides his readers with a detailed account of the countries he had seen along the way. His attention is attracted by the ‘exotic’ people and lands he sees along the way, including the island of Malta. His account of Malta, where he arrived on September 10, 1859, can be considered the first Chinese description that provides the readership with a more intimate understanding of its government and history, while also trying to give some touristic and cultural information. Furthermore, it was on the island of Malta that Guo Liancheng had his first real encounter with European culture. In his journal he writes:

September 10, 1859. Sunny. At dawn, we reached the Sea Island of Malta [Ma’erda haidao 馬爾大海島]. A missionary from Siam and I went ashore and entered the city. Inside, [everything, from] palaces to human beings, has an exceptional charm. The churches are majestic, and on the corners of the streets, columns rise with statues of old saints [that] take your breath away. Its inhabitants believe in the Holy religion of the Lord of Heaven [i.e., Catholicism], and behave toward other people with extreme courtesy and love. In the city, soldiers and civilians were all surprised by the different colours and style of my clothes, and a crowd of children began to follow me very closely. Soon after, we passed a church. After seeing how extraordinary the outside looked, my companion and I decided to enter. Marble covers the ground, gold ornaments and gems adorn the walls, and the engravings are exquisite. People say this is the Church of St. John.24 (Guo [1863] 2003, 46)

As can be inferred by the reference to St. John’s church, the young convert and his friend visited the capital city, La Valletta. That same day, Guo continues:

We then walked by a school where little girls from all over the world study writing, etiquette, and other [subjects]. We then visited a garden with a stone lion spouting water. This garden has a coffee house (similar to our teahouse) and a reading room filled with amazing books from everywhere. People are allowed to browse them only at that place, but cannot take them home, [because] the rules of this place are very strict. Seeing that I was from far away, the locals sat down and chatted with me. After resting for a while, we returned to the boat, which left at 4 p.m.25 (Guo [1863] 2003, 46)

Guo and his travel companions remained on the island only for one day; the next day, they were back at sea and arrived in Sicily. Even though his sojourn was brief—like this entry in Guo’s journal—the change of scenery is immediately apparent in the author’s words. Both the buildings and the people possess a kind of charm that can only come from the sense of estrangement felt when travelling so far from home. Besides the grandeur of the streets and the visible presence of the Christian religion in every building and church they pass, Guo considers the international school for girls and the ‘reading room’ worthy of mention, probably because they represent absolute novelties. But what intrigues the Chinese traveller most is the reaction of local people, who seem to marvel at him as much as he does at them. Thanks to his knowledge of Latin and familiarity with the Italian language (Castorina 2020, 35–7), he is able to “sit down and chat” with them.

Guo Liancheng returned to Malta on his trip back to China some months later. This time he stayed for a week, but his journal at this point is very laconic; he only wrote a few lines each day, recording that the ship moored at Malta [Ma’erda 馬爾大] on the dawn of March 14, 1860, and that he lodged with a noble family together with Father Spelta. The day after he roved the gardens of the city, probably La Valletta, and attended a military training session of the British troops (Guo [1863] 2003, 96). On the 16th of March, Guo described and praised the use of windmills, while the day after he went to visit the catacombs of St. Paul’s in Rabat:

March 16, 1860. Sunny. In the afternoon we rode in a carriage up to this island’s sanctuary of St. Paul. Below the church, there is a large hole which is the cave where Saint Paul lived in strict asceticism.26 (Guo [1863] 2003, 96)

The travel notes of Guo Liancheng offer readers a more personal touch to the island of Malta, delighting in what he finds exotic, while being also aware of his own status as an outsider from a strange and foreign land. His descriptions, however, remain brief, since his sojourn is too short to have more than a glimpse of Malta, its culture, and its uniqueness.

6. Final Remarks

Up to the first half of the 19th century, the Chinese knowledge of Malta was vague and incomplete. Geographical works written by European missionaries, later used by Chinese authors to compile their books on the geography of the world, were the main source for the Chinese audience; however, these works did not consistently even employ a single, standardised name for the island. As shown in Table 1, the varied names of Malta reflect a period of travel and knowledge based on limited sources and recycled citations. Eventually, the Chinese name for the enigmatic isle would settle on the conventional transcription of Ma’erta 馬耳他/馬爾他.

Table 1. Names for the island of Malta in the sources analysed

Place name

Source

Author

Ma’erda 馬兒大

Kunyu Wanguo Quantu 坤輿萬國全圖 (Complete Map of all the Nations of the Earth, 1602)

Matteo Ricci

Ma’erda dao 馬爾達島

Zhifang waiji 職方外紀 (Record of the Places Outside the Competence of the Office of Geography, 1623)

Giulio Aleni

Ma’er dao 馬兒島

Zhifang waiji 職方外紀 (Record of the Places Outside the Competence of the Office of Geography, 1623)

Giulio Aleni

[none]

Kunyu tushuo 坤輿圖說 (Illustrated Explanation of the Entire World, 1674)

Ferdinand Verbiest

Ma’erda dao 馬兒達島

Haiguo tuzhi 海國圖志 (Treatise on the Maritime Countries, 1842)

Wei Yuan 魏源

Malita dao 馬里他島

Wanguo dili quanji 萬國地理全集 (World Geography, 1844)

Karl F.A. Gützlaff

Malita dao 馬里他島

Yinghuan jilüe 瀛環志略 (Brief survey of the Maritime Circuit, 1849)

Xu Jiyu 徐繼畬

[none]

Shenjianlu 身見錄 (Report about What I Saw in Person, 1721)

Fan Shouyi 樊守義

Ma’erda haidao 馬爾大海島

Xiyou bilüe 西遊筆略 (Brief Account of the Journey to the West, 1863)

Guo Liancheng 郭連城

Apart from the instability of the Chinese toponym, it should also be noted that the geographical works and travel accounts of the Ming and Qing periods do not describe in detail the island of Malta, often treating the place as an appendix to some other country, or a secondary stopover in their journeys. On the other hand, it is significant to note that all the sources translated here share a common utopian view of the islands and their inhabitants, portrayed as industrious, generous, noble-spirited, brave, and happy. As seen above, the Jesuits provided the first descriptions of Malta before the idea of nation-states had emerged. Travellers in the following centuries inherited this view, sometimes unconsciously, and this prevented them from placing the Maltese islands accurately, as the ‘mobility’ of the toponym also demonstrates. At the same time, the blurred contours of Malta in Chinese sources indirectly confirm the transcultural and hybrid character of the islands, which collect traces of a wider ‘Mediterranean culture’.

Of course, a much more in-depth study is necessary to have a more complete perspective on the history of the knowledge of Malta and its diffusion in China. There is a vast amount of material, especially from the second half of the 19th century, which needs to be fully explored. The excerpts presented here represent an important first attempt to demonstrate the presence of Malta in Chinese travel, knowledge, and culture.

References

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1 In this essay, the use of the term ‘Malta’, and sometimes ‘the isle of Malta’, refers more in general to the archipelago of the Maltese islands, if not otherwise specified.

2 The success of this travel literature from overseas was so considerable at the time that, as early as 1897, Wang Xiqi 王錫祺 (1855–1913) collected many of the geographical and travel books written in Qing period in the third series of his Xiaofanghu zhai yudi congchao 小方壺齋輿地叢鈔 (Collected Books on Geography from the Xiaofanghu Studio). This third part of the series, in 12 volumes, includes 180 books.

3 On these aspects, see also chapters 2 and 3 of this volume.

4 For Ricci’s biography see Pfister (1932, 22–42) and Dehergne (1973, 219–20). Regarding his Map, it was first published in 1584 with the title Yudi shanhai quantu 輿地山海全圖 (Complete Map of the Continents and Oceans of the Earth). On the cartographic work of Matteo Ricci see, among others, Foss 1984.

5 This term is the Japanese pronunciation of the Chinese Dizhonghai coined by Ricci, which later entered the Japanese lexicon through Chinese influence.

6 Pfister (1932, 126–36); Dehergne (1973, 6–7). On the life and work of Giulio Aleni, see also Menegon, Eugenio. 1994. Un solo cielo. Giulio Aleni (1582-1649). Geografia, arte, scienza, religione dall’Europa alla Cina. Brescia: Grafo Edizioni.

7 Pfister (1932, 338–62); Dehergne (1973, 288–90).

8 有二焉海在國之中國包乎海者曰地中海[…]。See also the Italian translation by Paolo De Troia (Aleni [1623] 2009, 183).

9 更有地中海諸島亦屬此州界內。Italian translation in Aleni ([1623] 2009, 52).

10 The name Candia stands for Crete. On the use of the plural, see the note by De Troia (Aleni [1623] 2009, 85, note 138).

11 On the subject see Vinci, Renata (2019). La Sicilia in Cina. Una raccolta di testi cinesi sull’isola (1225-1911). Palermo: Unipa Press.

12 For a brief presentation of the history of the Order see: https://www.orderofmalta.int/history/1048-to-the-present-day/ (Accessed 27 July 2024).

13 本國除常設兵政外又有世族英賢智勇兼備者嘗以數千人結為義會大扺一可當十皆以保國護民為志其初入會者試果不憚諸艱方始聽入焉會在地中海馬兒達島長者主之遇警則鳩集成師而必能滅寇成功。Italian translation in Aleni ([1623] 2009, 96).

14 本國除常設兵政外復有世族英賢智勇兼備者數千人結為義會以保國護民初入會時試果不憚諸艱方始聽入遇警則鳩集成師一可當十必能滅寇成功。

15 本國除常設兵政外又有世族英賢智勇兼備者嘗以數千人結為義會 […] 會在地中海馬兒達島長者主之遇警則鳩集成師而必能滅寇成功。Italian translation in Aleni ([1623] 2009, 96).

16 Wylie (1867, 54–66).

17 西南形勢馬里他島，磐石。但居民勤勞堆土，俾得耕田，人户稠密，飮食節用，以簞食壺漿爲足心焉。[…]

18 意大裡西南有馬里他島，地多磐石，居民積土為田以耕。其俗儉啬勤苦，戶口極繁，昔保羅浮海擱淺，泅登此島馬，為人疾病，著神異之跡，故此島名傳西土。當回部方強，以兵力脅此島，島酋率驍卒拒之，回部竟不能取。嘉慶年間，佛朗西誘降其酋，旋為英吉利所奪，守以重兵，為地中海停泊戰艦之處。

19 Known in Europe also as Luigi or Louis Fan, he “was the first Chinese person to write impressions of Europe” (Meynard 2017, 21) and his book is considered the “first travel account on Europe” (Fang 2007, 502).

20 Pfister (1932, 477–79); Dehergne (1973, 211–12).

21 On Fan Shouyi and his book, see Bertuccioli (1999) and Piastra (2012).

22 又一地人皆安分不炫富貴愛淸雅惟喜亭囿大率如是。

23 The title of the account immediately recalls the famous Chinese classical novel Xiyou ji 西遊記 (Journey to the West) attributed to Wu Cheng’en 吳承恩 (1504–1582) and published in the sixteenth century. The book is very well known also outside China; a first abridged version of the work was translated into English by Arthur Waley (1889–1966) with the title Monkey in 1942. On Guo’s personal story and his journey in Italy see Castorina (2020).

24 天晴。早晨，船泊馬爾大海島，余與一暹羅國傳教士登岸入城。城內宮室人物，別有天地，聖堂巍峨，街口多立石柱，上匠古聖遺像，以便觸目驚心。居民盡奉天主聖教，待人極其禮愛。城內軍民見余服色不類，俱起而異之，眾兒童呼三喚四，緊緊相隨。少頃，過一堂，余見其外製超凡，因與同人進而觀之，但見地下俱面花石，上下飛金飾玉，雕刻精緻，人曰：此若望堂也。

25 後又過一女學館，內有各國女童攻習文字禮數等學。後又至花園，內有石獅噴水澆花，園內有茄菲館[如吾鄉茶室然]、閱書館，館內羅列四方奇書異籍，只許該處翻閱，不能隨帶片紙，其例甚嚴。土人見余乃遠方之人，俱留坐敘談。餘等少憩片時，隨即回船，午後四下鐘開頭。

26 天晴。午後，車至本島保祿聖堂。堂下有凹處，乃聖保祿穴居苦修之處。穴內沙石可愈病恙，旅人多攜帶之。

Miriam Castorina, University of Florence, Italy, miriam.castorina@unifi.it, 0000-0001-8384-7925

Referee List (DOI 10.36253/fup_referee_list)

FUP Best Practice in Scholarly Publishing (DOI 10.36253/fup_best_practice)

Miriam Castorina, The Mediterranean Island of Malta and Its Names in Chinese Sources, © Author(s), CC BY 4.0, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6.10, in Renata Vinci (edited by), Navigating the Mediterranean Through the Chinese Lens. Transcultural Narratives of the Sea Among Lands, pp. -116, 2024, published by Firenze University Press, ISBN 979-12-215-0598-6, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0598-6