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卷十六 志第六 律曆上

Volume 16 Treatises 6: Rhythm and the Calendar Part One

Chapter 16 of 晉書 · Book of Jin
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1
Volume 16, Treatise Six.
2
Treatise on the Pitch Pipes and the Calendar, Part One
3
The "Book of Changes" distinguishes the Way, which transcends concrete form, from "vessels"—the patterned instruments that embody it. That numinous Way is boundless, yet its subtle foundation is still the interplay of yin and yang. Concrete forms and ritual implements are refined down to the smallest detail, and their meaning begins with the regulation of pitch pipes and scale degrees. By watching the turning seasons they cut jade tallies for fullness and decline; by listening to the five phases in sound they cast bronze to balance bright and dull registers—so the eight winds could be brought into accord, the nine virtues proclaimed, court music perfected, and governance given its proper tone. Bronze, however, yields to the worker's hand—its bore widens or narrows without a single fixed rule. Bamboo tubes are naturally round and hollow, so their length can be cut to precise measure. The blind masters therefore framed the pipes to write down the Yellow Bell's note: they grouped it in threes, evened it in sixes, and finished the cycle at twelve pipes—the same numerology Heaven itself uses. They matched the calendar to gnomon readings and read the breath of the soil in thermoscopic tubes, so harmony of yin and yang showed in the solstitial shadow, while the monthly pipe's breath showed when the light ash sprang. Once the ash leaps and the pipe answers, a single sustained breath names the central tone that stands between Heaven and Earth. That is why it can standardize every measure and give form to every thing—the very sense, in the "Canon of Shun," of "harmonizing the seasons, months, and intercalary days" and "making the pipes, lengths, pecks, and balances one system." When that central tone is shaped into patterned music and virtue rings through it in full harmony, it can stir Heaven and earth, move spirits, speak to human feeling, and remake the temper of a people. Poetry lodges the mind in song; order and chaos leave their echo in what we hear. That is why a cultivated man studies sound to grasp tone, tone to grasp music, and music to grasp how the realm is governed—always along this same path. Sima Qian's treatise on the pipes insists that the king, whenever he fixes rites or fashions tools—every statute, gauge, and model—grounds them all in the six yang pipes. Those six pipes underlie every undertaking; they weigh heaviest of all on arms and equipment. Men say you can read an army's luck by scanning the foe and judge victory or defeat by the note that rides the wind—a principle no dynasty has seen fit to abandon."
4
使調 祿
When Qin burned the books, that tradition nearly died away. At the founding of Han, Chancellor Zhang Cang reopened the discussion of pitch, but his work still left gaps. Emperor Wu of Han added a harmonics bureau, and Sima Qian traced, pipe by pipe, how each tone generates the next. Under Wang Mang the court re-examined acoustics, and Liu Xin's memorial broke the system into five rubrics. The first was "numbering in full"—the powers from one through ten thousand; the second was "matching the five notes"—gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu; the third was "measured lengths"—from the fen up through the yin; the fourth was "honest dry and wet measures"—from the yue up to the hu; the fifth was "weights and steelyards"—from the zhu to the shi stone. Ban Gu folded that scheme into his "Treatise on Pitch and Calendar." Cai Yong continued the story for the Eastern Han after Jianwu, and Sima Biao later collected and extended every note on the subject. When Han collapsed, players fled and died, carrying their craft to the grave. Only with Cao Cao did the court recover Du Kui and task him with resetting the orchestra. Du Kui worked from contemporary foot-rules and patched the code back into service. When Emperor Wu of Jin took the throne, he kept Du Kui's tuning unchanged. In the tenth year of Taishi the household minister Xun Xi asked to cast new bronze pipes from a revised measure. In Yuankang his son Xun Fan took over, but Yongjia's sack of Luoyang swallowed the capital's libraries before the work was finished, and Shi Le seized what survived. After Emperor Yuan fled south the court barely had a wardrobe or band left. Later reigns scraped together odds and ends, yet most pieces never surfaced again, and by the reigns of Gong and An the old orchestra could not be restored. What follows collates the classical cycle of generating pipes with every major Jin-era discussion of acoustics and metrology from Cao Cao on.
5
使西 西
The lore runs: "The Yellow Emperor fashioned the twelve pipes. He sent Ling Lun beyond Great Xia to Kunlun's north slope, chose even-gauge bamboo from the Xie Valley gorge, cut a tube three cun nine fen between nodes, sounded it, and fixed the Yellow Bell's fundamental under the name Hánshǎo. He then bored twelve bamboo pipes, imitating the cock and hen phoenix—six tones each—and keyed them to the Yellow Bell so the whole chromatic set could be spun off from that root. That is why the earliest pipes were bamboo: the material is already a perfect hollow cylinder." Another line adds that the Yellow Emperor cut jade pipes a foot long with six holes—one for each month of the year—though the wording in our manuscript is damaged here. At Shun's court the Queen Mother of the West sent the "Radiant Splendor" jade flutes. During Han Zhangdi's reign the classicist Xi Jing of Lingling pulled a white jade pitch pipe from Shun's temple at Lengdao. In Jin Wudi's Taikang 1 plunderers who broke into King Xiang of Wei's Warring States tomb at Ji commandery likewise turned up jade tuning pipes. So the ancients sometimes tuned in jade as well as bamboo. Jade was prized because its body seems to drink in a cool, even gleam. Under Han's child emperor Ping, Wang Mang ordered a bronze set. Bronze advertised a single public standard—metal the whole country could copy so customs would line up. It is a stuff so stable that heat, damp, and frost barely pull its note—steady as a gentleman's bearing—which is why later courts preferred it.
6
The "Rites of Zhou" puts the Grand Master of Music in charge of six yang and six yin pipes so the bright and dark registers answer each other. The six yang pipes are Yellow Bell, Tàicù, Gǔxǐ, Ruíbīn, Yízé, and Wúyì; the six yin pipes are Dàlǚ, Yìngzhōng, Nánlǚ, Línzhōng, Zhònglǚ, and Jiázhōng. On campaign the same officer carries a uniform pipe to listen to the troops' hum and read Heaven's verdict. The Diǎntóng office blends the six pipes, sorts the tones of heaven, earth, and the four directions into yin and yang, and builds instruments whose lengths and volumes all count out in twelves.
7
Planning the Wúyì bell for Zhou, King Jing questioned Lěng Zhōujiū, who answered: "Yellow stands for the central element—hence the fundamental pipe is named Yellow Bell, the voice that broadcasts and feeds the six vapors and nine virtues. On that basis he ordered the scale. Next comes Tàicù, the pipe that drives bronze fanfares, lifts the yang qi, and shakes off stagnation. Third is Gǔxǐ, used to rinse offerings clean, draw spirits down, and welcome guests. Fourth is Ruíbīn, the pitch of quiet worship and of pledging cup after cup. Fifth is Yízé, the tone on which the nine virtues are hymned and common folk kept single-hearted. Sixth is Wúyì, the pipe that proclaims a sage-king's shining edicts and shows the people their compass. Six intercalary pipes sit between them to lift what lies too deep and trim what flies too loose. The first gap is Dàlǚ, pushing the year's growth outward; the second is Jiázhōng, threading the subtlest filigree through the four seasons. Zhònglǚ is the third slot, venting the qi that pools at the year's hinge. Fourth is Línzhōng, harmonizing every task of state so each is met with reverent care. Fifth is Nánlǚ, coaxing the yang into full bloom. Sixth is Yìngzhōng, evening implements and echoes so the circuit can close and reopen." Every one of those pipes is a calendar in sound, pegging the month's qi to a note.
8
Qin Shihuang's bonfire scattered the classics; only stray glosses survived in the philosophers. The "Lüshi chunqiu" still preserves the full circle: Yellow Bell down to Forest Bell, Forest Bell up to Tàicù, and so on through the twelve—each third generates the next by adding or subtracting a third of its length. When a pipe "ascends," you lengthen the tube by one third of its predecessor; when it "descends," you shorten it by one third. Later acousticians nearly all hew to that rule of thirds.
9
The Han began in Qin's rubble: Zhang Cang reopened pitch and calendrics but left the fine points fuzzy. When Emperor Wu "rectified" music he added harmonizers—enough to sort bronze and stone into something like tune—but the court was really collating debris, and the math still ran on fives.
10
調
Meanwhile Liu An of Huainan patronized scholars and wrote his own pipe treatise. There the Yellow Bell tube is nine cun long and anchors gong; nine times nine gives eighty-one, fixing its numerology on the branch zi. Forest Bell sits on wèi with fifty-four as its tally. The chain runs Tàicù seventy-two, Southern Regulator forty-eight, Gǔxǐ sixty-four, Yìngzhōng forty-two, Ruíbīn fifty-seven, Dàlǚ seventy-six, Yízé fifty-one, Jiázhōng sixty-eight, Wúyì forty-five, Zhònglǚ sixty, ending where the cycle cannot generate another pipe. Those pipes map to the pentatonic set: gong on Yellow Bell, shang on Tàicù, jue on Gǔxǐ, zhi on Forest Bell, yu on Southern Regulator. From gong you derive zhi, then shang, yu, and jue; jue slips down to Yìngzhōng, outside the core pentatonic, so the Huainan writers dub that link "harmony"; Yìngzhōng in turn feeds Ruíbīn—again off the main five—so they call that second step "wavering." On the longest night the pitch slides toward Forest Bell and thickens toward mud. On the shortest night it slides toward Yellow Bell and thins toward ice. Twelve pipes answer the twenty-four qi nodes of the year. A jiǎzǐ day rides Zhònglǚ's zhi voice. A bǐngzǐ day rides Jiázhōng's yu voice. A wùzǐ day sits on Yellow Bell's gong. A gēngzǐ day carries Wúyì's shang. A rénzǐ day takes Yízé's jue. Each fundamental spawns the five degrees; twelve fundamentals spin sixty changing notes. Sixfold iteration—six times six thirty-six—maps three hundred sixty mutations onto the three hundred sixty days. That is why acoustics and the calendar share one mathematics—the weave of Heaven and earth.
11
Sima Qian's eight monographs already roughed out the theory, as the earlier standard histories show. There the primordial taiji breath wraps triads in unity; motion begins at the branch zi, and the twelve pipes must germinate from that gate. Tripling one against chǒu, then compounding nines across the stem cycle, lands on 19,683—the "full divisor" canonized for Yellow Bell. Run the same ladder against all twelve branches and you reach 177,147, the "total dividend" stored inside Yellow Bell. Divide the inner total by the outer and the sounding length comes out nine cun—the pipe that answers the eleventh month's winter solstice breath. Yin and yang meet their virtue in zi, where qi knits the myriad things, each triply seeded. Hence every classical pipe keeps a three-fen bore, and each generation up or down the cycle lengthens or shortens by a third. The algorithm says: from the nine-cun Yellow Bell, descend by doubling the numerator while tripling the denominator, or ascend by quadrupling while still tripling the denominator— which is how yang notes beget yin and yin notes climb back to beget yang.
12
At zi the Yellow Bell line starts: a tube nine cun long, taken as unity.
13
For chǒu the ratio is two-thirds.
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For yín the ratio is eight-ninths.
15
For mǎo it is sixteen parts out of twenty-seven.
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For chén, sixty-four over eighty-one.
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For sì, one hundred twenty-eight parts in two hundred forty-three.
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For wǔ, five hundred twelve over seven hundred twenty-nine.
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For wèi, one thousand twenty-four over two thousand one hundred eighty-seven.
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For shēn, four thousand ninety-six over six thousand five hundred sixty-one.
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For yǒu, eight thousand one hundred ninety-two parts in nineteen thousand six hundred eighty-two.
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For xū, thirty-two thousand seven hundred sixty-eight over fifty-nine thousand forty-nine.
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For hài, sixty-five thousand five hundred thirty-six over one hundred seventy-seven thousand one hundred forty-seven.
24
Run the circuit of twelve branches and you see the rule: each yang pipe sits in its own seat and drops a third to sire yin; each yin pipe reaches across to its partner and climbs a third to sire yang—and nowhere does the math allow a second consecutive ascent. That is the old formula 'yang pipes wed, yin notes bear children'—the rise and fall of yin and yang that governs every pipe relationship. Sima Qian adds that, measured by the Huainan nine-times table, Ruíbīn would be asked to 'ascend twice,' which breaks the rule. He also orders the pentatonic cycle as gong → jue → shang → zhi → yu → gong—a sequence that does not match the thirds method. Applied to practice, that account never lines up end to end.
25
使調
Under Wang Mang's Yuanshi regency the court cast a wide net for acousticians, reviewed their theories, and put Liu Xin of the Xihe office in charge of the tuning project. Ban Gu folded Liu Xin's work into the Hanshu monograph: his introduction is learned, yet the step-by-step thirds—Yellow Bell at nine cun, subtract a third down to Forest Bell at six cun— then add a third up to Tàicù, wheel counterclockwise, and let eight-times-eight mark each station— each step alternating up and down until Wúyì, then the last descent lands on Zhònglǚ. Carry the arithmetic through and you land on the same lengths Sima Qian gave. Ban Gu took that scheme as his standard.
26
使
Emperor Yuan had Jing Fang—who had mastered the sixty-pipe extension of the pentatonic set—interrogated at the imperial music bureau by Xuan Cheng and Zhang Za; Fang said he had learned the art from Jiao Yanshou, the former Lesser Huang prefect. Fang's rule for stepping down: from a longer parent pipe, three always begets two; for stepping up, three always begets four. Yang drops to yin, yin climbs back to yang, and the ring closes on Zhònglǚ with the classical twelve. From Zhònglǚ the cycle continues up to Zhǐshǐ and down to Qùmiè— —until Nánshì finishes the fifth layer of splits and the full sixty names are filled out. Twelve pipes unfolding to sixty parallels the eight trigrams unfolding to sixty-four lines. Fuxi wrote the "Zhouyi" by pinning the first yang breath of the year—the same logic that underlies the pipe numbers. He keyed the winter solstice to Yellow Bell on gong, Tàicù on shang, Gǔxǐ on jue, Forest Bell on zhi, Southern Regulator on yu, with Yìngzhōng and Ruíbīn as the two altered steps—the seed tones of the whole system. Each pitch governs its own day while the others march around it; whichever pitch heads the day acts as temporary gong, and the four companions fall in by class. That is the sense of the "Record of Rites" line that the five voices and twelve tubes 'revolve as gong.' Mapping the sixty mutations across the year begins at the winter solstice node on Yellow Bell; when the node comes round again, you read yin-yang, temperature, and weather from the same cycle. With that grid you can police every instrument: aside from hide and wood drums, every timbre should click into one of the slots. Shun's canon meant exactly this when it said the pipes "harmonize the sounds."
27
調
Fang added that bamboo notes cannot be cut by abstract measure alone, so he built a string "standard" (zhun) to nail the fractions down. The device looks like a small se, a full zhàng in length, strung thirteen times across a sounding length of nine chǐ—mirroring the nine-cun Yellow Bell tube. The middle string is ruled in fen and cun so every semitone in the sixtyfold cycle has a visible notch. Fang's treatise outruns Liu Xin's memorial; the observatories adopted his zhun even though the full proof is too long for this chapter. Sawing a pipe, blowing to hear it, lining it up to read the qi—that is still the bedrock method. Because a tube whispers and its bore is hard to measure, technicians reach for the string standard instead. Strings speak clearly and coarse marks are easy to read, yet only a finished pipe can correct what the ear accepts as true pitch. Match the middle string to Yellow Bell, trace the inked ticks outward, and every derived length falls on the predicted number. Fan Ye's continuation of the Han treatise preserves every zhun length; the breeding order matches both the "Lüshi chunqiu" and the "Huainanzi."
28
調 調
In Han Zhangdi's Yuanhe 1 the expectant official Yin Rong, charged with bells and pipes, reported that no musician left could align the sixty mutations with Fang's string standard. Yan Chong had already drilled the method into his son Xuan; Yin asked the throne to call Xuan in as a student officer to tune the orchestra. The rescript answered: if the son really knows intervals, can sort families of notes, and can lock them in ensemble, test him rigorously— —and do not let him hide behind his father's reputation. Acoustics is subtle: outsiders never hear the fault, insiders alone notice the fit. Have him blind-test the twelve pipes; only if he names every length without a slip may he inherit Yan Chong's chair. Xuan flubbed the exam—two hits, four misses, six pipes he could not name—so the court sent him home. After that debacle nobody could credibly wield the zhun.
29
In Lingdi's Xiping 6 the Eastern Pavilion called Zhang Guang and other experts to explain the zhun; they confessed ignorance, ransacked the archives, and finally turned the hardware up. It looked exactly like Fang's drawing, yet they still could not agree how taut each string should be. Tone refuses to live on paper: masters who know cannot lecture it, savants who feel it cannot copy it—so the last archivists who could hear clean from muddy simply disappeared. All that survived as a teachable rite was the ash-in-jar solstice test.
30
When Han collapsed, courtly "ya" music went missing in the chaos. Cao Cao's court relied on Du Kui of Henan, a connoisseur of timbre, as gentleman of ya music; Du told the founder Chai Yu to cast ritual bells, but the bronze kept missing the thirds rule and had to be smashed and remelted until Chai accused Du of arbitrary tuning and both men appealed to Cao Cao. Cao Cao personally shuffled Chai's bells back into the set, listened again, and decided Du had been right all along—Chai paid for the false accusation.
31
使調 調
In Jin Wudi's tenth year of Taishi Xun Xi and Zhang Hua hauled twenty-five bronze and bamboo measures from the palace vault for Liu Xiu to audition: three matched Du Kui and Zuo Yanian's law, while twenty-two bore flute dimensions carved on the shank. They pressed General Lie He, who said Emperor Ming of Wei once told him to derive the pitch set from flute fingerings and house students in a separate compound to practice songs to those fingerings. In full ensemble you only read the length labels and every string, pipe, and voice lines up. Dark voices take the long bore; bright voices take the short. Anyone tuning zithers or voices without those flute marks is working blind.
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' ' 調便
Xun Xi answered with a long memorial: the sages invented music to move wind and custom, to feed spirits and honor worthies, and they always locked the eight timbres to the twelve pipes. Hence suburban rites and palace feasts follow fixed registers—anthem and libation each get their own cup, bright and dark ranges stay distinct. That is why the classics repeat that the five degrees and twelve tubes "take turns as gong." Lie He's own confession is that his flutes follow no canonical length—they are guesswork, not measure. Set them against the bronze pipes and none lines up; blow them and the averages sound smooth yet refuse to lock with the orchestra. He also admitted that teachers "passed flutes down" by cutting longer or shorter tubes— —and workshop cutters never used the pitch law at all. In other words, there was no method. Yet from those flutes he wrote the nominal pitches and forced zithers, se, and singers to obey—hardly the way to honor antiquity or leave a pattern for later kings. We therefore tabulate every pipe and put He's claims to the test point by point. Following the classics we bored twelve bamboo flutes, one for each pipe; they tune evenly and are easy to play. If they hold for lessons and chamber music, they will surely hold when the feudatories banquet or the temple orchestra plays. Ling Lun is millennia gone and perfection is elusive, yet the court should still mimic the old forms, seek the middle course, and hew to canonical ritual—that is the thorough path. If the plan stands, commission bamboo cutters, build the set, and issue it through the Grand Music bureau. The collegial verdict: keep every pitch template by Du Kui and Zuo Yanian; from the palace flutes retain only one standard-length and one lower-register instrument, each stamped with its maker; melt the useless remainder back at the vault. The emperor approved.
33
調
Xun pressed again: must twelve holes on twelve tubes—one hole per pipe—be the definition of correct music? Lie answered that the eastern-gallery concert flute is already four chǐ two cùn, yet the court now wants its subdominant register as well. A dull register demands a longer bore—over five chǐ by the math—and the prototype I once cut could not be blown at all. Besides, he said, without empirical tests you cannot expect every finger hole to land on a separate pipe tone. Auditors replied: the four-chi-two concert flute centers on Ruíbīn; if you rotate the twelve pipes as temporary gong, the lower-zhi vent should answer Dàlǚ. A Dàlǚ bore is only a little past two chǐ six cùn—nowhere near five. The throne told Liu Xiu and Deng Hao to cut a Dàlǚ flute to spec, then pipe the seven degrees hole by hole—each matched the law. They paired Hao Sheng's zheng with Song Tong's flute on preludes and the "Harmony" suites. Lie He finally conceded that Han-era flute families had never heard of such precision, yet the new instruments sang dead true—beyond anything he could match. Hao Sheng, Lu Ji, Zhong Zheng, and Zhu Xia sided with Lie He.
34
調調 調調 調調 殿調 調調
The board asked whether he could even name gong, shang, jue, and zhǐ for the six holes plus the bore. And how would he prove each vent was in tune? Lie admitted masters only traded finger charts—"lift the third finger here"—with no theory tying each hole to a pitch name. Imperial flute makers still copy the old outline and quit as soon as the tube whistles, never calibrating the holes. The "Rites of Zhou" says bronze and stone must be tuned to fixed pitches before they hang in the bell galleries. In performance every color listens back to the bells and chimes, which means everything is tied to the twelve pipes. When the banquet hall lacks suspended bells, the flute becomes the temporary standard: strings and singers follow it exactly as they would follow the gallery chimes—so that lone bamboo must still obey the twelve pipes. Lie He's method amounts to shaving every tube roughly a cun short, drilling seven even holes, and never checking which pipe each hole should speak—if it blows, he ships it. That is not a method at all. The court then paired Liu Xiu, Deng Hao, Wang Yan, and Wei Shao with palace flute makers: carpenters cut the bamboo while acousticians set the scale, so each tube had both proper form and true pitch.
35
調 調 調
They pressed Lie He again: without knowing what the twelve pipes mean, what name could you give to "bright" or "dark" tuning? Lie said the band simply grabbed a longer or shorter flute to match the vocalist. A thick voice gets a three-chi-two tube, and everyone nicknames that gauge "the three-chi-two mode"; a bright voice gets a two-chi-nine tube, nicknamed "the two-chi-nine mode." That folk habit, he claimed, ran unchanged from Han through Wei. The "Rites of Zhou" orders the six suites as "sound Yellow Bell, sing Dàlǚ"; then "sound Tàicù, sing Yìngzhōng"—every pairing is named from the pipes, not from bamboo lengths. Lie He's foot-and-inch nicknames may have been common, but they are not canonical nomenclature. Liu Xiu's team shows that a three-chi-two tube matches Wúyì, so the director can honestly call, "Play Wúyì" when the chart demands the long pipe; while two chǐ eight cùn four fēn four lí matches Yellow Bell, so the call becomes "Play Yellow Bell" when the short bore is needed. Song and accompaniment named that way line up with the ritual classics—exactly the elegant usage the canon expects.
36
The "Canon of Documents" says Shun wanted "the six pipes, the five notes, and the eight timbres"—the acoustic mirror of good and bad government. The "Rites of Zhou" and "Discourses of the States" pair six lǜ with six tóng; the "Record of Rites" repeats that five voices and twelve tubes rotate as gong. Liu Xin and Ban Gu's monograph still tracks twelve pipes; Jing Fang alone extended the cycle to sixty. By Zhangdi's reign the sixtyfold art was dead; Cai Yong copied Jing Fang's boast yet admitted no living master could rebuild it. Between ancient manuals and modern orchestras, the sixty mutations never reach the stage. We therefore built twelve demonstration flutes keyed to the classical "five over twelve" cycle, sketched them with marginal notes, and—because ink diagrams mislead the eye—recut a Ruibīn flute with its muted vent to show the holes directly. The specifications run as follows:
37
調
The Yellow Bell tube's concert register centers on Yellow Bell, its subdominant on Forest Bell, and its sounding length is two chǐ eight cùn four fēn four lí plus a remainder. In concert tuning, Yellow Bell is gong and Gǔxǐ is jue; the half-stopped bore must speak Gǔxǐ, so the tube's length equals the sum of the Yellow Bell and Gǔxǐ pipe lengths measured from the mouth end. Because the fundamental is neither doubled nor halved, musicians call this register the "true" or concert pitch.
38
調 調 便 便
Hole one, counting from the mouth, is gong on Yellow Bell. Hole two is the altered gong on Yìngzhōng. Hole three is yu on Nánlǚ. Hole four is zhǐ on Línzhōng. Ruibīn's altered zhǐ sits on the fifth side hole. Gǔxǐ's jue sounds from the air column inside the bore. Tàicù's shang vents through the hole behind the player's hands. Shang should sit lower than jue, yet jue lives inside the tube, so the shang vent is punched above gong to keep it brighter than the fundamental. Gong and shang stay on the true pipe; every other step borrows an octave duplicate; so each hole farther from the mouth sounds duller than the last. This passage only names the holes from crown to foot. The following section explains how the pipes beget one another—the geometry of the flute. Concert method again: Yellow Bell on gong. Mark gong by measuring from the blowing edge the combined lengths of the Gǔxǐ and Yellow Bell tubes; where that tally ends, drill gong. Gong generates zhǐ, so Yellow Bell spawns Forest Bell. Drop the Forest Bell length below the gong vent. Drill zhǐ where that measurement stops. Zhǐ generates shang, so Forest Bell spawns Tàicù. Measure up from the zhǐ hole by the Tàicù length; the next stop is shang. Shang generates yu, so Tàicù spawns Nánlǚ. Down from shang by the Nánlǚ length comes yu. Yu generates jue, so Nánlǚ spawns Gǔxǐ. Up from yu by the Gǔxǐ length lands jue. That point would sit above the shang hole—where the player's left hand cannot reach. Measuring down from yu by the same length also yields jue, but the vent would fall under the thumb hole where the right hand cannot cover it, so no separate jue hole is bored. Doubling the air column downward parks jue inside the bore—exactly the classical layout. Older masters doubled or halved lengths freely as long as ensemble balance held, because duets only need matching color, not a fresh hole for every partial. The "Discourses" line that gourd and bamboo "yield to fit and follow convenience" means just this: build what the band can actually finger. Jue spawns altered gong, so Gǔxǐ leads to Yìngzhōng. Where theory wants a jue hole above shang, draftsmen ink a dot sized to the Yìngzhōng length. Drill downward from that dot by the Yìngzhōng pipe and you capture altered gong. Altered gong leads to altered zhǐ, Yìngzhōng to Ruibīn. Drop the Ruibīn length from altered gong to locate altered zhǐ. Each of the twelve model flutes uses its namesake as temporary gong; whether you double or halve lengths, the workshop rule stays the same. Subdominant tuning makes Forest Bell gong on the fourth hole.
39
調 調 調 調調
That hole was zhǐ in the concert Yellow Bell chart. True zhǐ should sit above gong, but the flute doubles it down an octave for ergonomics, so players call the mode "lower zhǐ." Letting that lowered zhǐ rotate into gong is precisely the "five notes, twelve tubes take turns as gong" rule from the "Record of Rites." Concert pitch stays bright; the lowered mode is the darker twin. Hole three becomes shang on Nánlǚ. It used to be yu in the concert chart; in lower zhǐ it is shang. Hole two is jue on Yìngzhōng. Formerly altered gong in the concert set; now jue in the lowered set. Lower zhǐ needs Dàlǚ as altered zhǐ while Forest Bell is gong, but the Yellow Bell bore has no Dàlǚ slot, so acousticians fake the step with Yellow Bell itself. The trick is to lift Yellow Bell, Tàicù, and Yìngzhōng together when altered zhǐ is required. Yellow Bell speaks dull, Tàicù bright; Dàlǚ lives between them. Half-covering all three vents and shading the airstream splits the difference, approximating Dàlǚ's altered zhǐ—though the manuscript is corrupt at the verb describing the embouchure. Every lower-zhǐ flute uses the same three-hole shading for its borrowed altered zhǐ. Tàicù supplies zhǐ on the rear hole. It was shang in the concert chart; now zhǐ in the lowered chart. Gǔxǐ's yu rings from the stopped column inside the bore. It was jue in the concert chart; now yu in the lowered chart. Ruibīn hosts altered gong. That is the side vent. It was altered zhǐ upstairs; downstairs it becomes altered gong. So concert tuning darkens as you march toward the foot, while lowered zhǐ brightens as you march back toward the crown. The "clear jue" recipe makes Gǔxǐ the temporary gong—that is, the stopped air column inside the tube.
40
調 調 調
The "clear jue" key treats the stopped column inside the bore as temporary gong on Gǔxǐ. In the concert chart that column is jue; in the lowered-zhǐ chart it is yu. Players treat that column as gong and overblow it bright, which is why musicians call the mode "clear jue." It works for street songs and common airs, not for court ya music. Ruibīn as shang is the canonical assignment. Forest Bell as jue is already a compromise step. Nánlǚ as altered zhǐ is another non-canonical rung. Yìngzhōng as the zhi degree is the proper assignment here. Yellow Bell as yu is again an expedient, not the classical mapping. Tàicù supplies the altered gong step. Again, not a canonical pairing. Under the clear-jue key only gong, shang, and zhǐ lock to the bronze standard; the other four steps stay dark until a player overblows them into tune.
41
便 便 退便
Long-chamber flutes scale by eight against the pipe length—Ruibīn and Forest Bell fall in that class. Short chambers multiply by four instead. The other ten models all take the "corner" ratio as their yardstick. Interior volume for the long set follows the sixteenfold rule. Short-flute culms need a bore that holds eight pipes' worth of millet by measure. If you ignore those ratios or pick clumsy bamboo, timbre and measure fall out of step, and real culms taper from fat crown to narrow foot—when theory and wood disagree, chase an even sound rather than perfect arithmetic. The three usable modes are concert pitch, lowered zhǐ, and brightened jue. Together they yield twenty-one modulating steps. Because gong carries seven usable degrees that can be permuted, the full set of modulations comes to twenty-one. Every flute model follows the same pattern. Four "buried" vents are cut for practical fingering. First comes true jue venting above shang, then doubled jue down by the foot, then altered gong tucked beside the gong hole and dropped an octave— and finally altered zhǐ offset beyond the zhǐ hole and raised an octave. The offsets follow zither frets: double, half, or add a quarter— —without visible bores, only measured lengths that obey the up-and-down rules so the scale evens out and the hands stay nimble. Because those roots stay invisible, builders call them "hidden" vents.
42
The Dàlǚ template answers Dàlǚ in concert pitch and Yízé in lowered zhǐ, with a tube of two chǐ six cùn six fēn three lí plus a remainder.
43
The Tàicù pipe locks to Tàicù and Nánlǚ at two chǐ five cùn three fēn one lí plus a remainder.
44
The Jiázhōng model answers Jiázhōng and Wúyì at two chǐ four cùn.
45
The Gǔxǐ flute answers Gǔxǐ and Yìngzhōng at two chǐ two cùn three fēn three lí plus a remainder.
46
便
The Ruibīn bore answers Ruibīn and Dàlǚ at three chǐ nine cùn nine fēn five lí plus a remainder. Altered gong hugs the main hole, so the pattern drops it an octave for the player's thumb. Forest Bell uses the same altered-gong trick. The Forest Bell template answers Línzhōng and Tàicù at three chǐ seven cùn nine fēn seven lí plus a remainder.
47
The Yízé pipe answers Yízé and Jiázhōng; the received text's "three exhaust six cun" is emended to three chǐ six cùn. Altered gong on this flute copies Ruibīn's corner-length body, so the math adds a fourth.
48
The Nánlǚ model answers Nánlǚ and Gǔxǐ at three chǐ three cùn seven fēn plus a remainder (the line omits the usual "answers" verb before Gǔxǐ).
49
The Wúyì bore answers Wúyì and Zhònglǚ at three chǐ two cùn.
50
The Yìngzhōng flute answers Yìngzhōng and Ruibīn at two chǐ nine cùn nine fēn six lí plus a remainder.
51
Five degrees and twelve classical pipes.
52
調
The earth class is gong, tallied at eighty-one, where acoustics begins. Earth sounds stay darkest, like the sovereign's steady voice. When the last month of summer's qi is balanced, gong rings true. When gong slips, the land feels empty and the king turns proud. Yellow Bell's gong carries the longest tube in the set.
53
調
The fire class is zhǐ, born by taking a third from gong, numbered fifty-four. Fire sounds are bright, like the busy work of government. When midsummer qi is balanced, zhǐ rings true. When zhǐ slips, music turns mournful and every task feels like drudgery.
54
調
Metal is shang, born by adding a third to zhǐ, numbered seventy-two. Metal sits just below gong in darkness, like the minister's supporting voice. When autumn qi is balanced, shang rings true. When shang slips, factions form and the bureaucracy rots.
55
調
Water is yu, born by taking a third from shang, numbered forty-eight. Water sounds are the brightest in the pentad, like the myriad things in clarity. When winter qi is balanced, yu rings true. When yu slips, danger looms and the treasury runs dry.
56
調
Wood is jue, born by adding a third to yu, numbered sixty-four. Wood timbre mediates bright and dark, like common folk between ruler and minister. When spring qi is balanced, jue rings true. When jue slips, anxiety spreads and the people grow bitter.
57
Pitch nobility mirrors the five phases: big tallies sound dull, small tallies bright— the bass anchor never passes gong, the top shimmer never passes yu.
58
The eleventh month sits on Yellow Bell, the head of the twelve pipes, nine cùn long. Midwinter's breath makes that pipe speak, broadcasting and feeding the six vapors and nine virtues. Ban Gu's cycle subtracts a third down to Forest Bell.
59
The twelfth month takes Dàlǚ, Sima Qian's "not yet down-generated" length of four cùn 52/243, doubled to eight cùn one hundred four parts. Late winter's qi wakes Dàlǚ so it can push the year's growth outward. Add a third upward and you reach Yízé; Jing Fang instead subtracts a third downward to Yízé.
60
The first month keys to Tàicù, the "up from wèi" generated class, eight cùn long (the manuscript graph is the wei stem character, here read as the wèi-branch class). Early spring's qi hits Tàicù so the yang is praised and stagnation shaken loose. Subtract a third downward to reach Nánlǚ.
61
The second month takes Jiázhōng, the "down from yǒu" length of three cùn one thousand six hundred thirty-one two-thousand-one-hundred-eighty-sevenths, doubled to seven cùn one thousand seventy-five parts. Mid-spring's qi answers Jiázhōng, threading subtlety through the four gaps of the year. Add a third upward to reach Wúyì; Jing Fang subtracts a third downward to Wúyì.
62
The third month keys to Gǔxǐ, the "up from yǒu" class, seven cùn and one-ninth cùn long. Late spring's qi strikes Gǔxǐ to rinse offerings, draw spirits, and welcome guests. Drop a third downward to Yìngzhōng.
63
The fourth month takes Zhònglǚ, the "down from hài" length of three cùn six thousand four hundred eighty-seven nineteen-thousand-six-hundred-eighty-thirds, doubled to six cùn twelve thousand nine hundred seventy-four parts. Early summer's qi hits Zhònglǚ to vent the qi pooled at the year's hinge.
64
The fifth month keys to Ruibīn, the "up from hài" pipe six cùn and twenty-six eighty-firsts long. Midsummer's qi answers Ruibīn, the pitch of quiet worship and pledging cup after cup. Subtract a third downward to Dàlǚ; Jing Fang adds a third upward to Dàlǚ.
65
The sixth month takes Línzhōng, the "down from chǒu" pipe six cùn long. Late summer's qi strikes Línzhōng to harmonize every task in reverent care. Add a third upward to Tàicù.
66
The seventh month keys to Yízé, the "up from chǒu" pipe five cùn four hundred fifty-one seven-hundred-twenty-ninths long. Early autumn's qi answers Yízé, the pipe that hymns the nine statutes, steadies the commoners, and brooks no slack (the phrase is "nine canons," not "nine virtues"). Subtract a third downward to Jiázhōng; Jing Fang adds a third upward to Jiázhōng.
67
The eighth month takes Nánlǚ, the "down from mǎo" pipe five cùn and one-third cùn long. Mid-autumn's qi answers Nánlǚ, coaxing the yang into full bloom. Add a third upward to Gǔxǐ.
68
The ninth month keys to Wúyì, the "up from mǎo" pipe four cùn six thousand five hundred twenty-four six-thousand-five-hundred-sixty-firsts long. Late autumn's qi hits Wúyì to broadcast a sage's shining edicts and show the people their compass. Subtract a third downward to Zhònglǚ; Jing Fang adds a third upward to Zhònglǚ.
69
The tenth month takes Yìngzhōng, the "down from sì" pipe four cùn and 20/27 long. Early winter's qi answers Yìngzhōng, evening tools and echoes so the circuit can close. Add a third upward to Ruibīn.
70
Huainan, Jing Fang, Zhèng Xuán, and others all teach upper/lower thirds, but at Ruibīn they "ascend again" to Dàlǚ—eight cùn one hundred four two-hundred-forty-thirds— Yízé ascends to Jiázhōng at seven cùn one thousand seventy-five one-thousand-one-hundred-eighty-sevenths; Wúyì ascends to Zhònglǚ at six cùn twelve thousand nine hundred seventy-four nineteen-thousand-six-hundred-eighty-thirds; Those three steps double the inch fractions Sima Qian and Ban Gu gave; every other length matches. That is the six-interstice path Lěng Zhōujiū described: lift the sunken, trim the loose—borrowed for practical tuning. Half-step swaps follow whatever the rite requires—they are aids, not the core thirds. Sound wants balance: raise it and you double, lower it and you halve—against the fundamental it must never lie. Talking of "one up, one down" names the true third-generation road— while "ascend again" names a listening trick for ash-tube tests. Ruibīn's double ascent lands on a handy tally for workshop use, so acousticians quote it, yet it is not canonical breeding.
71
Yáng Xióng said sound maps to the ten stems: jiǎ/jǐ as jue, yǐ/gēng as shang, bǐng/xīn as zhǐ, dīng/rén as yu, wù/guǐ as gong. Pitch maps to the twelve branches—zǐ as Yellow Bell, chǒu as Dàlǚ, and so down the ring— Sound rides on feeling for its body, and "body" here means being true to type— each degree staying loyal to the element that fathers it. Pipes exist to tune sound: bronze tubes and matched bells must pull bright and dark voices into one line. Pitch and timbre must agree before bronze, stone, silk, or bamboo can speak as the eight voices. Here xie simply means "bring into tune." The five named scale degrees are gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu. The eight material sources are metal, stone, gourd, leather, silk, bamboo, clay, and wood. That mutual tuning of voice and material is what the canon calls the "five musics."
72
殿 退
Solstitial harmony shows in the gnomon; the monthly pipe's breath shows when the ash flies. On both solstices the king convenes the eight experts in the forward hall: they sound the eight colors of instrument, check ensemble balance, read the sundial, listen to bells and pipes, weigh thermoscopic ash, and read yin against yang—at midwinter yang answers so the ash flies, the pitch turns bright, the shadow stretches to its yearly maximum, Yellow Bell opens, the ash pan lightens, and the steelyard's beam lifts. At midsummer yin answers: the band slides toward duller color, the gnomon throws its shortest mark, Ruibīn opens, the ash tray weighs heavy, and the balance sinks. Across the ten-day solstice window each master files his reading, and the Grand Astrologer forwards the sealed bundle. Agreement means peace; mismatch becomes divination.
73
殿
Breath-testing needs a triple room: sealed doors, pasted joints, red curtains drawn. Inside stand twelve tables, each bearing a pipe oriented to its compass point; pack reed ash in the bore, watch the calendar, and when the month's breath hits, the ash puffs out. A true cosmic puff scatters the grains. Human breath or a draft merely clumps the ash. The throne hall keeps twelve jade pipes for the two solstices alone. The observatory relies on bamboo tubes instead. Yang Quan notes bamboo cut on Mount Jīnmén in Yiyang and reed ash from Henei. Another rite buries the twelve tubes flush with the floor by the twelve branches, fills them with membrane ash, veils them in gauze, and waits for the puff that lifts the cloth. A tremble means balance; a gale hints ministers overpowering the throne. Dead stillness foretells a cruel king.
74
調 西 西
Ban Gu already spelled out the true foot-rule in the Han treatise. In Jin Wudi's ninth year of Taishi Xun Xi retuned the court band and found Eastern Han and Wei had stretched the foot more than four fēn past the old standard. He ordered Liu Gong to cut the "Zhou foot" that antiquarians prize. From that measure he cast fresh bronze pipes. Every heirloom bronze measured true to its own inscription. Plunderers who cracked King Xiang's tomb at Ji turned up Zhou jade pipes and bells that sang in tune with Xun Xi's new set. When stray Han bells surfaced in the provinces, each spoke correctly to the new tubes. He stamped the ruler with a Taishi-10 colophon comparing it to the bloated contemporary foot. Seven relics anchored the proof: Gǔxǐ and lesser lǚ jade pipes, two Han gnomons, the standard hu, old cash, and the Jianwu foot. Only Gǔxǐ read a hair bright and the Han gnomon a hair flat—everything else lined up. The colophon holds eighty-two graphs. That ruler is Xun Xi's new measure; the older court foot is Du Kui's.
75
The court admired Xun's crisp bells, yet Ruǎn Xiǎn sneered that they rang sharp—and sharp music, he said, is the whine of dying dynasties. A dying state's airs are sad and thoughtful; its people are cornered. Ruǎn adds that the new pitch feels un-ya: unless the foot itself has drifted, you cannot get the morally "level" tone the classics demand. Ruǎn died young; Wudi still adopted Xun's law because it matched Zhou and Han bronze. Later diggers at Shǐpíng unearthed a corroded old ruler four fēn longer than Xun's—vindicating Ruǎn's ear while the debate raged on.
76
便 調 調
The annalists still call Xun Xi's reconstruction razor-sharp and well attested. Yet shallow contemporaries waved one stray ruler, ignored two Han standards, and parroted the same verdict—sheer folly. The Shishuo adds a farmer's Zhou jade ruler that made Xun's entire orchestra look a meter short. Han Zhangdi's Lingling clerk Xi Jing also cut a "Han office foot" from Shun's jade pipe. Stacked against the Han office ruler, Xun's foot comes up four fēn short. The Han office foot and the Shǐpíng find match each other. Du Kui's tuning foot against Xun's new foot works out to one chǐ four fēn seven lí. Wei Jingyuan 4: Liu Hui notes Wang Mang's hú foot falls four fēn five lí short of the Jin foot, leaving the hú nine cùn five fēn deep against Wei measure. That is exactly Xun Xi's complaint that the current foot overshoots by four and a half fēn. Post-Yuan Jiangnan adopted a foot one chǐ six fēn two lí longer than Xun's. Liu Yao's Zhao court cast instruments with a foot one chǐ five fēn longer than Xun's. Because Xun's foot stayed inside the music bureau, southern instruments and Liu Yao's observatory still hewed to the longer Wei foot.
77
' '
The "Rites of Zhou" puts the foundry officer in charge of the standard fu: a square foot inside, walls rounded outside, one foot deep, one fu in volume. The pedestal adds one cùn; that compartment holds one dǒu. The lifting ears add three cùn and hold one shēng. The whole piece weighs one jūn and rings Yellow Bell true. Scrape the strike flat without shaving extra duty into the measure. The lid proclaims that thoughtful kings hit the utmost mark. When the honest measure was cast, he displayed it to the four quarters. May your heirs take this vessel as their pattern forever. The "Zuo" adds that old Qi used four jars—dòu, ōu, fǔ, and the zhōng. Four shēng fill a dòu; each tier climbs by fours toward the fǔ. Four dòu fill an ōu, and that ōu levels out at six shēng. Four ōu make a fǔ, which is six dǒu and four shēng. Ten fǔ make a zhōng, totaling sixty-four dǒu. Zhèng Xuán's cubic-foot fǔ tallies a thousand cubic cun—two shēng and twenty-two eighty-firsts shy of the "Nine Chapters" grain reckoning. Math shows the classic hu at one thousand five hundred sixty-two and a half cubic cun: a square with a circle struck outside, nibbling one lí eight háo from the flank, yields diameter one chǐ four cùn one fēn four háo seven miǎo two hū with remainder for a depth of one chǐ—the canonical hu.
78
使
The "Nine Chapters" labor chapter sets one hú of grain at two thousand seven hundred cubic cun; one hú of polished rice at one thousand six hundred twenty-seven; and one hú of beans, peas, hemp, or wheat at two thousand four hundred thirty. Those figures weight coarse against fine so market prices line up even when the jars differ. Using the rice hú as baseline lands on the same number Ban Gu gave. In Wei Jingyuan 4 Liu Hui glossed the "Nine Chapters": the minister's hu measures one chǐ three cùn five fēn five lí across, one chǐ deep, one thousand four hundred forty-one and three-tenths cubic cun inside. Wang Mang's bronze hú, converted to Jin feet, is nine cùn five fēn five lí deep and one chǐ three cùn six fēn eight lí seven háo across. Liu Hui's π method makes the same vessel hold nine dǒu seven shēng four gě plus a trace. So the Wei measure runs large with a long foot, while Wang Mang's runs small with a short foot.
79
殿
Weights and balances: héng means even; quán names the counterweight. The beam carries the weight and evens the load—true light against true heavy. Older metrologies listed shǔ, lěi, chuí, zī, huán, jūn, zhuó, and yì—each dynasty tweaked the names. Ban Gu's treatise already explains weights exhaustively; later tweaks are not copied in this chapter. Under Yuankang Pei Yì pleaded to realign medical weights—people's lives hung on every liǎng—but the court tabled his memo. Shi Le's builders turned up a round "law stone" counterweight marked four jūn, claiming it harmonized pitch, length, and weight. The inscription credits the Xin house. Xù Xián read the stone as another Wang Mang relic.
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