CHAPTER ONE
Utility of the Useless
Zhuangzi was walking on a mountain when he saw a great tree with huge branches and luxuriant foliage. A wood cutter was resting by its side, but he would not touch it and when asked the reason said that it was of no use for anything. Zhuangzi then said to his disciples, âThis tree, because its wood is good for nothing, will succeed in living out its natural term of years.â
âZhuangzi, âThe Mountain Treeâ
As a young man in turn-of-the-century Hangzhou, Chen Diexian started to turn to new kinds of endeavorsâexploring imported technologies and new forms of media, promoting chemical and technical knowledge, openly pursuing money, and reckoning with the emergence of industrialization and mechanical reproduction at the level of daily life. The emergence of modernity in China (whether cultural, technological, industrial, or commercial) is often identified as taking place in treaty ports such as Shanghai. Although Chen eventually moved to Shanghai in the 1910s to pursue a range of cultural, industrial, and commercial activities, he did not begin those pursuits upon his arrival there. His formative experiences in exploring new practices and ideas took place in Hangzhou during his youth, where he adopted an array of strategies to domesticate the newfangled and to pursue profit. Even as he introduced and explored activities and new technologies in daily life in Hangzhou, he drew on familiar cultural practices to authenticate his endeavors. In an era when mass production was increasingly informing the everyday, his ability to evoke a sense of sincerity and genuineness by choosing appropriate pen names and sobriquets, writing poetry, and holding elegant gatherings was important for his lettered, industrial, and commercial work in Hangzhou and beyond. His exploration of new things and gadgets, alongside his experimentation in literary forms and endeavors, was part and parcel of a contemporary culture of play and whimsy in urban centers in Jiangnan that gained significance in a period when âseriousâ politics was mired in dysfunction, the Qing dynasty was waning, and the chaotic period of the early republic was beginning.1
Chenâs biographical background and the local context in which he explored new technological delights are important in understanding his pursuits. Chen was born in 1879 in Qiantang, near Hangzhou.2 He came from a well-to-do family. His father, Chen Fuyuan, practiced medicine, and his uncle served as an official.3 Chenâs father died in 1885 when Chen was only six, and his uncle died in 1897, setting off an inheritance dispute that split the family (Hanan 1999, 2). His mother, Ms. Dai, a concubine who had borne four children, was left to fend for the immediate family and saw that Chen Diexian was married to Zhu Shu, who had been selected for him years earlier. Chen and Zhu had three children (Wan 2001, 10). The eldest son, Chen Qu (1897â1989), whose sobriquets include âXiaodieâ and later âDingshan,â became a writer and industrialist in his own right in Shanghai and then in Taiwan. Chenâs second son, Chen Cidie (1905â1948), became an artist.4 His daughter, Chen Xiaocui (1902â1968), became a famous artist and professor in Shanghai.
Chenâs upbringing had provided him with a classical literary education and the knowledge and skill set typical of a gentry doctorâs household.5 This background was helpful in enabling him to move with ease among different circles of society, including the official, literary, publishing, commercial, and industrial circlesâmany of which were new and evolving in the early twentieth century. Like many of his generation, he initially sought positions in officialdom, if rather reluctantly. He took the licentiate examination in Hangzhou and in 1893 became a xiucai-level candidate, successfully passing the county-level imperial examination.6 From 1909 to 1913, he served in lower-level offices or as an assistant to a ranking official in Zhejiang and Jiangsu Provinces, including at one point secretary to the commissioner of customs (Chen Xiaocui, Fan, and Zhou 1982, 210). However, he was always dabbling in alternative endeavors. Some of these endeavorsâsuch as writing and publishing poetryâwere typical of educated men at the time. Some were more unconventional. Many were entrepreneurial. He opened up a publishing house for poetry and founded an early newspaper in Hangzhou. Chenâs entrepreneurial efforts in the world of letters were furthermore paralleled by his efforts outside the literary arena. He bought a share in a tea and bamboo dealership in 1899 and then opened up Hangzhouâs first scientific-appliance shop. After these brief forays into commerce in Hangzhou, he proceeded to take advantage of new opportunities arising in Shanghai to become a professional writer and editor and eventually a captain of industry.
Chenâs life story provides an interesting case study with which to understand how an educated man started to experiment with new pursuits and to expand boundaries of convention in post-Taiping Uprising Hangzhou. In the twilight years of the Qing empire, the decline of orthodoxy resulted in shifting mores and opened up space so that novel opportunities could emerge. Ambitious young men started to blur the boundaries between the worlds of literati officialdom (wen, guan) and the realm of merchants (shang). To be sure, such blurring was hardly new. In the late Ming, the hybrid identity of the gentry merchant (shishang) had already brought together arenas of activity commonly associated with literati, merchants, and businessmen, thus shaping and animating trends in book publishing (Chow 2004). In nineteenth-century Shanghai, local gentry, such as the Gu family, acted as local entrepreneursâpurveyors of peaches, embroidery, inkstones, and preserved vegetables (Swislocki 2008).
Certain conditions shaping this blurring of identities were new. Fresh epistemological regimes and institutional spaces came to frame and radically reconfigure the intermingling of commerce and culture by the turn of the twentieth century. Educated elites increasingly disenchanted or alienated from officialdom and from traditional literati activities started to engage openly in the once taboo realm of commerce, many of them specifically turning to treaty-port publishing, commercial entertainment, and leisure.7 As noted in the introduction, the dismantling of the civil-service examination system had a profound impact on elite strategies of cultural, social, and political reproduction and levied a serious challenge to the values of examination-oriented literati culture. New paradigms included novel forms of knowledge and culture (e.g., science rather than statecraft), newfound institutions through which to legitimate such knowledge (e.g., mass media, modern schools), and an array of practices that urban elites developed to navigate these new forms of knowledge and the new media associated with them (e.g., entrepreneurism and the pursuit of profit, nation building, and social reform). The last decades of the Qing dynasty constituted a critical juncture in Chinese history when elitesâ identity, paths of social mobility, and ways of knowing and navigating the world were up in the air. The institutions of empire that had once determined social mobility and direction were defunct, and new, unprecedented opportunities were emerging, often with little guarantee or certitude of success or promise.
In this context, Chen, along with fellow colleagues and family members, sought to push acceptable boundaries in multiple ways, including the appreciation of what had once been considered unorthodox, unconventional, or valueless. This push included expressing curiosity about imported objects, such as the gramophone, and establishing Hangzhouâs first newspaper with friends. Later, this same trait of searching for value in what might appear useless drove Chen to realize that the vast amount of discarded cuttlefish shells that washed onto Chinaâs seashore could serve as an ingredient for toothpowder, the key commodity that would bring him industrial success. More broadly, we will see how Chen came to see the value in pursuing light industry and manufacturing, something that was still often deemed dĂ©classĂ© at the turn of the twentieth century.
Chen moreover sought to justify his tendency to play with and stretch convention and to find utility if not profit in what appeared frivolous. To this end, he employed an array of strategies that used the familiar to authenticate the new and the unconventional. He took advantage of Hangzhouâs literati networks and elegant gatherings and adopted the disinterested stance of the lettered connoisseur to promote new ideas, information, and pursuits. Through thoughtfully chosen sobriquets and pen names, he created the persona of an eccentric figure who could dabble in the somewhat unorthodox. He opened up a familiar cultural institution, the reading room, but at the same time founded a more controversial institutionâa scientific-appliance shop. He employed familiar literary genres such as bamboo-branch poetry to domesticate and explore new technologies and institutions in the landscape of his hometown, Hangzhou. At the same time, he pushed literary boundaries by exploiting new genres, such as the serialized romance novel, to explore anxiety-provoking themes, including money. He established himself as a serial author who, although writing for profit, was nonetheless a sincere man of sentiment. All of these choices and actions were indicative of an entrepreneurial and enterprising personality. For Chen, this ability to recognize the utility of that which appears to have little value was to become the basis of innovation and eventually profit.
CHOICE NAMES
Like other men of his generation, Chen had multiple names over the course of his life. His original personal name was âChen Shousong,â though he changed it to âChen Xuâ early on. He also had several zi, courtesy names, and hao, sobriquets.8 One of his best-known sobriquets was âDiexian,â or âButterfly Immortal,â which he had already started using in Hangzhou by 1900. A related hao was âTaichangxiandie,â âImmortal Butterfly of Taichangâ (Xu Shoudie 1948, 43).9 His courtesy names included âXuyuan,â which can be translated literally as âGarden of Vitalityâ but evokes the meaning âdreamscape.â10 Multiple pen names included âXihongsheng,â the âMaster of Studio Xihong,â which he used when publishing poetry,11 and âChaoran,â the âOne Who Transcends,â a pen name he used when writing a social exposĂ© of officialdom (Chen Xiaocui, Fan, and Zhou 1982, 212).12 He was best known in the literary world, however, as âTianxuwosheng,â âHeaven Bore Me in Vain.â13 He had already adopted this name around 1900 when he was a young man in Hangzhou and used it when publishing his romance fiction and serving as an editor in Shanghai.
With several of these names, Chen sought to cultivate a particular and strategic reputation, which is conveyed in the chapter epigraph. The epigraph is from chapter 20, âThe Mountain Tree,â in the basic writings of Zhuangzi, the early Chinese thinker (b. c. 369 BCE). Related to Daoism, Zhuangziâs thought expressed skepticism for man-made norms and yet was highly idealistic in its promotion of an understanding of the spontaneity of the universe and thus freeing oneself from worldly expectations and demands. Daoism and Zhuangziâs thought stood in contrast to schools of thought that centered on this-worldly social and political reform and prescription, such as Confucianism, Legalism, and Moism. This particular passage is representative. In it, Zhuangzi characteristically questions what we mean by utility with a parable involving a mountain tree. In the parable, Zhuangzi passes a huge tree with thick, lush branches and leaves and a wood cutter lying by the tree. When the wood cutter makes no move to cut down the big old tree, explaining that the tree is useless, Zhuangzi disagrees and argues for its value: âThis tree, because its wood is good for nothing, will succeed in living out its natural term of years.â Herein lies its utility.
Chen Diexian was drawn to the twin impulses of idealism and skepticism in Zhuangziâs thought. With his pen names, he sought to evoke Zhuangziâs tradition as he emerged as a new-style entrepreneur and dabbler in new things in late-Qing Hangzhou. His pen name âTianxuwosheng,â âHeaven Bore Me in Vain,â was a self-effacing pun and allusion to the seventh line of the poem âBring on the Wineâ (âJiang jin jiuâ) by one of Chinaâs most famous Tang dynasty (618â907) poets, Li Bai (701â762):14 âSince heaven has given me life, it must be put to use (tian sheng wo cai bi you yong).â In a biographical account of her father, Chenâs daughter confirmed the genealogy of the pen name, noting that her father had stated that his name âis that which is said by Li Bai, namely, if heaven has given birth to my talent, it must have use; if this is true, then I was born in vain; therefore, I call myself Tianxuwosheng, as I have no useâ (quoted in Chen Xiaocui, Fan, and Zhou 1982, 210). The self-effacing modesty evoked by the pen name was not simply typical of the virtues valued by the literati at the time but also useful in allowing Chen to present himself in as humble a manner as possible and to conjure Zhuangzi through Li Bai. Li Bai had held office during his lifetime but nonetheless cultivated a reputation of being an eccentric immortal. Chen sought to present himself in a similar manner. He was âthe one whom Heaven produced in vainâ (a different rendering of the pen name), who dabbled in endeavors not seen as immediately useful or perceived as unconventional and yet still with potential value.
Chen also fostered a reputation of eccentric curiosity with the sobriquet âDiexian.â âDiexianâ can be translated as âButterfly Immortal.â As with the name âTianxuwosheng,â Zhuangzi was the direct source of inspiration for the name âDiexian.â According to Chenâs daughter, Chen stated that this name referred to a classical Zhuangzi parable titled âZhuangzi Dreamed He Was a Butterflyâ (âZhuang Zhou meng dieâ) (Chen Xiaocui, Fan, and Zhou 1982, 210). In this parable, Zhuangzi first dreams that he is a butterfly and then, when he awakes, starts to wonder whether he, the man, was dreaming or the butterfly is now dreaming he is Zhuangzi. This passage quintessentially captures the romanticism and the skepticism regarding knowledge and reality in Zhuangziâs thought. Chenâs choice of the name âDiexian,â âButterfly Immortal,â was hardly accidental. For Chen, the name suggested that he was unencumbered and could engage in a romantic dalliance with all forms of knowledge and activityâwhether they were orthodox or not. Whereas Zhuangzi was still dreaming within a dream, Chen, by adopting the persona of an immortal, sought to achieve transcendence from the corruptions of the real world (Chen Xiaocui, Fan, and Zhou 1982, 210). The romantic impermanence evoked by Chenâs butterfly-themed names could be juxtaposed to what had once been certain but by the late Qing had become hollowâmainly Qing officialdom and its Confucian orthodoxy.
In a period when attributes, titles, and careers that once had seem so useful became increasingly useless, Chen employed Daoist-inspired names to render the opposite effect: to mark opportunity in areas that had previously seemed uselessly peripheral. From an early age, Chen sought to mark himself as someone able to recognize the value in what others failed to appreciate during a period when values were in flux. Through the savvy choice of a string of public and pen names, he relished in challenging convention and orthodoxy and consistently displayed an appreciation for the seemingly worthless, often turning it into something with value. He established a persona of virtuous eccentricity that would allow him to cloak, or rather to present ...