英文摘要 |
Within the historiography of modern Chinese archaeology, the archaeological excavation conducted at Hsi-yin Tsun, Shanxi, by Li Chi (also romanized as Li Ji, 1896-1979) and Yuan Fuli in 1926 is well known for being the “first archaeological expedition in China conducted by the Chinese themselves.” Even so, scholars have yet to examine the individual whom Li claimed was the one he had most appreciated and without whom the expedition to Hsi-yin Tsun could not have occurred: Carl W. Bishop (1881-1942), curator at the Freer Gallery of Art. Li believed that Bishop’s focus was on scientific excavation and that the undertakings with which Bishop occupied himself in China represented the true spirit encapsulated in the motto of the Smithsonian Institution, namely “for the increase and diffusion of knowledge.” Bishop was by no means “an ordinary collector of antiques,” Li told his readers, and it was Bishop’s incessant support that enabled Li to carry out the archaeological expedition to Hsi-yin Tsun to a satisfactory end. The present article focuses on the archaeological research and excavations conducted by Bishop in China during the early twentieth century. Based on archival material currently housed at the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology (the Penn Museum), the Smithsonian Institution Archives, the Freer Gallery of Art, and the American Museum of Natural History, it details who Bishop was, his associations with the Smithsonian Institution and the Freer Gallery of Art, how these associations as such brought Bishop to China, and how—and why—Li Chi received Bishop’s incessant support. This paper shows that the Columbia- and Harvard-trained Bishop came to China in March 1923 to realize a plan for scientific collaboration initiated by the Smithsonian; that is, Bishop was to collaborate with scientific communities in China to excavate sites with great archaeological potential and then share the findings evenly among the involved parties. In so doing, the Smithsonian expected that the institution could not only enrich its collections and assist the American public in understanding “the high ideals of beauty” by exhibiting and publishing the findings excavated in China, but also preserve those archaeological sites which had been ravaged for decades by the Chinese and foreigners alike. However, when Bishop attempted to contact scientific communities in Beijing to set the above proposal in motion, he realized that due to a collaborative plan that the Geological Society of China, the American Museum of Natural History, and Swedish geologist Johan Gunnar Andersson (1874-1960) had been working on, the Smithsonian could hardly find a niche within Chinese archaeology. Consequently, from his arrival until April 1927, Bishop engaged himself in maneuvering around and surmounting the already established cooperative network, while building a new one from scratch with the Smithsonian occupying the center. After a series of failed attempts, Bishop finally had a breakthrough: the employment of Li Chi, who had just received his PhD in physical anthropology from Harvard, and the reliance on him to organize the “first archaeological expedition conducted by the Chinese themselves.” Returning to a statement Li made in 1926, this article unveils the knowledge politics and power struggles that occurred as Bishop devoted himself to actualizing the Smithsonian’s “true spirit.” Moreover, by investigating the correspondence between Bishop and his superiors, I argue that Bishop’s archaeological expedition was not as innocent and selfless as Li might have believed. Bishop continuously purchased Chinese antiquities from related markets and, thanks to the Smithsonian’s status as a national institution, avoided the restrictions imposed by Chinese officials, relying on the United States’ military network to export the relics to the Smithsonian. Benefiting from recent research conducted by historians of science and scholars of science and technology studies (STS) concerning actor-network theory and an assemblage theory perspective, the present article, in one respect, highlights the value of the abovementioned archival material, and in another, engages in a close dialogue with the history of field science. Although the history of field science has become a thriving subfield within the history of science, this paper argues, researchers working within this field largely remain concerned with what scientists had done in the field, instead of how they had constructed a site as a field for science. I thus demonstrate that as long as researchers are able to scrutinize what constitutes a field from an ontological viewpoint, rather than confining themselves to what takes place in the field as if it was merely a stage, they can better answer why a “field” becomes such an important site for producing scientific knowledge and, insofar as the historiography of Chinese science is concerned, show the heterogeneity of and heteroglossia in the processes through which modern science became institutionalized in China. |