In January of this year, I visited Longmen on a grey and chilly day. Amy McNair’s Donors of Longmen was deliberately my companion. As I walked through the site, up and down the ramps of stairs that give access to the cave temples, the fourteenth-century Muslim poet Sadula’s description of Longmen, which McNair quotes on page 160, resonated with sad truth in my mind:

Along both river banks, men in the past bored into the rock to make large caves and small shrines no fewer than one thousand in number. They sculpted out of the rock sacred images of various Buddhas, bodhisattvas, mahasattvas, arhats, indestructibles, heavenly kings, and Dharma-protecting gods. There are full length statues and busts projecting from the cliff. . . . Those seated cross-legged, standing, and in attendance are also no fewer than ten thousand in number. But all of these stone statues were damaged long ago. They have been defaced by people. Some have heads broken off; some have lost their bodies; their noses, ears, hands, and feet are missing, either partially or completely.

It is not my intent to diminish the tremendous accomplishments of Chinese archaeologists and administrators who since 1949 and especially in the last quarter of a century have done their utmost to repair and protect the site. But this quote, which one may consider somewhat excessive, is a fitting background to McNair’s intention in studying Longmen and writing about it. In truth, she has rebuilt this damaged, at times desolate, landscape by using the words of the patrons carved next to the sculpture or within the grottoes; she has brought back to life the original appearance of an extraordinary imperial site dedicated to Buddhism during three centuries (approximately 493–800); and she has revived a very exciting time when a fully domesticated Buddhist religion reached such splendor in China. Sifting through hundreds of inscriptions of varied length, her study reveals the involvement of donors belonging to different social classes. Thus, a procession of elite protagonists parades before the reader’s eyes—emperors and empresses, princes and princesses, high-ranking courtiers and ladies in waiting, influential administrators, members of the clergy, and monks and nuns of every rank, from humble to high.

As her previous publications show, McNair has been studying Longmen for close to a quarter of a century. Her choice of methodology—to use epigraphy as a key to enter the historic framework of Longmen—informs her early articles and is based, I believe, on a very realistic assessment of the task at hand. In fact, to grasp Longmen’s multi-faceted complexities—the sheer magnitude of the monument with its exorbitant number of grottoes, large and small, and statuary of different sizes, responding to diverse doctrines—is an endeavor capable of absorbing the entire life of a scholar, as Ajanta, in India, gripped the interest and skills of Walter Spink. Her decision to study Longmen from this particular angle was, therefore, strategically sound and has indeed achieved excellent results.

Her approach is by no means new. She restarted the inquiry of patronage that the prominent Sinologist Alexander Soper undertook in 1960 (see, “Imperial Cave-Chapels of the Northern Dynasties: Donors, Beneficiaries, Dates,” Artibus Asiae 28, no. 4 (1966): 241–70). She acknowledges his pathbreaking scholarship. She also recognizes the benefit her research has derived from the increase of sources made available by Chinese scholars who in the last twenty years have painstakingly gathered and published possibly all the inscriptions carved in the grottoes. In turn, Chinese, Japanese, and a handful of Western scholars have used them, although not to the extent of the present author, in their interpretive work on the site. McNair has built her remarkable study on all these contributions, but she has reached her own conclusions.

While the inscriptions are McNair’s major tool, she does not neglect other essential components, such as the doctrinal meaning of the images and the ways in which their style evolved through time. In addition to scrutinizing the process of acculturation Buddhism and its art underwent during the late Northern Wei Dynasty and throughout the Tang dynasty, McNair pays attention to traditional Chinese values embedded in the process of creating and carving Longmen. She acknowledges important undertones deeply rooted in the patrons’ psyches. Namely, in donating Longmen splendid statuary and building for them a home, patrons were still following the ancient tradition of preparing a suitable place as they had done for their dead ancestors. In seeking karmic benefit for their parents, the quintessential Chinese concept of filial piety as respectful memory of previous generations resonates in the inscriptions. The author’s penetrating analysis brings to the fore these non-Buddhist components. In allowing contemporary written sources to speak for themselves, in scrupulously respecting their text—rendered, moreover, with considerable skill in modern English—McNair’s methodology is to be commended. The book is enriched by an appendix that carries McNair’s choice of the most important inscriptions, with both Chinese text and her English translation. Her scholarship remains focused and avoids the pitfall of being attracted to speculative, non-related theorizing. Donors of Longmen, in short, is the work of an art historian who has recreated as objectively as possible the coming into being of a grandiose site with all its components.

The book is structured around eight chapters in addition to the introduction and appendix. I will summarize succinctly the content, at times very dense, of each one; I will also point out specific novel aspects that result from her probing the relationship between a cave’s text and visual program. Occasionally I differ from her conclusions.

In chapter 1, “Emperor as Tathagata,” the identification of the donors helped to clarify the chronology of Guyang Cave as well as its donors’ intention. Guyang is an enormous cave whose walls and ceiling are pierced with niches and carved with inscriptions, the earliest being dated to 493, just one year after Luoyang became the last capital of the Northern Wei dynasty. The shrine dated 493 is part of a group of seven others completed during 493–504; they are placed on the uppermost portion of the lateral walls and are stylistically related. In the 493 inscription we read that monk Huicheng, member of the Northern Wei royal family, was joined in that year by several local aristocrats to endow Guyang with a colossal triad carved on the back wall as well as with the eight aforementioned Buddha shrines. McNair characterizes the images occupying seven of the eight as executed in the “Central Asian mode” in contrast with the monumental Buddha of the triad depicted in the “Chinese mode.” Perhaps a definition of what Central Asian means would have been helpful. The author further conjectures that Huicheng’s Guyang program followed the convention established at Yungang with the opening of the Five Imperial Caves (460–70). Here the colossal Buddhas embodied simultaneously the spiritual and temporal power of Buddha and emperors, respectively. The emperor was also Tathagatha Buddha. Similarly, the Buddha images of Guyang’s eight niches personify the seven Northern Wei rulers, with the eighth alluding to the heir apparent. McNair concludes that the Guyang monumental Buddha represents concurrently the deity and Emperor Xiaowen, for whose karmic/spiritual benefit Huicheng had erected the cave. McNair uses the inscription of General Yang Dayan, one of the eight donors, to clinch the argument. While “contemplating the brilliant traces of the former August (Emperor), gazing upon the beautiful traces of the magnificent Holy Buddha” (27), General Yang was overwhelmed with tears. Meaning that looking at the great Buddha of Guyang, the general considered the statue to represent simultaneously Emperor Xiaowen and Buddha. An interesting aspect of cave-making results from this analysis. If the eight niches plus the triad were the first to be carved, the building process began from the cave top and gradually reached the bottom. The floor was successively lowered as rows upon rows of stacked niches took shape in descending order on the surrounding walls.

Chapter 2, “The Mechanics of a Karmic Gift of Sculpture,” focuses on the Central Binyang grotto, reputedly the first to be carved by imperial order. It is characterized as “Central” on account of being part of a trio (North and South Binyang) completed later during the Tang. Which Northern Wei emperor donated Central Binyang and what is the intrinsic meaning of the cave décor are the two main issues. In answering the first question, McNair agrees with Soper’s earlier opinion that the donors were Emperor Xuanwu and his concubine Lady Hu, but differs in identifying the beneficiaries portrayed in the two royal processions. They are Emperor Xiaowen and Empress Dowager Wenzhao. The reason for this interpretation lies in how one reads not an inscription (there are none in the grotto) but the two imperial processions that once adorned the entrance walls and the complementary reliefs. She argues that the two processions were carved in lieu of inscriptions to identify the beneficiaries of the cave; thus, they do not represent historical visits to the cave. Revisionism is based in this case not on written text but on how one interprets the cave visual program; her analysis resonates with Mikhail Bakhtin’s chronotopic theory, in which space and time are inseparable. The other representations accompanying the procession seem to confirm the intent behind the donation. The Mahasattva and Vissantara jatakas, in particular, stress the concept of generously giving in order to benefit others, which, in the author’s mind, corresponds to the emperor and empress’s goal in establishing the cave for the deceased royal parents. Emperor Xuanwu and Lady Hu donated Central Binyang so that their meritorious act would aid the deceased parents and help them to avoid an evil destiny. Honoring ancestors, exercising filial piety—both of which are cornerstones of Chinese ideology—become one with the Buddhist tenet of dana or generously giving.

In addition to the central question of patronage, McNair confronts several other issues: the evolution of Buddhist doctrine embodied in the choice of image groupings (a pentad in the rear wall, two triads on the side walls), the vicissitudes that brought the two imperial processions into the collections of U.S. museums, and the artistry of the life-like processions. Regrettably, illustrations of the latter do not reflect the splendor suggested by the author’s eloquent description. It would have been very useful to have recent photographs of the reliefs carved on each side of the cave’s entrance—the jatakas and Vimalakirti carvings—as their present conditions are still unclear.

Chapter 3, “The Rhetoric of Expenditure,” illustrates the notion of giving beyond one’s means in setting up cave images, a behavior that paralleled, if not merged with, the Chinese tradition of spending a fortune to show respect to deceased parents. The author amply proves this point by using inscriptions derived from different Northern Wei caves. The stock phrase, “We exhausted our families’ wealth,” recurs repeatedly in conjunction with the written statements of diverse donors—individual laymen and laywomen, aristocrats and commoners, monks and nuns, and society members. The sentence, “Laymen were actually making a public display of lavish expenditure in the same way their ancestors had drained their finances in the practice of ‘rich burials’” (52), effectively conveys the notion that karmic giving equaled the sumptuous spending incurred to honor one’s deceased parents. To underline this point, McNair conjectures the exorbitant price of having one grotto carved, and indicates that the making of the Cixiang Cave equaled half the annual salary of a government official (59). The chapter ends with a lengthy discussion of Empress Dowager Hu, the personification of a munificent donor of temples and pagodas, such as the Yongningsi in Luoyang and of caves in Longmen. She was the last Northern Wei empress and was murdered by Erzhu Rong in 530, anticipating the tragic end of the dynasty in 535. As recorded in Yuan Xuanzhi’s Record of Monasteries in Luoyang (mid-sixth century), the temples and pagodas she lavishly donated all perished with her. McNair places Empress Hu’s generous contributions to Buddhism within the larger framework of her life as reconstructed through dynastic records and Longmen inscriptions.

Revisionism is again applied in attributing to Empress Hu the dedication of the Huoshao Grotto for her own spiritual benefit. The grotto’s original name is unknown; the present one, “Grotto Destroyed by Fire,” is indicative of its utterly ruined state. Judging from its sheer dimensions, the grotto must have been one of the most expensive Northern Wei projects, but the reasons for its destruction are still obscure. The Huangfu Grotto in the vicinity of the Huoshao was a 527 donation to promote Empress Hu’s maternal clan. In fact, the sponsor was the empress’ uncle, Lord Huangfu Du, an incompetent and corrupt individual, whom the empress nevertheless backed. McNair points out the innovative iconography and exquisite carvings that graced this cave. According to recent Chinese scholarship, the two worshiper processions of court officials and ladies represent Huangfu Du with his sons and Lady Chen (Huangfu’s wife) with other household members, an identification confirmed by the inscribed dedication.

In chapter 4, “The Politics of Filial Piety,” this principle is the prime mover in setting up seventh-century imperial caves under the Tang dynasty. The title announces the main topic: how Prince Li Tai used filial piety to influence the emperor to designate him as successor. Prince Li Tai was the son of Emperor Taizong and Empress Zhangsun. He brought to completion, in memory of his mother, the unfinished South Binyang Cave; he was assisted in this endeavor by his sisters, the Yuzhang and Nanping princesses, plus the latter’s husband. The text of the prominent inscription “The Stele for the Yique Buddha Shrine,” carved to the south of the entrance to Central Binyang, is essential in reconstructing the political events and intention behind the completion of South Binyang. McNair offers the complete translation of this very important document. The first section of the inscription extols the superior quality of the deceased empress, while the second celebrates the achievements of the prince, her son and donor. He chose Longmen to erect a memorial because it acted as a numinous place in two ways: it was suited for eremitic immortals and for those aspiring to enlightenment. The next segment of the stele, the most relevant in McNair’s opinion, asserts that Prince Li Tai did not spare any expense to honor his mother. The detailed description of the place confirms it was indeed the South Binyang Cave that underwent radical transformations as a result of his patronage—not just a refurbishing but a remaking with sculpture executed in the novel Tang style inclusive of unusual effects. According to the inscription, the urna (the dot carved or painted between the eyes) of the Buddha on the rear wall emitted brilliant light capable of illuminating the cave. Was a precious stone embedded in the urna? Furthermore, the flourished text extols the realism of this Buddha: it was such that one could envision oneself to be in the presence of Buddha preaching on Vulture Peak. South Binyang combined the “old” style—represented by the remains of the original Northern Wei sculpture executed one hundred years earlier—and the “later” Tang style images executed around 641 and described in the Yique stele. This Tang style compares favorably with contemporary sculpture in the Shentong Monastery, near Jinan, Shandong. The patron of the Shentong sculpture was none other than Li Tai’s younger half-brother, Li Fu. Li Tai’s Nanping Princess sister also sponsored the making of sculpture for the Shentong monastery. McNair goes so far as to suggest that the Longmen Qianxisi Cave with a colossal main Buddha was dedicated by the princess herself. Thus, members of the royal family joined to set doctrinal and stylistic precedents both in Longmen and in the cave sites of Shandong Province. The chapter ends with the suggestion that Prince Li Tai, who was the second son of emperor Taizong, hence not the heir apparent, “conceived a plan to make a very public display of filial piety” (87) by rededicating South Binyang to his mother—whom the emperor cherished—in order to sway the latter to choose him as rightful heir to the throne. It did not happen. Li Zhi, the third son of Empress Zhangsun, ascended the throne in 649.

Chapter 5, “Cinasthana (China) Preserves the Dharma,” introduces the belief regarding the decline and disappearance of the dharma (Buddhist law) as foretold in sacred Buddhist texts and how this notion influenced cave building. Moreover, as a reflection of this feared event, possibly as antidotes, new images started to be used in the Longmen caves. A 648 Maitreya Buddha seated in Western pose in the South Binyang grotto, sponsored by a lay society, and a 683 Maitreya Buddha donated by a Lady Li are two examples. The inscriptions reveal novel concerns, such as the desire to be reborn in Maitreya’s Pure Land or to be present at Maitreya’s preaching at the Triple Assemblies, thereby evading the dangers posed by the gradual weakening of Buddha’s law. McNair argues that the inscriptions reveal how carved images in stone somewhat reassured the patrons of their indestructible nature and hence the lasting nature of their vow. Readers may be reminded of the cult of immortality that originated during the Neolithic when the use of precious stones like jade in burial perhaps expressed similar concerns. Another, more certain, expression of this belief is the practice of carving sutras on stone for eternal preservation.

To counteract this perilous situation, additional innovative images were directly lifted from India as if the place of their origin would accrue additional protective power. These icons had become accessible on account of trips to Indian sacred lands by the imperial envoy Wang Xuance in the second half of the seventh century. The Maitreya image in Longmen Jing’ai Monastery could have been a copy of the Maitreya kept in the Mahabodhi Monastery in Bodhgaya or a replica of the famous Maitreya from Darel, a colossal sandalwood image that Faxian and Xuanzang described in their memoirs. The appearance of these images stresses the pious intent of honoring a “genuine” Indian image, which supposedly increased the donor’s merits. Equally popular were images of the Buddha related to King Udayana that Xuanzang introduced to China. McNair gathers numerous examples and comments on their appearance and spiritual power in the accompanying dedications. However, the group of Amitabha and the fifty-two Bodhisattvas carved at Longmen in the Jingshan Monastery Grotto, in spite of the inscription affirming their Indian origin, appears to be a Chinese invention used initially in Sichuan in the first half of the seventh century. I am not convinced that the origin of this iconography bears similarity with the late Gandharan stele from Mohammed Nari, now in the Lahore Museum. Recent scholarship interprets the latter as the visual translation of meditation practices. I am also intrigued by the inclusion in this chapter of the seated crowned Buddha fashioned for the South Leigutai Grotto of Longmen, east section, carved approximately 700–704, postdating, thus, the subject matter at hand. This imposing image, together with those found in the grottoes carved across the river, belonged perhaps to a novel and specific iconographic program supported by Empress Wu. This set of caves and their images deserve a separate investigation.

Some patrons are more important than others; their donations are therefore more relevant than others and of greater consequence. This is how I would characterize the imposing group of nine large statues presided by Vairocana Buddha in the Fengxian Monastery, a monumental grotto that the author refers to as the Great Vairocana Image Shrine, the centerpiece of Longmen and of chapter 6. On the basis of all available inscriptions and dynastic records, Emperor Gao Zong started the project around 660; in 665 this enormous undertaking came to a standstill on account of the emperor’s poor health. His consort who would later become Empress Wu took up the project again in 672, and had it completed in 676 using her own personal money, a stunning sum in the tradition of sparing nothing. Hence, this chapter is titled “Rouge and Powder Money.” It is a very intricate piece of scholarship gathering all the theories related to this grand offering’s iconography, dating, purpose, and of course patronage. Since Fengxian Monastery was completed before 690 when the consort officially became empress, McNair prefers to judge her sponsorship as an act of respect and fulfillment of her husband’s original intention. In completing the project, Wu Zetian did not pursue a policy of personal aggrandizement.

Equally unfounded is the notion that Vairocana’s features are those of the empress. Vairocana is not her portrait. The reason is the same one mentioned above: in 672–76 when she sponsored the continuation of the project, Wu Zetian still acted in the shadow of her husband as supportive and helpful consort. The answer as to why Vairocana was chosen rests ultimately in Wu Zetian’s great interest in the teaching of the Avatamsaka sutra and her sponsorship of the monk Kang Fazang who preached this doctrine, and later on in her reign, of Sikshananda who produced a new translation of the sutra to which the empress contributed a preface. I do not agree with McNair’s suggestion that the Gandharan Buddha from Loriyan Tangai, in the Calcutta Museum, might have inspired the appearance of Vairocana. The stele represents the Indrasalaguha, the visit of Indra to Buddha while the latter sat meditating in a cave of Mount Vediya, Magadha. I doubt that this icon rooted in numerous Agamas sutras and so prominent in the Hinayana repertory would be chosen for the quintessential Mahayana image of Vairocana. I do believe in iconographic barriers, in the reality that monks might have placed a veto on such a choice. I also believe in a process of creating basically “new” images. McNair’s suggestion implies that, mutatis mutandis, new icons evolved from preexisting ones.

Chapter 7 can be regarded as an extension of the discussion since it introduces several outstanding grottoes in the vicinity of and contemporary with the great Vairocana, whose patrons, furthermore, belonged to the court inner circle, whether they were princes or high prelates. The donors are all related to the emperor and empress. McNair scrupulously reconstructs their tangled relationship using every available record. Chapter 7 is aptly titled “Satellite Grottoes.” The satellites, characterized by great size and opulence of décor, are the Huijian grotto named after the abbot who participated in the making of the Fengxian Vairocana, and the Wanfo Grotto, donated by the female palace official Yao Shenbiao, together with the Palace Chapel nun Zhiyun. Shandao, another high prelate who also worked with Huijian, donated the Qinmingsi, while the Paired Grottoes were dedicated by the Prince of Zhou to his father and mother, Emperor Gao Zong and Empress Wu. The list continues, but I have chosen the most important shrines.

Chapter 8, “Salvation for One,” is indeed the finale with a fascinating tale. The inquiry focuses on the images of forty-eight life-size figures of Amitabha Buddhas added to the colossal Vairocana in 730. The latter sculpture is undoubtedly the main focus of visitors to the site, while these secondary images are usually regarded as intrusive and less important. McNair clarifies this misconception. Using the stele inscription carved in the lower north wall of the Fenxiansi, she introduces us to the donors and the beneficiary of the group. The donors were 111 court eunuchs headed by Gao Lishi, who rose to great prominence as a favorite of Emperor Xuanzong, and the equally distinguished Yang Xisu. The eunuchs, all members of the Palace Domestic Service, erected the forty-eight images as embodiment of Amitabha’s forty-eight vows and a reference to his Pure Land of the West, an added dimension to the preexisting colossal Vairocana. The project’s beneficiary was Emperor Xuanzong himself. Moreover, the fact that the emperor wrote the long inscription is testimony to the close bond that existed between himself and Gao Lishi in particular. McNair focuses on this special relationship: the latter belonged to a southern family who for three generations had served the court. As the family fell in disgrace and the father was executed, the future Gao, a child, was sent to court as a tribute. He was adopted by the official Gao Yanfu who gave him his name. Under the protection of Empress Wu, Gao Lishi became a companion of Xuanzong whom he loyally served for close to fifty years. The forty-eight Amitabhas were erected with the special vow that they would spiritually benefit Xuanzong, a close friend and benefactor, besides being the ruler.

The epilogue gathers the reaction of special visitors to Longmen, a disparate gathering of personages separated by time and pursuing different interests: the Tang poets Du Fu and Bai Juyi, the Moslem poet Sadula I quoted at the beginning of this review, the Song statesman and scholar Ouyang Xiu who went to Longmen attracted by the inscriptions, and a few other Qing literati. Sadly, some who went to Longmen in the twentieth century caused great damage, but from 1949 to the present all those who became involved with the site contributed to its resurgence whether by repairing, protecting, or studying its sculpture and records. Their endeavors enabled McNair to write Donors of Longmen. My only regret in closing this excellent book is that the author did not apply her considerable skills to explore the patronage, iconography, and style of the large caves excavated on the eastern cliffs, across the river. They were most likely established during the last years of Empress Wu’s reign. The fleeting reference in chapter 5 to the South Leigutai Cave does not do justice to the importance of this late Longmen florescence.