Review of Book

CHINA’S EARLY MOSQUES. By NANCY SHATZMAN STEINHARDT. pp. xxiv, 331.

Edinburgh, University Press, 2015. (Edinburgh Studies in Islamic Art.)

Professor Steinhardt has produced a work which will undoubtedly be a standard

source of information, not only about mosques in China, but also about other Islamic
buildings and Islam in general. She has travelled extensively around China to visit the
buildings which she writes about here, and has produced a very thorough account
which, moreover, is heavily illustrated, mainly with colour photographs. The title is
really somewhat misleading, for Professor Steinhardt covers almost the entire sweep
of Islamic history in China, ending with a discussion of “the Chinese Mosque in the
Twenty-first Century”. This is truly a major achievement of scholarship.

Unfortunately, this is not to say that the book is without failings. Professor Steinhardt
sometimes accepts versions of history which are, at best, questionable, occasionally
just plain wrong. For example, it is absolutely wrong to claim that Mongol forces
“were halted … by the Teutonic Knights at Liegnitz in easternmost Germany” (p. 95).
First of all, Liegnitz is now Legnica, and is in Poland (where it has been since the
Potsdam Conference of 1945). At the time of the Battle of Legnica, in 1241, it was
under the rule of the Polish Duke Henry the Pious of Silesia. The participation of
Teutonic Knights in the battle may be no more than a later legend: it was certainly
Duke Henry who led the army which confronted the Mongols. He was killed,
apparently along with most of his army. The victorious Mongols stuck his head on a
spear and paraded it outside the walls of Wrocław. They were not “halted” at Legnica,
they were merely passing through Poland on their way to their principal objective,
Hungary, where they were also victorious. Their subsequent withdrawal from Europe
had more to do with internal Mongol politics than with European resistance.1

This is not a very serious issue in the context of this book, however. Much more
problematic is Professor Steinhardt’s treatment of the Yuan-period tomb at Guyuan 沽
源 in northern Hebei province (pp. 99–104). This, she suggests, is the tomb of Ananda,
a Muslim prince who unsuccessfully tried to take the Yuan throne in 1307. She
completely ignores the fact that this identification is disputed. Li Tang has identified
this same tomb as that of the Christian King George of the Öng’üts.2 Both these
1
For a fuller account of this campaign, see Stephen G. Haw, “The Deaths of Two Khaghans: a
Comparison of Events in 1242 and 1260”, in Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African
Studies LXXVI,3 (2013), pp. 361–71, at pp. 361–64.
2
Li Tang, “Rediscovering the Ongut King George: Remarks on a Newly Excavated
possibilities, as well as a third, have been discussed in an article by Huang Kejia.3
Although the tomb building seems to be in Islamic style, the burials inside it show
distinctly non-Islamic features, such as the use of substantial wooden coffins and the
presence of grave goods. It must also be stated that the claim that Ananda had a
“leisure palace” in this area (p. 103) is erroneous, as Huang has pointed out.4 It is
clearly not appropriate to discuss this question at length here, but it is important to
note that the idea that this tomb is that of Ananda is controversial and very much less
than certain.

Professor Steinhardt is commendably sceptical regarding the possibility that there

were mosques in China during the Tang period (pp. 34–35). There is, in fact,
absolutely no evidence in contemporary or near-contemporary Chinese sources to
support such a possibility. It needs to be clearly understood that inscriptions dating
from the Ming period or later are not good evidence for the alleged foundation of
mosques during the Tang period. It is also significant to note that the important early
Arabic source relating to China, the Accounts of China and India, clearly states that
there were no Chinese who were Muslims and that Arabic was not spoken in China.5
This suggests not only that Islam made no progress at all among the Chinese at this
period, but also that there were no significant permanent or semi-permanent
settlements of foreign Muslims in China then, either, for they would surely have had a
knowledge of Arabic. This makes the existence of mosques in China during the Tang
period less than plausible.

Indeed, it emerges from this book that there are no extant Islamic buildings in China
which can be securely dated to earlier than the fourteenth century (p. 38). This, I
would suggest, is because there were essentially no Muslims in China until after the
Mongol conquests. As long ago as 1927, Pelliot stated that Islam in China before the
Mongol period was predominantly a question of foreign relations.6 Indeed, before the
thirteenth century, there was no term in common use in Chinese which meant ‘Islam’

Archaeological Site”, in From the Oxus River to the Chinese Shores: Studies on East Syriac
Christianity in China and Central Asia, (eds) Li Tang and Dietmar W. Winkler (Zürich, 2013), pp.
255–266.
3
Huang Kejia 黄可佳, “Guyuan Shuzhuang lou Mengyuan guizu muzang muzhu kaolüe” 沽源
梳妝樓蒙元貴族墓葬墓主考略, Caoyuan wenwu 草原文物, 2013 no.1, pp. 72–77.
4
Huang Kejia, “Guyuan Mengyuan guizu muzang”, pp. 73–74.
5
Abū Zayd al-Sīrāfī, “Accounts of China and India”, ed. and trans. Tim Mackintosh-Smith, in
Two Arabic Travel Books, (eds) Philip F. Kennedy and Shawkat M. Toorawa (New York, 2014), pp.
62–63.
6
Paul Pelliot, “Une Ville Musulmane dans la Chine du Nord sous les Mongols”, Journal
Asiatique, CCXI (1927), pp. 261–79, at p. 279.
or ‘Muslim’.7 It must be clearly understood that all claims relating to Muslims and
Islamic buildings in China during the Song period are based on later sources, or rely
on interpretations of source material made in the absence of any unequivocal
reference to Islam, or on a single tombstone of uncertain provenance. Professor
Steinhardt states that a “reliable inscription establishes the date” of the Shengyousi
mosque in Quanzhou as AH 400 (1009/10) (pp. 38–40). This inscription, however,
dates from at least three centuries after 1010. It is known that Chinese Muslims
sometimes made claims about the date of introduction of Islam into China, and of
foundation of mosques, which were certainly false (p. 34). It is also probable that they
often had an interest in claiming that their ancestors had arrived in China at an early
date. Claims like the one made in this inscription therefore cannot be accepted as
“reliable”. In the absence of contemporary or even near-contemporary evidence, such
claims must be regarded as no better than questionable. It is a noticeable fact that,
where more than one inscription exists which reports the date of foundation of a
mosque, the later the inscription, the earlier the foundation is claimed to have
occurred. This is the case, for example, with the Phoenix Mosque in Hangzhou.8
Professor Steinhardt accepts without question the story of the foundation of the Ox
Street Mosque in Beijing during the Liao period (p. 138). However, this story first
appeared in an eighteenth-century work. It is almost certainly nothing more than
myth.

An example of the way in which contemporary evidence is interpreted (or

misinterpreted) is the case of the Guangta of the Huaisheng mosque in Guangzhou (pp.
62–67). Professor Steinhardt clearly states that “the Guangta one sees today is not the
minaret described by Yue Ke” (in about 1200) (p. 67). There is, in fact, nothing at all
in Yue Ke’s description which suggests that his Guangta was an Islamic structure: in
reality, he did not describe “a minaret”. He does not say that it was used regularly for
calling Muslims to prayer. Moreover, the fact that his Guangta was topped by a
golden image of a cockerel seems distinctly un-Islamic. Surely such an image would
have contravened Muslim principles. It is worth noting that, in Europe, weathercocks
frequently appear on the steeples of Christian churches. This was at least partly the
result of a decree of Pope Nicholas I (d. 867).9 The cock was associated with St Peter
and his denial of Christ. It is unlikely that Christians would have topped their
churches with cockerels if this had been an Islamic practice. It is perhaps also relevant

7
For a fuller discussion of this, see Stephen G. Haw, “The Semu ren 色目人 in the Yuan
Empire”, Ming Qing Yanjiu XVIII (2014), pp. 39–63, at pp. 56–58.
8
Donald Daniel Leslie, Islam in Traditional China (Canberra, 1986), p. 48.
9
Rebecca K. Wright, “The Cock and the Weathercock: the Circular Value of the Wind”,
Dandelion: postgraduate arts journal and research network, IV,2 (2013), pp. 1–12, at p. 3.
that, when Vasco da Gama and his Portuguese shipmates arrived in Calicut in India,
they were taken to what they were told was a Christian church (although it may really
have been a Hindu temple), where the “main doorway had a bronze pillar, as high as a
mast. On top of this pillar sat a bird, apparently a cock …”.10 This is perhaps the
source of the golden cock of the Guangta: not in Islamic lands, but in Hindu/Buddhist
India or Southeast Asia, or perhaps among the ‘Saint Thomas Christians’ of India.

Surprisingly, Professor Steinhardt makes no reference to the other Song-period

description of this building, by Fang Xinru.11 Fang’s description makes it clear that
the golden cock turned in the wind, and states that every year in the fifth and sixth
months people climbed to the top of the tower to call upon god (literally, “Buddha”)
to provide a favourable wind (for ships sailing to China at that time of year). Climbing
a tower to pray for a wind was not an Islamic practice, as far as I am aware. Overall,
there is nothing to connect the tower described by Yue Ke and Fang Xinru with the
later Islamic minaret, apart from the names “Guangta” and “Huaisheng” (the latter
found in Fang’s account). It is entirely possible that this tower was not originally a
minaret, but was appropriated by Muslims during the Yuan period, along with its
names. Possibly it was only the names which were taken over, the Song-period
building having disappeared. Whatever the case, it must be emphasized that there is
no good evidence that the Song-period Guangta had any connection with Islam.

It seems that I have a slight advantage over Professor Steinhardt, who found the
extant Guangta closed (p. 64). On one occasion when I was in Guangzhou and visited
the minaret, it was open, and I was able to climb to its top. There is now no trace of
any golden weathercock. I can confirm that it has two completely separate spiral
staircases. I ascended by one of them and descended by the other. It is a very simple
building, entirely unadorned, and undoubtedly Islamic.

In conclusion, I would say that care must be exercised when consulting this work.
Professor Steinhardt has, to a great extent, followed accepted wisdom with regard to
the history of Islam in China. Her finding that there are no extant Islamic buildings in
China which clearly predate the Mongol period is very important. It might perhaps
have led her to examine more critically the claims made regarding earlier
establishment of Islam in China. Pelliot’s statement of 1927 has never been properly

10
Glenn J. Ames, Em Nome de Deus: the Journal of the First Voyage of Vasco da Gama to India,
1497–1499 (Leiden, 2009), p. 75.
11
For a translation, see Leslie, Islam in Traditional China, pp. 42–43. The original text may be
found in Fang Xinru 方信孺, Nanhai bai yong 南海百咏, in Song ji zhenben congkan 宋季珍本
叢刊 (Beijing, 2000), vol. 75, p. 618.
considered by later scholars. Pelliot was not always right, but he was a very great
scholar and his opinions can never be safely ignored. The mere fact that Muslims in
China during the Mongol period were always Semu ren, essentially non-Chinese, is
alone sufficient to suggest that Islam had not become established at any earlier
period.12 Nevertheless, despite these caveats, this book is undoubtedly a major work,
a classic to be consulted throughout many future years.

s.g.haw@wadh.oxon.org

Stephen G. Haw
Independent scholar

12
Haw, “The Semu ren in the Yuan Empire’, p. 55.