Emperor Wu’s Lavish Entertainment For Foreign Envoys

Emperor Wu (r. 141-87 BCE), like any powerful emperor, wanted to receive deference and respect from the weaker realms that neighbored his empire. One of the main ways that he spread his influence was through the use of his military might, which he used to expand his empire in all directions throughout the course of his reign. Yet, military might was not the only way he tried to impress and awe his neighbors—he also attempted to win over foreign dignitaries by entertaining them with feasts and spectacles that showed off the extravagant wealth and resources of his empire.

Sima Qian, Grand Historian and palace secretary of Emperor Wu, recorded for posterity a list of various ways that the emperor tried to use luxury and opulence to make visitors to his realm feel awe and reverence for the Han Empire. First of all, the emperor reportedly housed foreign visitors in grand and gorgeous lodgings. The dignitaries, however, did not stay in one place, as the emperor apparently liked to send the foreign envoys on tours of China’s greatest cities. When the foreigners were given time to rest in one place, the emperor smothered them with magnificent banquets and exotic shows.

In describing Emperor Wu’s feasts, Grand Historian Sima Qian wrote, “He entertained the foreign visitors with veritable lakes of wine and forests of meat and had them shown around to the various granaries and storehouses to see how much wealth was laid away there, astounding and overwhelming them with the breadth and greatness of the Han empire” (Shi Ji 123). As for non-edible entertainment, the emperor did not spare any expense. Showmen and exotic animals were brought in from all over the empire to impress the foreign visitors. Sima Qian wrote:

 “He would hold great wrestling matches and displays of unusual skills and all sorts of rare creatures, gathering together large numbers of people to watch…After the skills of the foreign magicians and tricksters had been imported into China, the wrestling matches and displays of unusual feats developed and improved with each year, and from this time on entertainment of this type became increasingly popular” (Shi Ji 123).

If all of the above was not enough to impress foreign envoys, the emperor still had a few options at his disposal. One such method was for the emperor to simply give the diplomats a parting gift of silks and money before they returned to their homelands.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Image of the Dahuting Tomb mural, c. 2nd-3rd century CE, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

The Vast Vineyards Of Emperor Wu

Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty (r.  141-87 BCE) expanded his empire in all directions. He started attacking the nomadic Xiongnu coalition to his north around 134 BCE. In the south, the Chinese-Vietnamese borderlands of Southern Yue fell to Han forces between 112-111 BCE, and the emperor followed that up by conquering the North Korean kingdom of Chaoxian between 109-108 BCE. While these conquests were occurring, Emperor Wu had been sending explorers and diplomatic missions westward as far as the region now known as Uzbekistan. A primary task of these envoys was to find and obtain horses, for the horse population in China had suffered catastrophically as a result of Emperor Wu’s campaigns against the Xiongnu. As the envoys began cultivating relationships with the different states and rulers of Central Asia, other goods from the region besides horses began to catch their interest. When the envoys returned to China, they were accompanied by representatives of the foreign Central Asian rulers, and samples of goods from the west were brought before the emperor. Curiously, Emperor Wu was quite impressed by two crops in particular—grapes and alfalfa.

From 104 BCE to 101/100 BCE, Emperor Wu sent his military to campaign against the cities in Central Asia, leading to the conquest or subjugation of states up to the Ferghana Valley. As a result, the emperor gained access to new herds of horses. He was particularly intrigued with a type of horse afflicted with a parasite that made the animal appear to sweat blood. While Han forces rounded up Central Asian land and horses, the emperor had another project in the works on his estates in China—systematically planting crops from the west around his palaces. According to Grand Historian Sima Qian, “when the Han acquired large numbers of the ‘heavenly horses’ and the envoys from foreign states began to arrive with their retinues, the lands on all sides of the emperor’s summer palaces and pleasure towers were planted with grapes and alfalfa for as far as the eye could see” (Shi Ji 123). Emperor Wu apparently used his vineyards for wine experimentation, while the grassy fields were used to supply fodder for his stables. The aforementioned Sima Qian mused, “The people love their wine and the horses love their alfalfa” (Shi Ji 123).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Chinese landscape labeled Walters 35101K, purchased by Henry Walters in 1915, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

 

The Folkloric Origin Tale Of Kunmo Liejiaomi

The Wusun were one of several nomadic or semi-nomadic peoples in Asia who were literally pushed around by a powerful nomadic confederation known as the Xiongnu. Shanyu Maodun, leader of the Xiongnu from approximately 209 and 174 BCE, was said to have indirectly caused chaos for the Wusun people by driving a group known as the Yuezhi into Wusun territory near the end of his reign. The then khan, or kunmo, of the Wusun was reportedly named Nandoumi, and he fought back against the Yuezhi incursion into his land. Nandoumi, however, died in battle and the Wusun people had to flee to the Xiongnu for protection. During the retreat, possibly due to politics after the kunmo’s death, Nandoumi’s young son, Liejiaomi, was reportedly left behind to face the wild alone.

Yet—as folkloric origin stories of kingly or heroic figures often go—mother nature and her animals took pity of young Liejiaomi and cared for the abandoned boy during this vulnerable time. Grand Historian Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), citing an explorer who interacted with the Wusun, wrote that Liejiaomi, “then only a baby, was cast out in the wilderness to die. But the birds came and flew over the place where he was, bearing meat in their beaks, and the wolves suckled him, so that he was able to survive” (Shi Ji 123). Living on bird regurgitation and wolf milk, Liejiaomi stayed alive long enough to be rediscovered by the Xiongnu, who were impressed by his survival skills. By this time Shanyu Jizhu was reportedly in power, a position he would have over the Xiongnu from around 174 to 159/158 BCE. As the stories go, Jizhu gave shelter to Liejiaomi and took interest in raising the boy, encouraging his education in the ways of leadership and war.

When Liejiaomi grew to adulthood, he was given a military command and eventually was supported by the shanyu in becoming the next kunmo of the Wusun. In conjunction with the Xiongnu, Kunmo Liejiaomi was able to have his revenge against the Yuezhi, pushing them westward toward the region of modern Uzbekistan, allowing for the Wusun to claim the vacated land left by the Yuezhi. Despite this partnership, Kunmo Liejaomi and the Wusun would eventually be recruited by the expansionist Emperor Wu of Han China (r. 141-87 BCE) to combat the Xiongnu.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Painting from the Xiongnu exhibit in Henan Provincial Museum, Zhengzhou, photographed by Gary Todd for worldhistorypics.com, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.
• http://www.chinaknowledge.de/History/Altera/wusun.html  

The Layered Sacrifices In Emperor Wu’s Alter Of The Great Unity

Emperor Wu of China (r. 141-87 BCE) constructed an elaborate altar to the “Great Unity” during his reign. It was a three-level structure where, besides the Great Unity, the entities of the sun, moon and the Five Heavenly Emperors were also worshipped. Each of these deities had a uniquely-outfitted priestly order at the altar, dressed in robes that corresponded to their religious focus. It must have been a vibrant and colorful scene—the sun priests wore red and moon priests dressed in white, while the devotees of the Five Heavenly Emperors (known as the Green, Red, White, Black, and Yellow Emperors) wore the color of their respective heavenly deity. Each priesthood of the various Heavenly Emperors operated from different shrines that encircled the base of the overall structure.

One of the duties of the various priests at the altar of the Great Unity was to conduct offerings and sacrifices to their respective celestial beings. The Great Unity was offered several bloodless sacrifices, including the typical culinary dishes of the time, thick wine and jujubes. The Five Heavenly Emperors were similarly given offerings of rich wine, poured from special ceremonial vessels. Yet, not all of the offerings were inanimate. Red-robed priests sacrificed a yak or ox to the sun, while white-robed priests sacrificed a ram or pig to the moon. A deer was also sacrificed, although to what or whom this creature was offered is vague compared to the other victims.

The slaughtering of the sacrificial victims was only half of the ceremony. After the blood was spilled, the priests had an interesting way of disposing of the animal carcasses. According to Emperor Wu’s Grand Historian and palace secretary, Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), the smaller sacrificial remains were stuffed into the larger carcasses, and they were all ceremoniously burned together. More specifically, the sacrificed pig or ram was placed inside the remains of the deer, and then the stuffed deer was subsequently crammed into the remains of the ox or yak. When this procedure was complete, the layered sacrifices were given a ritual cremation. To add more ceremony to the process, the priests would sprinkle drops of water, or other such liquids, onto the crackling fire as it burned.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Temple and landscape scene painted by Li Cheng (c. 919 - 967), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

The Revenge of Li Guang Against A By-The-Book Watchman

In 129 BCE, general Li Guang of Han Dynasty China was captured by his foes during a campaign against Xiongnu nomads. Although he subsequently made a remarkable escape and returned to China, the consequences of his defeat and capture at the hands of the emperor’s enemies caused Li Guang to be arrested and imprisoned by his own government. He could have possibly been executed for his military failures, but the general was able to pay his own ransom. The ransom was more than just a monetary cost—in addition to money, Li Guang also had to relinquish his military command and all of his government titles.

Although he had been deprived of his command and was downgraded to the status of a commoner, Li Guang was still famous and apparently was followed by a band of loyalists even after he was released from prison. From what we know of Li Guang, it is easy to see why the man would draw followers—he was a legend in his own day, known for his great fighting prowess. His weapon of choice was a bow, with which he was said to be able to achieve consistent miraculous shots. As such, some of his favorite pastimes were hunting and various archery games, some involving alcohol. Li Guang was reportedly a clumsy speaker, but his lack of verbal charisma was made up for by his charitable nature and the aura of companionship that he cultivated with the men he led into battle. Many of these loyal friends and companions joined their former general as he lived in retirement at Lantian, in the Southern Mountains.

During his several-year retirement, Li Guang’s lifestyle did not change much. He continued to lead a band of followers out into the countryside, yet, instead of tracking enemies of China, the general now brought his troops on hunting trips. When he was not hunting, the former general could be found drinking with his friends at various scenic locations, such as meadows or fields. In such merriment, Li Guang and his friends were known to sometimes socialize until after sundown.

The former general’s drinking parties, however, would soon bring him into conflict with a by-the-book watchman who was stationed at Baling. As the story goes, the watchman spotted two men on horses trotting up the road after dark. The travelers happened to be Li Guang and one of his friends. The two had just departed one of the aforementioned social gatherings hosted by the former general.  Yet, the two men’s pleasant evening stroll would soon be interrupted, for the region was under a curfew, and the watchman intended to enforce the law.

Out came the watchman from his station, shouting commands for the two travelers to stop. When Li Guang and his comrade complied with the order, the watchman announced that the men were violating curfew, and they would be detained at the watch station until morning.  Upon hearing this, the companion of Li Guang tried to use his friend’s celebrity to their advantage, proclaiming, “This is the former General Li” (Sima Qian, Shi Ji 109). Yet, the unwavering watchman replied that not even generals currently on active duty could wander around after curfew, and proceeded to herd the two men into the station. Although Li Guang and his companion were able to continue on their journey the next morning, the incident apparently annoyed and humiliated the former general.

Unfortunately for the watchman, Li Guang was called back to active duty by Emperor Wu in 127 BCE. At the time of his reappointment, the general evidently still held a grudge against the poor official of Baling. As soon as he regained power, one of Li Guang’s first moves was to have the watchman transferred to be under his command. When the dutiful man arrived at the army’s camp, he was promptly put under arrest for some reason or other. Sadly, he was not released the next morning. Instead, Li Guang had the watchman mercilessly executed. After the execution was carried out, Li Guang sent a letter to Emperor Wu, apologizing for the self-serving act of vengeance. Interestingly, Emperor Wu reportedly forgave Li Guang and replied that he did not mind if his generals gained a merciless, fear-inspiring reputation.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Depiction of Qingming in peace, c. Ming dynasty (1368–1644), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

The Costly Human Toll Of Emperor Wu’s Unannounced Imperial Tour Of 114 BCE

When Emperor Wu (r. 141-87 BCE) of the Han Dynasty went on the first official tour of his empire in 114 BCE, it caused quite a stir in the realm. The tour was apparently not widely publicized and, perhaps for the sake of security, few of the provincial governors knew where or when the emperor would appear. Unfortunately, several of the unprepared governors would lose their lives because of the emperor’s surprise visits.

The governor of Hedong Province was reported to have been the first provincial official who was blindsided by the emperor’s unexpected arrival. Due to the secrecy of the tour, no preparations had been made whatsoever. There was no public fanfare, no feast or entertainment for the imperial entourage, and no proper quarters were set up for the emperor’s large party. In shame, the governor of Hedong committed suicide.

Although word was now leaking out about the imperial tour, Emperor Wu could march his army of attendants with surprising speed. As such, the emperor was able to catch another governor off guard—this time the governor of Longxi province. This latest victim of the emperor’s surprise tour and speedy march had apparently heard that the imperial procession would be eventually heading his way, and therefore the governor of Longxi began hoarding supplies for their arrival. Yet, due to Emperor Wu’s fast pace, the governor did not have enough time to gather the required food to feed the veritable army of imperial attendants that were following in the emperor’s wake. As with the previous official, the governor of Longxi was now irrecoverably scandalized by his lack of preparation. Following the same pattern as his peer from Hedong, the provincial leader of Longxi also committed suicide. 

While the emperor was in Longxi, the other provincial governors along the tour route were apparently able to fill their larders in preparation for the emperor’s visit. Yet, Emperor Wu was a sharp critic with a keen eye, and, unfortunately for another official, the emperor’s gaze found a troublesome flaw in the jurisdiction of the governor of Beidi. While the emperor was out hunting (accompanied by 20,000-30,000 horsemen, it was said), he noticed that large swaths of land were unguarded and unpatrolled, posing a security risk to the empire. Consequentially, Emperor Wu had the governor of Beidi, the governor’s lieutenants, and all of their favorite advisers executed because of the province’s poor defenses. After the deaths of the governors of Hedong, Longxi and Beidi, the other provincial leaders finally got their acts together, obtaining enough food and organizing enough patrols to satisfy the emperor and save their lives.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Sources:

• Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Wudi-emperor-of-Han-dynasty 
• http://www.chinaknowledge.de/History/Han/personshanwudi.html
   

The Humorous Origin Myth Of The Chinese 25-String Zither

In Shi Ji 28 of the Records of the Grand Historian, Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE) recorded all sorts of information about ancient Chinese mythology and religious ceremony, as well as tales about magicians and other tidbits about occult topics. Filed away among the pages of Shi Ji 28, between accounts of charismatic mystics and elaborate sacrifices, Sima Qian included a short, but entertaining, tale about the origin of a musical instrument that was reportedly popular in ancient China—the 25-string zither.

According to Sima Qian, the zither (a soundboard with numerous strings covering the length of the instrument) was present in China back before the advent of recorded history. Interestingly, the first iterations of the Chinese zither were (according to the tale) very large instruments with many strings. Yet, one specific mythical emperor would bring about a new design. The circumstances and motivations behind this innovation, however, may not be what one would expect.

The Great Emperor Fu Xi, also known as The Great Bright One, was a curious mythical entity to whom the ancient Chinese attributed the development of many innovations that led to the rise of the Chinese civilization. From animal domestication, to metalworking and even the institution of marriage and religious practices, Fu Xi was said to have taught the ancients vital skills and social structures that served as the foundation of civilized life. Fu Xi was also a patron of musicians and had among his followers a talented woman called the White Maiden, who was a virtuoso with the zither. The model of zither that she played was a large instrument with fifty strings.

During a sacrificial ceremony, or some other social gathering, Fu Xi had the White Maiden play music for the occasion.  His instructions were not specific, so the White Maiden delved into a song of her own choice. For unexplained reasons, the mythical musician decided upon a sad tune and, when her mind was made up, the White Maiden poured all of her talent into playing a song that was sure to wet the eyes of all her listeners.

Unfortunately, something went wrong. Perhaps, the White Maiden’s song did not fit the occasion, or maybe the Great Emperor Fu Xi was overwhelmed by the emotional power of the music emanating from White Maiden and her exquisite zither. For whatever reason, Fu Xi begged her to stop playing the sad song. Yet, the White Maiden (as often happens to musicians) was thoroughly entranced in her musical performance and, in spite of Fu Xi’s pleas, she was determined to bring the gloomy piece to its conclusion.

Fu Xi, however, was equally determined to end the song. According to the tale, he seized the zither from the White Maiden and, with remarkable precision, snapped the instrument lengthwise. As expected of a mythical entity of great power, it was a perfect break, splitting the wood right down the center of the soundboard. Unfortunately, Sima Qian did not record how the White Maiden responded to such a philistine move.

If the White Maiden mourned for her prized fifty-string zither, we will never know. Yet, she found some consolation in that the instrument was broken with a clean cut in the center of the soundboard, parallel to the strings. In effect, the larger zither had been snapped into two new instruments. Her song may have been rudely interrupted, but now the White Maiden had two revolutionary 25-string zithers, which apparently became the latest musical new trend.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Chinese watercolor, c. 1800s, of a woman playing a zheng (Chinese zither), and a portrait of Fu Xi from an ancient manuscript housed in Paris, on a landscape painted by Shūgetsu (1440? - 1529), all [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.
• https://www.britannica.com/topic/Fu-Xi 
• https://www.britannica.com/art/zither 
• http://www.chinaknowledge.de/History/Myth/personsfuxi.html 
• http://www.johnmccrady.com/level3-zitherhist.html  

The Dramatic Love Life Of Lady Nao

Many ancient Chinese consorts and concubines in the courts of emperors and kings undoubtedly led dramatic lives, but few women shared the bizarre experiences of Lady Nao. While most concubines spent a lifetime jostling with rival women in the harem of a single ruler, Lady Nao became a favored concubine of at least three different kings. What made Lady Nao’s life even more dramatic, however, was that the three kings she served were all closely related.

Little is known of Lady Nao’s origin, but she eventually became a concubine of King Liu Fei, a son of Emperor Jing, who was appointed first as the ruler of Runan, then Jiangdu, from around 155 to 129 BCE. Liu Fei was an accomplished general and when he was not flexing his muscles on the battlefield, he could be found planning the construction of new palaces and towers in his kingdom. During his reign, Lady Nao steadily worked her way up the ranks of the palace women, eventually becoming Liu Fei’s favorite concubine sometime before the king’s death around 129 BCE.

Evidently, Lady Nao was not only favored by the late King Liu Fei, but also by his heir, Liu Qian. Said to have been a man of wicked character, Liu Qian reportedly began his reign by dragging Lady Nao into scandal. The historian Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE) wrote, “He [Liu Qian] had also developed a great liking for his father’s favorite concubine, Lady Nao; after his father died, but before the funeral had even taken place, he sent someone at night to fetch Lady Nao and had relations with her in the mourning quarters where he was staying” (Shi Ji, 59). King Liu Qian kept Lady Nao as a concubine, and once again she became one of the king’s favorite palace women. Yet, Liu Qian’s reign quickly descended into madness and he was accused of all sorts of misdeeds. From nefarious magic, to incest and treasonous plotting, there were few crimes that were not pinned on Liu Qian. The scandalous king eventually committed suicide around 122 BCE, when agents of Emperor Wu arrived in his kingdom to investigate the charges.

Sometime after the suicide of Liu Qian, Lady Nao was invited to the court of a third king, Liu Pengzu of Zhao. Awkwardly, he was the half-brother of Liu Fei and an uncle of Liu Qian. Nevertheless, the long-lived King Liu Pengzu reportedly treated Lady Nao with great affection and gave her some much-needed stability. Liu Pengzu continued to rule until around 100 BCE or later, and no further information was recorded about Lady Nao while she remained in his kingdom.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Woman from a depiction of Qingming in peace, c. Ming dynasty (1368–1644), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

Ancient Chinese Han Officials Loved Bath And Hair Washing Day

The Han Dynasty of ancient China was founded by a man named Liu Bang, an anti-Qin rebel who became king of Han in 206 BCE and, after having defeated his rival, Xiang Yu, ascended to the rank of Supreme Emperor in 202 BCE. Officials in the government of this new Han Dynasty were usually given housing in buildings near the palace, so that they could be in close proximity to the emperor. The families of the officials were apparently not allowed to live in the state-provided dormitories and the duties of the officials would often keep them at the palace for days at a time.

Every fifth day, however, was a special occasion called “bath and hair washing day”—it was a time to…well…bathe, but for the palace officials, it was also basically a code phrase for rest and recovery. On bath and hair washing day, officials could leave the palace and return to their family homes to spend time on their private property with their family. Nevertheless, it was only a day, so the officials would need to eventually rush back to the palace and eagerly await the next bath and hair washing day.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (River painting by Tang Yin  (1470–1524), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

The Fake New Year Jade Of Emperor Wen

Around 164 BCE, Emperor Wen of the Han Dynasty reached his seventeenth year of rule, according to the ancient Chinese calendar. That year, a man named Xinyuan Ping began to send reports to the emperor of great wondrous cloud formations and the appearance of mystical signs. He also recommended that searches should be mounted for the lost sacred cauldrons of the fallen Zhou Dynasty and he also suspected that a magnificent jade artifact would soon be discovered.

As Xinyuan Ping predicted, a beautiful jade cup was found with an inscription that read, “Long Life to the Lord of Men.” Emperor Wen was so excited about the jade object that he ordered feasts and parties to be held throughout his empire. The emperor believed the discovery was such a momentous event in his life that he decided to reset the years of his reign—it was no longer the seventeenth year of his rule; now it was the first year of the second part of his reign.

Emperor Wen’s exuberation, however, did not last for long. Before the end of 164 BCE, the jade cup and the other signs reported by Xinyuan Ping were all proven to be fraudulent. As a response to the embarrassment, Emperor Wen had Xinyuan Ping and three sets of his relatives executed, even though the emperor strongly wanted to outlaw multi-generational punishment. The reset in the numbering of Emperor Wen’s reign, however, interestingly remained intact.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Chinese jade (nephrite) bowl, 19th century, Dayton Art Institute, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Wendi-emperor-of-Han-dynasty 
• http://www.chinaknowledge.de/History/Han/personshanwendi.html  

The Odd Ceremony Used By Emperor Gaozu To Bind His Ministers To A Pledge

According to Han Dynasty tradition, the first emperor of that dynasty, Emperor Gaozu (r. 202-195 BCE), wanted the majority of the kingdoms in China to remain firmly in the hands of the Liu imperial family. Therefore, by the end of Gaozu’s reign, the emperor’s sons, brothers and nephews ruled most of the empire’s kingdoms. The emperor was apparently so concerned about the rise of a rival family that he called his most important officials together in a meeting and had them swear to depose any new kings who were not from the Liu family.

The ministers and generals who were called forth to make this pledge were allegedly faced by an odd ceremony. According to the account of Grand Historian Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), the emperor brought a white horse to his meeting with these courtiers. In front of the crowd, the emperor supposedly sacrificed the white horse and smeared some of the animal’s blood on the lips of his ministers. Then, with their lips reddened, the important officials made their pledge to depose any new king that was not from the Liu family.

In 180 BCE, the Liu nobles and other loyal vassals did, indeed, rise against a rival family. Their rival was the Lü family, the clan to which Emperor Gaozu’s wife belonged. From the time of Gaozu’s death in 195, to the time of her own death in 180 BCE, Empress Lü had feverishly worked in hopes of making her Lü clan equal or greater than her husband’s Liu family—she placed numerous members of the Lü family in positions as generals, marquises and kings. Yet, when the empress dowager died in 180 BCE, the Liu nobility and their followers quickly raised their forces, seized the capital city, and launched a systematic extermination of the whole Lü clan. In the end, it is possible that the story about the white horse could have simply been propaganda produced by the Liu family to justify their massacre of the encroaching Lü.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Marengo, painted by James Ward (1769–1859), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

A King Of Ancient Zhao Was Apparently Killed Because Of His Sister’s Rude Behavior

In ancient Chinese history, people often died in unusual ways and because of odd circumstances, but the fate of King Wu Chen had a peculiarity that made it stand out from other downfalls during his age. According to Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), author of the Records of the Grand Historian, King Wu Chen lost his life because his sister behaved impolitely on a road.

Wu Chen lived in one of the most chaotic times of ancient Chinese history. In 209 BCE, a commoner named Chen She began a rebellion against the Qin Dynasty. After years of suffering under the Qin regime’s strict oppression, the Chinese people were immediately drawn to Chen She’s movement. Revolts popped up in numerous Chinese regions and Chen She was able to position himself as a hegemon, or arch-rebel, acting as the leader of the resistance against the Qin Dynasty. Wu Chen, the man mentioned at the start of the article, was one of Chen She’s early followers.

After earning the arch-rebel’s admiration and trust, Wu Chen received from Chen She an army of 3,000 men, plus some advisors, and was ordered to seize control of the Zhao region. The advisors served Wu Chen well, and they convinced him to try a policy of leniency to win over Zhao. By letting Qin officials keep their titles and status, Wu Chen was reportedly able to take over thirty cities by talking them into joining the rebel cause.

Wu Chen had several skilled and ambitious advisors with him, most notably Zhang Er and Chen Yu, who would both become kings at some point in the rebellion. As the advisors liked Wu Chen more than Chen She, they argued that Wu Chen should not give away land in Zhao to another man, but rather that he should keep it all for himself. After some thought, Wu Chen agreed with his advisors and proclaimed himself to be the king of Zhao. Chen She grudgingly recognized Wu Chen’s title, but still expected the upstart king to follow the orders of the rebellion’s high command.

The king of Zhao once again consulted with his advisors on what to do. They advised Wu Chen to ignore Chen She’s demands and to focus on expanding his kingdom, thereby helping himself while also aiding the rebellion. Agreeing with his advisors, Wu Chen sent out generals to seize control of the regions of Yan, Shangdang and Changshan.

The man in charge of taking Changshan was Li Liang, perhaps one of the Zhao king’s most competent generals. While the expedition to Yan embarrassingly ended in mutiny and Wu Chen being momentarily captured, Li Liang contrastingly subjugated the region of Changshan without much fuss or issue. Pleased with the general’s results, the freed Wu Chen sent Li Liang to capture another swath of territory, this time asking him to take Taiyuan. When Li Liang arrived at his location, he realized that Qin reinforcements had already secured the area, so he headed back to Zhao to get more troops. Despite there not being any major battles, the Qin forces somehow recognized Li Liang, possibly because of military service prior to the rebellion. Whatever the case, Li Liang soon received a letter from a Qin official, claiming that if the general switched sides in the war, he would be pardoned for his part in the rebellion and would receive a good position in the Qin regime.

According to Sima Qian, Li Liang was not swayed by what he read. He continued back toward Handan, the capital of Zhao, intending to strengthen his army for the Taiyuan campaign. Even so, the letter showed Li Liang that he had another option, even if the realization was only made subconsciously.

As Li Liang neared the city of Handan, he noticed a carriage, accompanied by 100 horsemen, that was heading up the road. As the carriage was flying the royal colors of Zhao, Li Liang thought that King Wu Chen was approaching. To show deference and respect, Li Liang and his officers dismounted from their horses and bowed by the side of the road as the carriage rolled past.

Little did Li Liang know that the king was not in the carriage. Actually, it was the king’s sister, who, according to Sima Qian, was still drunk from a drinking party that she had recently attended. Not recognizing the soldiers, or noticing the high status of the their commanding general, the king’s sister only sent one of her horsemen to acknowledge Li Liang with a generic statement of royal thanks. Li Liang took this gesture to be a personal insult and even worse, he believed he had been humiliated and disgraced in front of his army and officers.

The carriage incident prompted Li Liang to rebel against the kingdom of Zhao. Both the general’s staff and common soldiers apparently sympathized with their leader, so Li Liang’s army followed him into rebellion. Li Liang sent assassins after Wu Chen’s sister and then marched the rogue army against Handan, laying siege to the city while the king was still inside. He successfully captured Handan and executed King Wu Chen. After taking the capital, Li Liang attempted to confront another Zhao army, commanded by Chen Yu, but this time he was defeated. After his defeat, Li Liang fled and joined the Qin army.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (A section from the Silk Princess painting from Dandan-oilik (Place of Houses with Ivory), a Buddhist sanctuary in Khotan; from Xinjiang, China, 7th-8th century AD. [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.