Kaotsou And The Dynasty Of The Hans
After the death of the great Hoangti, two of his generals fought for the
throne of China,--Lieou Pang, who represents, in the Chinese annals,
intellect, and Pa Wang, representing brute force, uninspired by thought.
Destiny, if we can credit the following tale, had chosen the former for
the throne. "A noted physiognomist once met him on the high-road, and,
throwing himself down before him, said, 'I see by the expression of your
features that you are destined to be emperor, and I offer you in
anticipation the tribute of respect that a subject owes his sovereign. I
have a daughter, the fairest and wisest in the empire; take her as your
wife. So confident am I that my prediction will be realized that I
gladly offer her to you.'"
However that be, the weak descendants of Hoangti soon vanished from the
scene, Pa Wang was overcome in battle, and the successful general seized
the imperial throne. He chose, as emperor, the title of Kaotsou, and
named his dynasty, from his native province, the Han. It was destined to
continue for centuries in power.
The new emperor showed himself a worthy successor of the builder of the
Great Wall, while he made every effort to restore to the nation its
books, encouraging men of letters and seeking to recover such
literature as had survived the great burning. In this way he provided
for his future fame at the hands of the grateful literati of China.
Amnesty to all who had opposed him was proclaimed, and regret expressed
at the sufferings of the people "from the evils which follow in the
train of war."
The merit of Kaotsou lay largely in the great public works with which he
emulated the policy of his energetic predecessor. The "Lofty and August
Emperor" (Kao Hoangti), as he entitled himself, did not propose to be
thrown into the shade by any who had gone before. On taking the throne
he chose as his capital the city of Loyang (now Honan), but subsequently
selected the city of Singanfoo, in the western province of Shensi. This
city lay in a nest of mountains, which made it very difficult of
approach. It was not without advantages from its situation as the
capital of the empire, but could not be reached from the south without
long detours. Possibly this difficulty may have had something to do with
its choice by the emperor, that he might display his genius in
overcoming obstacles.
To construct roads across and to cut avenues through the mountains an
army of workmen, one hundred thousand in number, became necessary. The
deep intervening valleys were filled up to the necessary level by the
spoils rent from the lofty adjoining mountains, and where this could not
be done, great bridges, supported on strong and high pillars, were
thrown across from side to side. Elsewhere suspension bridges--"flying
bridges," as the Chinese call them--were thrown across deep and rugged
ravines, wide enough for four horsemen to travel abreast, their sides
being protected by high balustrades. One of these, one hundred and fifty
yards long, and thrown over a valley more than five hundred feet deep,
is said to be still in perfect condition. These suspension bridges were
built nearly two thousand years before a work of this character was
attempted in Europe. In truth, the period in question, including several
centuries before Christ, was the culminating age of Chinese
civilization, in which appeared its great religious reformers,
philosophers, and authors, its most daring engineers, and its monarchs
of highest public spirit and broadest powers of conception and
execution. It was the age of the Great Wall, the imperial system of
highways, the system of canals (though the Great Canal was of later
date), and other important works of public utility.
By the strenuous labors described Kaotsou rendered his new capital easy
of access from all quarters of the kingdom, while at frequent intervals
along the great high-roads of the empire there were built post-houses,
caravansaries, and other conveniences, so as to make travelling rather a
pleasure than the severe task it formerly had been.
The capital itself was made as attractive as the means of reaching it
were made easy. Siaho, at once an able war minister and a great builder,
planned for the emperor a palace so magnificent that Kaotsou hesitated
in ordering its erection. Siaho removed his doubts with the following
argument: "You should look upon all the empire as your family; and if
the grandeur of your palace does not correspond with that of your
family, what idea will it give of its power and greatness?"
This argument sufficed: the palace was built, and Kaotsou celebrated its
completion with festivities continued for several weeks. On one occasion
during this period, uplifted with a full sense of the dignity to which
he had attained, his pride found vent in the grandiloquent remark,
"To-day I feel that I am indeed emperor, and perceive all the difference
between a subject and his master."
His fondness for splendor was indicated by magnificent banquets and
receptions, and his sense of dignity by a court ceremonial which must
have proved a wearisome ordeal for his courtiers, though none dared
infringe it for fear of dire consequences. Those who had aided him in
his accession to power were abundantly rewarded, with one exception,
that of his father, who seems to have been overlooked in the
distribution of favors. The old man, not relishing thus being left at
the foot of the ladder, took prompt occasion to remind his son of his
claims. Dressing himself in his costliest garments, he presented himself
at the foot of the throne, where, in a speech of deep humility, he
designated himself as the least yet the most obedient subject of the
realm. Kaotsou, thus admonished, at once called a council of ministers
and had the old man proclaimed "the lesser emperor." Taking him by the
hand, he led him to a chair at the foot of the throne as his future
seat. This act of the emperor won him the highest commendation from his
subjects, the Chinese looking upon respect to and veneration of parents
as the duty surpassing all others and the highest evidence of virtue.
Siaho, the palace-builder and war minister, had been specially favored
in this giving of rewards, much to the discontent of the leading
generals, who claimed all the credit for the successes in war, and were
disposed to look with contempt on this mere cabinet warrior. Hearing of
their complaints, Kaotsou summoned them to his presence, and thus
plainly expressed his opinion of their claims:
"You find, I am told, reason to complain that I have rewarded Siaho
above yourselves. Tell me, who are they at the chase who pursue and
capture the prey? The dogs.--But who direct and urge on the dogs? Are
they not the hunters?--You have all worked hard for me; you have pursued
your prey with vigor, and at last captured and overthrown it. In this
you deserve the credit which one gives to the dogs in the chase. But the
merit of Siaho is that of the hunter. It is he who has conducted the
whole of the war, who regulated everything, ordered you to attack the
enemy at the opportune moment, and by his tactics made you master of the
cities and provinces you have conquered. On this account he deserves the
credit of the hunter, who is more worthy of reward than are the dogs
whom he sets loose upon the prey."
One further anecdote is told of this emperor, which is worth repeating,
as its point was aptly illustrated in a subsequent event. Though he had
won the empire by the sword, he was not looked upon as a great general,
and on one occasion asked Hansin, his ablest officer, how many men he
thought he (the emperor) could lead with credit in the field.
"Sire," said the plain-spoken general, "you can lead an army of a
hundred thousand men very well. But that is all."
"And how many can you lead?"
"The more I have the better I shall lead them," was the self-confident
answer.
The event in which the justice of this criticism was indicated arose
during a subsequent war with the Tartars, who had resumed their inroads
into the empire. The Heung-nou were at this period governed by two
leading chiefs, Mehe and Tonghou, the latter arrogant and ambitious, the
former well able to bide his time. The story goes that Tonghou sent to
Mehe a demand for a favorite horse. His kinsmen advised him to refuse,
but Mehe sent the horse, saying, "Would you quarrel with your neighbor
for a horse?" Tonghou soon after sent to demand of Mehe one of his
wives. Mehe again complied, saying to his friends, "Would you have me
undertake a war for the sake of a woman?" Tonghou, encouraged by these
results of his insolence, next invaded Mehe's dominions. The patient
chief, now fully prepared, took the field, and in a brief time had
dispersed Tonghou's army, captured and executed him, and made himself
the principal chief of the clans.
This able leader, having punished his insolent desert foe, soon led his
warlike followers into China, took possession of many fertile
districts, extended his authority to the banks of the Hoang-ho, and sent
plundering expeditions into the rich provinces beyond. In the war that
followed the emperor himself took command of his troops, and, too
readily believing the stories of the weakness of the Tartar army told by
his scouts, resolved on an immediate attack. One of his generals warned
him that "in war we should never despise an enemy," but the emperor
refused to listen, and marched confidently on, at the head of his
advance guard, to find the enemy.
He found him to his sorrow. Mehe had skilfully concealed his real
strength for the purpose of drawing the emperor into a trap, and now, by
a well-directed movement, cut off the rash leader from his main army and
forced him to take refuge in the city of Pingching. Here, vastly
outnumbered and short of provisions, the emperor found himself in a
desperate strait, from which he could not escape by force of arms.
In this dilemma one of his officers suggested a possible method of
release. This was that, as a last chance, the most beautiful virgin in
the city should be sent as a peace-offering to the desert chief. Kaotsou
accepted the plan,--nothing else presenting itself,--and the maiden was
chosen and sent. She went willingly, it is said, and used her utmost
arts to captivate the Tartar chief. She succeeded, and Mehe, after
forcing Kaotsou to sign an ignominious treaty, suffered his prize to
escape, and retired to the desert, well satisfied with the rich spoils
he had won. Kaotsou was just enough to reward the general to whose
warning he had refused to listen, but the scouts who had misled him paid
dearly for their false reports.
This event seems to have inspired Kaotsou with an unconquerable fear of
his desert foe, who was soon back again, pillaging the borders with
impunity and making such daring inroads that the capital itself was not
safe from their assaults. Instead of trusting to his army, the emperor
now bought off his enemy in a more discreditable method than before,
concluding a treaty in which he acknowledged Mehe as an independent
ruler and gave him his daughter in marriage.
This weakness led to revolts in the empire, Kaotsou being forced again
to take the field against his foes. But, worn out with anxiety and
misfortune, his end soon approached, his death-bed being disturbed by
palace intrigues concerning the succession, in which one of his favorite
wives sought to have her son selected as the heir. Kaotsou, not heeding
her petition, chose his eldest son as the heir-apparent, and soon after
died. The tragic results of these intrigues for the crown will be seen
in the following tale.