Civil-Military Relations in Chinese History: From Ancient China to the Communist Takeover [1 ed.] 0415643562, 9780415643566

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Civil–Military Relations in Chinese History

Modern studies of civil–military relations recognize that the military is separate from civil society, with its own norms and values, principles of organization, and regulations. Key issues of concern include the means by which – and the extent to which – the civil power controls the military; and also the ways in which military values and approaches permeate and affect wider society. This book examines these issues in relation to China, covering the full range of Chinese history from the Zhou, Qin, and Han dynasties up to the Communist takeover in 1949. It traces how civil–military relations were different in different periods, explores how military specialization and professionalization developed, and reveals how military weakness often occurred when the civil authority with weak policies exerted power over the military. Overall, the book shows how attitudes to the military’s role in present day Communist China were forged in earlier periods. Kai Filipiak is in the Department of Chinese Studies at the University of Leipzig, Germany.

Asian states and empires Edited by Peter Lorge Vanderbilt University

The importance of Asia will continue to grow in the twenty-first century, but remarkably little is available in English on the history of the polities that constitute this critical area. Most current work on Asia is hindered by the extremely limited state of knowledge of the Asian past in general, and the history of Asian states and empires in particular. Asian States and Empires is a book series that will provide detailed accounts of the history of states and empires across Asia from earliest times until the present. It aims to explain and describe the formation, maintenance and collapse of Asian states and empires, and the means by which this was accomplished, making available the history of more than half the world’s population at a level of detail comparable to the history of Western polities. In so doing, it will demonstrate that Asian peoples and civilizations had their own histories apart from the West, and provide the basis for understanding contemporary Asia in terms of its actual histories, rather than broad generalizations informed by Western categories of knowledge. 1

The Third Chinese Revolutionary Civil War, 1945–49 An analysis of Communist strategy and leadership Christopher R. Lew

2

China’s Southern Tang Dynasty, 937–976 Johannes L. Kurz

3

War, Culture and Society in Early Modern South Asia, 1740–1849 Kaushik Roy

4

The Military Collapse of China’s Ming Dynasty, 1618–44 Kenneth M. Swope

5

China’s Second Capital Nanjing under the Ming, 1368–1644 Jun Fang

6

Rethinking the Decline of China’s Qing Dynasty Imperial activism and borderland management at the turn of the nineteenth century Daniel McMahon

7

Civil–Military Relations in Chinese History From ancient China to the Communist takeover Edited by Kai Filipiak

8

Chinese and Indian Warfare From the Classical Age to 1870 Edited by Kaushik Roy and Peter Lorge

9

The East Asian War, 1592–1598 International relations, violence, and memory Edited by James B. Lewis

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Civil–Military Relations in Chinese History

From ancient China to the Communist takeover Edited by Kai Filipiak

First published 2015 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2015 selection and editorial matter, Kai Filipiak; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Kai Filipiak to be identified as author of the editorial matter, and of the individual authors as authors of their contributions, has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Civil–military relations in Chinese history: from ancient China to the Communist takeover/edited by Kai Filipiak. pages cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Civil–military relations–China–History. 2. China–History, Military. I. Filipiak, Kai, editor. JQ1506.C58C586 2015 322′50951–dc23 2014023255 ISBN: 978-0-415-64356-6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-73834-5 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

In memory of Herbert Franke

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Contents

List of contributors Acknowledgments List of abbreviations Introduction: civil–military relations in Chinese history

xi xii xiv 1

KAI FILIPIAK

1

The rise and fall of the system of rites and music and the evolution of the Zhou army

18

HUANG PUMIN

2

Military codes of virtue: aspects of wen and wu in China’s Warring States Period

34

KAI FILIPIAK

3

The master of works (sikong) in the armies of the Qin and Han dynasties

47

SONG JIE

4

Re-thinking the civil–military divide in the southern dynasties

63

ANDREW CHITTICK

5

Changes in the title systems for generals in ancient China

73

ZHANG JINLONG

6

Origins and selection criteria of soldiers in different stages of the Tang dynasty (618–907) SUN JIMIN

104

Contents

x

7 The drum and wind palace music of the Tang and Song dynasty

123

YU FILIPIAK

8 The rise of the martial: rebalancing wen and wu in Song dynasty culture

134

PETER LORGE

9 Postcards from the edge: competing strategies for the defense of Liaodong in the late Ming

144

KENNETH M. SWOPE

10 The adaptation of Chinese military techniques to Chosŏn Korea, their validation, and the social dynamics thereof

172

FELIX SIEGMUND

11 Craftsmen and specialist troops in early modern Chinese armies

191

ULRICH THEOBALD

12 Military atrocities in warlord China

210

EDWARD MCCORD

13 The military ascendant: the ascendancy of the Chinese military during the Resistance War 1937–1945 (and afterwards)

238

DIANA LARY

Chronology Glossary Bibliography Index

252 253 277 288

Contributors

Andrew Chittick, Eckerd College, USA. Kai Filipiak, University of Leipzig, Germany. Yu Filipiak, University of Halle-Wittenberg, Germany. Huang Pumin, People’s University of China. Diana Lary, University of British Columbia, Canada. Peter Lorge, Vanderbilt University, USA. Edward McCord, The George Washington University, USA. Felix Siegmund, Ruhr-University Bochum, Germany. Song Jie, Capital Normal University, China. Sun Jimin, Hebei Normal University, China. Kenneth M. Swope, University of Southern Mississippi, USA. Ulrich Theobald, University of Tübingen, Germany. Zhang Jinlong, Shandong University, China.

Acknowledgments

This book presents the results of a conference on Civil–Military Relations in Chinese History which took place at the University of Leipzig in August 2011. The objective was to investigate civil–military relations in China from a historical perspective to improve our understanding of interactions, exchanges, influences, and interdependences between both spheres. Another objective was to bring experts on Chinese military history from China and the Western hemisphere together in order to promote the exchange of knowledge and ideas. Thanks to the generous support of the German Research Foundation (Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft, DFG), we had sufficient financial flexibility to invite participants from different parts of the world. I would also like to thank Philip Clart and Lai Zhijin, the directors of the Confucius Institute Leipzig, who unbureaucratically supported the project in many ways. I am indebted to Jörg Hüsemann and Frank Andreß for their assistance with the organization of the conference. It is due to Peter Lorge that we got the opportunity to publish the volume in his book series Asian States and Empires. Helena Hurd and her editorial staff from Routledge offered useful advice during the process of completing the book. Last but not least, I would like to thank all of the contributors to this volume who helped to present the first comprehensive survey on this subject. I have dedicated the book to Herbert Franke, an outstanding scholar in the West, who was one of the first to shift the focus to military problems and, thus, make us aware that China has a long but unexplored military history. He refused my invitation due to age and illness, but offered his best wishes for the success of our conference. Herbert Franke died on June 10, 2011.

致謝

2011年8月在德國萊比錫大學成功舉辦了以 “中国军队與社会的关系” 爲 主題的国际军事学术会议，在多方的努力下本次會議的論文集終于得以面 世。研討會的主旨在於從歷史的觀點去觀察和領會“文”與“武”之間的 影響、交流以及相互的依存。因此我們特別邀請了來自中國、美國、加拿 大以及德國的中國軍事歷史專家，以此次會議做為平臺來相互交換學術觀 點和信息，力求探討共同的學術見解與立場。 在此我首先要感謝德國科學基金會(DFG)，有了他們的大力資助才能使 本次會議成功舉辦。我還要感謝德國萊比錫孔子學院的德方院長柯若樸教 授 (Philip Clart) 和中方院長賴志金教授對本次會議的全力支持。在這裡， 我還要感謝美國范德堡大学的龍沛教授 (Peter Lorge)，非常榮幸本書能夠 被收錄在他的叢書系列《Asian States and Empires》之中，借此機會才能使 本次學術會議的研究成果向各界得以展現。 特別感謝美國喬治華盛頓大學麥科德教授 (Edward McCord)、范德堡大 学龍沛教授 (Peter Lorge)、南密西西比大學石康教授 (Kenneth M. Swope)、 埃克德學院戚安道教授 (Andrew Chittick)、加拿大英屬哥倫比亞大學戴安 娜教授 (Diana Lary)、中國人民大學黃朴民教授、河北社會科學院孫繼民教 授、首都師範大學宋傑教授、張金龍教授、德國圖賓根大學田宇利博士 (Ulrich Theobald)、哈雷– 維滕貝格大學周鈺博士 (Yu Filipiak)、波鸿鲁尔 大学司霏先生 (Felix Siegmund)為本書提供了他們的學術文章。 本書特別敬獻給德國漢學家傅海波教授 (Herbert Franke)，他作爲研究中 國軍事歷史與傳統的第一人，開啓了西方研究中國軍事的大門，從而引導 了更多後繼者對此研究領域的關注與涉足。在本次會議籌辦之時我曾經向 傅海波教授發出了邀請，但由於健康原因其本人無法前來參與會議，爲此 他特別寫信給我表示了深深的遺憾以及希望本次會議成功舉辦的祝願。在 此后不久，傅海波教授于2011年6月10 日與世長辭。

Abbreviations

DMB ECCP GQ MJBL MS QSG SKQS USDS XSKQS YSJ

Dictionary of Ming Biography Eminent Chinese of the Ch’ing Period Guoque Mingji beilue Mingshi Qingshigao Siku quanshu United States Department of State, “Decimal File, 1910–1929: Internal Affairs of China” Xuxiu siku quanshu Yang Sichang ji

Introduction Civil–military relations in Chinese history Kai Filipiak

Distinctive features of civil–military relations The analysis of civil–military relations is based upon the premise that societies are divided into two spheres: the civil domain, composed of (mainly unarmed) civilians, and the military, an armed organization that has the legitimate right to use force. The military, as a subsystem of power, is closely linked to the state and the political system, serving as an instrument to protect the state and to ensure that the orders of the ruling power are executed. Concurrently, the military presents a social subsystem and is subject to sociopolitical, socioeconomic, and sociocultural processes.1 Members of the military and their families have direct and indirect relationships with civilians and civil institutions. The military is influenced by social norms and values due to its interrelation with society. The military, in turn, has many effects on society, with total war and social militarism extreme examples of the serious consequences for social systems when the military plays a dominant role. In other respects, however, the military makes significant contributions to social life. Military bases, for example, often play an important role in shaping the economic and public infrastructure of entire regions. Although many forms of interconnections and exchanges define civil–military relations, there are clear indications of independent developments in both spheres. The military maintains a distance from civilians due to its specific organization and functions. As a result, military norms and values, principles of organization, and regulations are different from those of civil society.2 Depending on the given spatial and temporal conditions, civil–military relations are shaped by various factors that determine the role of the military as a governmental organization, such as subordination of the military to political authorities, public perceptions of military personnel, and public attitudes toward war and peace.3

Methodological approaches The investigation of civil–military relations is the core of modern military sociology. There are two main approaches for academic research depending on

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the subject area. Scholars of political science focus on the relationship between the military and the state. This is of particular importance because the risk of military intervention in political affairs creates the need for effective control. Debates center, therefore, around the questions of how the military could be made a subject of civil control and who decides on questions of external security. One of the first important works on the theory of civil–military relations was Samuel P. Huntington’s The Soldier and the State, first published in 1957. According to Huntington, “the principal focus on civil–military relations is the relations of the officer corps to the state”4 that is “basic to a nation’s military security policy.”5 Huntington’s approach is based on a clear division between the civil and military sphere, which leads to a high degree of professionalism. His idea of objective control is based on the “recognition of autonomous military professionalism”6 and aims to maximize military professionalism through civilian control. This implies the consensus of both sides on different responsibilities and, as a crucial point, that the military is apolitical and accepts civil supremacy. The latter, however, is part of military professionalism, because “politics is beyond the scope of military competence, and the participation of military officers in politics undermines their professionalism.”7 Obedience is the supreme military virtue and the core of military professionalism. According to Huntington’s logic, military autonomy, professionalism, and ethos will establish obedience to the state and ensure proper civilian control. Huntington’s example shows that political scientists consider civil–military relations in terms of the relationship between the state and the military. From a sociological point of view, however, the military is an institution that plays an important role for the state and society. Similar to Huntington, Morris Janowitz examines civil–military relations with a special focus on the officer corps in his 1960 book The Professional Soldier. He distinguishes the two spheres of the state and civilian society that have an impact on the military. Contrary to Huntington, Janowitz considers the close interrelationship between the military and civilian society. On the one hand, the military, as a professional group, has a system of internal administration that implies a “body of ethics and standards of performance.”8 On the other hand, the military reflects “the values and aspirations of civilian society.”9 Janowitz, therefore, argues that the officer corps should also be analyzed in terms of “social origins, career lines, social status and prestige, career motivations, selfconceptions, and ideology.”10 Although both Huntington and Janowitz are representatives of modern military sociology with a focus on US military forces, their writings include issues important for the systematic investigation of civil–military relations in Chinese history. There are, indeed, various perspectives and approaches that we can apply to different fields of research. The relationship between the state and the military is one of the basic issues of civil–military relations and it is of particular importance for Chinese history. Civilian management began to be divided from military administration from the

Introduction 3 Spring and Autumn period onwards. In other words, the problem of the institutionalization of civil–military relations began to emerge at an early stage of Chinese history. Civil control of the military remained an ideal for centuries, but was often taken for granted by scholars of Chinese history. It seems, however, that because of historical lessons, e.g., the An Lushan rebellion (755–763) and its aftermath, subsequent rulers established more effective control mechanisms to subordinate the military to the civil. In this context, one should ask what kind of authority, laws, regulations, codes, and standards ensured civil control and what kind of professional and other associations and cooperation existed between civil and military officials. What role did the military play in politics? Furthermore, we have to ask to what degree the ruler and his family influenced the system of civil–military relations. Another aspect concerns economic factors, in particular, resources directed to the military. Finally, we have to consider the tensions between the relatively autonomous military establishment, including its own norms and values and a system of self-government, and the civil government. This is particularly relevant for the process of professionalization in the military, which is often initiated from above. The second basic issue of civil–military relations is the interrelationship between the military and society. This is, indeed, a complex subject for analysis that includes many fields of research and methodological approaches. Various aspects are also discussed in other fields of historical specialization: For example, any analysis of the officer corps or other groups within the military is a general object of social history. It should, therefore, be useful to list some key issues that could help to examine this interrelationship in Chinese history. 1

2

Places where civil and military people lived together provide the basis for analysis of how civil–military relations worked in practice. Chinese cities offer many interesting perspectives due to their joint military and administrative function. Cities at the province or prefecture level often administered large territories and were of strategic importance. Garrisons within the city or located nearby ensured protection and defended the place in case of need. According to the dual function, there were civil and military officials who had to cooperate. Soldiers profited from the goods and services of the urban population. The population was involved in fortification work and played an active role when the city had to be defended. The military as a social subsystem had close relations with civilian society; there were many forms of exchange. Craftsmen, merchants, scribes and clerks, civil officials, and other professional groups worked for the military. They provided many services from arms production to food supply and engineering work to administration. Military families did not live isolated from their civilian counterparts. Although the administrative distinction of civilian and military households is often found in Chinese history, soldiers were also recruited from civilian families. The questions are to what extent military families were integrated into wider society and what civilian norms and values recruits shared.

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3

Analysis of the officer corps and the soldiers should focus on the social origins, prestige and status, images and ideology of the military personnel. In this context, it is also important to know the reasons and conditions under which people decided to serve in the military. The military impact on civilian society is often reflected by public opinion. Analysis of civil–military relations should also focus on public perceptions of defense policy and its consequences in terms of recruitment, expenditure, and services. Another point concerns the legitimacy of armed forces and public attitudes toward wars and military campaigns.

4

The division of wen and wu Wen (civil) and wu (martial) are understood to be fundamental principles in China. Both are the result of the associative thinking which has its origin in the cosmic antithetical principles of yin and yang that provide the basis for a myriad of analogies which should help one to understand the change of all dualities, and thus, the basic principles of order in the universe. In our context of civil–military relations, wen indicates aspects related to the civil sphere of society, including the literati, moral standards, or achievements in culture and education. By contrast, wu stands for the military sphere represented by warriors and the merits they win by military service. From this perspective, wen and wu seem to be entirely different social milieus because their representatives follow different paths in terms of professional practice, behavior, and responsibility. According to Krzysztof Gawlikowski, wen establishes peace by cultural education and is based on an administration that rules by rewards to create positive motives in society. By contrast, wu represents the way of warfare and was identified with an administration that rules by restrictions and punishments provoking fear.11 It should be noted that Gawlikowski represents the idealistic view of the literati that formed a small but powerful segment of Chinese society. In contrast to the negative interpretation of wu, Sunzi’s Art of War tells us: “Warfare is the greatest affair of state, the basis of life and death, the Way [Tao] to survival or extinction. It must be thoroughly pondered and analyzed.”12 Early sources, such as the Book of Odes (Shijing), indicate that the ideal ruler has to manage both wen and wu to pacify the world. In this respect, wen and wu, similar to yin and yang, are complementary aspects that constitute a single entity. The changes of war and peace are basic constants of human life. It can be seen, for example, in the rule of the early Zhou kings, whose names were associated with wen and wu. King Wen, the founder of the Zhou dynasty, was praised for his cultural achievements, whereas King Wu stabilized the empire by military success. One can find many other variations of wen and wu in different contexts. Chinese administrations, for example, made a clear distinction between civil and military officials (wenguan/wuguan). Literature and art were contrasted to martial arts (wenyi/wuyi). Civil and martial plays (wenxi/wuxi) are basic types of performance in the Peking opera. Even the

Introduction 5 members of the Eight Trigrams, one of the religious movements that emerged during the eighteenth century, were divided into disciples of martial arts (wu dizi) and disciples of scripts (wen dizi). Western research into civil–military relations in Chinese history often focuses on the relationship between the scholar-officials (literati) and the military elite. The approach corresponds to the traditional differentiation of wen and wu, which, however, has been questioned by recent scholarship. Peter Lorge, for example, characterizes the categories as artificial, “because it assumes that there were accepted ‘civil’ or ‘military’ categories outside the bureaucracy.”13 He believes that until the Tang dynasty, civil and military officials could move from one side to the other but that later both paths became increasingly separated.14 Hans van de Ven states “that in practice there was no strict separation of civil and military spheres.”15 Joanna Waley-Cohen finds indications that reinforce the quest “to equalize the two branches of the bureaucracy.”16 Although these may be true, it would be premature to replace one model by another. There are certainly many forms of interrelation, exchange, or administrative overlapping, but there are also indications of independent developments. In Chapter 4, for example, Andrew Chittick proves the differences between the civil and military milieu in terms of traditions and practices, norms and values, and principles of organization during the time of the Southern Dynasties. Another question closely related to the wen–wu discussion concerns the subordination of one to another, which, due to the formation of the bureaucratic central state in 221 bce, gained importance in a very early stage of Chinese history. Huntington’s question concerning the civilian control of military forces in modern times was a central issue in China for centuries. However, the question of who dominated whom is still a subject of controversial debates. Over a long period of time, Chinese sources stressed the topos of military subordination to civil rule. Some decades ago, John K. Fairbank questioned this position, saying that the military subordination “was not a mere fiction implanted in the record by the civilian chroniclers who monopolized it.”17 Kenneth M. Swope sees concrete evidence for the elimination of the myth “that the military was completely overshadowed by the civil bureaucracy in pre-modern times.”18 Joanna Waley-Cohen criticizes the established view of civil predominance over the military that indicates a “gulf between propaganda and reality.”19 By contrast, Hans van de Ven emphasizes that civilian bureaucrats rather than military specialists commanded forces. Moreover, they had higher positions in the hierarchy than military commanders.20 My own research has highlighted the role of civil officials in military affairs during the Ming dynasty.21 The different views indicate that the question of predominance cannot therefore be answered definitely and need to be associated to the concrete historical circumstances. Another point concerns the discussion of wen and wu within the narrow framework which limits our perspective of the relationship between the military elite and the civil bureaucracy, and thus, to questions of predominance, subordination, and control. These are certainly important aspects of

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civil–military relations, however, the term military does not only refer to the military elite, but also to the common soldier. It would make sense to extend the scope to include both: the soldier and the officer.22 Moreover, as Janowitz has shown, the military is not only related to the state and its civil bureaucracy, but is also integrated into society. It would seem reasonable to discuss civil–military relations in Chinese history in the triangle constellation of state, society, and military. In Chapter 1, Huang Pumin presents an outline of the separation between the civil and military spheres during the Zhou dynasty. He points to the fact that there was no clear differentiation between military and civil responsibilities during the Western Zhou. Officials could, therefore, both command the army on the battlefield and take charge of civil affairs. The rule of rites formed the underlying binding power that influenced the political system, society, and the military. Military education and training were taught at schools established in the central region and the domains of the feudal lords. Profound social changes and mass warfare during the Spring and Autumn period had a deep impact on military organization. Military service was expanded to the countryside to satisfy manpower requirements. An increasing infantry formed the core of huge armies. The military organizations had to expand their bureaucratic structures due to the increasing scope and complexity: Duties were specified and new posts in fields of growing importance (education, training, and logistics) were established. In terms of the wen–wu division, the civilian branch began to be separated from the army by the end of the Spring and Autumn period. This new social tendency continued during the following Warring States period when special skills and talents combined with professional knowledge began to provide the basis for job recruiting in both spheres. Specialized private and public military schools began to focus on infantry drill in terms of individual and collective training. Former types of school specialized in the Six Arts (liuyi) of aristocratic training did not continue. Huang, therefore, argues that the fundamental military transformation in the pre-Qin period reflects the rise and fall of the classical rites and music, and demonstrates the transition from the ancient to the imperial army. In addition, Huang’s chapter illustrates the division into the two separate spheres of wen and wu at an early stage in Chinese history when the centralized bureaucratic state emerged in the territorial states of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States period. This indicates a long history of extensive experiences with the management of civil–military relations in Chinese history. With regard to the changes in the pre-Qin era, it became obvious that the military separation and professionalization facilitated more effective control of the military, because political affairs became beyond the scope of commanders. On the other hand, civil officials could no longer exercise military power. This had many positive effects for the monarch, who centralized his power and established control over both spheres. In Chapter 2, I show how wen and wu were interrelated and how they differ from each other by taking the example of

Introduction 7 ideal-typical virtues. Ancient Chinese texts on warfare often discuss the problem of what should be the important features of the commander-in-chief. By analyzing forms of presentation, and types and contexts of military virtues, I argue that the presentation in the form of codes combined virtues into sets of four and five, and offers another form of correlative thinking. The codes, which cannot be compared to European codes of honor, include moral standards of behavior as well as individual skills and features. Using the example of the three primary military virtues, ren, zhi, and yong, the investigation demonstrates that military virtues were interrelated with the cardinal virtues of the Confucian School. Their translation and interpretation must be different because of differences in applying virtues to the military or Confucian context. In accordance with Chapter 1, I find that the military codes of virtues are an indicator of increasing professionalism defining the quality standards for the military leadership. In Chapter 3, Song Jie illustrates the division of administration into wen and wu branches by highlighting the role of sikong officials in the Qin and Han dynasty. The “Master of Work” (sikong) was a civil official on the central and local level of Chinese bureaucracy. He was not only in charge of public works and conscript labor, but also responsible for the custody and servitude of prisoners. There were different types of sikong with differentiated responsibilities in the military. Similar to their civil counterparts, they were in charge of roads, water, and other civil works and services, but they also had specific military functions: For example, they accompanied military campaigns, managed pioneer works, organized transportation, selected soldiers for labor, and investigated cases of desertion. In the light of some general similarities between the work of the civil and the military sikong, Song Jie discusses the origins of the military sikong and concludes that they were basically civil officials used in the military from the late Warring States period to the beginning of the Han. In other words, the civil sikong joined the military in times of war because of his profound engineering skills, talent for mobilizing troops, and legal knowledge. By the middle of the Western Han dynasty, the mixed status of the sikong changed and he became a professional military official responsible for a wide range of tasks. According to Song, this provides evidence for an increasing trend towards specialization and division of labor to manage the various tasks of administration. Song Jie’s investigation of the sikong is a striking example of the civil–military separation process that began in the Warring States period. The mixed status of the position until the beginning of the Han still presents the Zhou type of administration, which assigned military functions to civil officials in times of war. The use of the sikong for military needs also indicates a lack of military professionalism, because civil officials had to perform engineering and construction as well as legal tasks. The work of the sikong in the military is also an important example of the transfer of civil–military knowledge to improve military efficiency.

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Military organization and social changes As stated at the beginning of this introduction, the military as a social subsystem is influenced by many factors. Political and economic systems play just as important a role as traditions, mentalities, norms, and values or the stage of technical development of society. However, we should also pay attention to the military impacts on society. In terms of Chinese history, Nicola di Cosmo has criticized influential and persistent perceptions characterizing Chinese culture as “demilitarized” and “pacifistic.”23 Such misinterpretations were often influenced by the overestimation of some social tendencies contrasting the time before and after the Song dynasty. Thus, the importance of civil officials, institutions, examinations, and education in terms of Confucian norms and values was emphasized, but other trends not fitting the scheme have been ignored. Militarization is an important, but not the only measure of the military’s impact on social life. Recent scholarship has found indications of the militarization of society at different times during the second half of Chinese imperial history. Peter Lorge, for example, stresses the point that by the tenth century, “local Chinese society became increasingly militarized.”24 Kenneth M. Swope considers the omnipresence of military matters in political discussions and the extensive use of civil officials for managing military affairs as an indication of “a general militarization of late Ming culture and society.”25 Years ago, Philip A. Kuhn examined the process of the local militarization of Chinese society during the nineteenth century. Due to the increasing population and the lack of suitable land for farming, peasants became bandits or rebels and local communities had to take measures to protect themselves.26 Diana Lary in Chapter 13 of this book offers another striking example illustrating military dominance over civil authorities during the Resistance War 1937–1945. Chapter 5 discusses changes in the military system in Chinese history in the light of social changes. Zhang Jinlong offers an analysis of the title of “general” ( jiangjun) and its differentiation from Han to Tang, including a short outlook on the time beyond. Zhang’s analysis shows that, not surprisingly, the number of titles increased in times of war. Wars always offer a good opportunity for the fast promotion of successful military leaders. The various titles of general were named after access routes, locations, type of forces, nature of war, and so on. One of the key moments in Chinese history was the time between the Late Eastern Han and the Three Kingdoms Period when the military system included ninety-nine different titles of general. At that time, many new jiangjun titles were established for military leaders who had to fight the armies of the Yellow Turban Rebellion (184–c.ce 204). Although Zhang focuses on the differentiations and changes of the system of titles of general, there are also indications for the social status of generals. Generals in the Western Han dynasty, for example, were the highest ranked military officials in charge of capital defense and the conduct of war. Generals ranked above local governors, but below prime ministers. In contrast to the common stereotype of the civilian dominance over the military, we find clear

Introduction 9 indications for powerful chief generals (da sima) in the Western Han who could accumulate great power and exercise both civil and military authority. Border generals, recruited from the imperial relatives, were the major political forces during the Eastern Han dynasty. Most of the generals of both dynasties were high-ranking officials who led armed forces and exerted considerable military power. There were signs of an increasing devaluation of the title of general from the Wei to the time of the Northern and Southern dynasties. The title, which was conferred equally to civil and military officials, no longer meant that its holder exercised military power. Thus, a large section of the titles of general became honorary titles without any real function. Furthermore, generals could serve as both the state chief and local military governor, indicating a mixing of civil and military functions. Under the Tang administration, the number of titles of general declined and the practice of conferring honorary titles of general without functions was gradually abolished; the trend continued up to the Song dynasty. In Chapter 6, Sun Jimin presents a careful analysis of the military system before and after the reign of Tang emperor Xuanzong (r. 712–756). In doing so, he relates the origins of soldiers and selection criteria to changes in the military system corresponding to social change. His analysis includes territorial soldiers ( fubing), conscript-recruits (bingmu), home guards (tuanjie bing), descendants of officials (zidi), valiant fighters ( jian’er), palace guards (kuoqi), and volunteer soldiers ( yizheng). According to Sun, there were two types of military service during the Tang dynasty, namely compulsory military service and volunteer service. The first type includes territorial soldiers, conscript-recruits and home guards, whereas valiant fighters, palace guards, and volunteer soldiers belonged to the second type. All sorts of soldiers differ in terms of their background, status, recruitment, and military use. Territorial soldiers, for example, serving in the three capital guards were descendants of high-ranking officials or members of the nobility. Military service qualified them to enter official service. This disproves another conventional stereotype claiming that the social status of the military in traditional China was low and that “individuals who found their normal avenues of advance blocked, would enlist in the army as a last resort.”27 Basic criteria for their recruitment included the economic power of their family, physical strength, and the number of male relatives in the family. Territorial soldiers, controlled by the central government, were used to guard governmental and official buildings and were directly controlled by the central government. By contrast, valiant fighters were primarily recruited from conscripts and registered households until 722, but later from conscripts and unregistered households. They were mercenaries stationed in border areas and paid by local authorities. Recruitment criteria were less strict compared to soldiers in compulsory service. Valiant fighters only had to be “able-bodied” and “willing to serve.” Although Sun agrees with the common perception that soldiers in compulsory service were dominant before the Xuanzong period, whereas volunteer soldiers were typical for the time after, he emphasizes that this is true for the

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mainstream military system. Elements of both types of soldier could be found in both periods. Sun’s discussion of the relationship between the military and social change is of particular interest. In contrast to other views, he believes that the collapse of the fubing system cannot only be seen in the light of changes in the equal-field system ( juntian fa). The turning point in the military transformation concerns the change in terms of compulsory service versus volunteer service, as well as status and economic power versus physical strength and military talent. According to Sun, the change of the mainstream military system runs parallel to important changes in Tang society. There was a strict hierarchy of social layers, grades, and status in the early-Tang period when the political, economical, and legal foundations provided a strong basis. The emphasis on military status corresponding to the status-conscious society and recruitment criteria reflected the division in labor groups. Social change during the late-Tang period, indicated by the decline of the legal system, the abolishment of the equal field system, and the lesser significance in terms of reputation, is reflected in the transformation of military service as part of the entire process. In Chapter 11, Ulrich Theobald investigates the role of civilian specialists who supported the Qing armies during the eighteenth century. One is reminded of the people who followed the Landsknecht armies during the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648). The Tross or Entourage included men, women, and children who provided food, equipment, medical aid, and anything else the mercenaries needed on campaign. The Eight Banners of the Qing army also made use of civilians. Scribes and clerks, for example, formed an important specialized troop of low-ranking civil officials that was primarily concerned with administration, organization, accounting, and the exchange of information between the military and the government. Another group of civilians were craftsmen who worked in times of peace and war for the military, including bakers, carpenters, miners, tailors, ironsmiths, drivers, and porters. Craftsmen repaired the pontoon bridges, planned the irrigation canals on military farmland, and produced saddles for the camels. Due to their expert knowledge, they were often permanently employed by the military. In addition, the military also recruited unskilled workers from the provinces who had to carry out fortification works. The wide use of hired civilians can be explained through the social status of the bannermen, who refused to do the work of craftsmen or traders. Using the example of the Jinchuan campaign, Theobald shows that ironsmiths were hired ad hoc on the local labor market, dispatched from far distant locations, or selected from workers employed in state-controlled factories. These craftsmen had to bring along the material, produce the cannons in the armies’ camp foundries, and transport the barrels to the battery. The relationship between the military and the civilians was based primarily on military needs, reflected by a hierarchy of professions and related payment, period of service, and other benefits. Experts such as cannon casters and physicians were well paid. In addition to his monthly pay of three liang, the physician received payment for his family, baggage, and an assistant. Theobald’s investigation not only

Introduction 11 demonstrates that the banner troops made use of specialized troops staffed with civilian experts, but also illustrates the role of the military as an important employer for craftsmen and other people with special knowledge.

Civil and military elites The relationship between civil and military elites is a key issue in civil–military relations. As mentioned above, the problem of predominance is an important indicator of the relationship. Another question that is closely related to this concerns prestige and status. While the status of the civil elite seems to be accepted, the prestige and status of the military became an subject of discussion in recent times. According to the traditional view, represented by the scholar-bureaucratic civilian elite, the literati occupied the highest positions in government and enjoyed great prestige in Chinese society. In contrast, the military profession was of low status. High-ranking military officials had bad reputations and even generals were powerless, depended completely on civil bureaucrats, and lost their heads as often as anyone else. Consequently, China did not glorify warfare and young men were advised to avoid the profession of soldiers.28 This traditional view was confirmed by Jesuits such as Matteo Ricci (1552–1610). Ricci arrived in the capital Beijing in the last stages of the Ming dynasty when civil officials had indeed a large impact on military affairs. This snapshot of Chinese history was later transferred to the West and has become one of the basic conceptions characterizing Chinese history. Morton H. Fried was one of the first who challenged the generalization of the military status in China that was “uncritically borrowed from the ideology of a small segment of Chinese society.”29 He finds that the mass of historical, biographical, and sociological data indicates the frequently highest position of military personnel.30 Recent scholarship has shown that the traditional view regarding the general status of the military in Chinese history is probably wrong. David A. Graff, for example, stresses the point that the gap between civil and military officials was not as large in the early stages of the Tang dynasty. There were even civil positions such as that of the prefect which were held by military men. Although men of scholarly background could also hold military offices, they “were never placed in operational control of troop units”31 because of the considerable lack of military experience. It seems that military abilities were highly esteemed at this time. Peter Lorge showed the power and status of military families during the Northern Song dynasty. According to Lorge, Song Taizu created a “super-elite of military families” which had political power and access to the emperor. These families were associated with the imperial family by marriage and enjoyed numerous privileges and excellent reputation.32 Using the example of the hereditary military Li family, Kenneth M. Swope shows that the family “produced notable military figures” and gained considerable power in the Northeast. Some members held “high posts in the northern provinces and even in Beijing.” Similar to Lorge, Swope emphasizes the important role of the emperor (Wanli) who protected a small group of skilled and loyal commanders.33

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Some contributors of this book also discuss the problem of military status. Using the example of the sikong, Song Jie calls our attention to the fact that members of the elite could have a mixed status that was not only relevant for the Western Han dynasty. According to Zhang Jinlong, there were powerful chief generals in the Western Han who exercised both civil and military power and border generals who were the major political forces in the Eastern Han. Taking the Xiangyang garrison during the time of the Southern Dynasties as an example, Andrew Chittick, in Chapter 4, questions the traditional perception of the strict separation between officials and courtiers, on one side, and the localized military, on the other. Another presumption concerns movement of men from one side to the other; insofar as there was any, the direction was all from military to civilian because of the more attractive and prestigious life of civil officials. Chittick’s investigation indeed demonstrates a gap between the world of the capitalbased gentry families cultivating their habits in literary circles and the world of “violence, honor, and revenge among fighting men of the provinces.” There are certainly a few examples indicating movements from one side to the other, but much effort had to be expended to realize it. In contrast to traditional stereotypes concerning the bad reputation of the military profession, Chittick’s study indicates better career prospects in the military. Moreover, successful military families were proud of their martial traditions and continued to produce military men. Not only people from wealthy families, but also from those having a literary or civil background became attracted by the prospect of rank and status. Chittick clearly demonstrates that military careers in the time of the Southern Dynasties were “prestigious and highly valued” and considered as a practicable way “to gain status and wealth.” In Chapter 8, Peter Lorge reconsiders the common explanation of the rise of the civil over the martial in the Song dynasty. The transition from the Tang to the Song dynasty is often described as a radical break: Civil officials having their economical basis in South China were recruited by the examination system. They took command, pushed the central bureaucratic state forward, paved the way for wen-based norms and values in society, and established civilian control over the military. Lorge describes the break as a gradual process of specialization and division between the civil and martial sides of the government, which first became apparent in the second half of the Tang period. Due to the lessons of the An Lushan rebellion (755–763), the Song court enforced the centralization of government power and a general civil orientation, which, however, was not realized until Song emperor Zhenzong’s reign (998–1022). Lorge demonstrates the consequences for the military in detail. The highest ranks remained vacant, preventing the accumulation of military power by individuals. Thus, military commanders could not compete with high-ranking civil officials and only a few men of military background were nominated for offices on the top level of government. By contrast, during Zhenzong’s reign, civil officials began to discuss military affairs. In addition, “civil educated literati staffed the military bureaucracy.” Decisions on military affairs began to fall under civil authority. Although military commanders were still responsible for leading the army, civil officials directed campaigns and decided questions of war and peace.

Introduction 13 One could find parallels to the later Ming dynasty, where civil officials staffed the Ministry of War, developed military strategies, and managed logistic problems. Furthermore, civil offices combining civil and military authority were established to coordinate conflict management. In terms of the Song dynasty, Lorge notes the significant shift of martial responsibilities to civil officials, who “took on martial responsibilities to wrest power and legitimacy from generals, and prevent field commanders from becoming prime minister.” It seems to me that redefinition and rebalancing of the civil and military branches led, consequently, to an imbalance, because civil officials could exercise both civil and military power. The resulting lack of professionalization in strategic decision-making is reflected not least in the large territorial losses of the Song. In Chapter 9, Kenneth M. Swope explores strategies to defend Liaodong against the Jurchens, later Manchus, during the last decades of the Ming dynasty. He portrays important officials, such as Xiong Tingbi, Yuan Yingtai, Wang Huazhen, Sun Chengzong, or Yuan Chonghuan, who were, for a while, in charge of conflict management in the Northeast. Chinese plans offered a variety of offensive and defensive strategies and measures, including defending strong points, hiring Mongol mercenaries, recruiting soldiers from the interior, waging guerrilla warfare against isolated Jin bases, reconquering lost territory, combined land and naval operations, military farming, raising militias, and so on. There were, however, a number of specific problems that officials faced in the Northeast. The lack of resources to feed and supply the troops and their horses was one example. Desertion was a constant problem caused by mercenaries recruited from throughout the whole empire. In addition, garrisons were understaffed, but supplies and funds were requested for phantom troops. There were certain problems that were related to the practice of civil–military relations during the Ming. According to the administration system, civil officials of the Ministry of War supervised the top of the tactical hierarchy (Five Military Commissions), were in charge of military administration, and developed military strategies. Only a few of these officials had military experience. In addition, there were a number of offices headed by civil officials who combined civil and military authority and were, thus, placed over military commanders. Another problem concerned the situation at court, which Swope describes as a “hornet’s nest.” Strategies became the plaything of competing officials and factions, used for discrediting rivals rather than for defending the empire. Rapid appointment and replacement of the officials responsible prevented the implementation of promising strategies. Swope considers the poor imperial management of civil–military relations as a fundamental problem in the final stage of the Ming. Apart from the mentally incompetent Tianqi emperor, it was Chongzhen particularly who proved unable to make the right decisions at the right time, choose competent officials, and motivate officials and commanders to withstand the Jurchen invasion.

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Various manifestations of civil–military relations Civil–military relations often reflect specific manifestations of the broader culture. In Chapter 7, Yu Filipiak illustrates how the widely unexplored field of Chinese music is interrelated with the military. Music has always been an integral part of war and military. One of the earliest references, the Old Testament, reports the use of ram’s horns to destroy the walls of Jericho. Egyptian battle reliefs give evidence for the use of trumpeters in the Pharonic armies. Wind instruments were widely used for signaling, marching, exercising, and parades in the Roman army, which employed a large number of professional musicians. The Ottoman military made use of a marching orchestra (mehter). All these examples prove the close relationship between music and war in different cultures. However, there were various differences in terms of administration, instruments, and the status of the musicians. Filipiak’s study illustrates the long tradition of military music in China and its multifunctional use for signaling, marching, imperial ceremonies, escort service, and as a medium to raise the fighting spirit or celebrate a victory. Chinese military music mainly used wind and percussion instruments and was, therefore, called drum and wind music (guchui yue). With respect to the Tang dynasty, the drum and wind music was mainly used for escort services and funeral ceremonies, but was also used for military needs, such as celebrating a victory. The mixed function of the music is reflected in the imperial guard that included vocalists, instrumentalists, bodyguards, chariot troops, and parts of the civil officialdom. The Court of Imperial Sacrifices and the Institute for Music and Dance, both civil offices, were in charge of that music. Although the Song inherited this structure, there were some relevant innovations. The establishment of the Military Orchestra and the East-West Group assigned parts of the drum and wind music to the military administration. This corresponded with functional changes which made a clearer differentiation between the drum and wind music used for civil purposes under the administration of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, and that used for troop inspection and actions related to more private imperial activities. This also explains why the musicians for the latter were selected from among the soldiers who had to ensure the protection of the emperor. Felix Siegmund examines, in Chapter 10, the adoption of Qi Jiguang’s military thinking in Korea, that began in the Hideyoshi invasion (1592) and was developed throughout the seventeenth century. Qi Jiguang (1528–1588) was a famous Ming general who wrote two important military manuals regarding the war against pirates in East and South China and the defense against Mongolian invaders in the North. His works, regarded as canonical texts, became standard military references in Korea. Siegmund’s investigation, by analyzing the whole process from knowledge transfer, adoption, and dissemination to canonization, provides profound insight into the important role of military writing for balancing civil–military relations in Korea. Hideyoshi’s invasion and the threat of the Manchu invasion prepared the ground for the rising importance of military

Introduction 15 issues. This became apparent when more candidates passed the military examinations and the interest in military books increased. Although military texts were not comparable to the highly respected works on statecraft and philosophy, they were still more important than other texts on subjects such as handicrafts, commerce, or agriculture. Compared to the dominant civil text tradition, military texts were less sacrosanct, partly written in the vernacular and of lower prestige. Similar to China, authors of military books could be either military or civil officials. Military officials often emphasized the practical side of warfare with a focus on military training and technique. By contrast, civil officials were interested in the theoretical aspects and related military issues to philosophical problems. According to Siegmund, military officials appreciated military texts as an opportunity to compete with civil officials for power. For that reason, a set of relevant texts was “canonized” by text manipulation and an invented tradition claiming the equality of military knowledge. This can be seen in later editions of military texts which were more formalized and stylized, but of less practical use. Similar to their civil counterparts, military officials used these texts to claim authority on “discursive areas” in order to achieve a better social standing. In Chapter 12, Edward McCord demonstrates the terrible consequences of the deterioration of civil–military relations in the warlord era from 1916 to 1927. He argues that the conditions under warlordism were, to a large extent, responsible for an explosion of military atrocities, which were the most obvious representation of a changed relationship between the military and civilians in China at that time. Due to the “financial appetite of the warlord system” and the “rapacious demands of military rulers,” the military imposed a heavy financial burden on society. Commanders of all levels “lived off the land,” expecting provisions, supplies, and quarters for their troops at the expense of local communities. The monthly salary for soldiers became a crucial point and catalyst for extensive looting of urban and rural areas combined with killing, rape, and destruction. To understand why soldiers turned into beasts, McCord argues that many of them were “recruited from the dregs of the society.” Often unemployed and unmarried, they could not find an appropriate position in society and found refuge in the military where they were “brutalized by their officers.” Underpaid, hungry, and greedy for wealth, the former social victims turned into military offenders paying back what had been done to them. McCord’s investigation analyzes in detail the political, economical, and cultural dimension of atrocities and the consequences for individuals, families, social groups, social cohesion, and the infrastructure of large territories. Atrocities produced an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty. Adults were killed and children made orphans. Even members of the gentry and the scholarly elite were not spared. Property losses threatened familial and social existence. The destruction of temples, graves, and ancestor tablets affected social stability and destroyed social norms and values. According to McCord, the warlord era “saw a deterioration of military-civil relations to the lowest point in modern Chinese history,” and atrocities committed by unleashed bands of soldiers mainly contributed to this negative turn. The trend

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reversed one decade later when the military played the role of the defender of the nation against the Japanese Invasion. Similar to other nations in the twentieth century, the Chinese military began to dominate the government, and society became increasingly militarized with nationalism as an important binding agent. In contrast to the warlord era, the Resistance War (1937–1945) brought about emotions of a united China that patriotically fought the Japanese aggressor. In Chapter 13, Diana Lary highlights the dramatic rise in the status of the military during the Resistance War, which led to the revaluation of civil–military relations at this time. As mentioned before, public perceptions of the military and public attitudes toward wars are important indicators that shape civil–military relations. Lary shows that Chinese society, faced with total war, changed its feelings toward the military and enhanced the reputation of military people. The media, in particular, contributed to new images of soldiers and changed the negative perceptions of the military. The aim of the propaganda was to ensure the support of the population for the fighting troops. Thus, brave soldiers became heroes and competent generals were admired as the legendary strategists and generals of ancient times. The changing perception had many positive effects for the military, which could rely on popular support for the troops, including provisions and care for the wounded. This also affected the general acceptance regarding the dominant role of the military in the economy, which helps to establish the system of war economy. Moreover, a military career became an option for those who could not pay the costs for education at a modern university. According to Lary, the military profession was “no longer beyond the pale in cultural terms.” On the other hand, the status and power of the civilian elite declined. Most intellectuals were inactive and became less important because they did not participate in fighting, stayed far away from war, and, thus, became impoverished people without power and influence. As a result, there was a sharper separation between the civil and military sphere that has been continued up to today. Another important effect was that, due to the Resistance War, the military gained considerable prestige and power both in the People’s Republic of China and the Republic of China. The chapters in this volume show that civil–military relations in Chinese history cannot be categorized in a simple way. Civil–military relations were connected to Chinese society as a whole and changed as it changed. Dominance was a product of circumstances not just a cultural categorical imperative. Despite the normative goals of the civil elites, events on the ground often improved the status of generals over civil officials.

Notes 1 Gerhard Kümmel, “A Soldier Is a Soldier Is a Soldier!? The Military and Its Soldiers in an Era of Globalization,” in Guiseppe Caforio (ed.), Handbook of the Sociology of the Military (New York: Springer, 2006), p. 418. 2 Vladimir O. Rukavishnikov and Michael Pugh, “Civil–military Relations,” in ibid., p. 134. 3 Ibid., p. 131.

Introduction 17 4 Samuel P. Huntington, The Soldier and the State (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1957), p. 3. 5 Ibid. 6 Ibid., p. 83. 7 Ibid., p. 71. 8 Morris Janowitz, The Professional Soldier (New York: The Free Press, 1971), Prologue, p. 6. 9 Ibid., Prologue, p. 33. 10 Ibid., Prologue, p. 7. 11 Krzysztof Gawlikowski, “The Concept of Two Fundamental Social Principles: Wen and Wu in Chinese Classical Thought,” Annali, 47 (1987), pp. 409–410. 12 Cited from Ralph D. Sawyer, The Seven Military Classics of Ancient China (New York: Basic Books, 2007), p. 157. 13 Peter Lorge, “The Northern Song Military Aristocracy and the Royal Family,” War and Society, 18 (2000), p. 46. 14 Peter Lorge, Warfare in China to 1600 (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), Introduction, p. 15. 15 Hans van de Ven, Warfare in Chinese History (Leiden: Brill, 2000), Introduction, p. 9. 16 Joanna Waley-Cohen, “Commemorating War in Eighteenth-Century China,” Modern Asian Studies, 30.4 (1996), p. 894. 17 John K. Fairbank, “Introduction: Varieties of the Chinese Military Experience,” in Frank A. Kierman, Jr. and John K. Fairbank, Chinese Ways in Warfare (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1974), p. 4. 18 Kenneth Swope, “Civil–military Coordination in the Bozhou Campaign of the Wanli Era,” War and Society, 18 (2000), p. 52. 19 Joanna Waley-Cohen, “Civil–military Relations in Imperial China: Introduction,” War and Society, 18 (2000), p. 6. 20 Hans van de Ven, Warfare in Chinese History, Introduction, p. 9. 21 See, for example, Krieg, Staat und Militär in der Ming-Zeit (1368–1644) (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2008) and “The Effects of Civil Officials Handling Military Affairs in Ming Times,” Ming Studies, 66 (2012), pp. 1–15. 22 Diana Lary’s Warlord Soldiers (1985) is a fine example for that. 23 Nicola di Cosmo, Military Culture in Imperial China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009), pp. 1–3. 24 Peter Lorge, War, Politics and Society in Early Modern China 900–1795 (London: Routledge, 2005), p. 6. 25 Kenneth M. Swope, The Military Collapse of China’s Ming Dynasty, 1618–44 (London: Routledge, 2014), p. 3. 26 Philip A. Kuhn, Rebellion and Its Enemies in Late Imperial China (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1970), p. 9. 27 Winston W. Lo, “The Self-Image of the Chinese Military in Historical Perspective,” Journal of Asian History, 31.1 (1997), p. 7. 28 Summaries of the traditional statement can be found in Morton H. Fried, “Military Status in Chinese Society,” American Journal of Sociology, 57.4 (1952), pp. 347–348, 352–353; John K. Fairbank, “Introduction,” pp. 6–7; Winston W. Lo, “The SelfImage of the Chinese Military,” pp. 4–7. 29 Morton H. Fried, “Military Status in Chinese Society,” p. 355. 30 Ibid. 31 David A. Graff, “The Sword and the Brush: Military Specialisation and Career Patterns in Tang China, 618–907,” War and Society, 18 (2000), p. 13. 32 Peter Lorge, “The Northern Song Military,” pp. 41–43. 33 Kenneth M. Swope, “A Few Good Men: The Li Family and China’s Northern Frontier in the Late Ming,” Ming Studies, 49 (2004), p. 69.

1

The rise and fall of the system of rites and music and the evolution of the Zhou army Huang Pumin (Translation: Gu Yao)

Military rites, organization, and warfare during the Western Zhou period The Western Zhou period was an important historical stage that marked the priming of China’s classic feudal civilization. The Duke of Zhou’s act to make rites and music symbolized the pervasive influence of the rule of rites in social life as the civilization reached its prime, and the political system of the feudal nation state on the basis of the Chinese patriarchal clan had been completely consolidated. The full social maturity embedded in the spirit of rites and music manifested itself in a variety of institutional constructs: a well-field system to manage the distribution of basic production materials; an urban-rural hierarchy to normalize social control; a patriarchal clan system to regulate the internal relations of the ruling class; and the noblemen’s power-sharing system that established the ruling order in ranks. Corresponding to the power-sharing system, all military activities were guided by the military rites, which prescribed specific political rules and moral values. The strong binding power of the rites might account for the principle that “they regard the manifestations of propriety as their basic strength, and benevolence as the foundation of their victory”;1 the rule of rites found its overall expression in military leadership, army organization, power build-up, and military education and training. The war commanders held the military rites in high esteem. In terms of war command and control, the Western Zhou period exercised power division by aristocratic ranking. The royal court observed the principle that “ritual, music and military campaigns are all initiated by the emperor”2 by sharing power among the feudal lords and ministers who governed by dividing people and land. The royal court of Zhou had two battalion troops under its direct control, one being the West Six Army stationed around Fenghao of Zongzhou, the other being the Chengzhou Eight Army based on Luoyi, which used to be the territory of the Shang state and was thus also called the Yin Eight Army. It is interesting to observe that the activities of the Chengzhou Eight Army were often documented in bronze-inscribed artifacts, while the extant text

The evolution of the Zhou army 19 documents kept much record of the West Six Army, such as the frequent deployment of the Six Army in the region of Mai. To account for such a difference, one may speculate that the Duke of Zhou may often have taken charge of the Chengzhou Eight Army, so their activities were simultaneously inscribed on bronze artifacts. The compilers of such extant texts as the Shijing might have had a slightly different focus. The order of rites and music and the dominant role of royal power had been more emphasized since the Spring and Autumn Period, so the royal feats of the Zhou king as the commander of the West Six Army were naturally eulogized. Parallel to the central army of the royal court, an individual feudal kingdom might organize its own respective army, the size of which would have been in accordance with its institutional status and role in the royal defense. This is why “a big kingdom has three armies, the medium-sized has two, while the small has but one.”3 According to the regulations of Zhou, top ministers were entitled to a certain number of private troops, with no more than one hundred horse-riders; this is why key ministers were expected to have a military obligation, take charge of a certain number of horse carriages, and of a certain acreage of land.4 During three pre-feudal dynasties, the organization of military leadership united the role of military officers with those of civil officials. For instance, in the Shujing, the noblemen who served in the royal court of Xia were also generals in charge of six facets of warfare. In the Shang Dynasty, some figures like Yi Yin were more theological clergymen than administrative officials, while Wu Xian was more of a clergyman than an officer. Fu Hao, one of the wives of Wu Ding, the 23rd king of the Shang Dynasty, attended many military campaigns and won prominence with heroic feats even though she had no cleardefined army titles. The term shi originally referred to army officers, but it also involves the duty of assistant secretary of the monarch. By the Western Zhou period, the fusion of the civil function and the military role was commonplace. For instance, officials like qingshi liao and taishi liao could both lead the fighting, though the latter took charge of civil affairs. Bofumao, who used the Yin Eight Army to fight against the Dongyi, was a qingshi, while Shi Yu, the commander-in-chief against the Hui army in the time of King Zhao, was a taishi. The fact that “generals and commanders are all top ministers” shows that military command had not been fully separated from administrative affairs, even though the professional army had come into the fore. This mingling of the civil office and the army before the Spring and Autumn period was mainly restricted to the top level of military leadership and command, and starting in the Shang and Zhou periods, the military administration had an independent system of civil officials who attended to the daily routines of army ministration. The Western Zhou period had a number of lower-middle ranking army officials. For instance, the huchen was the general commander of the defense infantry of the royal court. The shishi was the local official of an army station town, while sima referred generally to officials in each order of the army, such as bangsima, hongsima, and lusima. Evidence shows that sima in general managed

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the taxation of the kingdom and towns and organized the drafting of suitable personnel for military exercise and the execution of martial laws, among many other duties.5 Under the norm of the rule of rites, the military service of the Western Zhou was actually temporary soldier-farmer recruitment based on patriarchy and ties of kinship, very much like in the Xia and Shang Dynasties. The binary system of urban and rural separation was imposed by the ruler, and meant that the ruling aristocracy of Zhou and their clans lived within capital towns and nearby suburbs while the ordinary masses from the conquered clans lived far beyond the town and outskirts. The capital towns and their nearby suburbs were called Guo, Du, or Xiang, and their residents were regarded as urban-dwellers, while the regions beyond the above areas were depreciatively called Bi, Ye, or Sui, and their residents were called shuren, namely country fellows. The gap between their political and economic status was also reflected by the system of military recruitment. This is what the principle “urban dwellers serve as soldiers, while the country people don’t” means. The soldiers of the Western Zhou, guoren, “engaged in farming activities during three seasons, but in army training during the remaining one.”6 In times of war, they were obligated to “hold the weaponry in defense of their native land.”7 In the army, noblemen and warriors who acted as charioteers formed the army’s backbone, while ordinary urban folk served in the infantry. There was also a small group of family servants who followed the aristocrats to do odd jobs. The military service of the Western Zhou state was drafted according to the ranking of local administration structure, liuxiang, which fully corresponded to the military order, featuring the union of farmers and soldiers. The system of national drafting required one young man (zhengzu) from each household of urban-dwellers to serve in the military, and other men who were called xianzu were available for the militia division. Draftees ranged in age from twenty to sixty. The army was mainly composed of chariots and infantry in multiples of three and ten. Aristocrats received their military education and training from the six arts (liuyi), of which archery and charioteering were the focus. To achieve this, schools such as Biyong, Xuegong, Shelu, and Dachi were set up in the central region, while in the principalities and the domains of barons and high officers, schools such as Pangong, Xiang, Xu, and others were established, with the aim of ensuring a wide availability of military education and training. Ordinary people mainly participated in hunting to receive military training and schooling in the martial arts. The military training in three pre-feudal dynasties was chiefly exercised through the field hunting called sou or xian. According to the Liji, young aristocratic males were obliged to receive their military training and learn specific skills when they were fifteen years old.8 The abilities of chariot-driving and archery correspond to the way of contemporary carriage fighting. Ordinary urban-dwellers who engaged in both farming and soldiering took part in field hunting for adequate military training and exercise. “The system of field hunting aims to subject the ordinary folk to army training by the means of

The evolution of the Zhou army 21 rewards and punishment,” and “field hunting could equip the people with wartime skills.”10 These training sessions usually took place outside of the peak harvest time. Military training sessions were implemented during the seasonal interval, ranging from the spring collecting of seeds and the summer planting to autumn and winter hunting. The harvest from three years could not only provide soldiers with adequate food, but also nourish them upon their return. According to the Zuozhuan, “each year there would be four field hunting expeditions that acquainted the general and soldiers with the actual maneuver of chariots, archery, and infantry, so as to improve their fighting capacity.”11 According to the Zhouli, each year’s seasonal hunting had its own focus, as can be seen from their respective titles, namely, zhenlü (launching the army), bashe (resting upon the grass), zhibing (weapon-making), and dayue (grand army parade).12 Of the four field hunting expeditions, the “grand parade” of the winter was the most impressive in scale; and that is why the first part of the Zhou discourses in the Guoyu ignored the other three seasonal trainings and set much more store on the winter parade as serious military activity.13 This is probably what is meant by “the farming in three seasons and soldiering in the winter.” The Shijing records that “on the second day of the activity, royal dignitaries and the common people alike attended the field hunting for army training to display military grandeur.”14 Adapting to the reality of war, the royal court and those concerned began to reduce the entertaining elements in the field hunting. Basic training was carried out to make soldiers understand the array of troops and the signals of banner, drum, and so on, and to teach them the infantry’s individual moves, such as sitting, standing, advancing, retreating, slowing down, speeding up, gathering, and scattering. Then came the mock field hunting, in which the army reacted to an imaginary attack from a beast, in order to practice the proper military array and method of advancing. Finally, hunting could be collected and examined to judge for either rewards or for punishment. In the depth of winter, a large-scale military exercise and parade would be launched, with the emperor ordering the commander-in-chief to lecture on the spirit of martial arts, and to organize the exercise of archery and muscular wrestling.15 Martial dancing was one of the important items of military training in three pre-feudal dynasties. Those who participated in martial dancing (and did not necessarily specialize in it) usually held the wooden shields to simulate basic battle movement in order to arouse the martial spirit of spectators and their own, and martial dancing also prepared them for the particulars of actual battles. As Wen Yiduo rightly points out, “dancing was a moment as critical as battles to primitive tribe people. It was one of the best modes of preparation for war because the dancing drills were very much like military exercise.”16 Dancing and music which had their origins in the battle, as “forms to eulogize the grandeur and splendor”17 began in the Xia and Zhou Dynasties and were not restricted to the Han people, but available to all ethnical groups. It has been documented that the martial dancing then was closely related to archery and chariot-driving, and one can read in the Liji that adolescents in their 9

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early teens would learn the martial dancing and practice the skills of archery and charioteering.18 The following passage of a poem from the Shijing tells us: His dancing so choice. Sure to send his arrows right through. The four all going to the same place. One able to withstand rebellion.19 It can be seen that martial dancing, as one form of army training,20 together with field hunting, constituted the major part of military training, and it tended to exhibit unique magnificence in the event of actual war. Legend says that on the eve of Zhou’s attack against Chaoge, then capital of the Shang state, the soldiers of King Wu abandoned themselves to joyful singing and wild dancing all night.21 Upon the dawn, the Ba army launched its courageous offensive through the ritual of dancing and music, showing the effect of martial dancing. To ensure the wide availability of military education and training, schools in the central region, the local kingdoms, and the manors of ministers were established. The young noblemen started to learn about the music, dancing, and archery when they were fifteen years old and each student had to acquire five kinds of archery and driving skills. The Liji records that archery in the Zhou period was divided into four kinds, namely, dashe, binshe, yanshe, and xiangshe, and that each kind has its peculiar set of bow, arrows, target, and accompanying music. The purpose behind differentiating these four kinds was to reward those more capable, in order to improve the overall battle capacity of the army. Of the four, dashe is the ceremony held in the Palace of Archery to select those who qualified. Yazun, the extant drinking vessel of the Zhou Dynasty, was used in this kind of archery ceremony. According to Jinggui, Prince Jing complied with a royal order to acquire the skills of archery with other noble youths in the school of Xuegong. Two months later, they attended the field hunting in the school of Dachi for military practice, and the Zhou emperor often went there or to the hunting ground to distribute the arrows.22 The education of the military rites system, in addition to archery and charioteering, included prayer in the ancestral temple, presenting the sacrifice and the prisoners, celebrating the victory, and proposing the drinking toast. In this way, martial skills and battle capacity could be strengthened. By the Western Zhou period, what best embodied the spirit of the civilization of rites and music was the norm of the rites of army system that guided the army’s activity; this could be attributed to the fact that most medium-large kingdoms were governed by the aristocratic class, who shared a patriarchal lineage and marital ties. In the Zuozhuan, Guanzhong is quoted as saying that the kinship ties among the lords cannot be betrayed or abandoned.23 In line with such mutual closeness, the guiding principles of war had been tinged with a certain caring and compassion. The Gongyang zhuan prefers a one-sided confrontation while despising deceitful warfare. On an agreed day, take sides on the battlefield, wage war on

The evolution of the Zhou army 23 hearing the pounding of the drum, never deceive.24 That is why the kinship bonds between the rulers, like that of brothers, or of uncle and nephew, determined that the guiding principle of war emphasized the righteous way of fighting instead of deceiving; otherwise the Rites of War would be violated, incurring the critique of others. The military rites would not permit uniting the local lords to fight against one’s own brother.25 Ban Gu, the author of the Hanshu, believed that the revolution led by Tang and Wu put an end to social disorder and relieved the ordinary people of their suffering; and they appeased them with benevolence, or treated them with modesty and courtesy, as we learn from the record of the Sima fa.26 This account can be seen as the proper summary of military features that were the guiding principles from the Western Zhou period to the early and middle Spring and Autumn period. In-depth observation might show the military rites system manifested in the military command in the following ways. First, the purpose of war under the principle of military rites is to fight injustice. According to the Zuozhuan, if the ruler inflicts suffering on his people, then other lords are obliged to punish him with fighting.27 The Sima fa claims to lead the army against the violation of justice.28 In sum, only in the case of such outrageous crimes as a vicious plot against the weak, the virtuous, and the common, or the murder or ousting of the king, must the attack be launched.29 Second, a military campaign should not be waged while the rival is dealing with a funeral or is stuck in famine.30 The principle of rites and benevolence should be strictly obeyed by the army, as “rites are to strengthen the army; benevolence is to defeat the opponent.”31 According to the Zuozhuan, it is not reckoned brave to trap the rival in danger unexpectedly.32 These examples all explain why rites and benevolence must be the key principles of army activity. Third, the two sides in confrontation on the battlefield should not deceive each other, and many tactical books prescribe proper conduct of mutual compliance in the offensive. For instance, the Sima fa claims that “only after the enemy troops have been properly placed can the drum be beaten to start the offensive.”33 In the Zuozhuan, Song Xianggong was said to argue that “an ancient army would not lay an ambush by high cliffs and that he would not start the drumming if the opponents did not station themselves well, though he was the descendent of the deceased Shang Dynasty.”34 According to the Sima fa, “the winning side should not put the loser side into despair and should have mercy on the injured of the rival,” and the army should not hurt the elderly and the children but see them home; should not treat young men as enemies if they were not engaged in fighting; and should give medical care to the injured enemy and free them afterwards.35

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The Guliang zhuan quotes that “those who flee from war should not be captured and those who surrender should not be killed,”36 this is exactly why Song Xianggong argued that “a man of integrity should not inflict more suffering on the injured nor capture those elderly people.”37 Those rules should not be dismissed as mere acts of obstinacy or stupidity, but be seen as adherence to the rites of army. The Huainanzi once commented that “on expedition in the past the army would not kill a child, nor capture the elderly people; these acts of honor are now laughed at, and deeds of glory have been humiliated today.”38 Fourth, the army should be tolerant in handling the aftermath of war, and generosity with those who yielded in war is another important principle of military rites. From the Western Zhou to the middle Spring and Autumn period, the military leaders’ goal in battle was the submission of the local lords. Once the state of harmony has been reached, the military maneuver should be ended and those conquered should be left to survive and flourish. The Sima fa indicates that “true courage and bravery is shown by pardoning those who surrendered in the battle.”39 According to the Zuozhuan, “those who betrayed would be captured and those who submitted would be released, and no virtue would be more generous than that, nor no punishment more intimidating.”40 In another two pieces, similar appeals are made to the effect that “no one can demonstrate his dignity and grandeur if he does not wage war against those who betrayed him, nor can he show his generosity if he does not show mercy to those who yielded.”41 After punishing those who committed the crime, as stated in the Sima fa, “the king and other local lords should go all out to assist that kingdom by nominating the talented, installing a wise monarch, and restoring officials to their offices.”42 The Zuozhuan has similar references. In 529 bc (namely, the thirteenth year of Luzhaogong), Pingwang of Chu took the throne and revalidated the Chen and Cai kingdom. This was an act of rites.43 This is what Confucius means by “resurrecting the deceased kingdom, reviving the lineage of the lost families, and promoting the talented in seclusion so as to win the loyalty of everyone.”44

Changes in military recruitment, training, and education during the Spring and Autumn and the Warring States period The Spring and Autumn period and the Warring States period were an age of great transformation and turbulence, marking the transition of Chinese society from its classic mode to its medieval one. Economically, the well-field system disintegrated into pieces, bringing great shock to the scope of rites and music. With the weakening of royal power and the rise of powerful lords, the principalities contended with each other for hegemony and territory, generating an irreversible trend towards unification. Culturally, academic secularization was taking shape as private schools appeared like mushrooms, leading to the contention of various schools of philosophical thought for primacy.

The evolution of the Zhou army 25 In the military sphere, with the frequent occurrence of warfare, the means of war had undergone great change, effecting a fundamental change in the notion of war. Ever since the late Spring and Autumn period, one-sided battle (pian zhan) as the main mode of warfare had been under general criticism and the tactics of holding the banners upright and organizing the army in grandeur had gone out of vogue. Deception had been widely adopted in all aspects of war, so the army from the Spring and Autumn to the Warring States period resorted to cunning design and tactical deceit for success.45 The emergence of new military notions should be attributed to the evolution of the modes of warfare. Before the middle Spring and Autumn period, military campaigns only involved a relatively small number of soldiers in the form of charioteer-battalions within a limited area, employed in a short period.46 By the end of the Spring and Autumn period, new measures of military duties or taxation had been implemented, and those who lived in the countryside had also been subject to army obligation, which means that the separation of urban-dwellers from the rural population had gradually disappeared. The make-up of the army personnel changed a great deal, and compulsory conscription began to be implemented. Meanwhile, the geographical scope of war had been obviously expanded from the region around Yellow River to the region between the Huai River and Han River, two branches of the Yangtze River. With the improvement of archery machinery, the overall fighting capacity of the weaponry had been greatly strengthened, changing the mode of warfare. To be specific, infantry played an increasingly prominent role, and the coordinated movement of infantry and chariots also increased, making battle even longer and more ferocious. Take the offensive of Wu’s army as an example. In its attack on Ying, the capital of Chu, the Wu army adopted new modes of war like the surprise attack, detour, and ambush, which had been unprecedented in history. This change corresponded with the increasing brutality of war by the end of the Spring and Autumn period. This scene of brutality is recorded in the Mozi: Upon entering the territory of the other kingdom, the army would scythe out the crops, cut out the trees, demolish the town, plunder it of domestic animals and precious objects, light the ancestral temple on fire, and kill the people by the thousands, not even sparing the elderly and the weak.47 In the early and middle Spring and Autumn period, certain crafty means of deceit began to be used in war. For instance, the Zheng army took a detour in its attack against the Yan army with its normal array, but the final victory was won with unconventional means. The Jin army took a short cut through the Yu kingdom, and the Jin army’s plot turned out to be to occupy the territory of Yu. This was a tactic that killed two birds with one stone. In addition, other hidden designs like the enticing ambush laid by the Zheng army against the Beirong army and the Chu army’s surprise attack on a cloudy day to gain momentum against the Jin army in Yanling, among many, show the military tactics of deceit.

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It should be noted that, however, such military maneuvers with secret designs were not mainstream compared to those guided by the military rites. By the late Spring and Autumn period, cunning tactics to deceive the enemy, such as using disguise in order to attack the enemy’s vulnerable part, were widely used in actual combat. This was especially the case in the southern regions. For example, in the fighting between the Wu, Chu, and Yue Army, methods such as a hidden ambush or surprise attack, or striking the vulnerable and alternating the normal array with a peculiar maneuver, were frequently deployed in such combats as the Yongpu Battle, Shujiu Battle, Jifu Battle, Chang’an Battle, Yuzhang Battle, and those between Wu and Chu, as well as the Zuili Battle, Gusu Battle, and the Lize Battle between the Wu army and the Yue army. In fighting of this kind, the convention that was often observed in the middle and lower reaches of the Yellow River was seldom obeyed. For instance, starting drumming after the troops had been properly arrayed was no longer standard, nor was the conduct of Xizhi, who on his encounter with the rival king would get off his carriage, take off his cap, and swiftly hurry up to greet him. Song Xianggong’s self-righteous talk about the rites of army was no longer heard. This radical change in the notions of military leadership was not only mirrored by the war practices of the time, but also by its military theories, which can be represented by the argumentation of Sunzi, Wu Zixu, and Fan Li. It is pointed out in the Sunzi that the key of warfare is the cunning craft to deceive, which drastically changed the loyalty to the military rites system. War, the text claims, is meant for the competition of power, and the powerful who win the upper hand are highly esteemed. Such notions contradicted that concept of war as a means of defending justice and punishing crimes. With regard to handling the aftermath of war, the Sunzi proposed destroying the town and completely demolishing the kingdom, in contrast to the past convention of peaceful restoration. In terms of the means of warfare, the Sunzi argued that “the army must speed up, take the road unknown to others, and launch the attack against the opponents when they are unguarded.”48 According to the military rites system, army battalions should advance slowly but steadily; hence, on mutual encounter the infantry would not rush, nor would the carriage rumble on. With regard to army discipline, the Zhouli and Sima fa forbid plundering the harvest, domestic animals, and equipment of the local people when entering the enemy’s kingdom, while the Sunzi urges plundering the harvest and crops for distribution amongst the army. All these examples show the radical change in the notions of military leadership. Wu Zixu’s tactic against the Chu army was typical of the then cunning military strategies, and he proposed misleading the Chu army repeatedly from many sides to fatigue it.49 Fan Li proposed that the army should promptly respond to the circumstances if the proper opportunity was close at hand.50 These updated notions represent the progression of military skills, which could give better guidance to the activities of war; thus the actual condition of military

The evolution of the Zhou army 27 activities by the end of the Spring and Autumn period had taken on a vigorously new look. Corresponding to the changing aspect of the army, the military system had undergone a general transformation. The binary separation between the urban area and the countryside had been put to an end, and the scope of conscription had been expanded to the countryside. By the early Spring and Autumn period, urban-dwellers were the chief sources of army service; they would engage in farming most of the year, but once war came, they would carry weapons to defend their kingdom. Nevertheless, by the middle Spring and Autumn period, such a system was declining due to the expansion of massive conscription. For instance, the Jin kingdom only had one army in 677 bc, but gradually expanded to six armies in 588 bc. It had been enlarged by six in eighty-nine years. This was also the case with lesser kingdoms like Zheng and Song. To tackle the emerging scarcity of military drafting, enlisting the country folk for the army and shifting to compulsory conscription was inevitable. With growing productivity, the whole population was on the rise. With the more densely populated towns, the line between the urban area and the country had been blurring. The social status of the country folk rose with their economic power. All these factors made it possible for an individual kingdom to impose a massive conscription. For these very reasons, various kingdoms abolished the rule that only urbandwellers could be enrolled, thereby expanding the scope of military service. In 645 bc, the Jin kingdom lifted the ban to enlist Zhou soldiers51 by expanding from three suburbs into three sui and broke the barrier between urban-dwellers and country folk.52 The other kingdoms like Lu and Zheng followed suit, imposing a military obligation on both urban-dwellers and country folk. With the expansion of the army’s scale, the proportion of the charioteers to the infantry changed, which transformed the make-up of the armed forces. The normal infantry unit increased from thirty to seventy-five, increasing the proportion of infantry in the army. As charioteers began to play a subordinate role, the infantry took its place and coordinated with the carriages to win the battle. As the country people gained access to the army, their social position rose accordingly, bridging the gap between the urban area and the countryside. During that period, the infantry was composed of country folk, craftsmen, assistants, domestic servants, and horsemen. Once they performed remarkable military feats, they would be promoted in social rank or gain freedom.53 This might be seen as the disintegration of the system of rites and music. Second, civilian management began to be divided from martial duties. With its increasing scope and complexity, the army needed to expand its bureaucratic structure and improve its inner efficiency. The post of sima used to encompass a wide range of duties; now, those duties were specified. In some kingdoms like Song or Chu, the sima tended to take charge of the army and command the fighting, and was equipped with assistants called the left or right sima. As recorded by the Zuozhuan, in the Battle of Yanling, Zifan, then the sima of Chu, assisted the king of Gong in commanding the expedition. More often than not, the sima was

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specifically charged with managing the carriages, horse-riders, or drafting. Examples of such sima include Du sima and Jia sima of Lu and Xian sima of Chu.54 In the second place, some new posts were established in the administrative system to cater to the needs of military activities. As recorded by the Zuozhuan, when Duke Dao of Jin ascended to the throne, he appointed a number of clerical officials to take charge of army management. For instance, Lord Xunjia supervised the education and military training of the youth of the noble families. Royal charioteer Bian attended the routine training of all charioteers, and sima Jiyan managed the coordinated training of the infantry and carriages and other related movement. The master horse-rider Chengzheng took charge of the training of all horse-riders in the whole army.55 They all held specialized posts. Administrative officials of the Jin army also included sanshi shuai, junwei, jundafu, junsima, and houyan. In the third place, by the late Spring and Autumn period, posts in the system of army logistics were established and improved to ensure an adequate supply for military campaigns. According to the relevant sections in the Zhouli, titles such as sibing, sigedun, jiaoren, jiaozheng, or gongzheng referred to clerks of army logistics who specialized in the management of weaponry and horse carriages. The posts of managerial clerks in the administrative system and military system were not clearly specified in the Spring and Autumn period, showing the vague boundary of official management. In the system of military order, army leaders were usually high-ranking officials who generally served as the local lord’s ministers. In the event of war, however, they would become commandersin-chief. In other words, this practice produced a unified army system with the monarchy and the minster-commanders at its core. Under this system, the top ministers and aristocratic lords also served as army commanders.56 For instance, in the Jin kingdom, the head of civil bureaucracy was also the commander of the army, and the Chu kingdom had two chief officials, one a lingyin, the other a sima, who shared the administrative power, with no strict division between civil affairs and the army. Similar examples could also be listed, including the guo and shou of Qi, the situ of Lu, the dangguo and the weizheng of Zheng, and the zuoshi and the youshi of Song. With the emergence of numerous social, economic, military, cultural, and political factors even in the Spring and Autumn period, the tendency of division began to emerge in the system of managerial clerks. The title of general had been gradually adopted to name the head of the military staff. For instance, in the Mozi, the Six Minsters (liu qing) of Jin were called Six Generals (liu jiangjun).57 In the text excavated from the Han tomb of Yinque Hill, the Six Generals were said to defend the territory of the Jin kingdom. In the Zuozhuan, Yanmo and Nukuan asked Wei Xian-zi: “Would the general not provide us with an adequate meal?”58 The Zheng kingdom appointed Zhan as general,59 that is, as someone who leads ten thousand soldiers under ten banners.60 Such examples show that the top ministers also served as army commanders, yet were not restricted to military rankings.

The evolution of the Zhou army 29 Even so, by the end of the Spring and Autumn period, the civilian branch began to be separated from the army. According to the Lunyu, Ranyou and Zilu, two disciples of Confucius, both served the family of Jisun. Ranyou excelled in administering the affairs of a big town with thousands of households, and in managing a household with hundreds of carriages; therefore, he was fit to serve as a top minister. Zilu excelled in leading thousands of the kingdom’s charioteers and managed the military drafting; therefore, he could act as a general.61 According to the Zhanguoce, Zhang Mengtan told Zhao Xiangzi that “noble lords did not take the office of ministers while those above generals did not serve as the ministers.”62 These sources show that the range of civilian and army duties was more clearly defined in the transition to the Warring States period. There are many references to the features of the general in the Sunzi. For instance, a general must be wise, trustworthy, benevolent, courageous, and strict; “an excellent general should evaluate the range of dangers and vulnerabilities faced by the army so as to gain the chances of victory”63, “It is possible to win the battle if the ruler does not intervene in the maneuver of a capable general”;64 “This is what a general should observe within his range of duties.”65 These examples show that by the end of the Spring and Autumn period, the general had more defined duties, distinct from the civilian system. As new modes of productivity emerged, the war for power and hegemony began to enter its new phase. More troops with a tremendous number of soldiers were involved in a more expansive scope with more advanced weaponry. Under such circumstances, some generals well versed in the art and skills of warfare came to prominence. They embodied the higher requirement of military specialization and army organizational skills. Accordingly, civilian affairs were attended to by ministers with special talents. For instance, in the Wei kingdom, which was established in the early Warring States period, Wenhou appointed Wei Chengzi, Li Kui, and Zhai Huang to be prime minister and Yue Yang and Zhai Jiao to be commander-in-chief. Huiwang appointed Hui Shi to be prime minister and Pang Juan to be commander-in-chief. By the reign of Aiwang, Tian Xu and Gongsun Yan served respectively as prime minister and general.66 Other kingdoms like Qi, Qin, Yan, and Zhao followed suit, and also established the positions of prime minister and commander-in-chief. In the southern Chu kingdom, the post of lingyin was equivalent to prime minister and the post of shang zhuguo to commander-in-chief. The separation of civilian duties from military obligation was much noted in works of numerous schools of philosophy. As Weiliaozi points out, “the official duties were divided into the sectors wen and wu, namely the civil sector and the military sector; and these are two key methods to control the state.”67 According to the Liutao, “each premier and each commander carries his own responsibilities, and the official of diverse rankings should be qualified for his promotion, while he should be examined according to how he fulfills his duties.”68 These sources demonstrate that the separation of wen from wu, as a new social tendency, captured the attention of thinkers and tacticians who included them in their books of theory.

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The division of power in the wen and wu sectors had far-reaching influence on the centralized bureaucratic system of the feudal monarch. Under such circumstances, political affairs were beyond the scope of commanders; hence, the monarch’s power could be greatly centralized and reinforced. The division also paved the way to an improvement in the capacity of military leadership, as well as for better military theories. Of particular importance is that the division eradicated the tradition of aristocrats serving as commanders and generals. Now, they were denied access to command of the army. It paved a smooth way for the transformation of the convention of the military rites. It should be noted that it took each kingdom different lengths of time to separate the civilian sector from the military sector; so that each sector could improve its qualities. For instance, in the early Warring States period, the division was not very conspicuous. Many statesmen like Li Kui, Wu Qi, and Shang Yang initially devoted themselves to administrative affairs, but also often commanded the army in wartime. In other kingdoms like Qin and Chu, steps were much slower. By the middle Warring States period, according to Shiji, the premiers of Qin, such as Zhang Yi, Chu Liji, Gan Mao, and Wei Ran, all performed remarkable feats in battle. The unitary premier-commander system did not change dramatically until Fan Sui took on the office of premier. The military affairs were then mainly attended to by the daliangzao and guowei. After the middle Warring States period, commanders like Bai Qi or Wang Jian came to the fore on the military stage. Even so, the wen sector was not strictly separated from the wu sector; and their mutual dependency was fairly common.69 Military training took place regularly. By and large, the military training of the Spring and Autumn period remained the same as that of the Western Zhou period. Military exercises in the form of sou and xian were quite common, and their basic methods and measures had developed a lot. According to documents like the Zuozhuan, the Lu kingdom carried out five large-scale sou and four xian, and the Jin kingdom set much store in massive military exercises. There are records of sou and xian in various locales like Beilu, Qingyuan, and Yi. Starting in the middle Spring and Autumn period, the hunting of sou and xian had been gradually reduced and formal army drills increased. In order to train military skills and enhance overall battle capacity, specialized military schools were established and chaired by those with special skills. The military education in both private and public schools was also enhanced. While traditional items like archery and carriage-driving had been strengthened, the infantry training was given more attention. To be specific, it included both individual movements like standing, sitting, bending, and jumping and collective movements like advancing, retreating, and moving left and right. This military specialization exerted a positive effect on the enhancement of the army’s capacity. The Chu army had trained a kind of soldier called zujia or beilian, while the Wu and Yue armies had soldiers called lizhi or xiliu junzi. These warriors received special training, and their powerful presence in the

The evolution of the Zhou army 31 battlefield signaled the decline of field hunting and its gradual replacement with formal specialized training. A new mode of sequential military training played a dominant role in the Warring States period. According to military works like Wuzi and Weiliaozi, such a method employed a training rotation, meaning that one person could teach ten, ten could teach a hundred, and so, bit by bit, the whole army was acquainted with the training fairly easily. Under the direct guidance of the commander, individual training, group training, and collective training had all been carried out regularly. Once the whole army had followed the sequence and acquired the necessary skills, they would proceed to launch the large-scale military exercises. The focus of military training had been shifted from archery and chariot-driving to the basic skills and techniques of infantry soldiers, such as marching and camping, signal-telling, and arraying a battalion. Faced by these changes, the school system represented by Xiang and Xu had been naturally receding from the historical stage. This means that the platform to impart the military rites had been abandoned, and the education of the Six Arts had been reduced to a particular mode of academic thinking and knowledge, which can be passed on over generations. In the Warring States period, the evolution of rites and music as a mode of civilization took many forms in the military field. The system of congress debates in policy making, the rule of tiger tallies in army maneuvers, and the royal honors of the army’s reward system constituted a comprehensive military mechanism. The central army, royal troops, and local forces formed the three divisions of a unitary military system. Under such circumstances, private armed forces were annulled and the regular army had an increasing number of soldiers. The system of army drafting was changed into locally based compulsory conscription in the counties. The soldiers mainly belonged to two categories, one being the shuren of the Spring and Autumn period, the other being the farmers of a registered household in the Warring States period. An armed force contained four types of soldiers, namely the infantry, the charioteers, the horse-riders, and the boatmen. Their respective roles would fluctuate depending on the realities of war. With the increasing complexity of war, the army was usually organized by a multiple of five, corresponding to the administrative unit of local residents. To be specific, the organized structure was usually divided into affiliated units, basic army units, and temporary fighting units. While customary law became less valid and less effective, military law or regulations in a clearly defined form were increasingly strengthened. In sum, the pre-Qin period witnessed a fundamental transformation of the military forces. During the transition, war was waged for victory instead of for justice, and the principle of benevolence and virtue was replaced by the craft of deceit; the Sunzi took on the validity of the Sima fa, which prescribed the classic rite of war. Local structure took the place of kinship ties; a specialized aristocratic military crew had been replaced by massive compulsory conscription. Field hunting in the form of sou and xian was replaced by daily, routine army

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drills, and battlefield practice replaced the cultivation of xiang and xu. Formal law texts took the place of customary law, and the division of civilian affairs from military affairs replaced the unitary minister-general system. All these changes reflect the rise and fall of the system of rites and music and its profound impact on military development, as well as signal the evolution from a classic to an imperial army.

Notes 1 Huang Pumin, Huang Pumin jiedu Wuzi, Sima fa (Changsha: Yuelu shushe, 2011), p. 205. 2 Lunyu, in Shisan jingzhu shu (hereafter SIS) (Taibei: Yiwen yinshu guan, 1989), vol. 8, p. 147. 3 Zhouli, in SJS, vol. 3, p. 439. 4 Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 827. 5 Chen Enlin, Xian Qin junshi zhidu yanjiu (Changchun: Jilin wenshi chubanshe, 1991), pp. 76–85. 6 Guoyu (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1978), p. 2. 7 Liji, in SJS, vol. 5, p. 189. 8 Ibid., p. 538. 9 Guanzi, in Zhuzi jicheng (hereafter ZJ) (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1954), vol. 5, p. 123. 10 Liji, in SJS, vol. 5, p. 338. 11 Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 59. 12 Zhouli, in SJS, vol. 3, pp. 443–446. 13 Guoyu, p. 2. 14 Shijing, in SJS, vol. 2, p. 283. 15 Liji, in SJS, vol. 5, p. 344. 16 Wen Yiduo, Shenhua yu shi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1956), pp. 198–199. 17 Shijing, in SJS, vol. 2, p. 487. 18 Liji, in SJS, vol. 5, p. 538. 19 Cited from James Legge, The Chinese Classics (Hong Kong: Lane, Crawford & Co., 1871), vol. 4, p. 162. 20 See Jiaotesheng’s part in Liji, stating that soldiers held a copper shield coated in red and put on spectacular costumes to do martial dancing. Liji, in SJS, vol. 5, p. 487. 21 Shangshu dazhuan, in Sibu congkan (Virtuelle Fachbibliothek Ost- und Südostasien, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin), p. 40. 22 This refers to an inscription found on a food vessel of Prince Jing. 23 Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 187. 24 Gongyang zhuan, in SJS, vol. 7, p. 62. 25 Wang Liqi (ed.), Shiji zhuyi (Xi’an: Sanqing chubanshe, 1991), vol. 2, p. 1207. 26 Ban Gu, Hanshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1992), vol. 6, p. 1762. 27 Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 171. 28 Huang Pumin, Huang Pumin jiedu Wuzi, Sima fa, p. 192. 29 Zhouli, in SJS, vol. 3, pp. 439–440. 30 Huang Pumin, Huang Pumin jiedu Wuzi, Sima fa, p. 187. 31 Ibid., p. 205. 32 Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 331. 33 Huang Pumin, Huang Pumin jiedu Wuzi, Sima fa, p. 189. 34 Guliang zhuan, in SJS, vol. 7, p. 22. 35 Huang Pumin, Huang Pumin jiedu Wuzi, Sima fa, p. 189, p. 192. 36 Guliang zhuan, in SJS, vol. 7, p. 22.

The evolution of the Zhou army 33 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45

Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 248. Huainanzi, in ZJ, vol. 7, p. 215. Huang Pumin, Huang Pumin jiedu Wuzi, Sima fa, p. 189. Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 235. Ibid., p. 318. Huang Pumin, Huang Pumin jiedu Wuzi, Sima fa, p. 193. Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 814. Lunyu, in SJS, vol. 8, p. 178. See the preface to the outline of military books in Ban Gu, Hanshu, vol. 6, p. 1762–1763. In the Annotated Collection of Books of the Warring States, Liu Xiang criticized that . . . moral degeneration had been most serious . . . each kingdom was not ashamed of its greed, which drove them to more power and profit. With different ruling systems, each kingdom would not submit to the emperor above nor follow the advice of chief ministers. They competed for power and those with supremacy were more revered. Hence incessant fighting had been waged together with the cunning craft of deceit. Liu Xiang (comp.), Zhanguoce (Taibei: Sanmin shuju, 1996), p. 26

46 A well-known example is the Battle of Chengpu, in which the Jin army used no more than seven hundred chariots while the Chu army used around one thousand carriages. 47 Mozi, in ZJ, vol. 4, p. 89. 48 Sunzi (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1991), p. 185. 49 Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 929. 50 Guoyu, p. 641, p. 652. 51 Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 232. 52 Xu Zhongshu comments that enrolling Zhou soldiers means qualifying the rural people for military service. See Xu Zhongshu, Zuozhuan yi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1964), p. 51. 53 See the section on the fourth year of Shuaigong in the Zuozhuan, recording the famous speech in which Zhao Jianzi declares his allegiance to the army. Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 994. 54 Huang Pumin, in Zhongguo junshi tongshi, vol. 3: Chunqiu junshi shi (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 1998), p. 59. 55 Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, pp. 486–487. 56 Liu Zhan (ed.), Zhongguo gudai junzhi shi (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 1992), p. 79. 57 Mozi, in ZJ, vol. 4, p. 87. 58 Zuozhuan, in SJS, vol. 6, p. 915. 59 Guoyu, p. 380. 60 Ibid., p. 608. 61 Lunyu, in SJS, vol. 8, p. 42. 62 Liu Xiang (comp.), Zhanguoce, p. 719. 63 Sunzi, p. 172. 64 Ibid., p. 71. 65 Ibid., p. 171. 66 Wang Liqi (ed.), Shiji zhuyi, vol. 2, pp. 1353–1354, p. 1356, p. 1358. 67 Huang Pumin, Huang Pumin jiedu Tang Taizong Li Weigong wendui, Weiliaozi (Changsha: Yuelu shushe, 2011), p. 320. 68 Huang Pumin, Huang Pumin jiedu Sanlü, Liutao (Changsha: Yuelu shushe, 2011), p. 140. 69 See Huang Pumin and Ma Ding, “Dui xian Qin ‘wen wu fenzhi’ wenti de zai kaocha,” Zhongguo Renmin daxue xuebao 1 (2004), pp. 141–143.

2

Military codes of virtue Aspects of wen and wu in China’s Warring States Period Kai Filipiak

Historical background The Warring States Period (480–221 bce) is considered an important era of transformation in Chinese history. It covers the time between the collapse of the feudal system of the Zhou Dynasty and the formation of the bureaucratic central state of the Qin Dynasty. The process of transformation was accompanied by a radical change of the political and economic system. Historical sources depict the change as a chaotic time characterized by the loss of central power. As a result, the former feudal lords became the rulers of independent states and began to expand their power and make war on other states for hegemony. The escalation of war continued during the Warring States Period, leading to struggles for supremacy among seven powerful states. The focus on military power led to important changes in organization, tactics, and weapons. In order to increase the number of available soldiers, military service was systematically extended to the lower strata of society.1 Peasant soldiers, subject to compulsory conscription, were assigned land in exchange for their military service and the payment of taxes. The chariots, including their specialized aristocratic crew, were gradually replaced by an infantry2 composed of less well-equipped and less specialized peasants. Various rulers and commanders saw the need to develop their own cavalry3 to cope with the horse-riding armies that invaded their territories from the steppe. Technological inventions improved the quality of armaments. For example, swords made of bronze were coated with a corrosion-resistant protective layer consisting of a chromium compound. The invention of the crossbow4 armed the infantry with a forceful projectile weapon that was easy to master. The progress in fortification led to new tactics, weapons, and equipment for siege warfare. Several chapters of the book Mozi, attributed to a man who probably lived at the end of the fifth century bce, devote considerable space to the military and administrative measures necessary to defend a town. The omnipresence of war and the associated political, economic, and social instability caused a crisis, and as a result, the former social order was questioned, indicating an increasing need for new orientations, values, and authorities.5

Military codes of virtue 35 Against this background, numerous philosophical schools of thought emerged offering new visions of order and paradigms of behavior for the coming reign. The schools created the basic repertoire of ideas and methods that were employed in later Chinese thought, in much the same manner as Plato6 set the terms for later Western philosophy. Among the so-called hundred schools of thought (baijia), a group of experts focused on military problems. In later historical works they were combined into the school of military strategists (bingjia). The dynastic bibliographies ( yiwenzhi) of Ban Gu’s History of the Han Dynasty (Hanshu), for example, contain a separate section devoted to military works.7 The following investigation is based on six military texts that are concerned with the characteristics of military leaders in ancient China. 1 2 3 4 5 6

Liutao (Six Secret Teachings) Sima fa (The Methods of the Sima) Sunzi bingfa (Sunzi’s Art of War) Sun Bin bingfa (Sun Bin’s Art of War) Wuzi (Wuzi) Weiliaozi (Weiliaozi)

Recent research differs on authorship and time of composition. Problems result from contradictions, incoherence, and anachronisms in different text versions. For example, according to the traditional view, the Liutao dates from the early Zhou Dynasty because Jiang Taigong, the suspected author, was adviser to the Zhou Kings Wen and Wu during the eleventh century bce. Analyses of the text, however, indicate that it could not have been written before approximately the fourth century bce.8 Zhang Wenru’s dating between the late phase of the Warring States Period and the Han Dynasty9 is of little use because of its fivehundred-year span. Xu Baolin suggests that the text dates from the end of the Warring States Period or later because of the text’s reference to a cavalry. In addition, the text offers a mix of Confucian, Daoist, Legist, and Mohist ideas and concepts.10 Indeed, during the Qin and Han Dynasty numerous syncretistic visions of state, society, and the cosmos emerged, which were the cumulative result of intellectual processes that appeared during the Chunqiu-Zhanguo time. Authorship and date of composition are general problems related to the six military works. For that reason it is impossible to set these texts in a chronological order. There is little evidence that the historical individuals associated with them are the true authors of these texts. For that reason, it is doubtful whether the texts reflect the views and ideas of the supposed authors. However, it cannot be denied that the texts were considered to be important. At the end of the year 1083, Emperor Shenzong (r. 1068–1085) ordered Zhu Fu, director of academic affairs, to edit the works Sunzi bingfa, Wuzi, Sima fa, Tang Taizong Li Weigong wendui, Huang Shigong san lüe, and Liutao.11 The collection of “Seven Military Classics” (Wujing qi shu), including the Weiliaozi, was

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widely used for teaching in the empire’s military schools (wuxue). Apart from the two works Tang Taizong Li Weigong wendui (Questions and Replies between Tang Taizong and Li Weigong) and Huang Shigong san lüe (Three Strategies of Huang Shigong), the texts originated from the Warring States and the Spring and Autumn Period respectively. The “canonization” of these works more than a thousand years after their emergence raises the question whether the military texts were manipulated. It is to be supposed that the texts were revised by civil officials for teaching purposes. However, there is much to be said for investigating these texts more closely. First, although opinions on authorship, time of composition, and interpretation are divided, there is broad agreement that the above listed six works are authentic and originated sometime between the fifth and the third century bce. Second, although the individuals related to the military texts were not necessarily their authors, they may be the inspiration behind the ideas and concepts reflected by them. In this case, there is a chronological and spatial connection between them. Most of them lived in the Warring States Period. Sun Wu, Sima Rangju, and Sun Bin were natives of Qi. Wu Qi originated from Wei, a border state of Qi. Third, finds dating back to the Han Dynasty confirm the authenticity of the texts. Burial finds in Linyi (1972), Dingxian (1973), and Qinghai (1978) included versions of Sunzi bingfa, Weiliaozi, Liutao, and Sun Bin bingfa, which was lost for 2000 years.12

Military codes of virtue The investigation of military codes of virtue brings up the question of why the authors of military texts draw attention to the individual qualities of the commander-in-chief. There are two reasons for this increasing interest in military leadership. The first reason is related to the formation of independent states, resulting in the replacement of the hereditary aristocracy with bureaucratic agents of an absolute ruler. Thus the former kinship model was replaced by a principle of efficiency, offering rank and office to capable men. In this context, human resource management became one of the important features of the new political system, which began to choose qualified men for specific purposes. The second reason is related to the importance of war and the military in the Warring States Period. The general became the most powerful figure in the state apart from the ruler. In times of permanent war, the selection of capable commanders was an important matter of survival. In addition, the large number of troops, technological innovation, and tactical changes – briefly speaking, the increasing complexity of warfare – made high demands on the military leadership. These aforementioned works on warfare clearly reflect on the problem of recruitment by debating the qualities and features of the general. They include information on the ideal-typical virtues of a good commander-in-chief. It is

Military codes of virtue 37 significant that, excluding the Weiliaozi, the virtues were combined into sets of four and five, indicating the existence of a military code of virtue at this time. The term “code of virtue” implies moral standards of behavior, characteristics, and individual skills. Therefore, the idea that these codes were equivalent to codes of honor, as Winston W. Lo states,13 seems to me not entirely correct. The code design is rather the expression of a reorientation towards professionalism. My conclusion concerning the existence of military codes in ancient China, however, includes several limitations. The number of virtues assigned to the code is different in each case, as are the types of virtue. However, the term “military code of virtue” is justified by the special mode of writing, as illustrated in a passage from the Liutao. Conventionally translated the passage should be read as: “Generals have five talents and ten shortcomings. . . . The five talents [wu cai] include courage [ yong], wisdom [zhi], benevolence [ren], trustworthiness [xin], and loyalty [zhong].”14 According to the Sunzi bingfa, the general’s characteristics include wisdom, trustworthiness, benevolence, courage, and strictness ( yan).15 Although Sun Bin was a descendant of Sun Wu, these characteristics differ from the Sunzi bingfa in three cases. The Sun Bin bingfa attributes righteousness ( yi), benevolence, morality (de), trustworthiness, and wisdom/decisiveness (zhi/jue) to the general.16 In comparison with the other military treatises, the Sun Bin bingfa depicts a structured order, claiming that the first virtue, righteousness, is associated with the head of the army. The second virtue, benevolence, is associated with the stomach of the army. Morality as the third virtue is equal to the hands. Trustworthiness corresponds to the feet, and wisdom/decisiveness symbolizes the army’s tail.17 It can be assumed that the features provided by other codes of virtue follow orders as well. The Sima fa differs from the other texts on one point. The features are not attributed to the general, but to the ruler as the commander-in-chief. He must “save the people with benevolence, wage war with righteousness, decide matters with wisdom, fight with courage.”18 The Wuzi states that the general’s authority (wei), morality, benevolence, and courage should be sufficient to lead his inferiors and pacify the masses.19 Similar to the Sima fa, the Weiliaozi discusses the special features of a ruler, but fails to construct a code of military virtue. Table 2.1 outlines the types and order of military virtues found in the five mentioned texts of the Warring States Period. It is obvious that five of the six examined texts include codes of virtue for generals. The codes present virtues such as courage, wisdom, benevolence, loyalty, strictness, and authority. Except for the Wuzi, which lists four, the other military codes of virtue present five types of virtue. The number five is not a coincidence. The five talents (wu cai) of the general quoted above are associated with the fundamental traditional concept of Five Phases (wuxing). The Commentary of Zuo (Zuozhuan), an early work of narrative history, states that heaven produced the five materials (tian sheng wu cai):

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Table 2.1 Rank

Liutao

Sima fa

Sunzi

Sun Bin

Wuzi

1

Courage yong Wisdom zhi Benevolence ren Trustworthiness xin Loyalty zhong

Benevolence ren Righteousness yi Wisdom zhi Courage yong Trustworthiness xin

Wisdom zhi Trustworthiness xin Benevolence ren Courage yong Strictness yan

Righteousness yi Benevolence ren Morality de Trustworthiness xin Wisdom/ Decisiveness zhi/jue

Authority wei Morality de Benevolence ren Courage yong

2 3 4 5

earth, wood, metal, fire, and water.20 However the character “cai” has different meanings: one of these is “talent.” Zou Yan (approx. 305–240 bce), the founder of the so-called Yin-YangWuxing-School, used the term as well. According to Sima Qian’s Records of the Historian (Shiji), Zou Yan interprets the term as wude,21 which could be translated as “essential power.” Afterwards, the static character of the concept changed. The Great Plan (Hongfan) chapter, originated in the third century bce and later included in the Book of Documents (Shangshu), uses the term Five Phases (wuxing) to indicate the dynamic creation of a material and its transfer into another material.22 Thus, the five xing characterize processes of “fire rising and burning, water wetting and sinking.”23 On the basis of the idea of Five Phases (as well as yin and yang), the Chinese created a universe of correlations indicating an analogy between macro- and microcosm, in other words an analogy between humans and the cosmos. Scholars of the Western Han Dynasty (206 bce–ce 24) cultivated these forms of correlative thought which A. C. Graham identifies as “organizing concepts of proto-sciences.”24 One of the most influential intellectuals of the time was Dong Zhongshu (179–104 bce).25 His work titled Rich Dew of Spring and Autumn (Chunqiu fanlu) includes the important formula of Three Bonds and Five Constant Virtues (sangang wuchang). According to the Confucian tradition, the term wuchang is related to five virtues, that is to benevolence, righteousness, ritual decorum (li), wisdom, and trustworthiness. They correspond to the Five Phases.26 Military theory made use of the Five Phases model as well. As Mark Edward Lewis points out, early military treatises refer to five soldiers who were armed with short and long weapons and combined in a single squad. The five-man squad (wu) became the basic unit of infantry during the eighth or seventh century bce.27 The importance of the Five Phases concept supports the conclusion that the five virtues assigned to military codes of virtue are another form of correlative thinking. It should be noted that four of the discussed military texts combined virtues in sets of five before Confucian scholars related virtues to the Five Phases.

Military codes of virtue 39 The Wuzi, however, presents a set of four combined virtues. How does that fit into the pattern of the Five Phases? Wang Aihe states that experts of numerological schemes created systems of correlative classifications between the natural and the human world that were based on sets of two, three, four, five, and so on.28 In fact, there was a variety of competing numerological schemes and it seems obvious that the four virtues of the Wuzi, although not linked with the idea of the Five Phases, present a form of correlative thinking. If we compare the military codes of virtue with the Five Constant Virtues, it is obvious that there was no category of ritual decorum in military thought at this time. The difference can be explained by the social and military changes that took place during the Zhou Dynasty. Huang Pumin points out that several centuries before the Warring States Period, the concept of the Rule of Rites (zhili) had penetrated into all areas, including the military realm. As a result, the underlying principle of military activities was military rites ( junli).29 The social and political changes of the later Spring and Autumn and Warring States Period had a deep impact on the military. The former ritualized way of warfare was replaced by a radical form that elevated victory above everything else. Under these conditions, ritual decorum seems to be an obstacle to military success. This explanation makes clear why the codes of military virtue did not include the category li. As we have seen above, military codes of virtue differ from each other, pointing to the fact that there was no general binding military code of virtue in ancient China. Examining the virtues, it becomes apparent that some virtues were frequently used. “Benevolence,” for example, is included in each code. Benevolence, as well as wisdom, courage, and trustworthiness, are virtues of high frequency. They are primarily military virtues. In contrast, righteousness, loyalty, morality, strictness, authority, and decisiveness appear as virtues of secondary importance.

Primary military virtues in the context of wen and wu Ren – benevolence (leadership skills and integration abilities) The arguments given above prove the existence of military codes of virtue in ancient China. In the next step, we will discuss military virtues in the traditional Chinese wen-wu-context. Wen and wu can be understood as two opposite principles similar to the cosmic principles yin and yang that produce all phenomena of the universe. Depending on the context, wen represents “civility,” “moral standards,” or “talent for cultural matters.” Wu, by contrast, symbolizes “martiality,” “merit won by military service,” and “military strategy.” The ideal ruler who is able to manage both aspects “gives rest even to great Heaven,” as the Book of Odes (Shijing), one of the oldest Chinese literary sources, states.30 Let us now turn to the relationship between military virtues and civil moral standards. Using the example of three primary military virtues, I will analyze the civil and military context of these virtues and demonstrate correlations, overlaps, and differences.

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Among the primary military virtues, “benevolence” (ren) ranks first. The character is composed of the radical “man” and the number “two,” pointing to the relationship between two individuals. According to Explaining Simple and Analyzing Compound Characters (Shuowen jiezi), an early second century Chinese dictionary, “benevolence” is explained by the character qin.31 Semantic connotations of the term refer to meanings such as “parents,” “relatives,” “love,” “intimate,” “touch,” and “personal.” In the context of civil standards, “benevolence” is particularly related to the ethical-political Confucian School. In the Analects (Lunyu), a foundational text of this school, “benevolence” is the most frequently occurring ethical category. Practicing “benevolence” means to “love the people,”32 to “overcome selfish desires,” and to “follow the rules of decency, politeness and morality.”33 Confucius (551–479 bce) expanded the original meaning of “benevolence.” Ren as the “norm of integrative behavior”34 became an ethical category of Confucianism, referring to the behavior of individuals and their contribution to the world order. If a man acts benevolently, he fulfils his obligations to other people according to his social rank and status. In a sense, ren means the ability of the individual to integrate into society,35 contributing to the harmony and unification of the social hierarchy. Xunzi (fourth/third century bce), another representative of Confucian values, emphasizes the role of benevolence for the relationship between the ruler and the military. In his Discussion of the Military ( yi bing), he states: “If there is a man at the head [of the state] and [officials] below him who act benevolently, then the generals hold the same opinion and the power of the three armies are unified.”36 Benevolence is the basis for the mental homogeneity of the officer corps. In contrast to the concept of ren presented by the Analects, the military interpretation of ren refers to the way of warfare, the quality of leadership, and the ability of the general to integrate into the army. The way of warfare should be based on proper behavior. In the Liutao, it is characterized by an army that spares the population in occupied territories. One should not destroy the palaces and houses of the population and those who surrender should not be killed.37 Taigong’s advice can be understood as a reaction to the radicalized way of warfare of the Warring States Period. That is why the author of the Sima fa advocates making war on the basis of ritual decorum (li) and benevolence (ren) similar to the wars waged by the ancestors.38 According to the rules of ritualized warfare, one should not pursue a fleeing enemy too far or follow a retreating enemy a long time.39 The quality of leadership is the second meaning of ren in the military context. As the Wuzi points out, leadership is a basic feature of the general enabling him to lead his troops and settle the masses.40 Ren is an important precondition to ensuring that the soldiers are loyal to the general41 and that they defeat the enemy in order to achieve military merit.42 In addition, the virtue of the commander-in-chief is reflected in the principle that he has to lead the troops by example. The Weiliaozi illustrates the impact of this general rule of military leadership:

Military codes of virtue 41 Now when the army is toiling on the march, the general must establish himself [as an example]. In the heat he does not set up an umbrella; in the cold he does not wear heavier clothes. On difficult terrain he must dismount and walk. Only after the army’s well is finished does he drink. Only after the army’s food is cooked does he eat. Only after the army’s ramparts are complete does he rest. He must personally experience the same toil and respite . . .43 The passage demonstrates a close affinity to the Confucian interpretation of ren. The general has to fulfill his obligations to the soldiers by overcoming individual desires. Although he is superior in rank, he has to integrate into the soldiers’ community. According to Wu Qi’s biography, included in the Shiji, Wu Qi wore the same clothes and ate the same food as his soldiers. He shared the hardships of a soldier’s everyday life.44 That is why the ability of the general to integrate into the army is the third meaning of ren in the military context. The general who shares the hardships of his soldiers develops a close and trusting relationship with them. He establishes himself as an example by limiting his desires. According to Xunzi, such behavior contributes to the mental homogeneity of his subordinates. Mental homogeneity creates loyalty. As a result, the soldiers will go through thick and thin with the general. They will fight for him because he loves them and he knows the hardships of their life. Here we find similarities to the Confucian interpretation of ren that advocates familiarity with the people, the limiting of selfish desires, and integration into society. On the other hand, there are differences in terms of the military interpretation of ren as the way of warfare and the quality of leadership. Winston W. Lo is right to say that scholar-officials and soldiers shared the same basic ideals, but that there were subtle differences in the way these ideals were translated into operational norms.45 Zhi – wisdom (professional knowledge and strategic tactical abilities) Of the primary military virtues, “wisdom” (zhi) comes next. The Chinese character zhi has different connotations, including “knowledge and experience,” “intelligence and prudence,” “creativity and slyness,” and “strategic thinking.” The character zhi was originally synonymously used for “knowing” zhi. According to Confucian understanding, the cardinal virtues of “benevolence” and “wisdom” are closely related. The relationship is expressed in the Lunyu, which claims that one who was appointed to an office due to his wisdom will lose it if he cannot act on the basis of benevolence.46 In another passage of the same text, wisdom refers to the ability to know the people;47 in other words to have knowledge of human nature. The Mengzi interprets wisdom as the ability to tell right from wrong.48 Roger T. Ames and David L. Hall point to the fact that in China “knowing” and “wisdom” were not viewed as different. They characterize zhi as the “ability to anticipate and predict the future on the basis of known conditions.”49

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In military texts, zhi is associated with aspects of military planning. The Taigong liutao, for example, states that the sage should make plans and the brave should fight.50 In the Wuzi, wisdom finds its expression in the perfect arrangement of sitting or standing troops, as well as in perfect organization.51 The Sun Bin bingfa implies that zhi refers to the strategic-tactical abilities of the general, saying: “The whole wisdom of the general is that he does not underestimate a weak enemy, that he is not afraid of the threat of a powerful enemy, and that he still acts cautiously.”52 For this reason, the principal duty of the general is to “analyze the situation of the enemy, to examine the proportion of the terrain and to explore the distances.”53 The general should not allow his thoughts to become confused.54 He should be able to deceive his opponents55 and be capable of adapting to different situations.56 The general should make decisions on the basis of zhi.57 The examples demonstrate that in the military context zhi, similar to the category ren, is applied to military issues. In contrast to the Confucian concept, zhi is associated with professional military knowledge, including military planning, decision making, and organization. Zhi manifests itself in the strategic-tactical abilities of the general. Yong – courage According to the Taigong liutao, professional military knowledge (zhi) can sometimes be insufficient when it is not accompanied by courage.58 The Chinese character for courage ( yong) has different connotations closely related to the military context. Yong can mean “bravery” or “courage,” and was later used for “warrior.” Confucian interpretations emphasize that courage is one of three basic virtues of the noble man ( junzi). According to the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong), wisdom, benevolence, and courage are the basic virtues of the world.59 However, the Analects (Lunyu) is ambivalent about the value of courage. Although the way of the noble man includes courage, courage can be dangerous if it is separate from other virtues. Confucius is alleged to have said: “The noble man, having courage without righteousness, will be guilty of insubordination. One of the lower people, having courage without righteousness, will commit robbery.”60 Another passage in the Analects associates courage with benevolence.61 In other words, courage which is not subject to social norms (li) could cause disintegrative effects in society.62 Xunzi states that courage depends on the individual level of self-cultivation. He distinguishes between the courage of merchants, bandits, ordinary people, educated people, and noblemen.63 The reason why military texts only occasionally discuss courage could be attributed to the obvious fact that courage is an integral part of fighting. Faced with serious consequences such as painful injuries, brutal punishments, and death, courage has to be a basic virtue of soldiers and generals. As a result, courage was one of the primary military virtues in ancient China.

Military codes of virtue 43 The Taigong liutao states that a brave general cannot be defeated.64 Cowardice, by contrast, is one of the twenty shortcomings of the general, as the Sun Bin bingfa notes.65 The Sima fa finds that leading a battle depends on courage.66 However, occasionally the value of courage is qualified by being subordinated or associated to other virtues in ways similar to Confucian interpretations. The Weiliaozi, for example, argues that generals in the past who only relied on courage without any knowledge related to the specific rules of warfare were all defeated.67 For the author of the Wuzi, courage is only one of many features of the general. He warns against the brave man who wants to fight without knowledge of the strengths and weaknesses of his opponent.68 Both texts subordinate courage to the realm of professional military knowledge and the strategic-tactical abilities (zhi) of the general.

Conclusion What conclusions can be drawn from the investigation of military codes of virtue? In sum, it can be said that studies on military codes of virtue open up new perspectives on the history and culture of ancient China. The investigation highlights the prominent role of the military and contributes to a deeper understanding of civil–military interrelations at this time. Chinese military texts written during the Warring States Period prove the existence of military codes of virtue. The codes, which are characterized by a special mode of writing, were applied to the commander-in-chief. Strictly speaking, the codes cannot be described as moral codes or codes of conduct because they include moral standards of behavior as well as individual skills and features. The codes’ characteristics result from their function. During a period of continued warfare that disastrously affected the population, it was necessary to set up basic rules for military behavior. The skills and features applied to the general, however, demonstrate that the codes defined quality standards for the military leadership and are therefore an indicator of the period’s increasing professionalism. Compared to other systems of thought at the time, the codes represent a military vision of social order. Analysis of different codes demonstrates that their combination into sets of four and five is related to correlative thinking based on numerological schemes. The fact that four of five codes include five virtues demonstrates the high popularity of the traditional Chinese Five Phases concept. The integration of new ideas and concepts into military theory makes clear that warfare was no longer practiced in the context of the Rule of Rites, but understood as an art of war (bingfa) that could be the subject of research and instruction. The analysis of primary military virtues shows that military virtues were interrelated with the cardinal virtues of the Confucian School. Both kinds of virtues were grounded on the former Zhou aristocracy’s martial way of life. Many examples illustrate the importance of war and the military to the Zhou

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aristocracy. For example, bows became an aristocratic weapon. The power of early Zhou armies had been based on war chariots manned by members of the aristocracy. Archery and steering war chariots were part of six arts (liuyi) of aristocratic education. It is often overlooked that the military origins of Confucian values were later excluded from the Confucian ethical-political doctrine. Conversely, it appears that military codes of virtue did not reflect the formerly important role of military rites. As a result, ritual decorum (li), which formed an integral part of the Confucian values, failed to be a category of the military codes. Despite shared origins, primary military virtues and Confucian moral standards were not congruent. The investigation shows very plainly that the translation and interpretation of virtues in a military context must be different from a civil Confucian context. The civil–military split of the formerly aristocratic values paralleled the increasing separation of the civil and military sphere, which was reflected by the increasing trend towards specialization and professionalism at the end of the Warring States Period. Codes of virtue, constructed for military leaders, are an example of the great importance of professional and personal qualities applied to coming generations of commanders. Finally, it should be stressed that the codification of military virtues in Warring States China signifies the beginning of reflections on special features attributed to the general. Numerous military encyclopedias and handbooks of later times include categories and chapters discussing criteria of good and bad generals and presenting instructions for qualified military leaders.

Notes 1 Mark Edward Lewis, Sanctioned Violence in Early China (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990), p. 61. 2 The armies of several states in the sixth century bce consisted completely of infantry. Non-Chinese warriors of the Rong and Di living in the mountain areas of the North were infantrymen as well. 3 Although some scholars see the origin of the cavalry in the Shang-Yin Dynasty, sources provide evidence that the cavalry as an independent branch was not developed until the Warring States Period. A striking example is Wuling, the ruler of the Northern Zhao, who created cavalry units in 307 bce. For the discussion, see Wu Rusong et al., Zhongguo junshi tongshi, vol. 3: Zhanguo junshi shi (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 2005), pp. 74–75. 4 Crossbows were used, for example, in the battle of Maling (341 bce) when the army of Wei, led by Sun Bin, defeated the army of the state Qi. 5 Ralf Moritz, Die Philosophie im alten China (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1990), p. 37. 6 Plato’s main work The Republic is a theory on the ideal state. He believed that the polis was declining because of the expanding goods economy. Plato advocated the recreation of a new aristocracy whose members would be recruited after a long process of education. 7 The section is a copy of Liu Xin’s (d. ce 23) work Seven Strategies (Qi Lüe), which he based on his father’s (Liu Xiang) Separate Records (Bie Lu).

Military codes of virtue 45 8 Ralph D. Sawyer, The Seven Military Classics of Ancient China (New York: Basic Books, 2007), p. 37. 9 Zhang Wenru, Zhongguo bingxue wenhua (Beijing: Beijing daxue chubanshe, 1997), p. 139. 10 Xu Baolin, Zhongguo bingshu tongjian (Beijing: Jiefangjun chubanshe, 1990), p. 118. 11 Li Shou, Xu zizhi tongjian changbian (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2004), vol. 14, p. 8198. 12 Xu Baolin, Zhongguo bingshu tongjian, pp. 81–83. 13 Winston W. Lo, “The Self-Image of the Chinese Military in Historical Perspective,” Journal of Asian History, 31.1 (1997), p. 17. 14 Liutao, in Siku quanshu (hereafter SKQS) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1987), vol. 726, p. 21. 15 Sunzi, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 46. 16 Zhang Zhenze (ed.), Sun Bin bingfa jiaoli (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1986), pp. 174–175. The translation of the last feature is problematic. The original sentence could be understood as “The general must know [zhi ] the way to win. If he does not know the way, the army will not [...]. That is why decisiveness [jue] is the ‘army’s tail’.” The last feature of the general is associated with the characters zhi and jue. Zhi indicates wisdom, which is also an important feature of other military codes of virtue. In this case, zhi is associated with an object, indicating that zhi could be understood as a verb. In antique texts zhi is synonymously used for the character zhi (“knowing”). “Wisdom” and “knowing” are connected to one another and synonymously by the Sun Bin bingfa. The empty space indicates that the text is corrupted. According to the Liutao, the lack of wisdom attributed to the general will sow seeds of doubt among the soldiers. With this in mind, the sentence could be understood as “If he does not know the way, the army will not have confidence in the capability of the general.” 17 Zhang Zhenze, Sun Bin bingfa jiaoli, pp. 174–175. 18 Sima fa, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 69. 19 Wuzi, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 61. 20 Zuozhuan, in Shisan jing zhushu (hereafter SJZS) (Taibei: Yiwen yinshu guan, 1989), vol. 6, p. 648. 21 Wang Liqi (ed.), Shiji zhuyi (Xi’an: Sanqin chubanshe, 1991), vol. 3, p. 1786. 22 Shangshu, in SJZS, vol. 1, p. 168. 23 Angus Charles Graham, Disputers of the Tao (Chicago: Open Court, 1998), p. 326. 24 Ibid., p. 320. 25 Dong Zhongshu convinced the emperor Wudi with his vision of an omnipotent ruler who, supported by scholar-officials educated in Confucian ethics, instructs the people in accordance with the way of heaven. 26 Theodore De Bary and Irene Bloom (eds.), Sources of Chinese Tradition (New York: Columbia University Press, 1999), vol. 1, note 17, p. 675. 27 Mark Edward Lewis, Sanctioned Violence in Early China, pp. 107–108. 28 Wang Aihe, Cosmology and Political Culture in Early China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 79. 29 Huang Pumin, “Li yue wenming de xingshui yu Zhou dai jundai de bianqian,” paper presented at the 2011 conference on Civil–Military Relations in Chinese History in Leipzig. 30 Shijing, in SJZS, vol. 2, p. 360. 31 Xu Shen, Shuowen jiezi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1977), p. 161. 32 Li Jie (ed.), Lunyu (XII, 22) (Taiyuan: Shanxi guji chubanshe, 2001), p. 134. 33 Ibid. (XII, 1), p. 125. 34 Ralf Moritz (ed. and trans.), Das Große Lernen (Daxue) (Stuttgart: Philipp Reclam jun., 2003), p. 61. 35 Ralf Moritz (ed. and trans.), Konfuzius – Gespräche (Lunyu) (Stuttgart: Philipp Reclam jun., 2003), p. 193.

46 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68

K. Filipiak Xu Xiurong (ed.), Xunzi xinzhu (Taibei: Liren shuju, 1983), p. 278. Liutao, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 33. Sima fa, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 66. Ibid. The Wuzi exactly states that the authority, moral, benevolence, and courage of the general must be sufficient to lead his troops and settle the masses. Wuzi, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 61. Liutao, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 26. The Liutao states that the soldiers will not love (qin) the general if he fails to act benevolently. The term qin was used to describe the meaning of ren, as I have pointed out above. Zhang Zhenze, Sun Bin bingfa jiaoli, p. 174. Cited from Ralph D. Sawyer, The Seven Military Classics of Ancient China, p. 249. For the original passage see Weiliaozi, in: SKQS, vol. 726, p. 75. Wang Liqi (ed.), Shiji zhuyi, vol. 3, p. 1638. Winston W. Lo, “The Self-Image of the Chinese Military,” p. 17. Li Jie (ed.), Lunyu (XV, 33), p. 176. Ibid., (XII, 22), p. 134. Ren Dayuan and Liu Feng (eds.), Mengzi yizhu (Taibei: Guojia chubanshe, 2004), p. 75. David L. Hall and Roger T. Ames, Thinking Through Confucius (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1987), p. 51. Liutao, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 23. Wuzi, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 62. Zhang Zhenze, Sun Bin bingfa jiaoli, p. 176. Ibid., p. 28. Liutao, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 21. Wuzi, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 62. Liutao, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 25. Sima fa, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 69. See also Weiliaozi, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 82. Liutao, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 21. Liang Haiming (ed.), Daxue, Zhongyong (Chenyang: Liaoning minzu chubanshe, 1997), p. 106. Li Jie (ed.), Lunyu (XVII, 23), p. 198. Ibid. (XIV, 4), p. 150. Ibid. (VIII, 2), p. 78. Xu Xiurong (ed.), Xunzi xinzhu, p. 47. Liutao, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 21. Zhang Zhenze, Sun Bin bingfa jiaoli, p. 179. Sima fa, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 67. Weiliaozi, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 84. Wuzi, in SKQS, vol. 726, p. 61.

3

The master of works (sikong) in the armies of the Qin and Han dynasties Song Jie (Translation: Kai Filipiak/Eugenia Werzner)

One of the characteristics of the Qin and Han bureaucracy is that the central and local government generally had masters of works (sikong) positions, such as the imperial government’s bang sikong and zhong sikong as well as du sikong, zuo you sikong, and shui sikong under the command of the nine ministers ( jiu qing). The sikong as an official position in a prefecture is mentioned on the unearthed official seals and sealing wax. Yunmeng and Liye bamboo slips from the Qin dynasty also recorded county sikong (xian sikong) and township sikong (xiang sikong), who were in charge of civil works and conscript labor (or forced labor in government service). Sikong officials of counties and circuits were responsible for the custody and servitude of prisoners and were therefore also known as prison sikong ( yu sikong). The Qin and Han military organizations had a sikong position as well, mirroring the administrative agencies. There has been little academic research on this subject. In this chapter, I try to explore the origins, responsibilities, and role of these officials.

The evolution of the designation “sikong” in the Qin and Han army Among the combat troops of the Western Han, there were officials named military sikong ( jun sikong). Historical sources tell us that Du Yannian worked as a jun sikong during the reign of emperor Zhao (86–74 bce). Others indicate the existence of jun sikong ling and, as an unearthed Han seal demonstrates, jun sikong cheng.1 The primary and deputy officials of the Han administration were called ling and cheng, with the jun sikong cheng being the deputy of the jun sikong ling. In addition, Ru Chun states in Du Yannian’s biography in the History of the Former Han (Hanshu) that according to Han law the military’s sikong organization was divided into two types: “Yingjun sikong and junzhong sikong, including two officials for each type.”2 The Han law and the military’s sikong mentioned by Ru Chun must have been part of the Eastern Han laws and institutions, because Ru Chun lived during the Eastern Han. This has been confirmed by archaeological data, such as the handed-down Han seals of junzhong sikong and

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yingjun sikong, as well as the chuying sikong and chuzong sikong seals found in the Han tomb of Liu Dao, King of Chu, in Shizishan near Xuzhou. Zhao Pingan considers the latter to represent the Chu state’s junzhong sikong, but “ying sikong should be considered another omitted form of yingjun sikong.”3 Huang Shengzhang believes that the tomb’s owner was Liu Dao, King of Chu (r. 150–129 bce), who lived in the fifth generation of the Western Han dynasty.4 The records concerning specific duties of the yingjun sikong and junzhong sikong are very sparse. The Qing scholar Shen Jiaben believed that “armies’ duties are conquering and defending” and concluded that they were judiciaries of the garrison and the combat troops.5 The historical data show that after the middle of the Western Han dynasty, the official title of several military sikong was jun or ying, which shows that they were serving as full-time staff in the military. However, according to bamboo slips, silk books, and printed records, from the late Warring States period to the early Han dynasty, these same official positions had different names. They were called bang sikong or xian sikong, or referred to simply as sikong, without the addition of “military” ( jun). This shows that at that time the military sikong was a concurrent post to the government departments’ sikong. For example, the Miscellaneous Excerpts of the Qin’s Law (Qinlü za chao) states: Soldiers who receive provisions at their location and sell them to others will be punished with the penalty of guarding the frontier for two years. Soldiers of the same unit, squad leaders, and supervisors who do not report [the transgression] will be punished with the penalty of guarding the frontier for one year. Xian sikong, sikong zuoshi, and prison officers who were not aware [of the crime] will be punished with the loss of one suit of armor; bang sikong will be punished with the loss of one shield.6 The Book of Lord Shang (Shangjunshu) states: “When attacking a city, the guo sikong should measure the width and the thickness of the wall.” Academics generally believe that the guo sikong is the bang sikong in the law of the Qin dynasty and that its predecessor is the minister of works (sikong) of the Western Zhou dynasty and the Spring and Autumn period who supervised governmental construction and provisioning. As a leading position of great prestige, it belonged to the powerful group of offices named san si, wu guan, or liu qing.7 These factors indicate that the officials above were charged with the task of army operations. Yu Haoliang has pointed out that the bamboo slips of the Qin mention the sikong usually taking charge of roads, water, and other civil works and services under their jurisdiction. Meanwhile, when war breaks out, he also accompanied the troops that belonged to the states and counties. Yu Haoliang summarizes the characteristics of the sikong: State and county sikong should join the army because engineering is very important in warfare. The sikong should participate in operations as a corps

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of engineers. These conclusions are drawn from Miscellaneous Excerpts of the Qin’s Law, stating that they had to join the military, and the Book of Lord Shang, stating that they participated in the engineering and technical operations.8 Bamboo slips and printed records may reveal another important factor that led to the sikong joining the army: In the local administration system under the district defender (xianwei), the xiandao sikong officer himself fulfilled some of the military functions. Yan Gengwang has pointed out that the counties of both the Qin and Han dynasties were equipped with wei, responsible for the military aspects of security affairs; their affiliations include the conscript section (weicao), prison sikong, and other agencies, with the sikong at the organization’s core. The weicao, for example, “rules with the help of the prison sikong, who is in charge of the soldiers who flee from the prison.”9 In addition, the district defender was in charge of affairs such as dispatching soldiers, special services, and transportation. This work was also specifically taken charge of by the sikong. The recent discovery of the Liye bamboo slips of the Qin dynasty provide strong evidence for this, showing that xianwei organized the public service officials throughout the sikong’s county. The contents on the front of the Liye slips (J1(16) 5–6)10 are similar and all about the county official Dong Ting, who instructed subordinate officials and agencies such as the magistrate, clerk, and the county military office of the documents. After that, the slips emphasize that the common people are not to be forced into corvée during busy farming seasons. Various officials had to examine the registers of the military duty personnel of every county. If they found a functionary disobeying the orders, they reported the offence to the authorities of the counties concerned and the guilty were punished according to the law. The characters on the reverse side of the two above-mentioned bamboo strips make clear that this document was first delivered to the magistrate of Ling County; it was then received by the assistant of county magistrate Ou and the vice magistrate Dun Hu who transmitted it separately to Ling County’s district defender at specific dates of the third month. The district defender then passed it down to the affiliated sikong of every village, who were urged to listen and to deal with the matter, i.e., to strictly abide by the law and to implement the task properly. The document was copied and transmitted to the chief township sikong (duxiang sikong), who sent it to the villages Qiling and Er’chun. The document emphasizes that those selected for military service should not remain at home nor desert. It indicates that the number of common people selected for (military) service and the succession of the selection were arranged by the village sikong (xiang sikong). In other words, the document was sent to the officials to prohibit them from abusing the workforce. The prison sikong was also responsible for matters concerning desertion. He had to count the number of deserters, investigate, and make reports to his superiors. These responsibilities were related to the generation of manpower resources for forced labor and the reason why the sikong was in charge of them.

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Military service and the raising of manpower resources were often combined under the Qin and the Han dynasties, so that the county sikong were under the direct jurisdiction of the district defender (xianwei) and responsible for selecting soldiers for forced labor, for dealing with cases of desertion, and even for leading troops into battle. At the beginning of the Han dynasty, the military title of the sikong was the same as during the previous Qin dynasty. The Xing De entry of the silken book found in the Han tomb of Mawangdui records the events in Fengzhan and contains the names of various types of official positions including sikong. Li Xueqin has written that: the above-mentioned military officer system reflects the situation of the officials at the beginning of the Han dynasty and differs from what is recorded in the Hanshu. At the time when the silken book appeared, the insufficiencies in the [official books] were eliminated.11 The sikong title did not contain the character “military” here. The bamboo text Laws and Decrees of the Second Year (Er nian lüling) of Zhangjiashan from the early Han period states: Each of the zhong fanu, gouzhi fanu, zhong sikong, qingche, jun fanu, and sikong has an income of 800 dan per year, those with cheng have an income of 300 dan per year, zuzhang have that of 500 dan per year.12 Wang Xin has come to the conclusion that the mentioned fanu and qingche were high-ranking military officials. The zuzhang mentioned at the end of the passage is also associated with a military section. The sikong is consequently also a military title. Furthermore, the passage “those with cheng have an income of 300 dan per year” refers to fanu, qingche, and sikong.13 This argument seems reasonable. The commentary on the Laws and Decrees of the Second Year explains “sikong of the middle range” as “officials in charge of criminals, appointed by the central government.”14 I think this position may have evolved from the state sikong of the Qin dynasty and that during wartime its occupant was simultaneously a civil and a military official. The first four officials mentioned in this text – zhong fanu, gouzhi fanu, zhong sikong, qingche – belonged to the jiangli section of the army administered directly by the court. The three positions mentioned last belonged to the local military organizations, and sikong following jun fanu is the jun sikong mentioned above. The Qin dynasty originally had one sikong office in every county, as confirmed by the seal and the lute of the Qin mentioned above. The office’s functions must have been similar to those of the state sikong referred to in the Qin bamboo slips of Yunmeng. County sikong were responsible for the civil and hydraulic engineering within a prefecture. They had to accompany military expeditions in wartime – therefore, there was no need to establish the position of a military sikong in peacetime. Moreover, the assistant officer (change) with an

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annual salary of 300 dan who was subordinated to the zhong sikong resp. state sikong could be considered a predecessor of the military sikong assistant officer ( jun sikong cheng) of the middle and later periods of the Western Han dynasty. The Laws and Decrees of the Second Year records that at the beginning of the Han dynasty, every prefecture and county established the sikong position according to the size of the county, the population size, and the distance to the capital. The annual salary of county sikong was accordingly divided into the three income groups of 160, 200, and 250 dan.15 In the Laws and Decrees of the Second Year the term sikong was used without the prefixes “prefecture,” “county,” or “prison.” Sikong thus must have been a generally used title, while “county” or “prison” sikong were terms for specific positions. The prison sikong of the counties mentioned above must also have been another term. His official name was just sikong without the attribute “prison.” Therefore, the imperial advisors thought that if one of the three excellences (san gong) was called sikong as well, the position could be confused with those on the local level, and it was suggested that the character “great” be added to this title in order to distinguish it from the others. Generally speaking, according to the bamboo texts and the printed sources, from the late Warring States period to the beginning of the Han dynasty the title “sikong” was used either without the prefix “military” or with the prefixes “state,” “prefecture,” and “county.” This implies that these sikong were basically civil officials who concurrently held military positions, which differentiates them from the officials emerging from the middle period of the Western Han dynasty up to the Eastern Han dynasty who were known as jun sikong, yingjun sikong, and junzhong sikong. From the Qin to the beginning of the Han dynasty, in peacetime the sikong of all levels stayed in the capital or their provinces to deal with the governmental affairs they were responsible for. In times of war they followed the army into battle and were simultaneously in charge of military engineering and prosecuting. The origin of the sikong can be traced back to the Western Zhou (1027–771 bce) and to the Spring and Autumn period (770–476 bce). When the kings and the feudal princes of that time mobilized troops for war, the sikong of the five offices (wu guan) or the six ministers (liu qing) had to follow the army and participate in the military operations. The Book of Documents (Shangshu) records the oath of King Wu of the Zhou (r. 1046–1043 bce) before the battle of Muye. The text lists many military official titles, including the sikong.16 The punitive expeditions of the feudal princes in the Spring and Autumn period were often led by the sikong, which is recorded in the Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu)17 as well as in Zuo’s Tradition (Zuozhuan).18 The sikong of the Zhou dynasty simultaneously holding civil and military offices was one of the important features of the political and bureaucratic system in ancient times. Tong Shuye states: Before the Spring and Autumn period, there was no distinction between civil and military officials because every nobleman ranking above shi was

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Song Jie able to shoot and to defend due to the warrior education practiced in the ancient times . . . During the Spring and Autumn period, there was no nobleman who could not understand military issues and there was not a trace of separation between civil and military official duties. At the end of the Spring and Autumn period, the shifu appeared as a new type of official, turning warriors into scholars. After the Warring States period, a system differentiating between civil and military duties of officials emerged.19

Yang Kuan points out that the centralized bureaucratic state emerged after a time of political reforms in each territorial state during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States period. Yang states: The important feature of this bureaucratic mechanism was the distinction between civil and military officials. Managing government affairs required political competence and dealing with military conflicts demanded good military skills, which in turn tended to centralize the power in the monarch’s hands. After the separation of civil and military offices, the power of the cabinet ministers declined while their mutual control increased, which favored the monopolization of power by the monarch.20 As recorded in the bamboo slips and other documents, from the Warring States period until the beginning of the Han dynasty the position of the military sikong was used at all levels of administration, from the court to the county level. This can be considered a continuation of the traditional undivided exercise of civil and military duties from the Zhou dynasty. With the development of the centralized bureaucratic state since the Warring States period, the sikong changed by the middle of the Western Han dynasty from an official concurrently managing civil and military affairs into a professional military official. The described evolution of the title military sikong reflects the trend towards specialization and division of labor to manage the different branches of the administration.

Functions of the military sikong As for the organization and the duties of the sikong in the military structures of the Qin and the Han dynasties, earlier scholars have only paid attention to their judicial and (imprisonment) functions. After the Qin bamboo slips of Yunmeng were unearthed, scholars began to focus on the military activities of the sikong, but due to the lack of historical sources they could not investigate this theme comprehensively. The following investigation contributes to this discussion. Earthworks in military camps Chapter 15 of the Huainanzi includes the sikong when describing the Han army’s five offices and their various functions during the march and in battlefield operations:

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[Ensuring that] movement along the route is swift, that transport of the baggage is orderly, that the size [of the camp] is standard, that the positioning of the army is concentrated, that the wells and stoves are dug [properly], these are the duties of the master of works.21 The duties of sikong are all related to earthwork. Their first task includes the construction of roads in order to allow the troops to move smoothly and unhindered. From the pre-Qin to the Han dynasty, the character “tunnel” (sui) sometimes refers directly to the road used by marching armies, as the following record in the Zuozhuan demonstrates: “Along with the King of Chu, the Marquise of the Chen state attacked the Zheng state. The road [sui] which the Chen army passed through was the one where the wells were buried and the trees were felled.”22 Concerning the term sui, Yan Shigu noted in the Xiongnu entry of the Hanshu: “ ‘Tunnel’ is a trail that opens in a distant place to avoid the enemy’s attack.”23 It is clear that military sikong and county sikong shared the same task of transit protection, and that both were responsible for the construction and maintenance of the roads. The second duty of sikong was to erect army camps and construct fortifications. The scope of an ancient military camp’s ramparts was determined according to the nature of the terrain and the number of the people; after the size of the construction project was calculated, the soldiers were to begin implementing it. Before starting work, the ramparts to be constructed were divided into equal parts and tagged so that each department would get an equal task. After the ramparts were built, the troops could not be terrified by the enemy’s attack. The construction tasks were distributed fairly and rationally to prevent any disorder. Digging wells and constructing stoves were another responsibility of the sikong. After the camps and ramparts were erected, these projects were undertaken to ensure that the garrison was adequately supplied with food and water. Geotechnical works during the siege and assault of cities In the Qin and Han dynasties, when non-explosive weapons were used, stable earth constructions formed an effective defense system. Tactics used during the offensive were various. According to the Mozi, five of them belonged to geotechnical works and were the responsibility of the sikong.24 I would like to discuss the following: The first tactic is the so-called “tunnel attack” (xuegong). The Shangjunshu states: “When laying siege to a city, the chief sikong measures the width and thickness of its walls, while the commander-in-chief assigns the places to the xiaotu soldiers and defines the number of cubic meters they have to dig.”25 The following paragraph adds that after “the tunnels were built they were filled with firewood to burn the wooden pillars. Ambush teams of eighteen soldiers were assigned to each side of the city.”26 The text makes clear that xiaotu were only responsible for tunneling the city walls. The topmost part of the tunnel was supported by wooden pillars. After

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filling the tunnel with firewood, the wooden pillars would burn down, and the tunnels and with them the city walls would collapse. Then the warriors of the dare-to-die corps would begin assaulting the city. As stated above, this military strategy was called a “tunnel attack,” a term introduced by the Mozi. In the Preparation Against Tunneling of the Mozi, Qingu Xi asks: “I would like to know what one could do in ancient times against those who were experts in attacking cities, tunneling for entering [the city], and binding pillars for burning in order to destroy my city?”27 According to the above mentioned Shangjunshu, it was the sikong who had to measure the width and the thickness of the city wall at the beginning of besieging a city, in order to estimate the amount of the earth that needed to be excavated. During the Qin dynasty, this work was called du gong. The “Corvée Law” entry of the Qin bamboo slips of Yunmeng records that the estimation had to be done by sikong and craftsman ( jiàng), but not by the latter alone.28 However, there is a difference between attacking a city and constructing camps and fortifications. Since the tunnel attack took place during the battle, and the sikong was an official in charge of engineering and technical issues, he only had to calculate the size of the project but left the selection of the soldiers and giving orders to dig the tunnel to the commanders. The next task is the so-called lin, which means piling up an enormous hill of earth near the city wall in order to attack the city from the hill. According to the Weiliaozi, if there is a small territory with a large population, a huge artificial mound should be built to attack them from above.29 The Encyclopaedic History of Institutions (Tongdian) contains an entry saying: Piling up earth outside the city wall so that the army could climb up the wall. The ancients called it “Earth Mountain,” nowadays it is called “wall way.” Cowhide was used to make sheds for the chariots with which soldiers carried earth – it covered the chariots on all sides and so protected the soldiers from the enemy’s attacks. Earth Mountain is what Sunzi called “distant gates.”30 The next geotechnical task was yin, which means carrying earth to fill the moat below the city wall. It was a dangerous task because the workers were attacked by arrows and stones. In order to maintain its combat strength, the besieging army would often urge criminals or rabble to implement this dangerous and heavy task. There is an entry in Wei benming lü, which is a part of the Qin bamboo slips of Yunmeng, saying that cheaters, dawdlers, sons-in-law living at their wife’s parents’ house, stepfathers” were “not to be pitied by the generals. Cook beef to feed the soldiers, and let them (the rabble) eat rice only, do not mix them. When besieging a city, use them wherever you need men to block up the moat.31

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A further military tactic was tu. The meaning of the term has been an object of debate. The Qing scholar Sun Yirang argues that tu has basically the same meaning as the above mentioned term xuegong. The only difference between them is that one means burrowing through the city wall, while the other implies tunneling under the city wall.32 Cen Zhongmian holds a different view, saying that tu implicates a sudden attack.33 I believe that the term tu as used in ancient sources includes the meanings of an unexpected attack as well as digging in the ground to mount a surprise attack, as the enemy would have been surprised by the soldiers who suddenly appeared in the mouth of the tunnel. The History of the Wei (Weishu) tells us the story of Yuan Shao, who adopted the military tactic of tu and succeeded in attacking Yijing, which was being defended by Gongsun Zan.34 Another example is Hao Zhao from the Wei state, who defended Chencang against the army of the Shu state. It was recorded that Zhuge Liang adopted the tactic of tu and dug a hole in the city wall in order to enter the city.35 This shows that xuegong was a secret action of burrowing through the city wall, while tugong was a secret action of tunneling under the city wall. The last military tactic I would like to mention is kongdong, which Sun Yirang understood as a military tactic similar to tunneling with specific details being not quite clear.36 Cen Zhongmian describes it as digging a tunnel, using some stakes to prop up the ground, and then putting logs in the tunnel and setting fire to them in order to collapse the city wall.37 Each type of tactic described above depended on earthwork engineering and it was the sikong who was in charge of calculating the size of the project and the work schedule. Responsibilities during the defense of cities The duties of the sikong during the defense of cities in the Qin and the Han dynasties are recorded in the Mozi. According to the text, there were two sikong offices for city defenders, i.e., du sikong and ci sikong.38 Chen Zhi believes that the institutions and terms used in this part of the Mozi refer to laws and regulations of the Qin dynasty and must therefore have been written during the Qin dynasty.39 Li Xueqin supports the view of the Qing scholar Su Shixue, who believed that parts of the Mozi dealing with city defense were compiled before the successful establishment of the Qin dynasty.40 The most probable time of origin seems to lie between the middle of the Warring States period (475–221 bce) and the Qin dynasty (221–207 bce). In addition, there is a difference between the du sikong mentioned in the Mozi and the du sikong mentioned in the Hanshu, who were subordinated to the chamberlain for the imperial clan (zongzheng). The Mozi records that the official in charge of city defense appoints four du sikong. This means that the commanding officer put one du sikong in charge of each side of the city wall. The du sikong

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who was in charge of defense and the du sikong mentioned in the Hanshu had different positions and responsibilities and belonged to two different administrative systems. What, then, were the duties of the du sikong mentioned in the Mozi? What does the character du in du sikong mean? The names of official positions and institutions mentioned in the bamboo slips and other documents from the Qin and the Han often contain the character du, which has several meanings. The first one comes from the term duguan that is often mentioned in the bamboo slips from Yunmeng’s entry on Qin laws. Scholars researching the bamboo slips believe that the duguan was an institution directly subordinated to the imperial court. But the du sikong mentioned in the Mozi was appointed not by the court, but by a senior commanding official during battles to defend a city. Therefore, the meaning of du cannot be seen in the context of imperial court institutions. The second meaning of du originated from terms such as duxiang or duting. Chen Zhi points out that in the early and middle period of the Western Han the institutions of duxiang and duting were of utmost importance in every county; the former represented the head of a township (xiang), the latter was the head of a neighborhood (ting).41 The meaning of the character du includes “chief ” or “principal.” Qiu Xikui explains that in ancient times townships serving as county seats were designated as duxiang, while others were called lixiang.42 Gao Min supposes that the character du in duxiang and duting has two meanings. The first one refers to the administrative center of counties and commanderies: “Concerning the du within the state, each ting that was the administrative center of a county, commandery, or fief could be called duting.”43 The second meaning of the character du is “town” or “city.” In the pre-Qin period du meant the capital of a vassal state or the major city of a state. During the Han dynasty the meaning was extended to “major city, metropolis.”44 As a result, every xiang containing a major city was called duxiang. One could also explain the meaning of the title du according to the explanations of Gao Min. The recently unearthed Qin bamboo slips from Liye contain the titles duxiang sikong and xiang sikong. If we understand duxiang as a xiang containing a county’s administrative center, the duxiang sikong would be its sikong official. However, the du sikong mentioned in the Mozi might have been the sikong official of the administrative center of a commandery. This official differed from the sikong appointed in the counties outside the administrative center of the commandery. In addition, du sikong could also indicate the sikong of a major city. Sun Yirang believed that the du sikong position belonged to the five offices (wu guan), which were minor officials of the capital city.45 The five offices was a system established under the Shang and Zhou dynasties; all of the rulers, feudal princes, and senior officials had five offices, and the du sikong was one of them.

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The feudal princes of the Warring States also adopted this system. Therefore, the du sikong mentioned in the Mozi must have continued this system. This would also indicate that this post was not a specific military position at that time: It was filled by an ordinary administrative official who had to participate in defending the city in wartime. The du sikong of the Western Han dynasty was merely a handicraft organization of the central authorities in the capital, who primarily employed prisoners as laborers. At the same time, the sikong official had to imprison and interrogate criminals of a special status or those with an extraordinary case. Counties did not have this kind of position. As for ci sikong, Sun Yirang has asserted that the character ci indicates the office of a deputy, i.e., that ci sikong is a second position after du sikong.47 Chen Zhi notes that the title ci sikong was not mentioned in the Han sources,48 but does not provide an explanation for this. In the course of my own researches on the name, origin, and responsibilities of this position, I have found that in ancient times the place where troops were stationed was called ci. For example, the entry concerning Duke Wen of Jin in the Sayings of the State (Guoyu) records that “in the spring of the second year of his reign, the king led two armies and located (ci) them in Yangfan.”49 In the Zhou dynasty, a temporary garrison built for more than three days was called ci. An entry in the Zuozhuan concerning the third reigning year of Duke Zhuang records that a temporary, one-day camp was called she, while a two-day one was called xin. One that was built for more than two days was called ci.50 The term was common throughout the Warring States period and the Qin dynasty, so that ci and tun are mutually interchangeable in the Hanshu. In addition, ci also means “to be on duty at night” (zhisu). The Zhouli, for example, records: 46

The palace steward is in charge of monitoring and surveillance. At times he checks the number of palace officials and temporarily dwelling officials (cishi zhi zhonggua). He notes it on a wooden tablet for further verification. In the evening he beats a wooden rattle and checks [the palace staff].51 The commentary of Zheng Xuan states that ci includes the meaning of “to be on duty at night” (zhisu).52 A temporary accommodation for officials was called cishe. According to the Hanshu, people going to the officials to render compulsory labor were called cizhi, but those who paid a certain amount of money could be exempted from corvée.53 The Mozi tells us that the main duty of ci sikong was to keep watch in the defense “pavilion” built on the city wall.54 While the city was being defended, each “pavilion” had two persons responsible, i.e., the tingwei and ci sikong. The “pavilions” were constructed at intervals of 100 steps. At that time, the circumference of a city wall averaged one thousand zhang, and each of the four sides, amounting to 250 zhang, was supervised by du sikong. Since there was a pavilion every 60 zhang (100 steps), each side had four

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pavilions controlled by tingwei and ci sikong. Chen Zhi wrote that the tingwei was the officer of the pavilion and differed from the tingzhang officials of the Han dynasty.55 A ci sikong was obviously the tingwei’s assistant who guarded the city against hostile attacks at night or who dealt with cases of desertion and rebellion. The ci in the name of this position should be interpreted as zhisu or “to be on duty at night.” A ci sikong was thus a minor functionary who was temporarily on garrison duty in the wall pavilion. He was in charge of burying officials, soldiers, and civilians killed in action.56 Digging graves and burying the dead was apparently part of the “earthwork,” which is why burial affairs organized by the authorities were also the responsibility of the sikong. In this context, the History of the Former Han (Hanshu) includes an entry that also illustrates that the sikong had to clean the sacrificial instruments and prepare the burial during important funerals.57 Administration of justice and detention The Biography of Du Yannian in the Hanshu contains the expression bu jun sikong, which Su Lin has commented on as follows: “The military sikong was a prison official.”58 The Qing scholar Shen Jiaben therefore believed that the military sikong was someone who arrested criminals within the military. He belonged to a group of officials named junyu, yingjun sikong, and junzhong sikong who performed tasks related to imprisonment within the stationed and combat troops. Shen Jiaben has pointed out that from the Qin through the Han dynasty the character yu had the two meanings, “legal proceedings” and “prison.”59 Since the military sikong was a “prison official,” his duties involved the administration of justice. The above-cited entry from the Hanshu records that Du Yannian was appointed as military sikong because of his “understanding of law . . . and abundance of abilities as an official.”60 Feng Fengshi, another military sikong, was appointed due to his “righteousness” and “having studied military strategy and tactics.”61 Both men were familiar with the institutions dealing with government and military affairs, which was an important prerequisite for this position. However, a military judge ( junzheng) office existed from the Spring and Autumn period to the Han dynasty, which exercised the administration of justice. If the military sikong was in charge of punishment and imprisonment, it may seem to be a duplication of the junzheng duties; however, their responsibilities were different. In terms of military operations, the sikong was in charge of arranging every kind of engineering project but did not directly command operations. The junzheng could directly command stationed or combating troops. The Hanshu reports on the time that Li Guangli dispatched a campaign against Da Yuan. Later, when the merits won in battle were examined, the military judge ( junzheng) Zhao Shicheng had the best results because he had fought with all his might.62

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During the reign of the Emperor Zhao of the Han dynasty, troops were sent southwest on a punitive expedition against barbarians. “The military judge Wang Ping and the chamberlain for dependencies Tian Guangming advanced together; they captured Yizhou, beheaded or took over 50,000 prisoners, and obtained over 100,000 livestock.”63 I have not yet seen a record about a military sikong taking charge of such operations. As noted above, the military sikong was only responsible for calculating the width of the city wall and digging holes and tunnels. It was the defender-in-chief (guowei) who arranged the battle formations and commanded the troops. According to the bamboo strips and other documents, the administration of justice through a military trial was different in legal cases of different natures. The above cited Qinlü za chao provides insight into different types of crimes and punishments: Those who illegally receive provisions will be punished with the loss of two suits of armor and dismissed. If they are not officials, they will be punished with the penalty of guarding the frontier for two years. If those, who still profit from provisions, squad leaders, and supervisors do not report [the crime], they will be punished with the penalty of guarding the frontier for one year. If magistrates, district defenders, and their staff were not aware [of the crime], they will be punished with the loss of one suit of armor. Soldiers who receive provisions at their location and sell them to others will be punished with the penalty of guarding the frontier for two years. Soldiers of the same unit, squad leaders, and supervisors who do not report [the crime] will be punished with the penalty of guarding the frontier for one year. Xian sikong, sikong zuoshi, and prison officers who were not aware [of the crime] will be punished with the loss of one suit of armor; bang sikong will be punished with the loss of one shield.64 The passage illustrates the legal practice of lianzuo that aimed to punish the criminal’s associates as well, guaranteeing collective responsibility for individual crimes. As for the legal cases concerning the crimes of different natures committed by the military personnel, there were differences between officials held jointly and individually liable. The first case was classified as an infringement within the army and concerned those who falsely claimed army provisions for themselves. If the crime was not detected or the criminal fled and could not be arrested, other members of his group and the superiors were punished. That is why the above quoted magistrates and district defenders could also be punished – during the Qin and Han dynasty, they were responsible for leading the troops during the campaign. The legal text of the second case concerns the private selling of army provisions. This was a criminal activity that involved people from outside of the army. In contrast to the first case, those who were held jointly liable were not only soldiers and higher authorities of the army and government, but also included officials of all levels of the judicial system, such as xian sikong, sikong zuoshi, and bang sikong.

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This implies that the former legal case did not belong to the jurisdiction of the military sikong and that the associated officials could not be punished after the detection of the crime. As for the latter legal case, it was considered to fall under the jurisdiction of the army. If the criminal evaded punishment, xian sikong, sikong zuoshi, and bang sikong must have neglected their duties and needed to be punished. It seems that the military of the Qin and Han dynasty included two types of judicial institutions. There was, perhaps, a difference between the military judge ( junzheng) and the sikong, in that each was responsible for different types of crimes and legal cases. Besides, the officials in charge of legal matters were often concerned with legal cases related to the death penalty. The military sikong, however, seems to have been more concerned with legal cases below the level of capital crimes. The Mozi states that the criminal who injured or killed a senior officer or committed rebellion must be arrested and interrogated by the responsible officials. Officials who acted beyond their authority would be executed.65 The du sikong was mainly in charge of arresting and interrogating criminals who illegally moved to other areas. These people were punished not with the death penalty, but with forced labor. Due to the lack of historical data, it is difficult to go into details. The main responsibility of the sikong was to take charge of the prisoners. It is possible that the military sikong had the same responsibility as the “prison sikong,” as both were only responsible for minor crimes and were concerned with arresting, investigating, and imprisoning, but were not responsible for cases of capital crimes.

Conclusion Military offices such as those of the military sikong ( jun sikong) and camp sikong ( ying sikong) do not appear in historical records after the Eastern Han dynasty, possibly because they were abolished. Sources indicate that their responsibilities were assigned to other military officials. During the Six Dynasties as well as the Sui and Tang dynasty, the commander-in-chief was in charge of building fortifications; there was no special official who organized and supervised military constructions. Due to the relatively simple nature of the constructions, most of the military officials were qualified to do the job and there was no longer any need for special officials to take charge of it. During the rebellion of An Lushan and Shi Siming, Shi Siming and Shi Chaoyi, the military commanders of the rebel army, were capable of directing their soldiers to build forts in different ways. Another aspect concerns the existence of an official in charge of legal affairs, called a military judge, in the military of the Wei and Jin Dynasties as well as the Southern and Northern Dynasties. It seems that after the positions of the military sikong and the camp sikong were abolished, the legal power to arrest people and investigate legal cases was exercised by the junzheng. It should be noted that from the beginning of the Eastern Han until the middle of the dynasty

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the position of the sikong was abolished at each administrative level, with the exception of the three excellences (san gong). During this time, the position of the sikong in the military was also abolished, in correspondence with the development and changes of the bureaucratic system. Due to the lack of historical data, the specific details of the process are difficult to explore.

Notes 1 Luo Fuyi, Qin Han Nanbeichao guanyin zhengcun (Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1987), p. 26. 2 Ban Gu, Hanshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1975), ch. 60, p. 2662. 3 Zhao Ping’an, “Dui Shizishan Chu wang ling suo chu yinzhang fengni de zai renshi,” Kaogu 1 (1999), p. 53. 4 Huang Shengzhang, “Xuzhou Shizishan Chu wang mu mu zhu yu chutu yinzhang wenti,” Kaogu 9 (2000), pp. 69–70. 5 Shen Jiaben, Lishi xingfa kao (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1985), p. 1490. 6 Qinlü za chao, in Shuihudi (ed.), Shuihudi Qin mu zhujian (Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1978), pp. 133–134. 7 Zhao Ping’an, “Qin Xi Han wushi weishi guanyin kao,” Lishi yanjiu 1 (1999), pp. 53–54. 8 See Yu Haoliang, “Yunmeng Qin jian suo jian zhiguan shulüe,” in Zhonghua shuju bianjibu (ed.), Wenshi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1980), vol. 8, p. 12. 9 Yan Gengwang, Zhongguo difang xingzheng zhidu shi jiabu: Qin Han difang xingzheng zhidu (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2007), p. 220. 10 See Wang Huanlin, Liye Qin jian xiaogu (Beijing: Zhongguo wenlian chubanshe, 2007), pp. 111–112. 11 Li Xueqin, “Mawangdui boshu ‘Xingde’ zhong de junli,” in Dangdai xuezhe zixuan wenku: Li Xueqin juan (Hefei: Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe, 1998), p. 459. 12 See Zhangjiashan ersiqi hao Han mu zhujian zhengli xiaozu (ed.), Zhangjiashan Han mu zhujian (Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 2006), p. 71. 13 Wang Xin, “Zhangjiashan Han jian junzhi shiming san ze,” Chutu wenxian yanjiu 6 (2004), p. 143. 14 Zhangjiashan ersiqi hao Han mu zhujian zhengli xiaozu (ed.), Zhangjiashan Han mu zhujian, p. 71. 15 Ibid., pp. 71–79. 16 See Wang Shishun, Shanshu yizhu (Chengdu: Sichuan renmin chubanshe, 1982), p. 112. 17 See Yang Bojun, Chunqiu Zuozhuan zhu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981), p. 522. 18 Ibid., pp. 799–800. 19 Tong Shuye, Chunqiu Zuozhuan yanjiu (Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1980), p. 369. 20 Yang Kuan, Zhanguo shi (Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1980), pp. 203–204. 21 Cited from Andrew S. Meyer, The Dao of the Military: Liu An’s Art of War (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012), p. 104. 22 See Yang Bojun, Chunqiu Zuozhuan zhu, p. 1102. 23 Ban Gu, Hanshu, pp. 3803–3804. 24 Sun Yirang, Mozi jiangu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1986), pp. 450–453. 25 Gao Heng, Shang junshu zhushi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1974), p. 147. 26 Ibid. 27 Sun Yirang, Mozi jiangu, p. 506. 28 Shuihudi (ed.), Shuihudi Qin mu, p. 77. 29 Hua Lucong, Weiliaozi zhuyi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1979), p. 74. 30 Du You, Tongdian (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1984), p. 846.

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31 Shuihudi (ed.), Shuihudi Qin mu, p. 295. Hua Lucong, Weiliaozi zhuyi, p. 74. 32 Sun Yirang, Mozi jiangu, ch. 14, p. 452. 33 Cen Zhongmian, Mozi chengshou ge pian jianzhu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2005), pp. 3–4. 34 Chen Shou, Sanguo zhi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1975), ch. 8, pp. 243–244. 35 Ibid., p. 95. 36 Sun Yirang, Mozi jiangu, ch. 14, p. 452. 37 Cen Zhongmian, Mozi chengshou, pp. 3–4. 38 Sun Yirang, Mozi jiangu, ch. 14, pp. 579–580. 39 Chen Zhi, “Mozi ‘Bei chengmen’ deng pian yu juyan Han jian,” Zhongguoshi yanjiu 1 (1980), p. 124. 40 Li Xueqin, “Qin jian yu Mozi chengshou ge pian,” in Zhonghua shuju bianjibu (ed.), Yunmeng Qin jian yanjiu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981), p. 334. 41 Chen Zhi, Hanshu xinzheng (Tianjin: Tianjin renmin chubanshe, 1979), p. 138. 42 Qiu Xigui, “Sefu chutan,” in Yunmeng Qin jian yanjiu, p. 232. 43 Gao Min, Qin Han shi chutao (Zhengzhou: Zhongzhou guji chubanshe, 1998), p. 230. 44 Ibid., p. 237. 45 Sun Yirang, Mozi jiangu, ch. 15, pp. 579–580. 46 Ibid., ch. 6, p. 159. 47 Ibid., ch. 15, pp. 579–580. 48 Chen Zhi, “Mozi: ‘Bei chengmen’,” pp. 124–125. 49 Guoyu (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1978), ch. 10, p. 374. 50 Yang Bojun, Chunqiu Zuozhuan zhu, p. 161. 51 Ruan Yuan (ed.), Shisan jing zhushu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1986), p. 657. 52 Ibid. 53 Ban Gu, Hanshu, ch. 7, p. 230. 54 Sun Yirang, Mozi jiangu, ch. 15, p. 580. 55 Chen Zhi, “Mozi: ‘Bei chengmen’,” p. 124. 56 See Sun Yirang, Mozi jiangu, ch. 15, p. 556. 57 Fan Ye, Hou Hanshu (Beijing, Zhonghua shuju, 1982), p. 3562. 58 Ban Gu, Hanshu, ch. 60, p. 2662. 59 See Shen Jiaben, Lishi xingfa kao, pp. 1157–1158. 60 Ban Gu, Hanshu, ch. 60, p. 2662. 61 Ibid., p. 3294. 62 Sima Qian, Shiji (Beijing, Zhonghua shuju, 1975), ch. 123, p. 3178. 63 Ban Gu, Hanshu, ch. 95, p. 3843. 64 Shuhudi (ed.), Shuihudi Qin mu, pp. 133–134. 65 Cen Zhongmian, Mozi chengshou, pp. 109–110.

4

Re-thinking the civil–military divide in the southern dynasties Andrew Chittick

The prevailing interpretation of the military and civil system of the medieval southern dynasties has undergone a substantial change over the last two decades. The earlier paradigm, which was based on the prevalent view of the primary source materials from the period, presumed that a fairly small group of elite gentry families, mostly emigrants from the north, dominated the southern courts for over two centuries.1 More recently, historians with a stronger interest in military history have challenged this model, and shown that lower-class military leaders and their families came to dominate the southern courts, taking most actual power away from the literary families and leaving them as little more than well-paid time-servers, or “props on a stage.”2 This shift in interpretation is very welcome, but there is much more work yet to do in understanding the relations between civil officials and military ones during this critical period. One presumption which has yet to be widely reconsidered is the assertion that the worlds of civil and military officials were sharply divided: on the one hand, there were wealthy, long-standing, welleducated families that dominated civil affairs at court, and on the other, there were rough, low-class fighting men who rose to power through force of arms. This presumption underlies a second, more powerful presumption that, insofar as there was any movement of men between the two, the direction was all from military towards civilian; that is, that the life of a civilian official was more attractive and prestigious than that of a military official. Once military men got a taste of the cultured life of the capital, they began wearing long dressing gowns, hit the books, raised their sons to write poetry, and lost the taste for battle.3 The attraction of this narrative line is obvious. It is a southern version of the sinicization hypothesis, which argues that northern barbarians became civilized over generations of living among the more cultured Chinese and adopting their language and culture.4 It seems to explain the military weakness of the southern dynasties: all of their fighting men were lured away from military affairs as soon as they had any real success. And it is strongly reinforced by several passages in widely known primary literary sources. Perhaps the most famous is Yan Zhitui’s scathing assessment of the officials serving under Liang Wudi:

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A. Chittick When the rebellion of Hou Jing occurred, people were so flabby and soft that they were unable to walk, and their bodies so lean and breath so short that they could not endure cold and heat. It often happened that such people died suddenly. Wang Fu, a magistrate of Jiankang, who was born so weak and gentle, had never mounted a horse. Whenever he saw a horse neighing and galloping, he trembled with fear. He said to somebody, “Really, it is a tiger; why is it called a horse?” Customs had reached such a level!5

This chapter does not seek to defend the military capabilities of the princelings and poets of the southern dynasties. All too easily forgotten in the light of such humorous characterizations, however, is that the southern dynasties also had a capable military force dominated by other sorts of men, mostly drawn from provincial military garrisons, who were quite used to hand-to-hand combat and not at all confused about the nature of horses. There was certainly a strong cultural divide between these provincial military elites and civilian elites at the capital, but there was also a good deal of middle ground. Thus, for example, not all military men were poor and uneducated; some came from very wealthy households, and some had, or gained, considerable learning. Not all civilian officials were “flabby and soft”; some had substantial military responsibilities and had to adapt to the culture of the military in order to be effective. The interchange between the two spheres was especially likely in provincial garrison towns far from the capital, where well-educated men served in provincial civilian posts and worked closely with men from military backgrounds, who often served at the apex of the civilian bureaucracy, as commandery or provincial governors. In these areas the divide between the two spheres was much more permeable. The presumption that civilian and literary pursuits were always valued far above military ones, or that military men longed for book learning and civil careers, also must be called into question. In fact, though the “genteel-ization” of military men was not impossible, it was improbable; most families whose members gained success through military careers tended to continue to produce military men in subsequent generations. This was partly due to the difficulty of crossing the cultural barriers between military and civilian culture, but also because military careers were prestigious and highly valued in many circles, and rightly considered a better way to gain status and wealth.

Military culture and gentrification My recent work has been based on a detailed study of the Northern Headquarters Army (Bei fubing), which rose to prominence in the region west of the capital Jiankang (modern Nanjing) in the late fourth century, and the Xiangyang garrison (in the northwestern part of modern Hubei province), which entered forcefully into southern dynasties politics about a half-century later. Though the garrisons had important differences, particularly in the regions from which their immigrants originated and in their proximity to the court, they also shared many features in common. In both regions, the educated, “aristocratic” elite families

Re-thinking the civil–military divide 65 that survived since the Han period had mostly been killed, impoverished, or driven away by the mid-fourth century, leaving both regions populated by a varied stew of leftover lower-class locals and mostly non-elite immigrants. Xiangyang also had a considerable population of re-settled hill people. Some of the immigrant clusters may have retained some traditions of learning, but the vast majority almost certainly did not, and the evidence suggests that most fighting men were all but illiterate. Very little written material regarding life in these garrisons survives from anyone who was born and raised in them; evidence of the local culture has to be carefully culled from a wide variety of often unsympathetic, if not deliberately obfuscating sources. What we can piece together from these materials, however, is clear evidence that the local culture in these regions was quite distinctive from the culture of the capital elite. The most obvious and defining characteristic is the use of violence. Men from the earliest generation of recruits into the Northern Headquarters Army (prior to its full absorption into court politics following the ascent of Liu Yu in ce 404) were active fighters, used to hand-to-hand combat.6 Similarly, men from Xiangyang engaged in hunting and active combat by their mid-teens. Their careers began as line troops but, if successful, soon moved on to commanding divisions and the prospect of joining the personal military entourage of an imperial prince or other powerful court figure. These men set the leading tone for local society. Violence was closely tied to a culture of vengeance and personal honor, which demanded that a slight or betrayal be answered by violent revenge taking. This resulted in a kind of “Confucian revenge ethic,” well-illustrated by a story in which a man who hesitates to avenge his brothers is encouraged by his mother, who paraphrases the Analects: “If the man responsible were to die in the morning, I could die in the evening and my heart would be sweet – how can you have doubts?” Naturally, filial piety carried the day, and the violent execution of the man responsible was carried out.7 Such loyalty extended only to fairly close male relatives, however: fathers, brothers, cousins, sons, and nephews. More distant relatives were of little account, and were probably not known or recorded. By the sixth century, even the best-educated, most cultivated families from Xiangyang were unable to trace their lineage back prior to their emigration to the south, and only re-discovered their more distant ancestral ties after the reunion with the more genealogically minded north.8 Instead of the relatively abstract principle of genealogical relationship, the garrison culture of the south was dominated by personal, face-to-face relations. Loyalty was determined by immediate treatment, both instrumental (in terms of concrete benefits) and emotional (in terms of the “style” of treatment). There’s little or no evidence that men from the garrisons had much abstract loyalty to the “dynasty” at Jiankang; in the Liang dynastic crisis of the mid-sixth century they shopped around for the most promising patron, not just among imperial princes, but also various military strongmen from both south and north. The militarized society of these garrisons had a value system which was not only quite distinctive from that of the capital elites, but also positively valued by

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its practitioners. They did not necessarily see the culture of more literate civil officials as being superior, and in fact were often quite proud of their own traditions and scornful of less vigorous ones. And they were not necessarily in any hurry to “convert” to the more civilian-oriented culture of the capital. The cultural knowledge required to compete effectively in the world of the Jiankang elite set a very high bar for entry, while a military career often held much better opportunities for rapid advancement in wealth and status. There are nonetheless some key examples of men from provincial military backgrounds who made the transition to the cultural elite. One of the best is Liu Shilong, whose uncle Liu Yuanjing grew up hunting and fighting hill-peoples in Xiangyang in the early fifth century, then participated in the military actions that put Song Emperor Xiaowu on the throne, and wound up as defender-in-chief of all Song military forces. He acquired a large estate at the capital where he raised his young nephew Shilong, along with all of his own sons. Shilong was eventually fortunate enough to attach himself to Xiao Daocheng, the future founder of the Qi dynasty, and thereby gained an equally exalted position for himself, as well as a valuable noble title. By the Yongming era (483–493) he was a famed capital figure, known for saying: “checkers ranks first, pure conversation ranks second, and the zither ranks third.”9 His sons all gained a classical education and served in relatively safe mid-level postings at court. This was indeed a far cry from the fighting life in the provinces experienced by his father’s generation. For the compilers of imperial history, Liu Shilong’s experience served as an exemplar of the ideal of gentrification. However, we would be wrong to see Shilong’s experience as typical, or presume the universal acceptance of the proliterary, anti-military value system it implies. Shilong was the only man with Xiangyang local roots known to have made the leap to a gentrified courtly life in the entire fifth century; there are dozens of other local men noted in imperial histories who served at high levels in the military and yet never made a comparable transition. In the Liang period the evidence is even clearer, since we know of ten Xiangyang men who gained imperial fiefs and offices simultaneously in 502 due to their participation in Liang Wudi’s coup. Of these, only one is known to have gone on to make scholars out of his sons and place them in prestigious civil positions.10 Why did the others not make the leap? There are three obvious reasons. First, some died in subsequent military campaigns, too soon to have much chance to gentrify themselves or their offspring. Second, the bar to gentrification was high: the literary skills were hard to master, and the peculiar dialect and cultural style of the capital would have been quite foreign to most. The religious milieu of the capital elite, which increasingly favored an orthodox and scholarly form of Buddhism, would also have been challenging. Most military men would have had a hard time developing the kinds of social connections necessary to gain education and entry into “polite” society for their offspring. Those few provincial men who successfully made the transition to a more civil career for themselves or their descendants were only able to do so by relocating to the capital and by making an investment for several generations. This was a step which many were not able

Re-thinking the civil–military divide 67 or willing to do and which, in any case, tended to mean that the cultural divide between province and capital remained intact. There is a third reason why military men did not often become civil officials, however: it was not necessarily a good career move. Opportunities for rapid advancement were in general better in military careers. As one powerful military official of the Qi dynasty said, had he been book-learned, he’d have never attained such a powerful position.11 Liu Qingyuan, a relatively well-educated local official from one of Xiangyang’s leading families, gained high office and great fortune due to his role in Liang Wudi’s successful campaign to take the throne. However, he stayed resolutely based in Xiangyang and kept his son away from the capital; his grandsons would go on to be the leading figures in Xiangyang local society and military affairs in the 540s and 550s.12 For some people, gentrification was simply not an attractive option.

The attraction of militarization This line of analysis can be taken further. In some cases, men who appear to have had other viable career options decided to pursue military careers instead. This includes men from wealthy merchant families and others from families that were primarily literary and civil in their orientation and service histories. From the perspective of the civil officials who wrote imperial histories, choosing a military career was of course considered a backwards career move, so these decisions tend to be treated antagonistically in the written sources. But we should not be blind to the fact that military careers had real prestige. One mark of the high value placed on military careers was that they were attractive to men who were already wealthy. Zhuge Changmin, for example, was from a wealthy immigrant household in Jingkou, a primary recruiting center for the Northern Headquarters Army, but he started off in a military career and became a close ally of Liu Yu in his initial revolt of mid-level officers in 404.13 Wu Nian, a man from a comparatively wealthy Xiangyang family, chose to use his family resources to buy a horse and gain a commission in the army, rather than pursue a more genteel career path.14 Cai Na, another successful Xiangyang military man, also came originally from a very wealthy family, one which supported a large estate and numerous clients.15 In another case, a man from a very wealthy local family surnamed Xiang actively sought to marry his daughter to a man from a powerful local military family, sensing (in this case correctly) that it would prove to be a politically and socially advantageous match.16 But it was not only men of wealth that found military careers inviting; men from highly educated backgrounds sometimes did so as well. Perhaps the most detailed and interesting account of this phenomenon is that of Zong Que (d. ce 465). Que’s ancestors had fled from the Nanyang region (in modern southern Henan) to Jiangling, the seat of Jing province, in the early fourth century along with numerous other clans. The Nanyang area had been the cradle of the Eastern Han dynasty, and its leading families had supplied some of the highest officials and consorts of the Eastern Han court for several centuries. They brought their

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proud cultural heritage with them when they emigrated to Jiangling, and formed a distinctive cluster of well-educated immigrant families with strong roots in Buddhism, eremitism, and traditional scholarship. In the southern dynasties these Nanyang emigrant families formed the core of Jiangling’s civilian elite, and occasionally served in civilian positions in Jing provincial administration.17 The Zong clan’s most well-known member is Zong Bing (375–443), a famous Buddhist recluse who was routinely offered, and just as routinely refused, service with provincial and imperial regimes.18 In the official biographies, Bing is described as “plain, high-minded, and frugal,” while all of his sons and nephews are described as “loving to study,” as did their local cohort in Jiangling in the long and relatively peaceful Yuanjia period (424–453) of the Song dynasty.19 Zong’s grandsons Ce and Kuai would go on to fame as a noted recluse-scholar and a civil official under Liang Wudi, respectively.20 By comparison, Zong Que, Bing’s nephew, was made of quite different stuff. He is described as having had a “martial spirit” and loving warfare.21 His biography includes the following, characteristically type-casting account of a man with martial destiny: When his elder brother Mi got married and first entered the household, there was a robbery at night. Que, in his fourteenth year, stiffened his spine and opposed the robbers; then or more of them scattered and fled and did not gain entry to the house.22 Apparently, however, this sort of courage won him not praise, but a good deal of trepidation. Zong Bing is supposed to have asked Que his career plans, to which he replied, “I want to ride the long wind and break the endless waves.” To which the concerned Bing replied, “Unless you become eminent and wealthy, you will break my household.”23 Family disapproval notwithstanding, Que went on to take a position with the eminent Liu Yigong, Prince of Jiangxia and brother to Emperor Wen. He was not the only such recruit from the Zong family, either; his cousin Zong Qi, Zong Bing’s son, was also serving on Prince Yigong’s personal staff. Both men followed the Prince to his new posting at Guangling, headquarters of the Northern Garrison, the most important military force in the southern regime. A key episode from this period illustrates the extent to which Zong Que had adopted to the habits of southern dynasties military culture. His cousin Qi had a concubine with him, but he was being cuckolded by yet another member of the prince’s staff. Learning of this betrayal, Zong Que killed the offending man. This act was praised by his cousin, and regarded as reason for promotion by Prince Yigong.24 Now this sort of revenge killing is commonly noted for southern dynasties military men, especially in defense of the honor of a close male relative, usually a father or brother, and it is also often noted as being grounds for admiration and promotion by imperial princes and other high-ranking officials overseeing military affairs. However, it was conspicuously not part of the ordinary culture

Re-thinking the civil–military divide 69 of civilian officials, who were expected to follow the rule of law and appeal to superiors for redress of grievances against other officials. In a comparable case, a northern emigrant official, Xue Andu, was incensed by the corporal punishment of his brother by another official, and rounded up a gang of friends to go kill the offender. Ultimately, however, he was restrained by a friend, who encouraged him to instead submit a memorandum asking redress, and exclaimed “How can you give way to passion and hastily seek to kill a man here in the capital!”25 The friend grasped, as Xue Andu initially did not, that revenge killings, though acceptable in provincial military contexts, were not the way affairs were supposed to be conducted in Jiankang. Returning to Zong Que, what is striking about his action is that he was not raised in a military household or a culture in which revenge killing was an ordinary act. He certainly could have addressed the situation with his cuckolded cousin in a more “genteel” manner, by appealing for redress to Prince Yigong. That he did not, and took matters into his own hands by personally killing the offender, shows how deeply he had imbibed the culture of military men of that era. In fact, only by showing such willingness to defend one’s own and one’s family honor by the spilling of blood could one gain respect in military circles, as well as the attention and admiration of one’s superiors. This lesson, I would assert, was not any easier to learn and to do for a man from a literary family, than poetry composition was for a man raised as an illiterate who knew only to hunt and to fight. The civil–military divide was not necessarily any easier to cross successfully in one direction than in the other. Zong Que went on to have a very successful military career – after active fighting in the wars with the north in 445–451, Zong was a key member of the coup that put Song Emperor Xiaowu on the throne in 453. As a result, he was made a marquis and went on to become one of Xiaowu’s key military officials. In 459 he spearheaded the brutal suppression of a rebellion in his old posting at Guangling, personally overseeing the execution of five thousand men.26 Wealth and success seems to have in no way caused him to lose his taste for bloodshed. Zong Que’s experience is instructive, because it suggests the possibility that other military men for whom there is evidence of some literary skills may have been “militarizing,” rather than gentrifying. The biography of Wei Rui, for example, indicates that his roots in Xiangyang were in a relatively poor but fairly well-educated household, which is contrasted in one account with the household of a wealthy but coarser merchant family. Yet Rui’s success came from his military exploits, namely his ability to bring two thousand troops and two hundred horses to the service of Xiao Yan as he began the coup that would make him Liang Emperor Wu.27 Another of Liang Wudi’s generals, Yang Gongze, was one of very few who was educated; he reportedly “always had a scroll in his hand.”28 We might be forgiven for presuming that he was a military man who was learning his letters, but it is in fact just as likely that he was, like Zong Que, a man from a relatively well-educated household who had taken up a military career.

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Conclusion: bridging the gap There is little doubt that the gap between the world of polite, genteel manners and conduct among literary circles at the capital, and the world of violence, honor, and revenge among fighting men of the provinces, was a considerable one indeed. Texts from southern literary figures tend to denigrate the military and privilege the civilian. More broadly, sources from both north and south tend to denigrate the military capabilities of all southerners, either to deride southerners’ manliness, or to highlight their distinctive literary talents, or both. We cannot trust these easy stereotypes, however; it is clear that military exploits, including the direct, personal use of violence and a fierce attention to personal honor, were part of an important value system that many southerners shared, and they probably did not feel that it was in any way inferior to civilian or literary culture. Some of the southern dynasties’ most successful figures came from an intermediate place which sought to bridge the military-civilian divide. For example, the most politically successful imperial princes depended on a client base of fighting men to compete effectively in the violent civil wars which marked the transitions from each emperor to the next. These patron-client relationships were personal and emotional bonds, which required the princes, who were often raised in a very cultured setting, to learn enough of the culture and moral codes of military men to gain their personal trust and loyalty. Some princes were terrible at this (and thus had very short and unhappy lives as would-be emperors), while others developed quite a flair for it. Xiao Yan, Liang Wudi, is by far the most impressive example; though by upbringing essentially a court literatus, with limited real military experience, he nonetheless was able to relate well enough to some of the leading military men of the Xiangyang region to gain their allegiance in his successful coup, and hold their loyalty for years thereafter.29 Another interesting example is Shen Yue, poet, historian, and compiler of the Songshu. His father was a military man, and one of his family members, Shen Qingzhi, was a particularly brutal and effective military commander and companion to Zong Que, though utterly lacking in formal education. Shen Yue himself spent a good deal of his formative years and early career in provincial postings, where he would have had substantial exposure to military culture. Though he emerged from this experience deeply opposed to military careers, partly as a result of the grim fate that befell his father and other men he knew, his biographies of military men are perceptive and in some ways sympathetic, humane portraits of their lives and their struggles.30 Once we understand that southern dynasties military culture was itself a distinct and important system, with its own code of honor, its own pride, and its own avenues for advancement, we can begin to free ourselves from the powerful pro-civilian biases of the surviving textual corpus. Military men did not need to become literary in order to have power, wealth, and respect, and men from literary households sometimes saw the advantages of a military career, or at least

Re-thinking the civil–military divide 71 of becoming comfortable enough with garrison culture to develop personal relations with fighting men. Those who successfully bridged the gap were often the most interesting and influential men of their age.

Notes 1 David Johnson, The Medieval Chinese Oligarchy (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1976). Patricia Ebrey, The Aristocratic Families of Early Imperial China: A Case Study of the Po-ling Ts’ui Family (Cambridge and London: Cambridge University Press, 1978). Tanigawa Michio, translated by Joshua Fogel, Medieval Chinese Society and the Local “Community” (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1985). Albert Dien, “Introduction,” in State and Society in Early Medieval China (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1990), pp. 1–29. 2 Scott Pearce with Audrey Spiro and Patricia Ebrey (eds.), “Introduction,” in Culture and Power in the Reconstitution of the China Realm, 200–600 (Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press, 2001), p. 28. Mark Edward Lewis, China Between Empires: The Northern and Southern Dynasties (Cambridge, MA and London: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2009). Andrew Chittick, Patronage and Community in Medieval China: The Xiangyang Garrison, CE 400–600 (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 2010). 3 Scott Pearce, Audrey Spiro, and Patricia Ebrey, “Introduction,” in Culture and Power, pp. 29–31. 4 Ho Ping-ti, “In Defense of Sinicization: A Rebuttal of Evelyn Rawski’s ‘Reenvisioning the Qing’,” Journal of Asian Studies 57.1 (1988), pp. 123–155. 5 Yan Zhitui, Yanshi jiaxun, as translated by Teng Ssu-yü, Family Instructions for the Yen Clan (Yen-shih chia-hsun) (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1968), p. 116. 6 This is the case for Liu Yu himself, who is noted for active hand-to-hand fighting with a heavy blade; Shen Yue, Songshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), ch. 1, p. 2. 7 Linghu Defen, Zhoushu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), ch. 46, pp. 829–830. Li Yanshou, Beishi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), ch. 85, p. 2851; discussion in Andrew Chittick, Patronage and Community, p. 129. 8 Mark Edward Lewis, China Between Empires, pp. 130–131. Andrew Chittick, ibid., pp. 130–131. 9 Xiao Zixian, Nan Qishu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), ch. 24, p. 452.. Li Yanshou, Nanshi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), ch. 38, p. 985. 10 Andrew Chittick, Patronage and Community, pp. 89–94. 11 Xiao Zixian, Nan Qishu, ch. 26, pp. 484–485. 12 Yao Silian, Liangshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), ch. 9, pp. 182–184. Li Yanshou, Nanshi, ch. 38, pp. 992–994. 13 Fang Xuanling, Jinshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), ch. 85, pp. 2212–2213. 14 Shen Yue, Songshu, ch. 83, pp. 2112–2113. 15 Ibid., p. 2113. 16 Li Yanshou, Nanshi, ch. 55, p. 1357. Andrew Chittick, Patronage and Community, pp. 63–64. 17 Shen Yue, Songshu, ch. 76, pp. 1971–1972. 18 Ibid., ch. 93, pp. 2278–2279. 19 Ibid. 20 Xiao Zixian, Nan Qishu, ch. 54, pp. 940–941. Yao Silian, Liangshu, ch. 19, pp. 299–300. 21 Shen Yue, Songshu, ch. 36, p. 1971. 22 Ibid. 23 Ibid. 24 Li Yanshou, Nanshi, ch. 37, p. 971.

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5

Changes in the title systems for generals in ancient China Zhang Jinlong

The establishment of general titles during the Qin and Western Han dynasties “General” ( jiangjun)1 as an official title had already been very popular in the late Warring States Period. But generally speaking, the system of general ranks was still in its infancy. As one of its most remarkable features, the system for general titles was in its bud. Though we may come across ranks such as “Senior General” (shang jiangjun) and “Junior General” (bi jiangjun) in our readings, at that time there was no system of general ranks, which is yet another important feature of the system of generals. The complicated and volatile situation resulting from the frequent wars in Qin and Han dynasties further promoted the development of the system of generals. In the late Qin dynasty the rebel leader Chen Yu was known as “Chief General” (da jiangjun),2 while Song Yi and Xiang Yu were known as “Senior Generals.”3 These two different titles should fall in the same rank. The military leaders in the Qin and Han dynasties would address each other as “general” in letters or conversations. For example, in the letter Chen Yu wrote to Zhang Han, a military leader of the Qin dynasty, to persuade him to surrender, he used the term “general” to address Zhang Han five times. It is common for a subordinate to call his superior “general,” as in the case of Sima Xin, who worked as an associate (zhangshi) under Zhang Han. He once said to his superior, “with Zhao Gao wielding power in government, you, general, whether having achieved military feats or not, would certainly be killed.”4 When troops led by Liu Bang had not developed into a strong and independent force, he called Xiang Yu “general,” which was explicitly shown in the “Hongmen Banquet” (Hongmen yan).5 When addressing a general, one usually would put his surname or the place he governed before the title, as in the cases of the Zhang General (Zhang Han), Lü General (Lü Chen), Kong General (Kong Xi), Fei General (Governor of Fei State, Chen He), Chai General (Chai Wu), and Li General (Li Shang).6 People in later ages followed this way of addressing a general, particularly in wartime. In addition, whether in Xiang Yu’s camp or Liu Bang’s camp, there were military leaders who worked under them, but also had the title of “general.”

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Chief General was the highest rank for a military leader in the Western Han dynasty. After Han Xin surrendered to Liu Bang’s camp, Liu Bang accepted Xiao He’s advice to appoint Han Xin as the Chief General,7 the very first in the Han dynasty. Though Han Xin was soon killed, the position of Chief General was not abolished. Liu Ze, a vassal in Yingling, was the brother-in-law of Empress Lü, the wife of Han Gaozu (Liu Bang). Liu Ze was appointed as the Chief General in the late years of Empress Dowager Lü (Lü Taihou).8 Before her death, Empress Dowager Lü allowed the relatives of the Lü family to control military power and appointed “Lü Lu, the Prince of Zhao (Zhao wang Lü Lu) as the Senior General” with the hope of controlling the government.9 But the Prime Minister (chengxiang) of the day Chen Ping, the Minister for Military Affairs (taiwei) Zhou Bo, and Chief General Chai Wu supported the Prince of Dai (Dai wang, Han Wendi) to be the new emperor, and they jointly eradicated the force of the Lü family,10 which then shows that Prime Minister, Minister for Military Affairs, and Chief General were the highest rank officials and remained at the very core of the bureaucracy in the Western Han dynasty. During the reign of Han Jingdi, vassals in Wu and Chu states, together with vassals in five other states, launched the Insurrection of Seven States (Wu Chu qi guo zhi luan). Liang Xiaowang appointed Han Anguo and Zhang Yu as Chief Generals to quell the rebellion.11 But here the Chief Generals were an exception resulting from the war and differed from the typical Chief Generals of the Han dynasty. According to the Hanshu, the Frontline General (qian jiangjun), Rear General (hou jiangjun), Left General (zuo jiangjun), and Right General ( you jiangjun) were responsible for leading armed forces to suppress peoples in border areas and to fight a war against foreigners.12 However, these positions were not permanent and would only be set up when there was a war. According to the Xu Hanshu and the notes and quotations from the Hanyi by Cai Zhi, in the Western Han dynasty there were also the Piaoqi General (piaoqi jiangjun), Cheqi General (cheqi jiangjun), and Defense General (wei jiangjun) ranking between Chief General and the Frontline, Rear, Left, and Right Generals.13 The responsibility of the generals was to control the army and fight against the invasion of other tribes from the North, South, West, and East. To be more specific, they were in charge of the troops in the capital city, as well as the patrolling forces along the national borders, and they were also responsible for quelling the rebels. In other words, “General” in the Western Han dynasty was commonly seen as the general designation for the highest rank military officers controlling important military forces, who were in charge of the defense in the capital and responsible for commanding wars. Du You, a historian and statesman during the Tang dynasty, listed twenty-one general titles14 in the Western Han dynasty, including Piaoqi General. But his list was incomplete and he missed many others. In fact, over forty general titles had been established in the Western Han dynasty. In addition to the common Chief, piaoqi, cheqi, Defense, Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear Generals, there

Title changes for generals in ancient China 75 were also shang, zhong, ershi, duliao, qiangnu, jiangtun, xiaoqi, youji, hujun, bubing, qingche, caiguan, qi, huya, futu, fubo, louchuan, gechuan, xialai, henghai, fuju, xionghe, bahu, yinyu, junji, qilian, pulei, poqiang, fenwei, fenwu, zhenwei, fenchong, zhongjian, jinu, hengye, yangwu, jianwei, and chengmen jiangjun titles, among others.15 Of the ten titles listed above, fenwu, and jianwei were established during the reign of Emperor Yuan of Han,16 and the others were only seen when Wang Mang acted as a regent and quelled the rebellion launched by Chief (taishou) Zhai Yi (son of the late Prime Minister Zhai Fangjin) of Dongjun Prefecture.17 Furthermore, in the early period of the Western Han dynasty, the Langqi General (langqi jiangjun) existed as a title.18 Excluding the Chief General and the Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear Generals, the creation of the above-mentioned titles for generals can be divided into four categories: (1) naming after the branch of the armed forces he controls, such as the Cheqi, Qiangnu, Qingche, Bubing, Caiguan, Qi, and Louchuan Generals; (2) naming after his position, the most representative examples are the Futu and Hujun Generals; the Poqiang and Bahu Generals could also be included in this category; (3) naming after the place where the war occurred, such as the Fuju, Xionghe, Yinyu, Ershi, Junji, Duliao, Qilian, and Pulei Generals; (4) naming with words to commend his meritorious achievements, such as the Piaoqi, Yangwu, and Fenwei Generals; the Poqiang and Bahu Generals could also fit in this category.19 The last category had become the major way for creating titles for generals, especially for mid- and low-rank generals. On the whole, there were no permanent or standing general titles in the Western Han dynasty. It may be fair to say that all the general titles at that time were temporary. Though a specific general title may be not permanent, “generals” as a group had been a fundamental or even the core element of the bureaucratic establishment in the Han dynasty. From the relevant imperial decrees issued by emperors in the Western Han dynasty, it can be seen that “generals” as an official group ranked below “vassals” and “prime minister” but above “local governors” (liehou) and those officials whose annual salary was just over 2000 dan, and that “general” was an important part of the aristocracy in the Western Han dynasty. Qian Daxin, a scholar of the Qing dynasty, divided the generals in the Western Han dynasty into two groups: “those fighting wars outside the capital” (chuzheng zanzhi) and “those staying in the capital in charge of the military forces” ( jingshi zhangbing). He argued that during the reign of Zhaodi and Xuandi, the power of the Chief General enabled him to handle both internal and external affairs, and the Frontline, Rear, Left, and Right Generals were set up to interfere with state affairs in the central government. He viewed this as the best manifestation for the changes in the government layout of the Western Han dynasty.20 Ōba Osamu, a Japanese scholar, shared Qian’s view. He divided the generals in the Western Han dynasty into two groups: those before the rule of Han Wudi and those after the rule of Han Zhaodi. He thought “in essence, they had the

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power to give reward and inflict punishment internally; externally, as the tools of the emperor, they were responsible for cracking down on rebels. A ‘general’ was not a permanent official post in government.”21 Liao Boyuan classified the generals in the Western Han dynasty as those engaging in wars outside of the capital and those stationed in the capital. He argued that they were seen in the early Western Han dynasty (from the beginning of the dynasty to the end of the rule of Han Wudi) and the late Western Han period (from the rule of Han Zhaodi to the end of Western Han dynasty) respectively. According to him, these two kinds of generals held different responsibilities: The former would temporarily be appointed as generals in case of war; when the war was over, the appointments would naturally be eliminated. By contrast, the latter were close to and trusted by the emperor. They were in charge of the defense force in capital, worked as consultants for the emperor, participated in hammering out plans and helped the ruler make decisions. Those with especially high status could be promoted to the position of da sima and governed all the other officials in government. When the emperor turned a deaf ear to state affairs they could even act on his behalf to exercise the power of emperor.22 The establishment and development of the system of generals in the Western Han dynasty were both closely related to the changes of circumstances in that time, in particular the war situation. In the early Western Han period, there were only a few titles for generals, such as Senior General and the Cheqi General. In the early days after Han Wendi ascended the throne, in order to control the government and state affairs as soon as possible he designated Song Chang, the former Chief Military Officer (zhongwei) of the Dai State (Dai guo), as the Defense General to control military forces in the capital,23 thus signifying the birth of a new title for generals. Since then, Defense General had become one of the most important titles for generals. During the reign of Han Wudi, the country was constantly involved in large-scale wars against other tribes and surrounding countries, especially the Hun tribe (Xiongnu), which further promoted the development of the system of general ranks. Wei Qing, a relative of Han Wudi on the side of his wife, worked as the Chief General and led the army to fight many victorious wars. In order to honor his achievements, the title of da sima was established. Huo Qubing, another relative of Han Wudi on the side of his wife, served as the Piaoqi General, fought several wars to suppress the Hun, and made glorious achievements equaling that of Wei Qing, if not greater. In order to commend him for his service, Han Wudi established the title of Da Sima Piaoqi General (da sima piaoqi jiangjun).24 During the reign of Han Wudi, a series of titles for generals named after the places of war, approaches to war, nature of war, the branches of forces, and praise appeared along with the border wars. Almost all the methods for creating

Title changes for generals in ancient China 77 titles for generals in China’s history had been used by then. The great changes in the political situation in the end years of Han Wudi’s rule prompted him to decide to make his youngest son, Liu Fuling (Han Zhaodi), the heir to the throne. In order to realize the peaceful transition of political power after his death, Han Wudi appointed Huo Guang, a relative of his wife but not a kinsman to the heir, the Da Sima Chief General (da sima da jiangjun) and made him the chief consulting minister for the heir. He also designated Jin Ridi as the Cheqi General, Shangguan Jie as the Left General, and Army Provisions Official (sousu duwei) Sang Hongyang as the Censor-in-Chief ( yushi dafu) with the hope that the three men could work together to help the young heir handle state affairs. In the early days of the reign of Han Zhaodi, Shangguan Jie and his son Shangguan An, the Piaoqi General at that time, fought with Huo Guang for power and were killed. Therefore, Huo Guang worked as the Da Sima Chief General, governed other government officials, and handled the state affairs in a dictatorial manner for more than ten years.25 From then until the collapse of the Western Han dynasty, the da sima had become a synonym for autocracy and was the most powerful position in both military and political circles. Apart from the Da Sima Chief General and Da Sima Piaoqi General, there also appeared Da Sima Cheqi General and Da Sima Defense General.26

The increase and decrease of general titles from late Western to late Eastern Han During the period between the Western and Eastern Han dynasties (the period during the rule of Wang Mang and “Gengshi”), there appeared many more new titles for generals. Wang Mang set up a great number of titles, of which Chief, Piaoqi, Defense, Frontline, and Huya Generals had already been in existence since the Western Han dynasty. But over thirty other titles were newly established, including liguo, ningshi, gengshi, wuwei, wuwei zhongcheng, wuwei qianguan, wuwei houguan, wuwei zuoguan, wuwei youguan, huben, yan’nan, zhendi, zhenwu, budao, pingdi, pingman, xiangwei, zhenyuan, zhuhe, taohui, tianhe, zhuwu, taishi, dinghu, tianwai, erzheng, boshui, and bian jiangjun, as well as zhaoyu da jiangjun, siming da jiangjun, nayan da jiangjun (or nayan jiangjun), and zhizong da jiangjun (or zhizong jiangjun).27 The number of titles for generals at that time approached the total that had accumulated throughout the two hundred years of the Western Han dynasty. Considering that some titles at that time were not recorded in historical works, the number during the reign of Wang Mang may exceed the total of the Western Han period. Wang Mang also took bold measures to reform the bureaucratic structure, including “conferring state governors the title of Chief General, appointing prefecture chiefs and the governors zuzheng, lianshuai, and dayi as bianjiang, and designating county magistrates Junior Generals.”28 “By the end of Wang Mang’s rule, armed forces emerged from different locations to overthrow the government.”29 The leaders of these armed forces to

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topple the Xin Dynasty usually called themselves generals or a specific type of general. In the first month by the lunar calendar of Dihuang 4 (23), the rebel force led by the brothers Liu Yan and Liu Xiu (Guangwudi) named Liu Xuan the gengshi General,30 a title first created by Wang Mang and one of the most important general titles in the Xin dynasty. In the second month by the lunar calendar of that year, the Gengshi regime was founded and the country was also named “Gengshi” after the title of the gengshi General. Of the titles for generals adopted by the Gengshi regime, over twenty were recorded in historical works: da jiangjun, piaoqi da jiangjun, polu da jiangjun, xiping da jiangjun, fenwei da jiangjun, fuwei da jiangjun, zhutian da jiangjun, zhuguo da jiangjun, tingwei da jiangjun, weiwei da jiangjun, zhijinwu da jiangjun, shuiheng da jiangjun, taichang jiangjun, taichang bian jiangjun, kangwei jiangjun, zhenwei jiangjun, wuwei jiangjun, taonan jiangjun, fuhan jiangjun, fuhan jiangjun, junshi jiangjun, and bian jiangjun. There was more than one Chief General (da jiangjun) and Side General (bian jiangjun), but the number of the two titles was not fixed. In October by the lunar calendar in Gengshi 2, Liu Xiu worked as “the Polu General (or the Polu Chief General), executed the power of da sima” and “took the order of the emperor to go across the river to the north to appease the local prefectures.”31 When Liu Xiu governed the north of the Yellow River, there were several positions in the military office, such as the Hujun General. Later he conferred many other titles for generals, of which there were Chief General, Acting Chief General (xing da jiangjun), Rear Chief General (hou da jiangjun), Left Chief General (zuo da jiangjun), Right Chief General ( you da jiangjun), Huya Chief General (huya da jiangjun), Cijian Chief General (cijian da jiangjun), Frontline General, Right General, Xiaoqi General, Qiangnu General, Zhongjian General, Polu General, Duhu General (duhu jiangjun), Fuhu General ( fuhu jiangjun), and Mengjin General (mengjin jiangjun). In the Western Han dynasty, the Chief Generals were revered by people. Only those officials highest in rank could be conferred the title of Chief General. Most of them were autocrats. In order to gain the support of his subordinates and followers and reward their service, he took the initiative to create around twenty titles, of which many were “Chief Generals.” This was a result of changes in general titles under war conditions. Without any doubt, it was a big change to allow the leader of one party of the war to name his own general or Chief General. On the one hand, it reflected the appeal and attraction of the general titles; on the other hand, it also symbolized the decline in the importance of general titles. The titles such as Senior Commander (duwei) and Junior Commander (xiaowei) did not attract subordinates and followers anymore. Even those “Chief ”-free general titles were no longer valued by people. Because the creation and appointment of general titles were so casual, in the Western Han dynasty some very high titles became insignificant and were even treated as equivalent to the titles of junior generals. Apart from the Gengshi regime, leaders of other independent regimes and their subordinates also created their own general titles. For example, when Wei

Title changes for generals in ancient China 79 Xiao founded a regime in Longyou, there were thirty-one general titles. He himself was elected Senior General (or Chief General), and under him were also the Baihu General (baihu jiangjun), Left General, Right General, Mingwei General (mingwei jiangjun), and Yunqi General ( yunqi jiangjun). When Liu Xiu established the Eastern Han regime, he appointed Deng Yu as Frontline General and ordered him to lead the army to suppress the Red Eyebrows’ rebels in order to expand the dynasty’s territory. Serving under Deng Yu, there were six generals including the jinu jiangjun, xiaoqi jiangjun, cheqi jiangjun, jianwei jiangjun, chimei jiangjun, and junshi jiangjun,32 of which the latter two were newly established and the other four were inherited from the Western Han period. Soon after Guangwudi claimed to be the ruler, he appointed a group of highest rank officials, including da situ, da sikong, da sima, piaoqi da jiangjun, jianwei da jiangjun, huya da jiangjun, jianyi da jiangjun, and da jiangjun.33 Of all these Chief Generals, piaoqi da jiangjun was the most respected one.34 Guangwudi designated five “Chief Generals” at the same time, which was obviously different from the system of generals in the Western Han dynasty. The priority of the newly born Eastern Han regime was not to govern the country well and bring peace and security to the people, but rather to compete for territories with the other independent regimes. Thus, it could expand the territory under its control, gain military advantages in a rapid manner, and finally realize the unification of the whole nation. The change in the general’s system is a reflection of the historical circumstances at that time. Emperor Mingdi ordered painters to make pictures of twenty-eight meritorious military leaders at the Cloud Terrace of the South Palace. Of these twenty-eight leaders, fifteen held the “General” title with two holding the same title of piaoqi da jiangjun. And the other thirteen were the jianwei, jianyi, huya, hengye da jiangjun, zhengnan, and zhengxi da jiangjun, and the piaoqi, zuo, you, xiaoqi, jinu, zhenglu, and bulu jiangjun.35 Chief General or da jiangjun, the highest ranking general in the Western Han dynasty, was not seen at that time, but some new specific general titles appeared. The Piaoqi, Zuo, You, and Xiaoqi Generals existing in the Western Han dynasty were still among high ranking generals in the early Eastern Han. The Jinu, Zhenglu, and Bulu Generals, which appeared between Western and Eastern Han dynasties, also remained high ranking general titles. My readers can understand the layout of the general titles during the reign of Guangwudi more comprehensively through the changes of positions of the “twenty-eight nation-founding military leaders,” who had helped him establish and consolidate the Eastern Han regime. The Eastern Han regime was built in a hasty manner while the other independent forces all raced to hold sway over a region. Therefore, the priority for the regime was to continue to become involved in military fights so as to gain more space for its survival. For this reason, a great number of Chief Generals and generals were named to command forces in wars. During the rule of Guangwudi, at least forty-six titles for generals were established. Apart from Chief

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General itself, there were nine titles containing the word “Chief,” including piaoqi, polu, jianwei, and qiangnu. But there were also simply piaoqi, polu, jianwei, and qiangnu Generals. The majority of the titles were temporary. Some of them were only created to honor certain people or events, and would later be abolished as people and circumstances changed. The most commonly seen general titles were piaoqi, jianyi, jianwei, huya, zhengnan, and zhengxi da jiangjun, and bulu, yangwu, wuwei, pojian, xiaoqi, and bian jiangjun. Eleven titles, including Chief General, Piaoqi Chief General, and Piaoqi, Frontline, Left, Right, Qiangnu, Xiaoqi, Youji, Fubo, and Louchuan Generals, had existed in the Western Han dynasty. Among these titles, Chief General and Piaoqi, Frontline, Left, and Right Generals were the most common and highest ones under the Western Han. The others emerged between the Western and Eastern Han dynasties, or were newly created on the basis of those in the Western Han period. The number of general titles established in the first two decades of the Eastern Han dynasty equaled almost the total that had been established throughout the Western Han dynasty. The general titles with a “Chief ” in it were only Chief General and piaoqi Chief General in the Western Han dynasty, and these two titles were never in existence at the same time. However, Chief General, Piaoqi, Jianwei, Huya, and Jianyi Chief Generals had all been set up at the same time in the early Eastern Han period, and later Qiangnu, Polu, Zhengnan, Zhengxi, and Hengye Chief Generals were added. This flood of general titles dated back to Wang Mang’s rule, and it was also closely related to the political and military situation at that time. Within less than twenty years between the demise of the Western Han and the birth of the Eastern Han, general titles sprung up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain. It was a great change in the development of the system of generals that explicitly showed that the emergence of general titles were in line with the frequency of wars. Certainly it was also a clear manifestation that “General” was the major official title for military leaders. In Jianwu 13 (37), after Gongsun Shu’s regime was destroyed, Guangwudi immediately took some major measures to shift the dynasty’s focus from military pursuits to education and cultural affairs, and to retire the meritorious military leaders.36 By then, Guangwudi no longer relied upon the military talents of those meritorious leaders who had helped him found the Eastern Han regime. In order to strengthen his authoritative power and consolidate his rule, he should guard against these meritorious leaders in case they would retain military forces to challenge the central government. As a result, he adopted the governing policy to “retire the military leaders but recruit more civil officials” and to “move away from wars” and “promote education and morality.” The military leaders received well-deserved material benefits, but were stripped of the power to lead the armed forces. Naturally, their “General” and “Chief General” titles were also removed along with their power. Since the civil war was over, there was no need to appoint new leaders to inherit these titles. During most of the rule of Guangwudi since Jianwu 13, in particular the period

Title changes for generals in ancient China 81 after Jianwu 15, only a few titles for generals, including the piaoqi da jiangjun and the piaoqi, fubo, wuwei, and louchuan jiangjun, could be seen. Both the Piaoqi Chief General and the Piaoqi General could execute the power of da sima. Thus it can be seen that these two titles were not in existence at the same time. In fact, the Piaoqi Chief General and the Piaoqi General only acted as the da sima in central government, and did not lead the army to fight wars in far-away areas. The Fubo General Ma Yuan, the Wuwei General Liu Shang, and the Louchuan General Duan Zhi took the order to quell the rebellion of the Yue tribe in the southern coastal areas. Their titles were temporarily set up to meet the need of war. Later, when the war was over, all these titles were repealed. The change in the system of general ranks is of great significance, as Ōba Osamu explains: The abolishing of Left and Right Generals in Jianwu 13 should not be viewed only as an act of seizing military power and reducing armament, but as a significant event which put an end to the situation that the senior military officer controlled everything as in the case of Huo Guang, which prevented the military officers to get involved in political affairs.37 During the hundred years after the rule of Han Mingdi and before the Yellow Turban Rebellion (56–184), as it was in the late years of Guangwudi’s rule, there were only a few titles for generals: Chief General, the Cheqi Chief General, Cheqi General, Piaoqi General, Zhengxi General, Bulu General, and Duliao General. If the Acting Cheqi General (xing cheqi jiangjun), Acting Duliao General (xing duliao jiangjun), and Acting Zhengxi General (xing zhengxi jiangjun) were included, there were altogether ten titles, the least ever seen since the rule of Han Wudi. The Chief General, Cheqi General (or Cheqi Chief General and Acting Cheqi General) and the Zhengxi General (or Acting Zhengxi General) were common, but not permanent positions. Chief General and the Cheqi General were set up alternately and were usually held by important government officials. After the rule of Han Andi, they were mainly reserved for the emperor’s autocratic relatives on the side of his wife or mother, or for a eunuch. Though Chief General and the Cheqi General were not standing posts, generally speaking they were more permanent than those in the Western Han period. Since the late rule of Guangwudi, the Eastern Han had been severely disturbed by the Qiang tribe. The invasion of the Qiang had become the most severe external threat to the dynasty. Therefore, the Zhengxi General, which was initially established by Guangwudi to quell Dou Rong’s and Wei Xiao’s rebel forces, later was re-established several times. Similar to the Zhengxi General in the Western Han dynasty, the Zhengxi General in the Eastern Han dynasty was also among the military leaders whose role was to lead the army to fight wars. It was only set up when there was a war, and when the war was over, the title would be abolished.

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The Duliao General or Acting Duliao General was a permanent post in the Eastern Han dynasty. His role was to remain north of the Yellow River and guard against the invasion of the tribes of Hun, Wuhuan, and Xianbei and consolidating defense in the north.38 According to the item on “General,” the Xu Hanshu points out: In the early years of Emperor Ming’s rule, he set up the Duliao General to guard against the newly surrendered Chief of the Southern Hun and others who might rise to challenge central rule. Later, several rebellions broke out there, thus the Duliao General was permanently stationed there.39 Occasionally, there would be a certain general assigned to stay at some place to guard the border areas in the Western Han dynasty. But in most cases these were temporary assignments. Later they would be called back and their titles abolished when the border war was over. However, under the Eastern Han dynasty the Duliao General had constantly stayed in one place (Manbo County of Wuyuan Prefecture) since the title was first established. It was the first time in history that specific generals had been assigned to govern certain areas in such a long and continuous manner.40 When the Duliao General was first set up, it was called “Acting Duliao General” and it was not until half a century later it was changed into the “Duliao General,” which shows the tentative attitude of the Eastern Han government toward this new system to station generals at certain areas. From Yuanchu 1 (114) of Han Andi, Duliao General began to remove the word “Acting” from this title and he became a “general in the real sense.” Another thing worth mentioning was that the Duliao General was usually held by the family members of the relatives of the Emperor on the side of his mother or wife. In some families, two or three generations all held the position of the Duliao General, such as the Geng and Deng families.41 To guard against the invasion from the tribes of Hun, Xianbei, Wuhuan, and Xiqiang so as to maintain stability along the border was an important political issue concerning the survival of the Eastern Han regime. To serve as Duliao General or other border generals was an important means for the emperor’s relatives, who were the major political forces controlling the highest authority in the dynasty, to exercise their political power.

Major changes in the system of general titles during the late Eastern Han and the Three Kingdoms period After the Yellow Turban Rebellion broke out in Zhongping 1 (184) of the rule of Han Lingdi, leaders of the rebellion, the Zhang Jiao brothers, considered themselves to be “generals.”42 A similar phenomenon was also seen in the Western Han dynasty. In order to quell the rebellions, the Eastern Han government also took measures to strengthen its system of military officers. Meanwhile, new titles for generals were also established to confer upon the military leaders who

Title changes for generals in ancient China 83 were to fight against the rebels. Under the complex and volatile situation caused by wars, the number of titles for generals increased over the ten years after the Yellow Turban Rebellion. These titles were often held by different warlords, and they were also an effective way for the warlords to gain support from their subordinates. As can be seen from relevant historical records, during the period between the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the Battle of Guandu, there were forty-six different titles for generals. Those that can be seen in the Sanguo zhi, Hou Hanji, and Hou Hanshu were Chief General, the Piaoqi General, Acting Cheqi General, the Cheqi General, Left General, Right General, Rear General, Frontline General, Zhengxi General, Zhendong General (zhendong jiangjun), Anguo General (anguo jiangjun), and Side General; those that can be seen in both the Sanguo zhi and Hou Hanji were the Zhengdong General, Zhengbei General (zhengbei jiangjun), Andong General (andong jiangjun), Taoni General (taoni jiangjun), Fenwu General ( fenwu jiangjun), and Jianyi General ( jianyi jiangjun); those that can be seen in both the Hou Hanji and Hou Hanshu were the Defense General, Fuguo General ( fuguo jiangjun), Anji General (anji jiangjun), and Xingyi General (xingyi jiangjun); those that can only be seen in the Sanguo zhi were the Zhenxi General, Pingdong General ( pingdong jiangjun), Acting Tiankou General (xing tiankou jiangjun), Acting Polu General, Zhenglu General, Pinglu General ( pinglu jiangjun), Acting Fenwu General (xing fenwu jiangjun), Fenwei General, Zhenwei General (zhenwei jiangjun), Wuwei General, Jianwu General ( jianwu jiangjun), Jiande General ( jiande jiangjun), Jianzhong General ( jianzhong jiangjun), Jianyi General, Duliao General, and Junior General; those could only be seen in Hou Hanji were Zhennan General, Anxi General (anxi jiangjun), Polu General, Andi General (andi jiangjun), Anqiang General (anqiang jiangjun), Yangwu General ( yangwu jiangjun), Yanglie General ( yanglie jiangjun), Xuanyi General (xuanyi jiangjun), and Ningji General (ningji jiangjun); and those that can only be seen in the Hou Hanshu were Left Cheqi General (zuo cheqi jiangjun) and the Dangkou General (dankou jiangjun). Almost half of these titles had existed in earlier history. The seven titles, including Chief General, and the Piaoqi, Cheqi (or Acting Cheqi), Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear Generals, were the most commonly seen ones since the Western Han dynasty, while Chief General, the Piaoqi General, and Cheqi General were the highest titles during the hundred years in the Eastern Han dynasty before the Yellow Turban Rebellion. This demonstrates that the traditional system of general ranks was still of great significance. At that time, Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear Generals had already been in existence; the Four “Zheng” Generals (Zhengdong, Zhengxi, Zhengnan, and Zhengbei Generals) were almost in place with only the Zhengnan General missing; the establishment of the Four “Zhen” Generals (Zhendong, Zhenxi, Zhennan, and Zhenbei Generals) and Four “An” Generals (Andong, Anxi, Annan, and Anbei Generals) had already begun; and the Four “Ping” Generals (Pingdong, Pingxi, Pingnan, and Pingbei Generals) were still in their infancy.

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From the Battle of Guandu to the first two decades after Cao Pi (Wei Wendi) founded the Wei Kingdom, there were sixty different titles for generals in Cao Cao’s camp.43 Compared with the total number of titles seen between the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the Battle of Guandu, this period had witnessed the birth of ten more. Though the Zhengbei General, which appeared in the previous period, was not seen in this period, the Zhengnan General and Acting Zhengnan General emerged during this period, making the Four “Zheng” Generals officially complete.44 The Zhendong, Zhenxi, Zhennan, and Zhenbei Generals could all be seen, which indicated that the Four “Zhen” Generals had also been put in place. As for the Four “An” Generals and Four “Ping” Generals, only Acting Anxi General and the Pingbei General could be seen, which may suggest that it was not fully developed. But we cannot rule out the possibility that they were actually established at that time but not recorded in the historical materials.45 Though the Rear General of the previous period was not seen in Cao Cao’s camp, the Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear Generals should still exist. The biggest difference between the general titles in Cao Cao’s camp and that of the previous period was undoubtedly the emergence of general titles for imperial guard officers whose responsibility was to safeguard the security of emperors as well as the capital city. With the continuous growth of Cao Cao’s political and military strength, his mansion exceeded those of da sima, da situ, da sikong, and Chief General, and it gradually transformed into a central government. The organization and division of powers within his camp resembled those of the imperial system. Thus those generals whose role was to ensure the safety of Cao Cao had similar functions to the imperial guard officers in the Western Han and Eastern Han dynasties. After all, Cao Cao, as the military and political leader, often engaged in wars. The level of protection for him during wartime would naturally be different from that for an emperor staying in the imperial palace in times of peace. For this reason, a series of titles for generals, including the lingjun, hujun, and wuwei jiangjun, emerged in response to the needs of that time. Almost ten such titles could be seen in Cao Cao’s camp, ranging from the Lingjun General to the Yueqi General ( yueqi jiangjun). Among them, the Xiaoqi General and the Youji General had been set up under the Western Han dynasty. The Duhu General (duhu jiangjun) and the Hujun General were first established in the Western Han dynasty for the purpose of fighting against the rebellious Chief Generals and these two titles could still be seen in the period between the Western Han and Eastern Han dynasties. The Zhongjian General was initially set up in the late Western Han, and could still be seen in the early Eastern Han.46 Compared with Cao Cao’s camp, the number of titles for generals in Liu Bei’s and Sun Quan’s camps was far less, with thirty-two in Liu’s and twentynine in Sun’s. Of these titles, only the dangkou, zhenglu (or Acting Zhenglu), and yangwu jiangjun, together with Side General and Junior General were seen in all three camps. The five titles had been in existence during the period between the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the Battle of Guandu, which showed

Title changes for generals in ancient China 85 the continuity in titles between these two periods. In addition, five titles existed in both Cao Cao’s and Liu Bei’s camps (Left, Right, Frontline, Zhengxi, and Zhennan Generals, all of which had been seen in the previous period); ten titles existed in both Cao Cao’s and Sun Quan’s camps (Chief General and Zhengnan, Zhenxi, Pingbei, Yangwei, Zhenwei, Huwei (huwei jiangjun), Zhechong (zhechong jiangjun), Side, and Junior Generals, of which Chief General and the Cheqi, Zhenxi, Zhenwei, Side, and Junior Generals had been seen in the previous period); and two titles existed in both Liu Bei’s and Sun Quan’s camps (the Zhenglu and Taolu (taolu jiangjun) Generals. If we exclude the repeated ones, there were altogether seventy-nine different titles for generals in the three camps, up by more than thirty compared with the total number of forty-six in the previous period between the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the Battle of Guandu. This reflects the rapid growth in the number of titles for generals. Since the Yellow Turban Rebellion, there had been altogether ten titles that had been the same in all of Cao Cao’s and Liu Bei’s camps, fifteen in Cao Cao’s and Sun Quan’s camps, and seven in Liu Bei’s and Sun Quan’s camps. Obviously the similarity between the titles in Cao and Sun’s camps was the greatest, while those in Liu and Sun’s camps were the least similar. Considering the fact that the number of titles in Liu’s and Sun’s camps was far less than that in Cao Cao’s, there would be no great difference among the three camps in terms of the proportion of the same titles. During the three decades after the Yellow Turban Rebellion and before the regimes of Wei, Shu, and Wu had been founded, there were altogether ninetynine different general titles, a phenomenon that had never been witnessed in any other historical period. So many titles appeared on the stage of history in such a very short time, which undoubtedly marked a great change in the development of the system. This was an unprecedented historical reflection of the effect of war on the system of generals that has never been seen since. Among the hundred titles for generals that appeared during the period after the Yellow Turban Rebellion and before the establishment of the three regimes of Wei, Shu, and Wu, thirty-six had existed before. They were Chief General as well as the Piaoqi, Cheqi, Defense, Rear, Right, Frontline, Left, Junshi, Fuhan, Zhengxi, Duhu, Hujun, Zhongjian, Xiaoqi, Youji, Yueqi, Zhenyuan, Pingdi, Poqiang, Zhenglu, Taolu, Bulu, Polu, Fenwu, Yangwu, Zhenwu, Zhenwei, Fenwei, Jianyi, Fubo, Henghai, Duliao, Side, and Junior Generals. Left Cheqi General and Cheqi General could be viewed as one general title, and it is the same as the Zhengnan General and the Zhengnan Chief General. The title of Lingjun General probably was established under the Zhengnan Chief General of Gongsun Shu’s regime in the early Eastern Han dynasty. Therefore, thirty-nine titles during the period between the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the founding of the Wei, Shu, and Wu regimes had already appeared once before in history. Sixty titles of this period were newly created. The ways of creating these titles were similar to those used in previous periods and almost each way could be traced back to a certain historical practice. Liao Boyuan thought “in the late years of Eastern Han, namely the three decades

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of the rule of Xiandi, there were thirty titles for generals, of which nineteen were newly created.”47 Liao had conducted fruitful research on the systems of generals in the Western Han and Eastern Han dynasties. But his statistics for the titles during the rule of Emperor Xian were only based on the records in the Hou Hanshu, while ignoring other relevant records in the Hou Hanji, especially those in the Sanguo zhi. As a result, the total number he found was less than one-third of the actual total seen in the historical records of this period. His statistics failed to reflect the great change in the titles for generals during the Han and Wei dynasties, which may greatly affect our understanding of the change in the number of titles for generals in the Eastern Han dynasty. Undoubtedly, collecting comprehensive historical materials is the prerequisite for conducting historical research. Only by this way can one draw conclusions that really reflect historical facts. Liao’s mistake best illustrates this. If we view the number of titles for generals after the Battle of Guandu from a macroscopic perspective without taking into account the differences and similarities in the general titles in the camps of Wei, Shu, and Wu, the major general titles during the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties stretching for four centuries had almost all appeared within less than four decades between the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the founding of the Wei, Shu, and Wu regimes. To be more specific, on the one hand this period inherited the titles of Chief General, Piaoqi, Cheqi, Defense, Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear Generals, which had been in use since they were first created in the Western Han dynasty; on the other hand, this period also adopted some titles used in the previous history and created many new titles with methods similar to those used in the previous periods, thus gradually developing these general titles into different patterns, such as the Four “Zheng” Generals, Four “Zhen” Generals, Four “An” Generals, Four “Ping” Generals, Five “Wei” Generals, Five “Wu” Generals, and Zhenglu, Taolu, Polu, Pinglu, and Tianlu (tianlu jiangjun) Generals, and zhengkou, taokou, pokou, pingkou, and tiankou jiangjun. Furthermore, the three regimes of Cao, Liu, and Sun had established new titles for generals with their own features, such as Cao’s palace guard generals, including the Lingjun General and the Hujun General, as well as Liu’s Junshi General and Yijun General ( yijun jiangjun). According to historical records, throughout the Wei Kingdom founded by Cao Pi, there were altogether ninety-one titles for generals, not far from the total number seen after the Yellow Turban Rebellion, but thirty more than the number in Cao Cao’s camp after the Battle of Guandu. The Wei dynasty developed directly from the Wei Kingdom. Its system was also one of continuity with and improvement of the former ones in the Wei Kingdom, and the system of generals was no exception. Most of the sixty titles for generals seen in Cao’s camp after the Battle of Guandu remained in the Wei dynasty. On the basis of these titles, many new ones were created in the Wei dynasty. If we were to review the titles for generals from the periods including and following the Western Han dynasty (Western Han, Xin of Wang Mang, reign of

Title changes for generals in ancient China 87 Gengshi, Eastern Han), we would find that only a minority of the titles in the Wei dynasty were adopted from those of Liu Bei’s and Sun Quan’s camps after the Battle of Guandu. Compared with previous periods, the titles in the Wei dynasty were more standard and systematic. It is fair to say that the pattern of the systems of generals in the Wei, Jin, and Song dynasties recorded in the Songshu, as well as in the Jinshu, had taken shape at that time. To be more specific, there were imperial guard generals composed of the Lingjun General (or zhong lingjun), Hujun General (or zhong hujun), Wuwei General, and Xiaoqi, Youji, Zhongjian, and Zhonglei (zhonglei jiangjun) Generals; there were “generals with important titles” (zhonghao jiangjun), including Chief General, the Piaoqi, Cheqi, and Defense Generals, the Zhongjun (zhongjun jiangjun), Zhenjun (zhenjun jiangjun), and Fujun ( fujun jiangjun) Generals, the Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear Generals, the Four “Zheng” Generals and the Four “Zhen” Generals. There were also many “generals with less significant titles” (zahao jiangjun), such as the fuguo, guanjun, ningshuo, zhechong, and zhenglu jiangjun, Five “Wei” ( jianwei, zhenwei, fenwei, guangwei, and yangwei jiangjun) Generals, Five “Wu” ( jianwu, zhenwu, fenwu, zhaowu, and yangwu) Generals, the Three “Yi” (tianyi, anyi, taoyi jiangjun) Generals, and the Three “Kou” (taokou, weikou, and pingkou jiangjun) Generals. During the Wei dynasty, the Andong, Anxi, and Anbei Generals of the Four “An” Generals could be seen with the Annan General missing, which may be explained by the fact that the territory south of the Yangtze River did not belong to the Wei dynasty. Thus, the Four “An” Generals had not been put in place yet in this period. Only the Pingdong General of the Four “Ping” Generals was present. Since the Wei dynasty had always aspired to seize the area south of the Yangtze River, it was very probable that only the Pingdong General out of the Four “Ping” Generals was established during this period. There were altogether 154 general titles seen during the Three Kingdom period, of which ninety-one were seen in the Wei Kingdom, seventy-two in the Shu Kingdom, and sixty-seven in the Wu Kingdom. Of all these titles, sixty-one were seen in either the Shu or Wu kingdoms, but not in the Wei; eighty-two were seen in either the Wei or Wu kingdoms, but not in the Shu; eighty-seven were seen in either the Wei or Shu kingdoms, but not in the Wu. From this perspective, there is a sizeable difference among the three kingdoms in terms of the number of titles for generals. Of the 154 titles, eighty could be seen before the Three Kingdoms Period, and the remaining seventy-four were newly established in the Three Kingdoms Period, accounting for 48 percent of the total number of titles. Of the eighty traditional titles, seventy-two were seen between the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the founding of the Wei, Shu, and Wu regimes, and sixty-five were seen in the Cao, Liu and Sun camps after the Battle of Guandu. In terms of their birth time, the eighty titles could be divided into the following groups: twenty-two in the Western Han dynasty, eight during the period from the early Eastern Han dynasty to the outbreak of the Yellow Turban Rebellion, two in the Xin of Wang Mang, three during the rule of Gengshi,

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seventeen during the period between the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the Battle of Guandu, and fifteen, ten, and three respectively in Cao Cao, Liu Bei, and Sun Quan’s camps after the Battle of Guandu. It can be noted that of eighty traditional titles, forty-eight appeared after the Yellow Turban Rebellion, accounting for 60 percent of the total. Among the ninety-nine titles for generals seen during the period between the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the founding of the Wei, Shu, and Wu kingdoms, seventy-five were taken over by the Wei, Shu, and Wu kingdoms, accounting for 76 percent of the total. Of the seventy-nine titles seen in Cao, Liu, and Sun’s camps before the founding of the Three Kingdoms, sixty-five were adopted by the Wei, Shu, and Wu kingdoms, accounting for 82 percent of the total. According to the above mentioned information, the traditional general titles adopted in the Three Kingdoms can mainly be traced back to the titles that emerged after the Yellow Turban Rebellion, especially after the Battle of Guandu. When combining the titles that emerged after the Yellow Turban Rebellion with those that appeared after the founding of the Three Kingdoms, the total number would reach 119, accounting for 77 percent of all the titles for generals seen during the Three Kingdoms period. Therefore, it is fair to say that the titles newly created after the Yellow Turban Rebellion composed the most fundamental elements of the titles for generals seen in the Three Kingdoms period. Sixteen titles in Cao’s camp after the battle of Guandu were not adopted in the Wei Kingdom. Similarly, the four and ten general titles used in Liu and Sun’s camps respectively did not remain in the Shu and Wu kingdoms. Thus, it can be seen that the Shu Kingdom was most inclined to continue to use the titles for generals of its former camp. To view the titles of the Three Kingdoms in a more comprehensive manner, the twenty-five titles, including Chief General, could all be seen in the Three Kingdoms, accounting for 27, 35, and 37 percent of the total for each kingdom respectively. The eight titles, including the Fuguo Chief General, were seen in both the Wei and Shu kingdoms. Thus, the number of titles for generals that were the same in both the Wei and Shu kingdoms accounted for 9 and 11 percent respectively of the two kingdoms’ total. Twelve titles were seen in both Wei and Wu kingdoms. Thus, the number of titles that were the same in both the Wei and Wu kingdoms accounted for 13 and 18 percent respectively of the two kingdoms’ total. Eight general titles, including the Fujun General, were seen in both the Shu and Wu kingdoms. Thus, the number of titles that were the same in both the Shu and Wu kingdoms accounted for 11 and 12 percent respectively of the two kingdoms’ total. On the whole, the similarity between the titles for generals in the Wu and Wei kingdoms was greater than that between the Wei and Shu kingdoms.

The heyday of general titles during the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties During the period of the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties which stretched for about four centuries, the number of titles for generals remained for

Title changes for generals in ancient China 89 the most part above one hundred, which undoubtedly marked a big change in the system of generals. Furthermore, the nature, status, and functions of the titles had greatly changed from those of the Western Han dynasty: though different titles reflected a difference in status in both the Western Han and Eastern Han dynasties, generally speaking, most of the generals were high ranking officials with great powers. Whether they remained in the central government or were stationed in faraway areas, they all led armed forces and held military powers. By contrast, during the period of the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties, different titles ranging from the highest (Chief General) to the lowest (Junior General) varied greatly in terms of status. General titles were scattered at different levels of the official system, but being named a general did not mean one held military power. With the exception of the Duliao General of the Eastern Han dynasty, all the other generals in the Western Han and Eastern Han dynasties were not permanent posts and usually established with specific people or events in mind. After the events were over or the people had passed away, the titles would be removed. Yet generals in the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties were permanent positions, and their titles were not directly linked to specific people or events. It was therefore unlikely that they would be repealed. Though the Da Sima General was a long-standing position in the Western Han and Eastern Han dynasties and the Jiuqing General ( jiuqing jiangjun) also appeared in that time, these major positions were all held by generals. However, in the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties, the title of “general” was often conferred to both civil officials and military officers. With the exception of the imperial guard generals, all the other generals’ major responsibility lay with their original positions as civil officials or military leaders, and not as a general. Most officials, whether central or local, high or low in rank, would hold the title of general of a certain rank. Even those imperial guard generals sometimes would hold one of these titles. In most cases, these titles were no longer reserved for military leaders (the trend had already been seen in the middle of the Western and Eastern Han dynasties). Rather, they were simply an honorary indication of the status and standing of the holders. Most military leaders who led the armed forces to fight in faraway areas held the title of general, but their power was executed through their other official positions, such as Military Governor (dudu), Military Chief ( junzhu) in the Southern dynasties, or General Director (zongguan) in the Northern Zhou.48 During the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties, the imperial guard generals led by the Lingjun General (or Central Lingjun), Hujun General (or Central Hujun), and Wuwei General (replaced by the Left Defense General and Right Defense General after the Western Jin dynasty) controlled military powers, playing a similar role to the generals who remained in the government of the Western Han dynasty. Imperial guard generals were a major part of the system of imperial guard officers in the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties. Under the Lingjun General (or Central Lingjun) there were around twenty titles for generals. Imperial guard

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generals of different levels were responsible for leading the forces to protect the emperor, palace, and the capital. Therefore, they formed the most important part of the system of generals of this period. The Central Lingjun, Lingjun General, Central Hujun, and Hujun General were first set up in Cao Cao’s camp in the late Eastern Han period. The imperial guard generals in the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties inherited some features from the previous period and developed some features of their own. On the whole, except for the early years of the Northern Wei dynasty and the Northern Zhou dynasty, all the regimes of this period had set up the position of Lingjun General, Central Lingjun, Hujun General, and Central Hujun; in the Wei Kingdom, the Wuwei General was second only to the Linjun General and Hujun General and was abolished in the early Jin dynasty. When it was reestablished in the late Song dynasty (founded by Liu Yu), its status had declined considerably. In the late Northern Wei and Northern Qi dynasties, the Wuwei General regained its status (actually inheriting the system of the Sixteen States) in the Wei Kingdom; in the early Western Jin dynasty, the Left Defense General and Right Defense General were set up to replace the original Wuwei General. The later dynasties of this period all retained the two imperial guard generals, who were next only to the Lingjun General (or the Central Lingjun) in terms of status and importance; in the late Song of this period, there appeared the position of the Zhige General (zhige jiangjun), which was adopted by following the practice of the Qi, Liang, Chen, and Northern Wei (late period) dynasties. In addition, there were also some low rank imperial guard generals, such as the Dianzhong General (dianzhong jiangjun), Jinu General ( jinu jiangjun), and Jishe General ( jishe jiangjun). Since the Song dynasty of this period, the Dianzhong General, Jinu General, and Zhige General were also set up in the Eastern Palace of the Crown Prince. In the kingdoms and principalities after the Western Jin dynasties, there were also Senior, Secondary, and Junior Generals (shang, zhong, xia jiangjun). The establishment of the Central Lingjun and Central Hujun in Cao Cao’s camp in the late Eastern Han dynasty was no doubt the most important act in the development of the imperial guard generals. Another important act secondary to it was the establishment of the Left Defense General and Right Defense General in the Western Jin dynasty. In addition, the establishment of the Zhige General in the Southern dynasties also had a great impact on the development of the system of generals serving in the imperial guard. The reform of this system started by Liang Wudi, the establishment of a new imperial guard general system by Xiaowendi on the basis of the system in the Southern dynasties, and the creation of the position of Imperial Guard Chief General ( jinwei da jiangjun) were all profound events of great significance.49 In academic circles, the other titles for generals beyond imperial guard generals in the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties would be classified as “Non-mainstream General Titles” (sanhao jiangjun) or “Insignificant General Titles” (zahao jiangjun). According to the Jiu Tangshu, “in Later Wei and Liang

Title changes for generals in ancient China 91 dynasties, non-mainstream general titles were used to address military leaders.”50 Therefore, we can see that ancient Chinese had already used the term “Nonmainstream General Titles” to represent the titles of generals in the Southern and Northern dynasties. “Insignificant General Titles” were used to specifically represent those nonmainstream generals who were relatively low in rank (refer to the following).51 In the system of generals recorded in the Songshu, in proper sequence there was the Chief General,52 Piaoqi General, Cheqi General, Defense General, Zhengdong General, Zhengnan General, Zhengxi General, Zhengbei General, Zhendong General, Zhennan General, Zhenxi General, Zhenbei General, Zhongjun General, Zhenjun General, Fujun General, Andong General, Annan General, Anxi General, Anbei General, Pingdong General, Pingnan General, Pingxi General, Pingbei General, Left General, Right General, Frontline General, Rear General, Zhenglu General, Guanjun General, Fuguo General, Longxiang General (longxiang jiangjun), Jianwei General, Zhenwei General, Fenwei General, Yangwei General, Guangwei General, Jianwu General, Zhenwu General, Fenwu General, Yangwu General, Guangwu General, Yingyang General ( yingyang jiangjun), Zhechong General, Qingche General, Yanglie General, Ningyuan General, Caiguan General, Fubo General, and Lingjiang General (lingjiang jiangjun). Following them there were other titles: Below the Lingjiang General, there were forty titles, including the Xuanwei, Mingwei, Xiangwei, Liwei, Weili, Weiguan, Weilu, Weirong, Weiwu, Wulie, Wuyi, Wufen, Suiyuan, Suibian, Suirong, Taokou, Taolu, Taonan, Taoyi, Dangkou, Danglu, Dangnan, Dangni, Tiankou, Tianlu, Tiannan, Saoyi, Saokou, Saolu, Saonan, Saoni, Liwu, Lifeng, Huwei, Huya, Guangye, Hengye, Side, and Junior Generals. Among the titles below the Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear Generals up to the end of the forty listed above, only the Four Zhonglang Generals were held by a permanent number of military leaders, one for each, while the others may have been held by more than one military officer. Those generals below the Cheqi General who served as both the State Chief and local military governor were treated the same as the Three Ministers of Resources, Finance, and Civil Affairs and could have under them official establishments the same as those military leaders stationed at faraway borders; while those who worked as both State Chief and local military governor, but did not get the same treatment as the Three Ministers, could not set up Consulting Chief under him, but could have a Human Resource Official to help control all the officials working under him above the Chief Assistant . . . under the Inspection Official there was no Consulting Personnel or Copy Clerk and the rest of the establishment was the same. Since the rule of Emperor Tai of Song, both sons and brothers of the emperor, though no military governor, could still have Copy Clerks

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The line “below the Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear Generals” (excluding the Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear Generals) refers to the general titles from the Zhenglu General to Fubo General. It could be seen that the titles for generals recorded by Shen Yue, a historian in the Southern dynasty, could be divided into three groups: the forty titles from the Lingjiang General to Junior General were classified as “Minor General Titles,”54 low in rank; the twenty-one titles between Zhenglu General and Fubo General were classified as secondary general titles; and the twenty-seven titles between Chief General and Right General were classified as senior general titles. The Cheqi General entry in the book quoted Yu Huan as saying: In Wei kingdom, the Cheqi General, who also served as military governor, received the same treatment as the Four “Zheng” Generals; while the Cheqi General, who did not work as military governor, though having imperial authority (given by the emperor) but serving under the Four “Zheng” Generals, was treated the same as the Frontline, Rear, Left and Right Generals, as well as those with minor titles.55 According to this, it can be seen that since the Wei Kingdom the titles under the Four “Zheng” Generals were considered “Minor General Titles.” In other words, those titles for secondary and junior generals were called minor general titles. The titles above them, namely from Chief General to the Frontline, Rear, Left, and Right Generals, were considered “High General Titles” (zhong hao) or “Great General Titles” (da hao). The “general” entry of the Songshu states, “the power of the Prime Minister covers a lot of areas . . . all the state governors with high general titles could have officials in charge of different affairs working under them, but could not appoint or promote officials.”56 This shows that the titles held by state governors usually were “High General Titles.” According to the Jinshu, Chief General, second-rank Generals (er pin jiangjun), third-rank Generals (san pin jiangjun), or Jinzi Generals ( jinzi jiangjun) were classified as high general titles. Liang Wudi established 125 general titles, of which Zhen, Defense, Piaoqi, and Cheqi Generals were termed the 24th Squad, the Four “Zheng” Generals [Zhengdong, Zhengnan, Zhengxi, and Zhengbei Generals] and Four “Zhong” Generals [Zhongjun, Zhongwei, Zhongfu, and Zhonghu Generals] were termed the 23rd Squad, the Eight “Zhen” Generals [Zhendong, Zhennan, Zhenxi, Zhenbei, Zhenzuo, Zhenyou, Zhenqian, and Zhenhou Generals] were called the 22nd Squad, the Eight “An” Generals [Andong, Annan, Anxi, Anbei, Anzuo, Anyou, Anqian, and

Title changes for generals in ancient China 93 Anhou Generals] were called the 21st Squad, and the Four “Ping” Generals [Pingdong, Pingnan, Pingxi, and Pingbei Generals] and Four “Yi” Generals [Yizuo, Yiyou, Yiqian, and Yihou Generals] were the 20th Suqad. All thirty-five titles for generals were first-rank titles.57 Under them in the 19th Squad, there were the Zhongwu (zhongwu jiangjun) and Junshi Generals, which were newly created. The wuchen, zhaoya, longqi, and yunhui jiangjun in the 18th Squad replaced the previous Frontline, Rear, Left, and Right Generals. The zhenbing, yishi, xuanhui, and xuanyi jiangjun in the 17th Squad replaced the previous Sizhonglang Generals. The zhiwei, renwei, yongwei, xinwei, and yanwei jiangjun in the 16th Squad replaced the previous Zhenglu General. The zhiwu, renwu, yongwu, xinwu, and yanwu jiangjun in the 15th Squad replaced the previous Guanjun General. The qingche, zhengyuan, zhenshuo, wulü, and zhenyi jiangjun in the 14th Squad replaced the previous Fuguo General. “The titles before Zhenyi General could have a ‘Chief ’ added before them.”58 From this it can be inferred that there was clear difference between the titles above the Zhenyi General, which could be conferred the status of “Chief,” and those after the Zhenyi General, which could not, making titles for generals in the Liang dynasty divided into three levels. Before the Early Liang dynasty, various titles of generals, together with government officials and military officers both central or local, were included in the same Nine-Rank system ( jiupin zhiguan tixi). In Tianjian 7 (508), Liang Wudi made profound reform to the titles of generals. Not only did he set up the Eighteen Squad System (shiba ban zhidu) different from the Nine-Rank official system in the Eastern and Western Jin, as well as the Song dynasties, but also established in succession the 24th Squad and 34th Squad general titles, which were almost evenly scattered at different levels of the official system. In addition, he also specially set up the 24th Squad and 28th Squad general titles for those leaders stationed outside of the capital. The Chen dynasty inherited general titles from the Liang dynasty, yet at the same time showed some tendency to recuperate those of the Song dynasty. Similar to the system of Liang dynasty, it also had an independent system of titles for military leaders besides the central and local government officials and military officers.59 Most of the regimes of the Sixteen States inherited the features of the general titles in the Western Jin dynasty. On that basis, each regime made some changes. There were far more titles including an additional “Chief ” than in the Jin and Southern dynasties. The early Northern Wei dynasty inherited titles for generals from the Jin dynasty, mainly through adopting and reforming the titles of the Sixteen States. Meanwhile, some unique titles for generals also appeared. According to the tablet inscription from the South Tour Stele (Nanxun bei) which recorded the officials who had accompanied Wenchengdi of the Northern Wei dynasty, the titles in the late years of Wenchengdi’s rule were similar to those recorded in the Government Officials Acts (Zhiyuan ling) before Xiaowendi of Northern Wei.

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In Taihe 17 (493), the Former Government Officials Acts were formulated on the basis of the prevalent system in Northern Wei at that time, while taking reference from the systems of the Southern dynasties. Thus the most systematic List of Government Officials (Guanpin biao), the very first in China’s history, came into being. Most of the general titles recorded in it were the same as those in the Southern, Song, and Qi dynasties. There were also some titles once used in the Wei and Jin dynasties, but not in the Song and Qi dynasties (inheriting the systems of the Sixteen States). But the ranks of different official titles had significant differences from those of the Song and Qi dynasties. The official establishment at this period was very creative. The Later Government Officials Acts issued in the late years of the Xiaowendi had eliminated all the elements of the early Northern Wei period in the official titles, general titles included, and great adjustment had also been made to the Former Government Officials Acts.60 The Northern Qi and Northern Zhou dynasties not only inherited the system of the Northern Wei dynasty (though differently), but also absorbed some elements of the Liang dynasty. To be more specific, the Northern Qi dynasty mainly adopted the official titles of the Northern Wei, while the Northern Zhou dynasty learned the principles for official establishment from the Northern Wei. Both these two dynasties had their general titles scattered evenly at different official ranks, a result of following the system in the Liang dynasty.61

The decline of the system during the Sui and Tang The imperial guard officer system in the Sui dynasty was mainly based upon that of the Northern Qi dynasty. As for imperial guard generals, there were the Lingjun Chief General (lingjun da jiangjun), Lingjun General (or Central Lingjun), Hujun General (or Central Hujun), Left Defense and Right Defense Generals, Lingzuoyou Generals, Wuwei General, Zhongjian and Zhonglei Generals, Frontline, Left, Right, and Rear Generals, Red-coated Zhige (zhuyi zhige jiangjun) and Zhige General, and Dianzhong General in the Northern Qi dynasty; while in the Sui dynasty, there were Chief Left Defense and Chief Right Defense Generals, Wuwei Chief General, Wuhou Chief General (wuhou da jiangjun), Lingzuoyou Chief General (lingzuoyou da jiangjun), Left Defense and Right Defense Generals, Wuwei General, Wuhou General, Lingzuoyou General, Jianmen General ( jianmen jiangjun), and Zhige General, Diannei General (diannei jiangjun), and Yuanwai General ( yuanwai jiangjun).62 Clearly, there was a certain continuity between the systems of the two dynasties. In the Sui dynasty, the status of the Piaoqi General and the Cheqi General declined greatly. They were at the upper 4th rank and upper 5th rank respectively and also included in the Twelve Imperial Guards Offices ( jinwei jun shier weifu). The reform initiated by Emperor Wen of Sui showed the distinctive features of that time.63 Emperor Wen of Sui also adopted the system of the Later Zhou dynasty and set up eleven ranks of honorary official titles, including shang zhuguo, of which the third and fourth ranks were Upper Chief General and Chief General

Title changes for generals in ancient China 95 respectively. This was the first time Upper Chief General (shang da jiangjun) appeared in Chinese history. In addition, there were also forty-three general titles like Yijun General divided into sixteen ranks, all of which were non-mainstream titles. They ranked from upper six-rank to lower nine-rank, almost at the same rank with those insignificant general titles that had been in existence since the Song dynasty (founded by Liu Yu). According to the law of the Sui dynasty, “those officials in the government departments who had real functions were called masters of offices [zhishi guan], while those who did not have real functions were called non-mainstream officials.”64 The non-mainstream officials could further be divided into those with real functions (sanshi guan) and those with only honorary titles (sanhao guan). The honorary titles, including Upper Chief General and Chief General, belonged to the former group, while the “Non-mainstream Generals” fell into the latter group. All these forty-three non-mainstream general titles were inherited from the system of the Northern Zhou dynasty, of which thirty-six were the same with those in the Northern Zhou, accounting for 84 percent of the total. And the ranks of the same titles for generals in the two dynasties had kinds of correspondence (in the Sui dynasty, officials were classified into different pin, while in the Northern Zhou they were classified into ming). By comparison, the titles for generals between the Sui and Northern Qi dynasties had significant differences, but still had certain similarities. For example, the Yijun General, Side, and Junior Generals in the Sui could not be seen in the Northern Zhou dynasty and were probably inherited from the Northern Qi dynasty. The Anyuan, Jianwei, and Zhenwei Generals in the Sui could neither be seen in the Northern Zhou nor the Northern Qi dynasties, but could be seen in either of the two Government Officials Acts during the rule of Emperor Xiaowen of Northern Wei. The Yishi General in the Sui could only be seen in the 125 general titles of the Liang dynasty. Thus it can also be inferred that the general title system of the Sui might draw from the Government Officials Acts in the Northern Wei dynasty, and also minimally draw from the system of the Liang dynasty.65 In Wude 7 (624), Tang Gaozu ordered to set up Left and Right Wei [zuo you wei], Left and Right Xiaowei [zuo you xiaowei], Left and Right Lingjun [zuo you lingjun], Left and Right Wuhou [zuo you wuhou], Left and Right Jianmen [zuo you jianmen], Left and Right Tun [zuo you tun], and Left and Right Ling [zuo you ling], making them lead the Forteen Military Offices [shisi weifu].66 He also set up the Fuguo Chief General and Zhenjun Chief General, and ten non-mainstream titles including Guanjun, Yunhui, Zhongwu, Zhuangwu [zhuangwu jiangjun], Xuanwei [xuanwei jiangjun], Mingwei, Dingyuan [dingyuan

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Zhang Jinlong jiangjun], Ningyuan [ningyuan jiangjun], Youqi [youqi jiangjun], and Youji Generals to confer those military leaders without real functions.67

The Fuguo Chief General was assigned to the second-rank, while Zhenjun Chief General ranked sub-second-rank. Guanjun General was a third-rank title, and Yunhui General was a sub-third-rank one with those after Zhongwu General (itself included) “ranging from four-rank to sub-fifth-rank.”68 In Zhenguan 11 (637) of Tang Taizong, another reform concerning the official system was carried out. The imperial guard forces were changed into the Twelve Imperial Guard Divisions (shier wei), and some adjustment had also been made to the non-mainstream generals (non-mainstream military officers): Reestablishing the Piaoqi Chief General as the sub-first-rank [cong yi pin] non-mainstream military officer; designating the Fuguo and Zhenjun Chief Generals as sub-second-rank [cong er pin] non-mainstream military officers; changing the Guanjun General into the Guanjun Chief General; appointing those titles below the Yunhui General and above the Youji General as nonmainstream military officers above the fifth-rank.69 According to historical records, “non-mainstream military officers initially called ‘non-mainstream positions’ did not have real function, but only honorary titles.”70 If observing the non-mainstream generals in the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties according to the standard in Tang, most of them could be called non-mainstream military officers, but at that time there had yet not been the term of “non-mainstream military officers.” The Twelve Imperial Guard Divisions in the Tang later were expanded to the Sixteen Imperial Guard Divisions. At each Division there would be one Chief General and two generals, ranking respectively third-rank (zheng san pin) and sub-third-rank (cong san pin).71 In Zhenyuan 2 (786), Tang Dezong gave the order that “a Senior General should be set up at each of the Sixteen Divisions and be treated as a second-rank official.”72 After the reign of Tang Gaozong, a series of military forces were set up including the Left and Right Yulin Troops (zuo you yulin jun), Left and Right Longwu Troops (zuo you longwu jun), Left and Right Shenwu Troops (zuo you shenwu jun), and Left and Right Shence Troops (zuo you shence jun). One Chief General and two generals were set up in each of the Left and Right Yulin Troops, as well as the Left and Right Longwu Troops (four troops guarding the Northern Gate), while two Chief Generals and two generals were set up at each of the Left and Right Shenwu Troops, Left and Right Shence Troops. The Chief Generals ranked third-rank and the generals sub-third-rank.73 Compared with the system in the Sui dynasty, the system for imperial guard military officers in the Tang was much more complicated, but its nonmainstream general titles were greatly streamlined. In the honorary titles of the Sui, there were Upper Chief General and Chief General, while there were no titles for generals in the honorary titles of the Tang. There were forty-three nonmainstream generals in the Sui, but in the Tang the number was only twelve.

Title changes for generals in ancient China 97 Undoubtedly, the decline in the number of titles for generals was a big difference between the official establishments of the Sui and Tang dynasties and those of the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties. The decline in the number of titles for generals was extremely obvious in the Tang dynasty. As for the system of military officers in the Tang dynasty, it gradually deviated from that of the Sui, which was based on the practice in the Northern dynasties. In the late Tang period, with the great change in the imperial guard system as well as the popularization of the system for temporarily reassigning officials, there was almost no connection between the system of military officers in the Tang and that in the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties.

The final stage of the system of general titles This change in the system of the military officers in the Late Tang period continued in the Five Dynasties and two Song dynasties. There were no longer nonmainstream generals in the official establishment in the two Song dynasties, neither were there general titles in the imperial guard military officers. However, the military officers guarding the whole capital (huanwei guan) had the title of general, but this was only honorary.74 However, the system of generals after the Jin and Yuan dynasties also showed some signs of resurgence in the official establishments. “Generals” in the Ming and Qing dynasties could not match those from before the Sui and Tang dynasties in terms of their functions and status, but still could not be neglected in importance. In the Jin dynasty, there were a number of generals in the imperial guard forces: The Dianqian Zuowei General (dianqian zuowei jiangjun), Dianqian Youwei General (dianqian youwei jiangjun), Dianqian Zuowei Deputy General (dianqian zuowei fu jiangjun), and Dianqian Youwei Deputy General (dianqian youwei fu jiangjun) were responsible for the security of the palace and also in charge of all the imperial guard forces. It was the same with the Youwei General ( youwei jiangjun). There were altogether eight Zuo Suzhi Generals (zuo suzhi jiangjun) and You Suzhi Generals ( you suzhi jiangjun) who ranked sub-fifth-rank and governed all the imperial bodyguards, and were responsible for the security at different gates of the palace, as well as for defense work.75 In the Yuan dynasty, there were the Diannei General, Dianwai (dianwai jiangjun) General, and Suzhi General76 in the imperial guard forces, which could be seen as a inheritance of the system of the Jin dynasty; then thirty-four nonmainstream military officers were appointed of which twenty-two were general titles (ranging from second-rank to sub-fifth-rank) including longhu wei, jinwu wei, piaoqi wei, fengguo, fuguo, and zhenguo shang jiangjun (Senior General), zhaowu, zhaoyong, zhaoyi, anyuan, dingyuan, and huaiyuan da jiangjun (Chief General), and guangwei, xuanwei, mingwei, xinwu, xianwu, xuanwu, wujie,

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wude, wuyi, and wulüe jiangjun (General).77 Thus we can see that the system in the Yuan was based upon that of the Tang, but some adjustments were made. At the beginning of the Ming reign, in 1382, the Imperial Bodyguard ( jinyi wei) was set up and in charge of the Fourteen Crime Investigation Offices in both North and South of the nation. In the Imperial Bodyguard there were generals, imperial banner carriers (lishi), and military commanders (xiaowei) who controlled the imperial bodyguards, and were responsible for inspection and criminal arrest. The general of the Imperial Bodyguard “was originally called Tianwu General [tianwu], later renamed Dahan General [dahan jiangjun] with a total number of 1500 people.”78 This kind of general had never been seen previously in China’s history, and as such was very unique. In the years of the Yongle period (1403–1424) the Five-Army Battalion and Three-Thousand Battalion were set up; the Red-Helmet General and Bright-Armor General as well as the weizishou troops who used short and straight knives were established; the imperial guard forces were perfected.79 Apart from the imperial guard generals, there were also generals fighting wars and those stationed in border areas for national defense. In the Ming dynasty, “the respected military officers would be conferred the titles of Zhengxi, Zhenshuo and Pingman Generals.”80 In the years of the Hongwu period (1368–1398), at first only the most senior official could have the General Seal. Later, all the State Chiefs, Prefecture and County Chiefs as well as the military governors could also serve as Military Chief [zongbing guan], and were called Seal-Carrying Generals [guayin jiangjun]. When there were wars, the military chief would carry the seal and led the army to the frontline. After achieving victory, the Chief would return the seal to the emperor.81 When there were wars to fight, the military officers would carry the seal of certain general titles or Chief General, Frontline General, or Deputy General and lead the army to go to the frontline. When the war was over, everything would return to its previous state.82 This was similar to the generals fighting wars in the Han dynasties. In Yongle 22 (1424), three Big Battalions (Five-Army, Firearm Managing, and Three-Thousand Battalions) were set up. In later periods, several reforms concerning these three battalions were carried out, and the titles of different battalions were different. The leader of a vehicle driving division was called the Youji General, while the leader of city defense divisions was called the Zuoji General (zuoji jiangjun). At the local level, there were the Military Chief, Deputy Chief, Associate Chief (canjiang), Youji General, Defense Officer, and military commander. Both Military Chief and Deputy Chief were held by the State Chief, Prefecture and County Chief as well as the military governor. The Military Chief

Title changes for generals in ancient China 99 carrying a General Seal was called “General.” If they went to Yunnan, they would be called the Zhengnan General; if they went to Datong, they would be called the Zhengxi Frontline General [zhengxi qian jiangjun]; if they went to Huguang, they would be called the Pingman General; if they went to Liangguang, they would be called the Zhengman General [zhengman jiangjun]; when they went to Liaodong, they would be called the Zhenglu Frontline General [zhenglu qian jiangjun]; when they went to Xuanfu, they would be called the Zhenshuo General; when they went to Gansu, they would be called the Pingqiang General [pingqiang jiangjun]; if Ningxia, the Zhengxi General; if Jiaozhi, Deputy General; and if Yansui, the Zhenxi General.83 In addition, in the Ming dynasty sons of the Emperor would be conferred the title of qinwang. The first son of qinwang would be conferred the title of wangshizi and their first grandson would be conferred the title of shisun; the other sons of qinwang would be junwang, and the first son and first grandson of junwang would be conferred the titles of junwang shizi and zhangsun respectively; and the other sons of junwang would be conferred the title of the zhenguo jiangjun, other grandsons the fuguo jiangjun and other great-grandsons the fengguo jiangjun.84 To appoint the distant relatives of the imperial family as Zhenguo, Fuguo, and Fengguo Generals was undoubtedly the unique creation of the Ming dynasty. In the Qing dynasty, generals were established at local levels, including those border areas. In the Northeast where the ancestor of the Qing emperors rose, there were the Shengjing, Jilin, and Heilongjiang Generals.85 In the inland provinces, there were the Xi’an General (Shaanxi Province), Ningxia General (Gansu Province), Jiangning General (Zhejiang Province), Jingzhou General (Hubei Province), Guangzhou General (Guangdong Province), Fuzhou General (Fujian Province), and Chengdu General (Sichuan Province).86 In the Northwest, there were the Dingbian Left Deputy General (dingbian zuo fu jiangjun) at the Ka’erka Camp, the Suiyuan City General (Suiyuan cheng jiangjun),87 and Yili General,88 who shared certain similarities with the Duliao General in Eastern Han dynasty.

Notes 1 According to the pinyin rules, complete general titles are written in lower case letters (for example piaoqi jiangjun). The Chinese characters are included in the glossary. Combinations of pinyin with the term “general” are written in upper case letters (for example Piaoqi General). 2 Sima Qian, Shiji (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), vol. 48, p. 1955. For details see ibid., vol. 89, p. 2576. 3 Ibid., vol. 6, p. 273, vol. 7, pp. 304–307, and vol. 8, pp. 356, 361. 4 Ibid., vol. 6, p. 273. 5 Ibid., vol. 7, p. 312. 6 Ibid., vol. 7, p. 310, vol. 8, pp. 355, 378, 392, vol. 52, p. 2010, vol. 93, p. 2635 and relevant notes.

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7 Ibid., vol. 18, p. 913 and vol. 53, p. 2014. 8 Ibid., vol. 9, p. 404 and vol. 51, p. 1996. 9 Ibid., vol. 9, p. 406. Among the official seals handed down from the Western Han dynasty, there is one with the print of a Senior General seal. See Luo Fuyi (ed.), Qin Han Nanbeichao guanyin zhengcun (Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1987), vol. 3, p. 19. 10 Ban Gu, Hanshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1962), vol. 4, p. 108. 11 Sima Qian, Shiji, vol. 58, p. 2082. 12 Ban Gu, Hanshu, vol. 19-a, p. 726. 13 Sima Biao, Xu Hanshu zhi, vol. 24, in Fan Ye, Hou Hanshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1965), p. 3562. 14 Du You, Tongdian (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1988), vol. 19, p. 484. 15 Xu Tianlin, a scholar during the Southern Song dynasty, concluded from the Shiji and Hanshu that there were forty-five general titles during the Western Han dynasty and that, in addition to the seven titles of zhong, wencheng, wuli, tianshi, dishi, datong, and tiandao jiangjun titles, all the thirty-eight other general titles could be found in the Benji and Baiguan gongqingbiao xia chapters of the Hanshu. See Xu Tianlin, Xihan huiyao (Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1977), pp. 356–362. Titles such as wencheng that were not for military leaders, but rather designed by Han Wudi for the sorcerers, therefore, could not be counted as a title for generals. Twelfth Division General is only a general term and not a specific title for generals. Liao Boyuan holds that: in the Western Han dynasty, there are altogether forty-seven general titles, of which thirty-nine existed in the early Western Han dynasty (from Yuannian (206 bce) of Gaozu to the end of Houyuan 2 (87 bce) of Wudi) and that there were eighteen general titles in the late Western Han dynasty (from Shiyuan 1 (86 bce) of Zhaodi to the end of Yuanshi 5 (5 bce) of Pingdi), including eight newly created ones.

16 17 18 19

See Liao Boyuan, “Dong Han jiangjun zhidu zhi yanbian,” in Zhongyang yanjiuyuan lishi yuyan yanjiusuo jikan, 60.1 (1989), pp. 131–214. Xu Tianlin missed five titles of generals, while Liao Boyuan missed three. If the seven titles including wencheng could be considered titles for generals, there were altogether fifty in the Western Han dynasty. Ban Gu, Hanshu, vol. 79, p. 3299. Ibid., vol. 84, pp. 3427, 3438. Ibid., vol. 16, p. 568. An Zuozhang and Xiong Tieji think that the common titles for generals, such as Senior General and other unusual ones were named after the places where they gained a victory in war, or the branches of the armed forces they control, or the special duty they bear. When they were assigned outside the capital, they would be responsible for leading the army; when they were recalled back to the capital, they would be assigned other responsibilities.

See An Zuozhang and Xiong Tieji, Qin-Han guanzhi shigao (Jinan: Qilu shushe, 1984), pp. 244–245. Yan Buke, building upon the research by the scholar of the Southern Song dynasty Xu Tianlin, thinks that tens of general titles in the Western Han dynasty “were named after branches of the armed forces, certain military duties, praise for achievements, names of places, or the enemy in a war.” See Yan Buke, Pinwei yu zhiwei: Qin-Han Wei-Jin Nanbeichao guanjie zhidu yanjiu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2002), p. 413. 20 Qian Daxin, Sanshi shiyi (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2004), vol. 3, pp. 1401, 1434. 21 Ōba Osamu, Qin-Han fazhi shi yanjiu, trans. by Lin Jianming et al. (Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1991), p. 329.

Title changes for generals in ancient China 101 22 Liao Boyuan, “Shilun Han chu gongchen liehou ji Zhao Xuan yihou zhu jiangjun zhi zhengzhi diwei,” in Xu Fuguan xiansheng jinian wenji (Taibei: Xuesheng shuju, 1986), pp. 77–170 and “Donghan jiangjun zhidu zhi yanbian,” in Zhongyang Yanjiuyuan Lishi Yuyan Yanjiusuo Jikan, 60.1 (1989), pp. 131–214. 23 Sima Qian, Shiji, vol. 10, p. 417 and Ban Gu, Hanshu, vol. 4, p. 108. 24 Sima Qian, Shiji, vol. 111, pp. 2925–2929. 25 Ban Gu, Hanshu, vol. 7, p. 217 and vol. 68, pp. 2932–2950. 26 Ibid., vol. 19-b, p. 803. 27 Ban Gu, Hanshu, vol. 99-b, pp. 4101–4146 and vol. 99-c, pp. 4156–4189. For information on the Boshui General, see Fan Ye, Hou Hanshu, vol. 23, p. 796. 28 Ban Gu, Hanshu, vol. 99-c, p. 4158. 29 Fan Ye, Hou Hanshu, vol. 24, p. 828. 30 Ibid., vol. 11, p. 469. 31 Ibid., vol. 1-a, p. 10. 32 Ibid., vol. 16, p. 601. 33 Ibid., vol. 1-a, p. 23. In the early days of the rule of Guangwudi, he appointed a group of high ranking officials, of which da sima Wu Han was the highest military official. A series of important military campaigns in the early years of the Eastern Han were directed by Wu Han. In addition, piaoqi da jiangjun Jing Dan, jianwei da jiangjun Geng Yan, huya da jiangjun Gai Yan, jianyi da jiangjun Zhu You, and da jiangjun Du Mao also participated in directing the wars. 34 See Fan Ye, Hou Hanshu, vol. 22, p. 773. 35 Ibid., pp. 789–790. 36 Ibid., vol. 1-b, p. 62. 37 Ōba Osamu, Qin-Han fazhi shi yanjiu, p. 330. 38 See Fan Ye, Hou Hanshu, vol. 19, p. 716 and vol. 89, pp. 2949–2957. 39 Sima Biao, Xu Hanshu zhi, p. 3564. 40 For more information on the role of the Duliao General in the Eastern Han dynasty, see: Liao Boyuan, “Dong Han jiangjun zhidu,” pp. 131–214, and Li Dalong, “Dong Han duliao jiangjun zhidu shulun,” Neimengu shehui kexue, 2 (1992), pp. 59–63. 41 See Fan Ye, Hou Hanshu, vol. 19, pp. 717–724 and vol. 16, pp. 605, 617–618. 42 Chen Shou, Sanguo zhi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959), vol. 46, p. 1094. See also Fan Ye, Hou Hanshu, vol. 71, p. 2300. 43 The statistics in this chapter were mainly drawn in accordance with the relevant materials in the Sanguo zhi and also with reference to the Huayang guo zhi and “Wei gongqing shang zunhao zou,” and “Wei Henghai jiangjun Lujun bei,” in Hong Shi, Li shi – Li xu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2003), p. 186, pp. 191–192. In order to save space, the source of the numbers will not be given. 44 The Songshu states: “The Four ‘Zheng’ Generals were set up by Emperor Wu of Wei with the annual salary of 1440 dan.” See Shen Yue, Songshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1974), vol. 39, p. 1225. The passage could be cited from Yu Huan’s Weilüe and is reliable. 45 The Songshu notes that the Zhenbei General and the Four An Generals were set up during the period of Huangchu (220–227) and Taihe (227–233) of the Wei dynasty which shows that the Four “An” Generals were established at that time. See ibid., vol. 39, p. 1226. According to the Songshu, “the Four ‘Ping’ Generals system was established around the third decade of the Wei dynasty,” from which we could infer that during this period the Four “Ping” Generals had not yet been established. See ibid., vol. 39, p. 1226. 46 See Zhang Jinlong, Wei-Jin Nanbeichao jinwei wuguan zhidu yanjiu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2004), pp. 81–92. 47 Liao Boyuan, “Dong Han jiangjun zhidu zhi yanbian,” in Zhongyang yanjiuyuan lishi yuyan yanjiusuo jikan, 60.1 (1989), p. 133.

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48 The position of military governor was first established in the early years of the Wei Kingdom, and continued to be seen throughout of the period of the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties. There was the Central Military Governor, who was in charge of the military affairs inside and outside the capital. The position was usually held by senior high officials, but was not a permanent post. There were also Local Military Governors, who were in charge of the military affairs of one or several states. Local Military Governors were usually held by the State Chief (cishi), who held both local political and military powers so as to strengthen central rule and the Center’s control over local states. When there were certain military tasks, the assigned military leaders would be conferred the position of military governor, such as Military Governor for Quelling Rebels in the North (dudu beitao zhujunshi). The military governor could be traced back to the practice started by Cao Cao to assign the Chief General to supervise the military forces at the end of the Han dynasty. In the Jin dynasty, among the military leaders those who governed the troops were the highest in rank, and below them were those who supervised the troops, followed by those who directed the troops. Many fruitful studies have been carried out on the practice of establishing military governors in the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties. See, for instance: Yan Gengwang, Zhongguo difang xingzheng zhidu shi: Wei Jin Nanbeichao difang xingzheng zhidu (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2007). Obi Takeo, Rikuchō totokusei kenkyū (Hiroshima: Taimitu shya, 2001). Zhu Zongbin, “Dudu zhongwei zhujunshi jiqi xingzhi, zuoyong,” in Cai bucai zhai shixue conggao (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2009), pp. 117–154. 49 The author has carried out in-depth research on systems of imperial guard officers in the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties. See: Zhang Jinlong, Wei-Jin Nanbeichao jinwei wuguan zhidu yanjiu. 50 Liu Xu, Jiu Tangshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1975), vol. 42, p. 1805. 51 On the non-mainstream generals in the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern dynasties see for example Obi Takeo, “So-Gi ni okeru ‘shisei’ shōgun,” Hiroshima daigaku kyōikugakubu kiyō, 2.26 (1978), pp. 113–122 and “Shin dai ni okeru shōgunkō to totoku,” Tōyōshi kenkyū, 37.3 (1978), pp. 418–441. Takahashi Toru, “Nanbokuchō no shōgunkō to tōdai busankan,” Yamagata daikaku shigaku ronshū, 15 (1995), pp. 49–72. Yamaguchi Masaaki, “Cao-wei xijin shiqi de dudu yu jiangjun,” Wei Jin Nanbeichao Sui Tang shi ziliao, 20 (2003), pp. 30–51. Yan Buke, Yueshi yu shiguan: chuantong zhengzhi wenhua yu zhengzhi zhidu lunji (Beijing: Sanlian shudian, 2001), pp. 403, 477. 52 After the Western Jin dynasty, Chief Generals were included in the Eight Imperial Chiefs (ba gong), which were the highest but only honorary titles in government. The generals whose status were slightly subordinate to the Chief General could also be conferred the title of “Imperial Chief.” Thus they could form the “Imperial Chiefs of Military Officers” (wuguan gong). 53 Shen Yue, Songshu, vol. 39-a, p. 1227. 54 Xiao Zixian, Nan Qishu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1972), vol. 16, p. 315. There were also some “Minor Generals” who have established offices. According to the records, there were the Chief General, Piaoqi, Cheqi, Defense, Zhenjun, Zhongjun, Fujun Generals, and the Four “Zheng” Generals, Four “Zhen” Generals, Four “Ping” Generals, and Left, Right, Frontline, and Rear General, as well as the Zhenglu, Guanjun, Fuguo, Ningshuo, Ningyuan, and Longxiang Generals. The “Minor General Titles” refer to those below the Longxiang General. 55 Shen Yue, Songshu, vol. 39, p. 1224. 56 Ibid., p. 1234. 57 Fang Xuanling, Jinshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1974), vol. 24, pp. 726–729. 58 Wei Zheng, Suishu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1973), vol. 26, pp. 737–740. 59 Ibid., vol. 26, pp. 746–748. 60 Wei Shou, Weishu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1974), vol. 113, pp. 2993–3003. The Former Government Officials Acts refers to the first Government Officials Acts formulated in Taihe 17 of the rule of Emperor Xiaowen, while the Later Government

Title changes for generals in ancient China 103 Officials Acts refers to the second Government Officials Acts issued in Taihe 23 of the rule of Emperor Xiaowen when Emperor Xuanwu ascended the throne. 61 Wei Zheng, Suishu, vol. 27, pp. 720–741. 62 For details see ibid., vol. 27, pp. 752–769 and vol. 28, pp. 777–779. 63 The following passage of the Suishu makes it evident: in each of the Twelve Imperial Guards Offices, there were one Chief General and two generals who were in charge of all the affairs within the office and also governed all the Yingyang Offices [yingyang fu] under them. The Piaoqi General was changed into yingyang langjiang, a fifth-rank general, while the Cheqi General was changed into yingyang fu langjiang, a sub-fifth-rank general. See ibid., vol. 28, p. 800. 64 Wei Zheng, Suishu, vol. 28, p. 781. 65 For more on the abovementioned systems, refer to Suishu, vol. 28 “Baiguan zhi xia” (Sui Dynasty), vol. 27 “Baiguan zhi zhong” (Northern Zhou and Northern Qi Dynasties), and vol. 26 “Baiguan zhi shang” (Liang Dynasty), and Weishu vol. 113 “Guanshi zhi” (Northern Wei Dynasty). 66 Liu Xu, Jiu Tangshu, vol. 42, p. 1783. 67 Ibid., vol. 42, p. 1784. 68 Ibid., vol. 42, p. 1784. Originally the author wrote “Xinyuan” instead of “Dingyuan and Ningyuan” and later it was changed in accordance with the records found in Xin Tangshu, Tang liudian, and Tongdian. 69 Ibid., p. 1785. 70 Ibid., p. 1805. 71 Li Linfu, Tang liudian (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1992) vol. 24, pp. 615–624, vol. 25, pp. 638–645 and Liu Xu, Jiu Tangshu, vol. 44, pp. 1898–1903. 72 Liu Xu, Jiu Tangshu, vol. 44, p. 1905. 73 Ibid., vol. 44, pp. 1903–1905. 74 The Songshi states: The Senior General, Chief General and generals in different divisions were together classified as capital guarding officers with no permanent numbers. Most of these positions were held by family members of the emperor or were honorary ranks for military leaders. Those military officers under the Chief General were reduced in rank to non-mainstream officials. During Zhenghe period of the reign of Emperor Hui of Song, changes were made to the system of military officers, but nothing changed with regard to the Capital Guarding Officers. Though there were forty-eight titles, these officers did not have a real function. Tuotuo, Songshi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1975), vol. 116, p. 3932 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88

Tuotuo, Jinshi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1975), vol. 56, p. 1254. Song Lian, Yuanshi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 196), vol. 80, p. 1998. Ibid., vol. 97, pp. 2321–2322. Zhang Tingyu, Mingshi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1974), vol. 89, p. 2186. Ibid., vol. 89, p. 2186. According to vol. 76 there were altogether 1507 Imperial Bodyguard Dahan Generals. Ibid., vol. 68, p. 1663. Ibid., p. 1663. Ibid., vol. 76, p. 1858. Ibid., p. 1867. Ibid., vol. 116, p. 3558. Lidai zhiguan biao (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1989), vol. 48, p. 916. Ibid., vol. 55, pp. 1064–1065. Ibid., vol. 63, p. 1205. Ibid., vol. 70, p. 1345.

6

Origins and selection criteria of soldiers in different stages of the Tang dynasty (618–907) Sun Jimin (Translation: Kai Filipiak/Eugenia Werzner)

During the Early Tang period, the most well-known troops were the territorial soldiers ( fubing). In addition, there were also temporary conscript-recruits (bingmu), home guards (tuanjie bing), descendants of officials (zidi), volunteer soldiers ( yizheng), allied troops of alien peoples of the North and West ( fanbing), valiant fighters ( jian’er), paid volunteer soldiers serving as palace guards (kuoqi), and others. Allied troops ( fanbing) such as Tibetans ( fanbingmu) as well as tribal soldiers ( fanbuluobing) were also included. Although the types of soldiers were not identical, they were both drawn from minority populations. Because of their special status and the limited scope of this chapter, they are not included in the following discussion that focuses on similarities and differences of the early and late Tang military system as well as the process of transformation. I will now analyze the origins and the selection criteria of the early Tang troops.

Territorial soldiers It is well known that there were two kinds of territorial soldiers ( fubing). The first were the imperial bodyguard (qinwei), the distinguished guard (xunwei), and the standby guard ( yiwei), collectively designated as the three capital guards (sanwei). The second were ordinary guardsman. The three capital guards belonged to the high ranking guards; their members were all descendants of officials. Among them, the imperial bodyguard had the highest personal status requirements; they had to be the sons of third rank or higher officials or the grandsons of second rank or higher officials. Meanwhile, the attendant guards of the distinguished guard and the guard command (shuaifu) of the imperial bodyguard had to be sons of fourth rank, grandsons of third rank, or great-grandsons of second rank officials or higher. The attendant guards of the standby guard and the guard command of the distinguished guard had to be grandsons of fourth rank officials, sons or grandsons of fifth rank official employees, great-grandsons of third rank officials, be knighted officials of merits of the third rank, or sons or grandsons of Dukes of State (guogong). The requirement for all other guards and the standby guard of the guard command was to be a descendant of “fifth rank officials upwards, ‘pillar of the

Origins and selection of soldiers in the Tang 105 state’ officials, and the aristocracy.”1 An annotation of this entry in the Compen­ dium of Administrative Law of the Six Divisions of the Tang Bureaucracy (Tang liudian) states that it is not clear whether the descendants were grandsons or great-grandsons.2 However, the text demonstrates that, according to laws and regulations, those who hold a position within the three capital guards had to be descendants of a fifth rank official or higher. The official background of their ancestors differentiated members of the three capital guards from normal soldiers. An entry in volume five of the Tang liudian states: The three capital guards of the [left and] right guards are divided into five garrisons: the first is called the bodyguard garrison, the second is called the garrison of consecration, the third is called the distinguished garrison, the fourth is called the standby garrison, and the fifth is the garrison of smashing hands. About thirty-six men per month are assigned to these units. The period of service in the five garrisons including the chariot escort and the xiyin is five years. The period of service in the left [and right] guards and the distinguished guards of the left and right guard command is six years. The period of service in the distinguished guards of the guard command and all other guards is eight years. After they have finished the service, they will be examined by the Ministry of War. Those who are capable are recommended to the Ministry of Personnel. Those who fail to meet the requirements are moved according to their professional experiences. Those who proved their talent in service can be promoted to commanders-in-chief.3 The passage helps to illustrate that content and method in evaluating the three capital guards were different because of their system of subordination and their varying duties. If the candidates demonstrated ability, they could take the examinations and be promoted to commanders-in-chief (zhushuai). The term zhushuai is another word for military official,4 i.e., the soldier was promoted to military official. In his Origins of the Sixteen Guards (Yuan shiliuwei), Du Mu states that the sixteen guards (shiliu wei) inside the capital’s territory were used to recruit military officials and that the 574 garrisons outside the capital were used for combat.5 It explains that the inner guards and garrisons created a reserve for military officials and a pool for talented persons. This also means that the three capital guards – as the main part of the inner guards and garrisons – created the reserve for military officials. For this reason, the three capital guards were different from other troops. The service in the guards was largely a qualification for entering official service. This was particularly true for the imperial bodyguard (qinwei) and the distinguished guard (xunwei). The Tang liudian also provides information on the origins of ordinary guards: “Those who are generally designated soldiers of the guards are sons and grandsons of officials from the sixth rank downwards, as

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well as of commoners without official duties.”6 This short passage shows that ordinary guards had two sources of origin, i.e., sons and grandsons of sixth rank or lower officials and commoners without duties in the official service. At the same time, the text implies that the social status of those serving as guards was limited. The so-called commoners had the status of common people who were decent people but did not hold an office – in other words, people inferior to the status of common decent people were excluded. With respect to the guard’s selection criteria, the Tang Code with Commen­ tary (Tanglü shuyi) points to the unfair selection of guards for campaigns: Those who select guards [original comment: also applicable for soldiers sent on campaign] unfairly shall be punished by seventy strokes if one person is involved. If three people are involved their punishment should be one degree higher. After punishing they will be transferred for a period of three years on disciplinary grounds.7 The annotation states that the term “unfair” means that in selecting the soldiers for campaign “one spares the rich and takes the poor, spares the strong and takes the weak, spares those with many relatives and takes those with few relatives.”8 The commentary explains the method of selection very clearly: “The method of selection is to choose among those who are equally wealthy the richest, among those who are strong the strongest. If they are equally wealthy and strong first choose those with the most males.”9 The term wealthy indicates the level of martial prosperity, i.e., the economic conditions of a family. Strength marks the individual physical condition and the term male points to the number of male relatives in the family. One can see from the commentary that wealth, strength, and the number of males were the three key elements of the guard selection order that had to be considered. In his study of the fubing system, Gu Jiguang argues with regard to the selection of guards: As for the selection criteria of the territorial soldiers, first the assets were considered, second the physical strength, and third the population. With respect to “choose among those who are equally wealthy the richest, amongst the evenly strong to choose the richest,” the economic conditions are first to consider. Only if they are equal decide on physical strength. In case of equal physical strength decide on the assets. Only if assets and physical strength are equal, then take into consideration the number of male relatives.10 The three principles of selection required that the individual be well-off, healthy, and strong, with enough male relatives in the family. It is obvious that the selection criteria of ordinary guards at least included these three key conditions – economical, physical, and numeral. The above-mentioned selection criteria of the territorial soldier system were summarized according to the historical records of the Tang dynasty. Moreover,

Origins and selection of soldiers in the Tang 107 they were issued in the form of decrees. So there is no doubt that they reflect the legislative intentions of the rulers of the imperial Tang court. But how were these guidelines put into practice? Tang Zhangru’s study on the fubing system of Xizhou is based on a wealth of Tang documents found during excavations in the Turfan area. He examined the real conditions of selecting guards in Xizhou during the early Tang era. After analyzing large amounts of data from these documents, he states: Tang laws and regulations for selecting guards gave priority to rich families, physical strength, and the number of males in the family. The Turfan documents consistently reflect the fact that guards of the Gaozong era originated from households of the seventh tax grade upwards. This shows that in this time too guards were selected according to the laws and regulations.11 Elsewhere in this book, Tang Zhangru summarizes the further development of the fubing system: During the Taizong (627–649) and Gaozong (650–683) eras, the households of the seventh tax grade upwards, from which the guards were recruited, had several males. The practice basically conforms to the selection criteria of the laws and regulations. Military service in the time of Wu Zetian (690–705) represented a heavy burden, so the soldiers of the fubing system either deserted or died. In order to maintain the system, the number of replenished soldiers was huge, the selection criteria were violated, and large numbers of poor, weak, or single males were recruited as guards. In the Xuanzong era (712–756), the convention of regarding fubing as the territorial main force was abandoned, one further step towards adopting the method of recruiting soldiers. In the times of the Kaiyuan (713–741) and Tianbao (742–756), soldiers who deserted or died were not replaced and the fubing system was brought to the brink of collapse.12 Although Tang Zhangru’s investigation is mainly based on the Turfan documents, his discussion on the principles of recruiting and deploying territorial soldiers during the historical process of transformation can be applied to the whole early Tang era. The implementation of these principles of recruiting and deploying territorial soldiers later changed. During the Taizong and Gaozong era, however, they tried hard to put them into practice. A poem written by Wang Fanzhi, found in Dunhuang, tells us: “Of all the bad official positions under heaven the job of the territorial soldier is the worst.”13 Wang Fanzhi lived at the beginning of the Tang dynasty. His poem illustrates the hardship and dangers of military service in the fubing units. Nevertheless, the fubing was considered an “official position”; in early Tang times, there was still a clear relationship between a fubing and entering an official career. Thus it also indirectly reflects the relationship between the position of the territorial soldier

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and the factors of wealth, physical strength, and the number of males, despite the fact that the position belonged to the “bad” kind of office.

Conscript-recruits Conscript-recruits (bingmu) came from the registered families of the prefectures and counties. The biography of Liu Rengui in the Old History of the Tang (Jiu Tangshu) quotes his memorandum to the throne which includes the phrase “the prefectures and counties send out conscript-recruits.”14 Chapter 366 of the Out­ standing Models from the Storehouse of Literature (Cefu yuangui) points to Liu Rengui’s memorial as follows: “The prefectures and counties send out common people to serve as soldiers.”15 The terms “conscript-recruits” and “common people” are interchangeable. They verify that the bingmu originated from the registered households of the common people. With respect to the selection criteria of the bingmu, the Tang Liudian states: The soldiers who are selected from all the prefectures of our empire are recruited from prosperous households with many male relatives. They are talented and brave men. Former officials, meritorious officials, and strong and wise men who are able to command troops are promoted to commanders-in-chief in order to lead them.16 The first sentence refers to the regulations concerning the selection criteria of the bingmu. The second sentence refers to regulations concerning the method with which military officers leading the bingmu were selected, and the pool they were drawn from. As can be seen in this passage, the selection of bingmu was based on the prosperity of the family, the existence of many male relatives, and on individual courage and talent. In other words, the three key elements for recruiting soldiers were the same as those of the fubing. The original comment of the above-quoted passage of the Tanglü shuyi, which lists punishments for those who select guards unfairly, states that this also applied to soldiers sent on campaign (zhengren). There is an explanation of the term zhengren in chapter 16 of the same text which explains that “soldiers sent on campaign were not called guards; they were temporary recruited men sent out [for campaign].” Evidently, what is called “soldiers sent on campaign” or zheng­ ren was an alternative name for “conscript-recruits” or bingmu.

Home guards Home guards (tuanjie bing) were troops for local military service. There were no centralized regulations concerning the origins of these troops. They were more or less the object of recruitment amongst registered households of various places. Chapter 78 of the Important Documents of the Tang (Tang huiyao) points to the mobilization of armed forces against the Turkic Khan Mochuoin 696. For this reason, “mounted home guards from Shandong, Henan, and Hebei were gathered

Origins and selection of soldiers in the Tang 109 to oppose him. Every group of 150 households had to provide fifteen soldiers and one horse.”17 The fact that 150 households had to provide fifteen soldiers clearly reflects that the home guards were drafted from the registered households of the common people. With regard to the selection criteria of this type of soldier, the Tang Liudian states: [Home guards] are selected from wealthy families with a sufficient number of males who have a strong body for military service. They are exempted from taxes and duties. They are allowed to practice archery at home. Every year at the appropriate time, they will be examined by those responsible.18 The selecting criteria of the home guard were the same as for other types of soldiers. They included the three key aspects of economical power, physical power, and a sufficient number of males within the family. It is probable that these selection criteria were applied to all places where home guards were selected.

Descendants of officials Descendants of officials (zidi) were also among the early Tang troops. There are no existing historical records on the principles of their recruitment. However, a document related to this type of soldier was unearthed in the Turfan Astana tomb number 37. The document from 768 is an official note by Cao Zhongmin, who requested the release of zidi from military service.19 The Record on Taxes and Duties of the Dunhuang County in the Tianbao Period of the Tang Dynasty (Tang Tianbao shiqi Dunhuang xian chakebu), which was composed of the unearthed items number P. 3559, P. 2657, P. 3018, and P. 2803, includes information on the status of four persons that indicates they were zidi. In one of my former articles20 I have analyzed Cao Zhongmin’s request and found the following points: First, those serving as zidi had the distinguished status of being meritorious officials (xunguan), sons of meritorious officials (xunguanzi), or kinsmen of officials (pinsun). In other words, the military service as zidi was based on a special status that was related to all kinds of yin-privileged descendants and meritorious officials.21 The difference between the zidi and other soldiers, recruited from registered households, was their social status. Zidi should be descendants of officials, and it is possible many of them were sons of meritorious officials. Second, besides their social status, the zidi’s age and physical requirements also differed from those of normal soldiers. In Cao Zhongmin’s writing on the release of zidi from military service, he criticized the system by saying that his “body is physically disabled and old. But I have not yet been designated as a township official. I still have to serve as a zidi, poor and destitute.”22 He consequently demanded to be released from military service. This is contrary to the normal situation of zidi, which required age limits and good physical

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health. The requirements regarding physical health were probably the same for descendants of officials, conscript-recruits, home guards, and other types of soldiers. Those who held such positions had to comply with the condition of good physical health. Third, those who held the positions of zidi had to fulfill certain economic conditions and therefore originated from wealthy families. The household ranking in the Record on Taxes and Duties of the Dunhuang County in the Tianbao Period of the Tang Dynasty clearly reflects that the four represented zidi came from high-ranking families. The third section of number P. 3559 is the record of Conghua Township’s (Dunhuang County’s) taxes and duties, and provides insight into the social status of 140 men. They can be assigned to the four categories of lower middle grade, upper lower grade, middle lower grade, and lower lower grade households. Amongst them, three households of eleven persons belonged to the lower middle grade and six households of sixteen individuals belonged to the upper lower grade households. The rest was split between middle lower grade and lower lower grade households. The three zidi An Shouli, An Bianting, and Kang Fude originated from Conghua Township. An Shouli and An Bianting belonged to two of only three households classified as lower middle grade. Kang Fude belonged to an upper lower grade household, which is also a high grade of social classification. The first section of number P. 3559 concerns itself with an unknown township and mentions 155 individuals assigned to the four-household-classification. Amongst them, there was only one household of five individuals belonging to the lower middle grade. However, three of the four zidi in Conghua Township originated from families of the highest class and one from the second highest class. Among the zidi households mentioned in this record of corvée and taxes, three belonged to the highest class of the township and one to the second highest class. This demonstrates that the zidi performing military service came from thriving, prosperous families. Fourth, the Record on Taxes and Duties illustrates that most of the households had two or three males. Households with one or four males were equally distributed and such with five or six males were rare. With respect to the four zidi, Yan Zhijin originated from a family with five males. An Shouli and Kang Fude were members of families with three males. An Bianting’s family had two males. No one came from a single male household. This indicates that numerous male relatives were one of the basic requirements concerning the economic conditions of families classified as zidi. In short, zidi were mainly descendants of officials and meritorious officials. Apart from the required social status, they also had to fulfill physical requirements of age, sturdiness, and good health. Moreover, their families had to be well-off. The basic criteria for selecting zidi were the high grade of household registration, solid and prosperous economic conditions, numerous male relatives, and good physical conditions.

Origins and selection of soldiers in the Tang 111

Valiant fighters Valiant fighters ( jian’er) were among the most common soldiers of the early Tang period, second only to the territorial soldiers ( fubing). They formed the main part of the conscript-recruiting system. Academic works on the origins of jian’er are rare and further research is consequently necessary. It may be true, as Tang Zhangru first points out, that the jian’er of the Kaiyuan period (713–741) originated from the enlisted brave warriors (mengshi) of the Yifeng period (666–668) during the reign of Gaozong.23 According to the New History of the Tang (Xin Tangshu), in 677 the emperor raised “mengshi in the Guannei and Hedong [areas] in order to suppress the Tubo.”24 In 678 he “sent officials to recruit brave warriors from Hunan and Hubei.”25 It is clear that the mengshi were recruited in different areas, but it is unclear when the name mengshi changed into jian’er. However, the term “jian’er” was already in use by the time of Zhongzong (684). Another document found in the Turfan Astana tomb number 188 is related to the soldier Hun Xiaodi. The three parts of the document originate from the time between the first ten days of the first month of the first year of the Shenlong era (705) and the second month of the second year (706).26 The term “jian’er” appears in the document several times. What were the sources and selection criteria for recruiting mengshi and jian’er? Let us first take a look at the mengshi. When emperor Gaozong recruited mengshi during the Yifeng era, he proclaimed criteria of recruitment. The edict which is included in Complete Prose Literature of the Tang (Quan Tangwen) states: Mengshi are to be recruited in the areas of Guannei and Hedong. In the metropolitan area, officials of the imperial secretary should carry out the competition and selection procedure in the imperial ancestral temple. Outside [the capital], designated representatives together with county and prefecture officials are in charge of selecting and drilling [mengshi]. Select all who are strong and imposing as well as skilled in riding and archery. [These men] are designated as mengshi.27 For recruiting mengshi outside the capital, it was necessary to appoint responsible persons to cooperate with local officials. The passage also demonstrates that mengshi originated from the registered households of their own county. Furthermore, the selection criteria that were related to physical conditions and martial skill were very simple. Let us take a look at the jian’er again. During the Kaiyuan period there were three origins of jian’er: first, registered households of the county; second, various kinds of conscripts; and third, unregistered households. An imperial order of the year 702 instructed the governor of Youzhou Prefecture to recruit 20,000 brave and skilled men for the jian’er army of Youzhou.28 This is another proof that jian’er came from the registered households of their home counties.

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In chapter 5 of the Tang liudian, a director of the war ministry reports: Imperial order, 25th year of Kaiyuan [737]: Since there is nothing in the world to worry about, it is appropriate to offer rest to the people. The soldiers of the armies defending the border should have times of rest and activity. Raise troops of jian’er for defense. Recruit them from all kinds of conscripts and unregistered households. Select able-bodied men who are willing to serve as valiant fighters and add them to the border armies. Give them grants every year and exempt them from taxes and duties for the rest of their life. If their families are willing to join them, let them settle down in the military prefectures and grant them land and quarters. When the people reap the benefits, there will be peace everywhere and there will be no more corvée in the prefectures and commanderies.29 The passage proves that jian’er were recruited from conscripts and unregistered households. But unregistered households weren’t legitimized until around 722, when Yuwen Rong, the vice director of the Ministry of Revenue, included them. This means that the recruitment of jian’er from unregistered households did not take place before that time. In other words, before the year 722 jian’er were mainly recruited from those recruited for military service and registered households of the prefectures and counties. Only after 722 were they mainly drawn from conscripts and unregistered households. As the imperial order of 737 on the selection of jian’er demonstrates, there were only two criteria, i.e., being “able-bodied” and “willing to serve.” The term “able-bodied” is a rather simple expression. As a matter of fact, it should include the two aspects of physical condition and military skills, equal to those of the mengshi: Jian’er had to be “strong and imposing” as well as “skilled in riding and archery.”

Palace guards Kuoqi is the designation of recruited soldiers serving as a permanent palace guard during the reign of Emperor Xuanzong (712–756). With regard to the origins of the kuoqi, the treatise on military affairs of the Xin Tangshu tells us that in 723 fubing and commoners from the capital and other places were selected to reinforce the troops of long-term conscripts (changcong bing) in Luzhou Prefecture.30 In 725, when the quota of kuoqi reached 120,000 men, the quotas according to different locations were as follows: 66,000 men in the capital, 6000 in Huazhou, 9000 in Tongzhou, 12,300 in Puzhou, 3600 in Jiangzhou, 1500 in Jinzhou, 6000 in Qizhou, 3000 in the superior prefecture of Henan, and 600 each in six additional prefectures.31 Two aspects concerning the origin of the kuoqi are important. Locations for recruitment were limited to the capital, the surrounding areas, and the nearby prefectures of Henan and Hedong. As for the kuoqi’s social status, those recruited in 723 were mainly fubing and commoners.

Origins and selection of soldiers in the Tang 113 After 725 kuoqi were selected from “poor commoners, imperial clansmen, and kinsmen of officials. They have to be strong and sturdy and about 5 feet 7 inches or taller. If there are not enough, select those who are five feet or taller from households of the eighth tax grade.”32 While the status of imperial clansmen and kinsmen of officials is quite explicit, the status of poor commoners is not that clear. There is no doubt that it includes registered households of common people, but who else was considered a “poor commoner”? As we already know, jian’er were recruited from registered households of prefectures and counties, conscripts, and unregistered households. Could unregistered households be a source for kuoqi? The answer is a definitive yes. Zhang Shuo’s biography in the Jiu Tangshu reports: Zhang Shuo proposed a plan for recruiting strong and sturdy men serving as imperial bodyguards without considering their status but emphasizing their excellence. Those who flee are too important to be exempt from enlistment. The emperor followed his request. After ten days, the crack troops reached 130,000 men.33 At that time, unregistered households were often referred to as fleeing households, unstable households, unstable and unregistered households, etc. The phrase “those who flee” points to unregistered households. Furthermore, this kuoqi recruitment began at around the same time that Yuwen Rong was recruiting valiant fighters from unregistered households. Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang dynasty accepted Zhang Shuo’s proposal to enlist men “without considering their status.” Therefore, we can be sure that the term “poor commoners” included unregistered households. In that point, the palace guards or kuoqi were identical with the valiant fighters or jian’er.

Volunteer soldiers Soldiers of the yizheng type were volunteers who provided their own equipment and subsistence. This aspect is illustrated in the biography of Liu Rengui included in the Jiu Tangshu: “In Haixi the common people strive to be enlisted, they struggle to join the troops. They do not use supplies provided by the government and prepare their own clothes and provisions in order to function as yizheng.”34 “Striving to be enlisted” and “struggling to join the troops” describes the circumstances under which common people were conscripted, and their lack of governmental supplies and their preparation of “their own clothes and provisions” shows the conditions of yizheng. The status of the yizheng is thus clearly “common.” Their defining characteristic is their willingness to voluntarily prepare “their own clothes and provisions.” At the beginning of the Tang dynasty there were relatively many yizheng, so that the Emperor Taizong (r. 627–650) boasted while conducting a military expedition in Korea: “I undertook a military campaign in Korea today, and all

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the soldiers we selected were willing to come with us; we recruited tens, then hundreds, then thousands. Those who could not join the army were displeased.”35 The soldiers he speaks about were mostly conscript-recruits (bingmu), but there must have been plenty of yizheng among them. At this time and in other periods, yizheng made up a certain proportion of the army. The Tang liudian, which was published under the reign of Kaiyuan (713–742), mentions yizheng in the following way: “The yizheng do not belong in the soldier ranks and do not enter the camp of recruited men.”36 Under the reign of Suzong (756–763), Yang Tan submitted a Report of the War Ministry about Demolishing the Bandits of Xiyuan in Guizhou, which speaks about throwing “the yizheng out of the camp.”37 Under the Tang, a yizheng generally did not even reach the status of a basic soldier. Yizheng were volunteers who provided their own equipment and subsistence. This obviously saved the feudal state much military expenditure, but yizheng could not be deployed unrestrictedly. When the Tang Emperor Taizong reached Dingzhou, while conducting his military expedition in Korea, there were thousands of those willing to join the army at their own expense, without using supplies provided by the government. They all besought the Emperor to let them sacrifice their lives in Korea, but he did not permit it.38 Those men were yizheng. The Emperor rejecting their requests to join the army reflects the fact that yizheng were chosen according to certain selection criteria.

Origins and selection criteria of compulsory service and recruitment Above, I discussed the origins and the selection criteria of different soldier types in the early Tang era while focusing on the most representative types. There were two categories of soldiers, the first one containing those who were obliged to render military service, the second one comprising volunteers who answered a call for military service of their own free will. The representatives of the first category are territorial soldiers ( fubing), conscript-recruits (bingmu), and home guards (tuanjie bing). The second one includes valiant fighters ( jian’er), palace guards (kuoqi), and volunteer soldiers ( yizheng). It is important to know that there was a considerable difference between jian’er and kuoqi on the one hand and yizheng on the other hand, even though they all belonged to the same category. Jian’er and kuoqi were employees paid with funds provided by the local authorities; strictly speaking, they were mercenaries. Yizheng were volunteers, who provided their own equipment. Yizheng who were active in the early Tang dynasty were products of their time, often characterized by involvement in the economy’s agricultural base, persistent fondness of a military atmosphere, and the knowledge that military achievements still gave one a chance at an official career. However, these circumstances could not last long and they cannot represent the whole development of the Tang conscription system. The predecessors of

Origins and selection of soldiers in the Tang 115 jian’er were the brave warriors (mengshi) of the Gaozong period (650–684). In the Xuanzong era (713–756), jian’er and kuoqi developed further; they gradually replaced the soldier types recruited through the regular conscription system, and became representatives of the mainstream military service and of the Tang conscription system’s evolution. Therefore, the following analysis of the regularly recruited soldiers and the volunteers will not consider yizheng. Comparing the origins and the selection criteria of the compulsory service system and the recruitment system, we can discern two kinds of soldiers. The soldiers in compulsory service – fubing, bingmu, tuanjie bing, and zidi – displayed certain similarities and differences. The similarities were the same selection criteria, since they were all compulsorily levied troops. These criteria included the economic and the physical conditions of the candidates as well as the number of their family members. The candidates were supposed to come from prosperous families, be physically strong, and have many relatives. The differences were due to the soldiers’ different backgrounds. The main difference arose from their unequal social status, from differences in the realm of recruitment, and from the hierarchical structure of the army. These differences concerned every soldier and every aspect of their military service. Fubing and zidi had a similar social status; the realm of recruitment covered the descendants of zidi which included the direct descendants of officials (guan­ yuan zidi) or those partially descended from meritorious officials. Fubing comprised the three capital guards and ordinary soldiers. Members of the three capital guards had to be children or grandchildren of officers of at least the sixth rank. Ordinary soldiers were descendants of officers below the sixth rank. Ordinary soldiers also included commoners, who came from registered households and did not render military service. Concerning the hierarchical structure, there was a great difference between fubing and zidi. Fubing were soldiers organized in an autonomous system; they kept watch on the governmental and official buildings and were directly controlled by the central government. Zidi were soldiers controlled by officials of a local prefectural government and they belonged to the local army. Bingmu and tuanjie bing had a similar social status as they were selected from civilian households, but their natures and places in the hierarchical structure differed. Bingmu were soldiers ordered by the local authorities of prefectures or counties to defend towns. They constituted the major manpower resources of the Tang field armies and of the troops stationed in border areas. Tuanjie bing were controlled by officials of a local government in the prefecture where they served. They had no official military status and were not supposed to leave their normal occupations for long. These two types (conscript-recruits and home guards) obviously had different hierarchical statuses and different localities of military service. The differences between these four soldier types reflect differences in the scope of conscription and in the hierarchical structure of the army. The similarities reflect the same precondition of becoming soldiers, since all of them were compulsorily levied. Meanwhile, the volunteer jian’er and kuoqi also resembled and differed from each other. They were both volunteers, had various backgrounds, and were

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selected from unregistered and registered households. The selection criteria stressed their “willingness” and “strength” as basic conditions for enlistment. Their differences can be traced back to the system and the location of their military service. Jian’er were soldiers stationed in border areas, while kuoqi were the so-called “prohibited troops” that guarded cities and palaces. The similarity of the selection criteria of jian’er and kuoqi came from their shared status as volunteers. Comparing the origins and the selection criteria of the soldiers in compulsory service and of those who volunteered, we can discern two kinds of warriors. The first difference between these two kinds lay in their social origins. The soldiers in compulsory service heavily emphasized their social status as soldiers rendering military service. The “Three Capital Guards” part of fubing had to meet the highest and most rigorous genealogical demands: They had to be descendants of officers of at least the sixth rank. The ordinary soldiers were descendants of officers below the sixth rank or came from civilian households. The zidi were comprised of children and grandchildren of military officials and to some extent of those partially descended from meritorious officials. Bingmu and tuanjie bing were selected from civilian households. But in spite of these differences, it was generally stressed that every soldier must have an appropriate status. Because the military service system emphasized the restrictions of the respective political status, every soldier was an object of a unit of soldiers in compulsory service within a defined realm. In contrast, the soldiers who voluntarily joined the army did not emphasize their political status, and the scope of their origins was wider than that of the soldiers in compulsory service. The latter mostly used men from civilian households as their main source, while the volunteer soldiers also comprised numerous men from unregistered households. It is well known that fleeing families were a great social problem in the early Tang era; there was even a saying about this situation which read that “half of the world is on the run.” In the Kaiyuan period (713–742), Yu Wenrong assessed the number of unregistered households as exceeding 800,000. The admission of unregistered households to the military service increased the foundation of the volunteer soldiers. As to the selection criteria, soldiers in compulsory service had two peculiarities: First, the admission requirements were strict; the candidates had to meet three main demands – to come from prosperous households, to be physically strong, and to have many relatives. They doubtless had to meet much stricter demands than volunteer soldiers. Second, the economic condition of the households was the most important factor in the selection process. As I showed above, Gu Jiguang pointed out that the financial situation of the fubing was the most crucial point in the selection process, preceding the physical condition of the candidates and the number of their relatives. The “prosperous household” was the first and most important selection criterion for bingmu, which was also true for the home guards who were supposed to come from large and wealthy families. It is not known in which order the three requirements were applied in the selection process of the

Origins and selection of soldiers in the Tang 117 zidi, since there are no historical records, but I believe that the priorities remained the same in that case as well, the financial situation being the most important selection criterion. As for the volunteer soldiers, I would like to emphasize only one peculiarity: The only selection criterion applied to them was that of their physical condition. The selection regulation for jian’er may have recommended taking those who were “willing” and “strong,” but being “willing” – i.e., a volunteer – was a general requirement for these soldiers, so that we can speak of the physical condition being the only selection criterion. As for the kuoqi, they had to be at least five feet and seven inches tall, but this was one of the specific requirements of their physical condition and not an independent selection criterion. The immediate purpose of selecting kuoqi was to increase the number of robust soldiers. Generally speaking, preferentially selecting the robust was a principle applied not only for the kuoqi, but for the other volunteer soldiers as well.

Transformation of the military system Comparing the similarities and differences between the origins and the selection criteria of the soldiers in compulsory service and the volunteers enables the researcher to develop a wider perspective on studying the military system of the Tang dynasty, which was of great significance for the whole history of the Tang. Comparing the origins and the selection criteria of both soldier types, one can say that soldiers in compulsory service were dominant before the Xuanzong period (713–756), while the volunteer soldiers appeared after that time. These developments were caused by the transformations of the mainstream military system in the early Tang era. Before I focus on this problem, I will elaborate on two terms used in this article: the “military system” and the “mainstream military system.” The first term has a specific content and is synonymous to the concept of “military system.” I have discussed the problem in an earlier article,39 as research on the Tang military system tends to use the title of a concrete system of that time, like fubing, jinjun, zhenshu, fenghou, bingmu, tuanjie bing, jian’er, kuoqi, fanzhen bing, bianjun, or xingjun. I think that the specific military system of the Tang can be described as comprising two big categories. The first one comprises soldier types like jian’er, bingmu, kuoqi, tuanjie bing, etc. This category deals with the special terms of the Tang military personnel, each attached to specific identities. These soldiers were a key element of the military organization; they belonged to the military service system. The second category contains jinjun, zhenshu, fenghou, fanzhenbing, bianjun, xingjun, etc. each belonging to a certain part of the Tang military organization and carrying out different kinds of military functions. The difference between the “military service system” and the “military organization system” is reflected in the object of their research: The former deals with the soldier, i.e., with individuals inside the troops, which includes the origins of their military service,

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their identities, types, properties, and functions. The latter research deals with the army, i.e., with the whole military organization including the types of military organization, its constituents, its structure, its command system, its functions, and its tasks. The relation between the two concepts is based on the premise that the soldier is a constituent element of the army, and that the army represents the form of the soldiers. Concerning this mutual relationship between the individual soldiers and the army as a whole, the military system of the Tang dynasty can be divided into two parts: the military service and the military organization. To make my text more concise, I use the term “military forces” when speaking about the military service system, and I use the term “military system” when speaking about the military organization system. That’s why I attached this special meaning to the concept of “military forces” I have introduced in my chapter. The so-called “mainstream military system” refers to the dominant system of military service under the Tang. In various periods of ancient China the military service system comprised many components simultaneously. A compulsory military system and a volunteer military service existed side by side. In some periods there was a system comprising soldiers in compulsory military service and in hereditary service. Frequently there were volunteer soldiers. But the different components of this diversified, multilayered military system were not always of equal importance. Sometimes one part of the military service system played the most important role, while the rest had a second, subordinate, or auxiliary position. Therefore, I call those components of the military service system that occupied the most important position the dominant or mainstream military system. In the early Tang era, different types of compulsory and voluntary soldiers existed and were heavily deployed at different times. Fubing were soldiers in compulsory service active from the beginning of the Tang to the Tianbao period (742–756) of Xuanzong’s reign. The fubing were most heavily used during the Taizong (627–649) and Gaozong (650–684) periods of the Tang dynasty. Bingmu and fubing existed more or less simultaneously. The former also existed from the beginning of the Tang to the Xuanzong reign, as well as after it. But the bingmu were popular longer than the fubing, up to the Kaiyuan period (713–742) of Xuanzong’s reign, at which time jian’er were recruited. Tuanjie bing first appeared during the reign of the Empress Wu (684–710) and were still numerous at the end of the Tang era. Zidi existed throughout that era. But although tuanjie bing and zidi existed for a long time, their military service was limited to their local sphere, so they did not gain an important position. As for the service time and heaviest deployment of volunteer soldiers, one can identify three phases. The mengshi were the predecessors of the jian’er and first appeared in the Yifeng period (676–679) of Gaozong’s reign. The jian’er played the most important role late in the Tianbao period (742–756) of Xuanzong’s reign and existed till the last years of the Tang era. The kuoqi appeared in the Kaiyuan period (713–742) and existed up to the late years of the Tang era, but they had their climax mainly in the first twenty years of their existence.

Origins and selection of soldiers in the Tang 119 This overview shows that the time proceeding the Yifeng period of Gaozong’s reign was entirely dominated by the soldiers in compulsory service. Starting from the Yifeng period (676–679) and up to the end of the Tang era, the soldiers in compulsory service coexisted with the volunteer ones, but their service time and their positions were not the same. From the Yifeng period to the early period of Xuanzong’s reign, soldiers in compulsory service played a dominant role. From the later stage of Xuanzong’s reign to the end of the Tang era, however, volunteer soldiers occupied an important place in the military system. This shows that the compulsory servicemen were in a dominant position before Xuanzong’s reign (713–756) and that they were thus the mainstream military system of the time. After Xuanzong, the volunteer service system was in a dominant position and mercenaries were the mainstream force. Under Xuanzong, the relative importance of the compulsory and the volunteer service systems underwent a transformation – compulsory service played a major role in the earlier period, while the volunteer service system prevailed in the later period. The differences in the origins and the selection criteria of the compulsory and the volunteer servicemen exactly reflect this transformation in the mainstream military system of the early Tang period. These conclusions can help us to put an end to the one-sided view of the changes in the Tang military system. In the past, researchers have believed that the emergence of the kuoqi and jian’er in the Xuanzong period was an indication of the collapse of the fubing system, i.e., the end of the compulsory service system and the adoption of the volunteer service system. This is a one-sided view: On the one hand, there is no clear boundary between the fubing system and the compulsory service system; fubing were only one type of soldiers in compulsory service. On the other hand, there is no clear boundary between the transformations of the military system and the changes inside the mainstream military system. The important changes of the military system under the reign of Xuanzong occurred inside the mainstream military system, because the volunteer soldiers called mengshi had already existed before the Xuanzong period and the soldiers in compulsory service like tuanjie bing and zidi existed for a long time after that period. Therefore, it is not correct to present the transformation of the military system in the Xuanzong period merely as a replacement of fubing through jian’er and kuoqi, or as a replacement of the compulsory servicemen through the volunteer ones. In addition, by comparing the origins and the selection criteria of the soldiers in compulsory service and the volunteers, we can see that the former appreciated their soldier status and that their property was an important condition in the selection process. The volunteer soldiers did not value their soldier status as much and their physical health was the most important selection criteria. These differences reveal the transformations in the mainstream military system of the Tang and the turning point of these changes. It has been generally recognized in the academic world that the mainstream military system underwent a transformation in the Xuanzong period from a

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compulsory service system to a volunteer one. Still, it was not completely clear what the turning point of that transformation was. In the past many scholars thought that the answer lay in the changes in the equal field system, believing that large scale land holding caused the collapse of that system, thus leading to poverty and peasant migrations. As a consequence, the fubing system lost its manpower resources. This view is doubtless correct, but not complete. The collapse of the equal field system, the impoverishment and migration of the peasants certainly provided the economic grounds that undermined the dominant position of the compulsory service system and of the fubing system – that is to say, they are the economic factors behind transformation of the mainstream military service. But this transformation is not exhausted by the question of the existence or non-existence of manpower resources; it also includes the question of how to understand and how to regard the foundation of these changes. The transformation of the mainstream military service was only possible under the condition that the leading ideology of the military system met the demands of the time. By comparing the origins and the selection criteria of the soldiers in compulsory service with those of the volunteers, we have learned that the relevant conceptions had already undergone a considerable transformation: Now talents and physical strength, not status and finances, were the most important factors. The differences in origins and selection methods between the soldiers in compulsory service and the volunteers reveal the turning point of the transformation of the mainstream military system from an ideological and cognitive perspective. Comparing the origins and the selection criteria of the soldiers in compulsory service with those of the volunteers, one can see that the former had high social status and had to meet numerous and complicated demands: They had to come from a prosperous family, be physically strong, and have many relatives. The volunteer soldiers did not pay much attention to social status and their selection criteria were simple: They had to be in good physical condition. These differences show that the transformations of the mainstream military system of the Tang and the developments of its society were simultaneous and parallel. Scholars have long taken note of the Tang state’s legal foundation and status consciousness, but have often overlooked that these features were strong in the early Tang era and relatively weak in its later years. On the level of the legal institutions, the early Tang legal system was a perfect system of laws and decrees. Politically, the legal system showed itself in a division of the state into three departments and six ministries on the level of the central government, and into prefectures and counties on the local level. Economically, it was reflected in the equal field system ( juntianfa) and in the tax and duties system (zugudiao). The status consciousness could be seen in the existence of higher and lower social groups as well as in the division of the higher group into scholars and commoners. Moreover, the social layer consisting of scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants was further divided into “labor” and “status” groups that each had different grades in the hierarchy. The emphasis the

Origins and selection of soldiers in the Tang 121 military system laid on the soldiers’ status corresponded to the status conscious society, and the complicated selection criteria corresponded to the elaborate legal system of the Tang era. In its later period, the Tang dynasty underwent in a great political, social, and economical transformation. The laws and statutes of the legal institutions could not meet the demands of the new situation; the effect of the imperial edicts became consequently stronger. The central mechanism of the political system, the three departments and six ministries, became ineffective, allowing the dispatched officials managing special affairs to play a more important role. The local administrative two-level system of prefectures and counties was replaced by a three-level system of circuits, prefectures, and counties. The equal field and the tax and duties system were finally abolished. This indicates that the standards of the original legal system could no longer be drawn upon. The volunteer soldiers did not adopt the complicated selection criteria and this development corresponded to the relaxation of the legal system in the late years of the Tang era. The volunteer servicemen system allowed those who had formerly been regarded as outlaws to render military service without consideration of their status or the origins; it was only their physical condition that mattered. These developments corresponded to a certain grade of relaxation taking place in the late Tang era’s status conscious society. The characteristics of the origins and the selection criteria of the two soldier categories correspond to the peculiarities of the Tang dynasty in its late stage, which implicates that the transformation of the mainstream military service and the changes in the society took place simultaneously. It also shows that the transformation of the military service was a part of the changes of the society as a whole; it reflected the developments and the changes of the society. In this chapter I have analyzed and compared the origins and the selection criteria of different soldier types in the later period of the Tang dynasty. I started with the changes in the legislative intent of the conscription system and proceeded to examine the transformations of the Tang conscription system in its entirety. But the legislative intent of the conscription system and its actual state are two different things. Even the alterations of the laws and their implementation were not entirely synchronized. For that reason, different researchers may reach considerably different conclusions. Nevertheless, comparing the selection criteria for the military service in the earlier and in the later period of the Tang era, as well as the implementation of laws in these periods, can at least shed light on the transformative tendencies in the mainstream military service.

Notes Li Linfu et al., Tang liudian (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1992), ch. 5, p. 150. Ibid. Ibid., p. 155. For details see Sun Jimin, “Tangdai junjiang de fancheng,” Hebei shiyuan xuebao 4 (1994), pp. 47–52. 5 Du Mu, Fanchuan wenji (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1984), ch. 5, p. 89. 1 2 3 4

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Li Linfu, Tang liudian, vol. 5, p. 119. Tanglü shuyi (Beijing: Zhonghuashuju, 1983), ch. 16, p. 302. Ibid. Ibid. Gu Jiguang, Fubing zhidu kaoshi (Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1978), p. 184. Tang Changru, Dunhuang Tulufan wenshu chutan (Wuhan: Wuhan daxue chubanshe, 1990), p. 52. Ibid. p. 61. Wang Fanzhi, Wang Fanzhi shi jiaoji (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1983), ch. 2, p. 41. Liu Xu et al., Jiu Tangshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1975), ch. 84, p. 2793. Wang Qinruo et al., Cefu yuangui (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1985), ch. 366, p. 4353. Li Linfu et al., Tang liudian, ch. 5, p. 157. Wang Pu, Tang huiyao (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1990), ch. 78, p. 1438. Li Linfu, Tang liudian, ch. 5, p. 157. The document is included in Tulufan chutu wenshu (Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1990), vol. 9, p. 158. See Sun Jimin, “Tang Dali san nian Cao Zhongmin die weiqing mian chachong zidi shi,” in Ji Xianlin et al. (ed.), Dunhuang Tulufan yanjiu (Beijing: Beijing daxue chubanshe, 1997), pp. 231–247. Hucker points out these officials received the merit title for “outstanding service, usually in battle,” but that they did not have the status of a regular official. See Charles O. Hucker, A Dictionary of Official Titles in Imperial China (Beijing: Beijing daxue chubanshe, 2008), p. 255. Tulufan chutu wenshu, vol. 9, p. 158. Tang Changru, Wei Jin Nanbeichao Sui Tang shi san lun (Wuhan: Wuhan daxue chubanshe, 1992), p. 420. Ouyang Xiu, Xin Tangshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1975), p. 73. Ibid., p. 74. Tulufan chutu wenshu, vol. 8, p. 56. Dong Hao, Quan Tangwen (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1982), ch. 14, p. 166. Wang Qinruo, Cefu yuangui, ch. 124, p. 1490. Li Linfu, Tang liudian, ch. 5, p. 152. Ouyang Xiu, Xin Tangshu, p. 1326. Ibid., p. 1327. Ibid. Liu Xu, Jiu Tangshu, ch. 97, p. 3053. Ibid., ch. 84, p. 2793. Sima Guang, Zizhi tongjian (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1986), ch. 197, p. 6216. Li Linfu, Tang liudian, ch. 5, p. 157. Li Fang, Wenyuan yinghua (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1982), ch. 648, p. 2335. Wang Qinruo, Cefu yuangui (Ort: Verlag, Jahr), vol. 135, p. 1627. See Sun Jimin, “Xingjun zai Tangdai junshi liliang tizhi zhong de diwei,” Hebei Shiyuan xuebao 4 (1993), pp. 38–45.

7

The drum and wind palace music of the Tang and Song dynasty Yu Filipiak

Music is a temporary art and an integral part of spiritual life. It is widely used in various fields. Music, of course, is also used in the military. A legend that can be found in many Chinese historical records tells us that more than 4600 years ago Chiyou led his soldiers into battle against the Yellow Emperor near Zhuolu. During the fierce battle, the Yellow Emperor ordered his troops to blow the horns and beat the big drums made of walrus skin. The combined sound of the drums and horns frightened Chiyou’s soldiers so badly that they did not know what to do. Their battle arrangements fell apart and the army collapsed. The morale of the Yellow Emperor’s army, however, greatly increased and Chiyou’s army was finally defeated.1 Historical records include many examples of the important relationship between music and war. Chen Yang’s Book of Music (Yueshu) tells us that during the time of the Eastern Jin, Liu Chou hid in Wubi. When hundreds of barbarians came from the North to kill him, Liu was not a bit afraid of them. He began to play his hujia, a double-reed vertical flute without holes. Playing songs such as “Leaving the Borderlands” (chu sai) and “Returning to the Border” (ru sai), Liu conjured a sense of home.2 The barbarians who heard the music began to cry bitterly and returned to the North. This is another example of the importance that music can have for war. During the Han dynasty, the ancient system of military music had already reached a certain dimension. Although the Rites of Zhou (Zhouli) contains information on the military music of the Qin dynasty, the book appeared during the Han dynasty and the authenticity of the book has been the subject of controversial debates. The military music of the Han dynasty was not only used for imperial ceremonies, but also to infuse the soldiers with a fighting spirit and to celebrate the triumphant return of the victorious army. This kind of music was an important part of the palace ceremonial music. Due to the use of wind and percussion instruments, the music was named “drum and wind music.” There are two different theories about the origins of the drum and wind music. The first indicates that this music originated from the nomadic people north and west of China.3 The other states that it originated from Chinese music.4 I believe both interpretations are, in a way, too one-sided. I will therefore argue

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that this kind of music contains elements of both Chinese and non-Chinese music. Analyzing the music from the perspective of musical instruments, we will find that the drum and wind music of the Han dynasty included drums (gu), signal bells (zheng), the panpipe (xiao), and double-reed vertical flutes without holes ( jia). The bell, for example, was an idiophone and belonged to the metal category of the ancient eight-sounds classification (bayin) of instruments. Bells were used by the armies of the Zhou dynasty for three purposes: first, to inspire a fighting spirit; second, to help the soldiers march to the beat of the music; and third, to transmit military orders.5 In contrast to the bell, the double-reed vertical flutes without holes – jia, also called hujia – originated from the people north and west of China. According to Chinese tradition, Zhang Qian, who was sent to the territories in the West, brought the instrument to China.6 Originally, it was not included in the eightsounds classification system. After the hujia became popular in China, the music, of course, also became popular. With respect to the Chinese origins we have to note that the drum and wind music not only includes elements of non-Chinese music, but also elements of Chinese music such as the folk songs shangye, you suo si, lin gao tai, and other songs of the Collection of Music Bureau Poems (Yuefu shiji).7 So it can be said that the drum and wind music was the product of exchanges between China and the peoples in the North and West. For a better understanding of the drum and wind music used in the military and at the imperial court during the Tang and Song dynasty, it is useful to know more about the drum and wind music of the Han dynasty. The drum and wind music of the Han dynasty can be divided into four categories: 1

2 3

4

“Drum and Wind Music of the Yellow Gate” (huangmen guchui). This music was played when the emperor invited his ministers for the banquet; therefore, the music was called “Eat and Drink Music” (shiju yue). In addition, the music was used by the imperial escort service (lubu). “Blowing on Horseback” (qichui). The riding escort played this music when the emperor left the capital for a long-term inspection mission. “Horizontal Blowing” (hengchui). This music was played in the military and called “Sitting-on-the-Horse-Music” (mashang yue). As the names indicate, the instruments were held horizontally and the music was primarily played while seated on a horse. It was, however, sometimes played while marching. The general’s guard used the music to demonstrate his military prestige. It was also intended to demonstrate the power of the army in the battle and to encourage the soldiers. “Music Including Short Flutes, Cymbals, and Singing” (duanxiao nao ge). This music was played when the army victoriously returned home, but it was also part of the New Year celebration and other large ceremonies outside the palace.8

Drum and wind palace music of the Tang and Song 125 It is obvious that the drum and wind music had a twofold function. On the one hand, it was used by the imperial escort and played during various ceremonies. On the other hand, it was used for military purposes.

The drum and wind music of the Tang dynasty During the Tang dynasty, the Court of Imperial Sacrifices (taichang si) was in charge of the imperial drum and wind music, which was divided into the drum and wind music of the imperial guard and the palace drum and wind music. The palace drum and wind music used the drum and wind music of the twelve stages – also called twelve bear stages – that originated in the Sui dynasty. The bear referred to the wooden decoration of the stages. During imperial banquets small orchestras situated on the twelve stages played music together with the orchestra of the ritual music. The drum and wind music of the imperial guard was used when members of the imperial family left the palace. Sometimes, however, the emperor also granted high ranking officials and their deceased family members a special favor and let the imperial guard play the music for them. According to the Kaiyuan Ceremony of the Great Tang Dynasty (Da Tang kaiyuan li),9 those who could make use of the imperial guard’s drum and wind music included the emperor, the empress dowager, the empress, the crown prince, and the imperial princes, as well as officials from the first to the fourth rank. The size of the imperial guard depended on their rank and status. The imperial guard not only included vocalists, instrumentalists, bodyguards, chariot troops, standard bearers, and bearers of fans and umbrellas, but also parts of the officialdom. There were two different ways of playing, blowing on horseback (hengchui) and walking and blowing (xingchui), but the use of blowing on horseback was limited to the emperor, the empress, the empress dowager, and the crown prince. The size of the imperial guard and the kind of music that was played depended on why members of the imperial family were leaving the palace. For example, there were three different forms of the imperial guard’s drum and wind music played for the Tang emperors: the drum and wind music of the big-size-carriage (dajia guchui), the drum and wind music of the middle-size-carriage ( fajia guchui), and the drum and wind music of the small-size-carriage (xiaojia guchui). The drum and wind music of the big-size-carriage was the most impressive form. It was only used for ceremonies related to ancestor worship, weddings, and imperial inspection tours. When the imperial guard performed the drum and wind music of the big-size-carriage, it took up position before and behind the imperial carriage. The guard was divided into nearly twenty subgroups that included musicians who played instruments such as the barrel drum (ganggu), the golden signal bell ( jinzheng), the big drum (dagu), the horn (changming), the barrel drum of the naogu type (naogu), the panpipe (xiao), double-reed vertical flutes without holes ( jia), the double-reed vertical flute (bili), the big transverse flute (da hengchui), the small transverse flute (xiao hengchui), the rhythm

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drum ( jiegu), the feather screen drum ( yubao gu), and the short oboe made of the bark of a peach tree (taopi bili). The front part of the drum and wind ensemble for a big-size-carriage imperial escort service included 892 instrumentalists and 48 vocalists; the back part included 492 instrumentalists and 48 vocalists. The total number of music officials, instrumentalists, and vocalists was 2143.10 Both parts took up the positions four and fourteen within the square-shaped formations of the imperial escort service.11 When the big-size-carriage left and returned, it used the commands that in ancient times were used for beating the drums and gongs on the battlefield. The beating of the drum was a warning that declared a state of emergency when the big-size-carriage wanted to leave the palace. On returning the drum played a melody. The contingent of guards and musicians of the middle-sizecarriage was only two-thirds and that of the small-size-carriage only half that of the big-size-carriage. When the empress or empress dowager left the palace, the contingent of the drum and wind guard was similar to that of the small-size-carriage, but there were also some differences between the whole guard and the small-size-carriage guard. The escort service of the crown prince was smaller than that of the empress dowager but also consisted of two parts. The scope of the wind and drum ensemble was adjusted according to rank. The drum and wind music of the Tang palace music was divided into the following five parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Drum and wind music orchestra (guchui bu) Military music and song orchestra (naochui bu) Feather screen orchestra ( yubao bu) Big transverse wind instrument orchestra (da hengchui bu) Small transverse wind instrument orchestra (xiao hengchui bu)

The drum and wind music orchestra and the big transverse wind instrument orchestra of the imperial escort service were positioned before the imperial carriage. The instruments used by the drum and wind music orchestra included barrel drums, big drums, golden bells, small drums, long horns, and middle-sized horns. The main function of the drum and wind music orchestra was signaling the emperor’s departures and arrivals. During the time of imperial traveling, the orchestra gave signals in the morning and evening. The signals were played as a kind of music with a prescribed number of pieces. The Compendium of Administrative Law of the Six Divisions of the Tang Bureaucracy (Tang liudian) illustrates how signaling was adapted to different purposes: There are regulations for morning and evening signaling in case of big-sizecarriage travelling. In the evening [the orchestra] has to play twelve pieces, at midday seven, and in the morning two pieces. As for the crown prince, there are nine pieces in the evening. For high-ranking officials, seven pieces are played in the evening. Three pieces are played for both in the morning.12

Drum and wind palace music of the Tang and Song 127 Every time the imperial escort service set out on a long journey, the drummers played a piece of music with the barrel drum of the ganggu type that was repeated twelve times. The titles of the pieces – such as “Sudden Clap of Thunder,” “Awakening of the Ferocious Beast,” or “Fury of the Warrior” – illustrate that the music was meant to have the power to banish demons and to demonstrate the impressive authority of the imperial family. The drums gave the signal of departure to the escort service, while the bells were used to announce the return of the emperor in order to impose a state of emergency. The horns, however, placed the guards on full alert and gave the signal to get on the horses.13 The military music and song orchestra was placed in the back part of the bigsize-carriage escort service. The orchestra was equipped with barrel drums of the naogu type, panpipes, oboes, and also vocalists. Starting in the Sui dynasty, naogu were used for the drum and wind music of the big-size-carriage. During the Tang dynasty, the naogu drum became a military drum. Although the drum still remained part of the big-size-carriage escort service, it was only displayed and not actually used.14 The arrangement of instruments in the feather screen orchestra is a synthesis of the arrangements in the drum and wind music orchestra and military music and song orchestra. As in the military music and song orchestra, there are vocalists, but the wind instruments change from horns of the long type to horns of the middle type. The emperor often used the feather screen orchestra as a great honor for meritorious officials or to pay them his last respects posthumously. Apart from percussion instruments, the big transverse wind instrument orchestra and small transverse wind instrument orchestra only used wind instruments. The drum and wind music of the Tang dynasty was used for escort services and funeral ceremonies, but also played an important role in the military, in particular when a victorious army returned. Music celebrating glorious victory (kaiyue) had been an inherent part of each dynasty before the Tang. During the Tang dynasty, the military music and song orchestra as part of the drum and wind music was in charge of the victory music. However, the musicians playing the music did not originate from the military but belonged to the Drum and Wind Office (guchui shu) of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices (taichang si).15 The Old History of the Tang (Jiu Tangshu) and the New History of the Tang (Xin Tangshu) as well as the Important Documents of the Tang (Tang huiyao) include detailed accounts of the victory celebration. The procedure can be summarized as follows. The day on which the victorious army returns to the court, the military music and song orchestra provides the musicians guard to play the victory music. The instruments, each type played by two instrumentalists, includes flutes, short oboes made of bamboo, panpipes, oboes, and barrel drums of the naogu type. In addition to the musicians, there are twenty-four vocalists sitting on horses. An administrator in front of the orchestra leads the musicians, who are then followed by prisoners of war. Shortly before they arrive at the capital gates, the musicians begin to play the victory music that includes the four pieces “Battle Music,”

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“In Consensus with Our Glorious Dynasty,” “Ceremonial Congratulations,” and “Music of the Common Celebration of Ruler and Ministers.” Each piece includes text passages that are to be presented by vocalists. The guard and all the others first go to the altar of soil and grain and the imperial ancestral temple for sacrificial ceremonies. Arriving at the gates, the musicians have to dismount and wait quietly in formation. Only after the ceremony is finished do the musicians begin to play music and does the guard move on. Twenty steps outside the Jing gate,16 the musicians have to dismount again and walk on slowly to the place where the emperor is waiting for them. The Minister of War, wearing armor and a helmet, bears a battle-axe and leads the two chief musicians on the middle lane of the Jing gate. Both musicians, uniformed and holding flags, stand below the gate. The administrator of the drum and wind music leads the musicians to their allotted position. At this time, the minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices takes up a position in front of the orchestra. He is kneeling down facing the emperor and asks for the victory music to play. The chief musicians raise the flags and give the signal for playing. Only now do the musicians play the four pieces “Battle Music,” “In Consensus with Our Glorious Dynasty,” “Ceremonial Congratulations,” and “Music of the Common Celebration of Ruler and Ministers.” After finishing, the chief musicians take the flags down and the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices kneels down proclaiming the end of the victory music. The Minister of War and the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices together with the musicians withdraw and take up position outside the Jing gate. An official presents the prisoners of war to the emperor and offers congratulations.17 The drum and wind music was also used in the context of cosmic phenomena. Drums were beaten, for example, to “fight against” a solar eclipse. The ceremony was not only performed at the imperial court but also in each prefecture of the empire. Another application of the drum and wind music was to banish evil spirits during exorcism ceremonies. It is obvious that the drum and wind music played an important role at different levels during the Tang dynasty. The imperial court, the local administration, and the military all made use of it. The musicians playing this type of music fell under the administration of different departments. The Court of Imperial Sacrifices (taichang si) was in charge of the drum and wind musicians at the imperial court. At the local level, the musicians were managed by the Institute for Music and Dance ( jiaofang) of the various county and prefecture administrations. Finally, there was a Department of Music ( yueying) in the military supervising the musicians in the military.18

The drum and wind music of the Song dynasty The drum and wind music of the honor guards of the Tang and early Song dynasties did not differ greatly from each other. As part of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, the Drum and Wind Office (guchui shu or guchui ju) was in charge of the drum and wind music performed by the imperial escort service. Between

Drum and wind palace music of the Tang and Song 129 1105 and 1120, primary responsibility lay with the Imperial Music Bureau (dasheng fu). One of the earliest mentions of the drum and wind music during the Song dynasty can be found in the History of the Song (Songshi), which tells of an order from the year 963 to select 830 musicians of Kaifeng Prefecture for ancestral ceremonies. The musicians were placed under the control of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices in order to practice drum and wind music.19 The drum and wind music during the Song dynasty included two types of performance: One type is the drum and wind music of the twelve podiums (guchui shier an), the other is the drum and wind music of the imperial escort service (lubu guchui). The drum and wind music of the twelve podiums dates from the fourth year of Qiande (966).20 Each time the music was performed, the drum and wind musicians of the twelve podiums were placed between the orchestras of the bells and stones where they performed music together with the ritual music orchestra.21 There were seven instrumentalists and two vocalists on each podium. The instruments included one big drum (da gu), one feather screen drum ( yubao gu), and one golden bell ( jinchun), as well as two panpipes (xiao) and two double-reed vertical flutes without holes ( jia). During the time from 968 until 996, an additional oboe of the gongchen guan type was used. Instead of performing the normal drum and wind music, the orchestras performed the ritual music ( yayue) of the palace. Later in 1105, the drum and wind music of the twelve podiums was excluded from the performance of rites and ceremonies because the musicians had used some so-called “barbarian” instruments that did not produce sounds appropriate to ritual music.22 The drum and wind music of the imperial escort service was used on inspections tours and for signaling in the morning and the evening to place the escort on full alert. Compared to the Tang dynasty, the division of the drum and wind music of the imperial escort service was even more detailed, including the bigsize-carriage, the middle-size-carriage, the small-size-carriage, the emperor’s carriage (luanjia), and the emperor’s small-size-carriage (xiao luanjia). Similar to the Tang arrangement, the imperial escort was divided into two groups that were placed before and behind the jade chariot of the emperor. The group playing the drum and wind music in front of the chariot was larger than that playing behind it. According to the Songshi, in the early stages of the Song dynasty the big-size imperial escort service needed 1752 musicians; 1058 of them performed in the front part and 456 in the back part of the escort.23 Most of the musicians originated from the Drum and Wind Office, but because of the limited capacities of the office, imperial guards of the capital often filled the places of drum and wind musicians. At that time, the entire number of individuals joining the escort was about 11,222.24 However, the number of participants supporting the big-size imperial escort service varied over time. For example, during the time of Zhenghe (1111–1117), the big-size-carriage escort included 2069 musicians. Starting in 1170, only 982 musicians were employed.25 An entry in the Songshi states:

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Y. Filipiak The big-size-carriage included 1793 musicians, the middle-size-carriage 1350, and the small-size-carriage 1314. The number [of employed musicians] was larger than before. The emperor’s carriage included 925 musicians. The emperor’s small-size-carriage escort of 325 musicians was used for ancestor worship in front of the former emperor’s portrait or in the presence of the spirit table in the ancestral shrine. If the emperor conferred posthumous titles in the ancestral temple, 200 musicians [would participate in the ceremony]. The music they played could be changed at any time [according to need].26

Apart from the emperor, the imperial escort service could be used by various people including the empress, the empress dowager, the crown prince, and members of the imperial family holding the title of imperial prince, as well as by high-ranking officials. In contrast to the former Tang dynasty, only officials from the first to the third rank could make use of the imperial escort service.

The Military Orchestra and the East-West Group In addition to the Drum and Wind Office, there were two other organizations in charge of the drum and wind music, namely the Military Orchestra ( junrongzhi) and the East-West Group (dongxi ban). In contrast to the Drum and Wind Office, which was part of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, both organizations of military music belonged to the central imperial guards. The Military Orchestra was established in 978 under the name yinlongzhi, which in 992 was changed to junrongzhi.27 It belonged to the Palace Command (dianqian si) as one of the Three Commands (san ya). Associated with the mounted troops of the Palace Command, the musicians had to play music on horseback and were recruited from the soldiers. They were managed by officials whose positions are listed in the Songshi: one Commander (zhihui shi), two Office Managers (duzhi), two Vice Office Managers ( fu duzhi), three Group Managers ( yaban), one Provisioner ( yingfeng), and two Eunuch Supervisors ( jianling neishi).28 At the beginning, the Military Orchestra had about one hundred musicians, but the quota later increased. Membership had increased to 434 by 1061 but no longer rose afterwards.29 Due to the chaos of war during the Southern Song era, the Military Orchestra lost its former glory and was finally abolished in 1160.30 The majority of instruments used in the Military Orchestra included drum and wind instruments such as the double-reed vertical flute (bili), mouth organ (sheng), bamboo flute (di), wooden clapper ( paiban), chimes with blades ( fangxiang), the drum with mallet (zhanggu), the drum of the Jie people ( jiegu), and the big drum (dagu). According to the different needs of ceremonies, string instruments such as the lute ( pipa) and zither could enrich the orchestra31 that mainly played banquet music ( yanyue). Although the orchestra was established for military music, it was extensively used for four of the five categories of court ceremonials (wuli), including auspicious ceremonials ( jili), military ceremonials ( junli), welcoming ceremonials (binli), and celebratory ceremonials ( jiali).

Drum and wind palace music of the Tang and Song 131 For example, during the ceremony for earthly deities, which belonged to the auspicious ceremonials, the Military Orchestra headed the honor guard. In addition, it played an important role in hunting ceremonies and troop inspection ceremonies. During welcoming ceremonials, when prisoners of war were pardoned by the emperor, the Military Orchestra was responsible for the musical performance of the pardon ritual. It was also used for celebratory ceremonials that included the investiture of the empress, watching the lanterns, and drinking ceremonies. The watching lanterns (guandeng) ceremony was part of the Lantern Festival celebrated in the night of the fifteenth of the first lunar month. At this time, the emperor and his family enjoyed seeing the colorful lanterns together with the people. Drinking ceremonies (cipu) permitted by the emperor took place nationwide as large common celebrations. Apart from that, every time when the emperor, his wives, and his concubines left the palace for traveling or the emperor attended ceremonies, the Military Orchestra was involved as part of the imperial escort service. Compared to the position of the Drum and Wind Office within the imperial escort service, the Military Orchestra occupied a place closer to the imperial chariot. This indicates that the orchestra was not only used for musical performance, but had also to perform the function of protecting the emperor. Finally, the orchestra sometimes performed Chinese opera (zaju), which flourished during the Song dynasty. The Eastern Capital: A Dream of Splendors Past (Dongjing menghua lu) states that, whenever celebrating the Lantern Festival, the Institute for Music and Dance ( jiaofang), the Military Orchestra, as well as popular opera groups performed on stage, competing with each other in front of an enthusiastic large audience.32 The East-West Group represents the second organization, with functions similar to those of the Military Orchestra in the imperial escort service. The group was established during the Taiping xingguo era (976–984) when soldiers skilled in making music were selected from the East-West Group of the Palace Command in order to form a group of musicians using the same name, “dongxi ban.” The group mainly used wind instruments such as short oboes made of bamboo with engravings made of silver ( yinzi bili), small flutes (xiao di), and small mouth organs (xiao sheng). The reason for the limited use of instruments may be that the East-West Group played music on horseback. The group accompanied the emperor on his inspection tours and played music in his camps and during military feasts.

Summary The examples of the instruments and pieces of the drum and wind music have shown that this type of music has Chinese and non-Chinese origins. It thus provides evidence of cultural exchanges between China and peoples of the North and Northwest. Various sources indicate that the drum and wind music gradually changed from military music to ceremonial music. During this process, the music performed three main functions. First, the Chinese art of warfare used the

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drum and wind music to encourage the troops and intimidate the enemy. Second, the imperial escort service made use of it for various ceremonies, and it was also included in palace ceremonies. Third, in military ceremonies the music symbolized the powerful force of the army. Although the drum and wind music over time absorbed elements of popular music, with respect to its instruments, programs, and its use for signaling by the imperial escort service, the original military character can still be seen during the Song dynasty. During the Tang dynasty, the drum and wind music became more ceremonial than it was in previous dynasties. Even though it was still used in the military and military-related ceremonies such as presenting prisoners of war and accepting surrender, the music became increasingly important for civil ceremonies. It is true that the drum and wind music of the Song dynasty inherited the structures of the former Tang dynasty, but there were also innovations. In contrast to the Tang, the Song developed special organizations of military music (the Military Orchestra, the East-West Group) whose staff was selected from the soldiers of the palace guards to fill the special needs of ceremonial music and protection of the emperor. These organizations of military music were widely used for ceremonies related to troop inspection, hunting, watching lanterns, drinking, and other festivities. According to need, the Military Orchestra and the East-West Group performed drum and wind music, banquet music, or Chinese opera, which contributed to the mixture of different styles of music. In addition, the different types of music were often played in public, thereby confronting the people with court music. In this way, the drum and wind music gained currency, influenced the development of popular music, and contributed to the mixture of military with popular music. Thus, the drum and wind music reflects an important relation between the military and society in Chinese history.

Notes 1 Chen Yang, Yueshu, in Siku quanshu (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 1987), vol. 211, p. 577. 2 Ibid., p. 581. 3 Yang Yinliu, Zhongguo gudai yinyue shigao (Beijing: Renmin yinyue chubanshe, 2006), pp. 109–110. 4 Yu Yuqin, “Guchui qiyuan zhi bianxi,” Shidi yanjiu 14 (2009), p. 26. 5 Yue Sheng, Zhonghua yueqi dadian (Beijing: Minzu chubanshe, 2002), p. 489. 6 Wu Jing, Guqin “hujia” qu yanjiu, master thesis (Wuhan yinyue xueyuan, 2007), p. 4. 7 The collection was compiled by Guo Maoqian during the twelfth century. 8 Guo Naian, Zhongguo yinyue cidian (Beijing: Renmin yinyue chubanshe, 2005), p. 126. 9 An account of the ceremony can be found in Xiao Song et al., Da Tang Kaiyuan li, in Siku quanshu, vol. 646, pp. 49–58. 10 Zeng Meiyue, “Tangdai guchui yue yanjiu,” Yuefu xinsheng 2 (2009), p. 51. 11 Sun Xiaohui, “Tangdai de lubu guchui,” Huangzhong 4 (2001), pp. 64–65. 12 Li Linfu et al., Tang liudian, in Siku quanshu, vol. 595, p. 148.

Drum and wind palace music of the Tang and Song 133 13 Zeng Meiyue, “Tangdai guchuiyue yanjiu,” p. 52. 14 Lu Xixing (ed.), Zhongguo gudai qiwu da cidian: Yueqi (Shijiazhuang: Hebei jiaoyu chubanshe, 2009), p. 173. 15 Zuo Hanlin, “Tangdai gongting guchui yue de yongtu kaolun,” Jianghan daxue xuebao 2 (2007), p. 103. 16 Gate reserved for the emperor. 17 Wang Pu, Tang huiyao (Shanghai: Zhonghua shuju, 1955), vol. 2, pp. 607–608. Ouyang Xiu and Song Qi, Xin Tangshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1991), vol. 2, p. 510. Liu Xu, Jiu Tangshu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1991), vol. 4, pp. 1053–1054. 18 Xiang Yang, “Yuehu yu guchui yue,” Wenyi yanjiu 5 (2001), p. 85. 19 Tuo Tuo, Songshi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1990), vol. 9, p. 2940. 20 Ibid. 21 Zhang Li, Songdai yuedui bianzhi yanjiu, master thesis (Henan daxue, 2001), p. 7. 22 Tuo Tuo, Songshi, vol. 9, p. 3001. 23 Ibid., vol. 11, pp. 3409, 3415. 24 Ibid., vol. 8, p. 3439. 25 Kang Ruijun, Songdai gongting yinyue zhidu yanjiu (Shanghai: Shanghai yinyue xueyan chubanshe, 2009), pp. 229–237. 26 Tuo Tuo, Songshi, vol. 10, p. 3302. 27 Chen Yang, Yueshu, p. 848. 28 Tuo Tuo, Songshi, vol. 10, p. 3360. 29 Ibid. 30 Wei Yahao, Songdai yuefu zhidu yanjiu, doctoral thesis (Shoudu shifan xaxue, 2007), p. 189. 31 Wang Shengduo and Guo Lan, “Songdai de huangjia junyue tuan: junrongzhi,” Wenshi zhishi 1 (2006), p. 51. 32 Meng Yuanlao, Dongjing menghua lu zhu, annotated by Deng Zhicheng (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1982), p. 165.

8

The rise of the martial Rebalancing wen and wu in Song dynasty culture Peter Lorge

Song dynasty historians have largely accepted that one of the most significant characteristics of the Song was the dominance of its government bureaucracy by civil officials. More broadly, and likely less provable, most historians also believe that civil values and civil culture were similarly dominant throughout Song society. Dieter Kuhn emphasized this point by titling his recent volume on the Song dynasty, The Age of Confucian Rule.1 While I think these characterizations are correct in the broadest sense, I also think that they aren’t particularly useful in explaining much about the Song dynasty beyond the attitudes of the literati. Something had changed between the Tang and Song dynasties in the relationship between wen (civil) and wu (martial), but it was more complicated than simply the rise of the civil over the martial. In this chapter I will argue that the Song state took greater control over both the civil and martial aspects of Chinese society through its centralization of political authority and, in so doing, actually balanced these two aspects of power on a near equal footing. My primary focus will be on what happened in the Song dynasty, particularly the early Song, but a major trend underlying all of these changes began during the Tang. As Chinese society developed it naturally and incrementally moved toward greater and greater specialization in professions. This shift toward greater specialization first became apparent during the Tang. The most obvious manifestation of this change was the ritual effort to articulate not just a martial ethos focused on the military temple (wumiao) but the concurrent process of constructing the civil temple (wenmiao).2 More was happening than just a civil–military split in ritual practice, or within the functional aspects of government. Chinese society as a whole was changing, a secular development exclusive of political and social changes among the elites. Here I can only suggest that these changes were fundamentally based on economic developments that would become more obvious during the Song dynasty. In this discussion I will confine my arguments to politics, ritual, and government institutions. The clear separation between the civil and military sides of government began during the Tang dynasty, in the midst of a far more complex political milieu than that of the Song. Where in the Song most of the competition for political power took place among the newly risen class of civil exam degree holding bureaucrats, the Tang had a larger number of groups with their own, separate identities,

Wen and wu in Song dynasty culture 135 who had a stake in political power. At least initially, there was competition between Türkic and Han, aristocrat and lower status elites, the imperial government and regional power holders, eunuchs and bureaucrats, and even the imperial family and the government. These were not exclusive groups, of course, but identifications that cross cut loyalties in the struggle for power. Individuals and families maintained multiple identities and political connections. Moreover, just as much competition for power took place within these groups as between groups. Early in the Tang dynasty officials could move easily between civil and military appointments; by the end of the dynasty these had become not just separate parts of the government but almost separate social worlds.3 There were a number of reasons for this, but one of the most significant was the military upheavals of the An Lushan and then Huang Chao Rebellions. These rebellions not only emphasized the military side of government as the Tang dynasty sought to suppress them, but also directly undermined the influence of the great aristocratic clans through the simple process of directed annihilation. An Lushan actively sought to kill members of the aristocratic clans in Hebei as he moved south from the northern border. The chaos and upheaval generally destroyed the existing order of power to the detriment of the previous power holders. In a time of incessant war military men became more important. The increasing separation of the civil and military sides of government was matched by an institutional shift. The Tang government was originally divided at the national level between the Three Departments (san sheng), comprising the Department of State (shangshu sheng), the Secretariat (zhongshu sheng), and the Chancellery (menxia sheng). The Ministry of War (bingbu) was one of six ministries under the Department of State, though it was for prestige purposes grouped with the Ministry of Personnel (libu), as the two highest status among the six. The Secretariat and the Chancellery were combined into the SecretariatChancellery (zhongshu sheng menxia sheng) in the early eighth century, with five subordinate offices, one of which was the War Office (bingfang).4 From an institutional perspective, then, the exclusively martial part of the central government was quite limited. Of course, one of the reasons for the An Lushan Rebellion was the shift of military authority to border commands. The original fubing system of militiamen recruited throughout the empire gave way to a professional, paid force in the early eighth century. This professional force was divided between the units stationed at the capital and those posted on the border. By the second half of the eighth century palace eunuchs controlled the units at the capital. More specifically, the Palace Secretariat (shumi yuan), a eunuch agency under the larger eunuch Palace Domestic Service (neishi sheng), controlled the capital defense and imperial bodyguard troops. These eunuch-controlled forces proved more effective at dominating the capital and the emperor than in defending either from outside forces. The most powerful Tang armies were on the border under commanders who were usually Türkic. As relations between the court and these commanders

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deteriorated, the court was caught between trying to placate and reassure the border commanders by giving them more power and independence, and attempting to rein them in by diminishing their power and independence. The breakdown resulting in An Lushan’s rebellion in 755 was in some sense due to the separation of military and civil powers, with the imperial court heavily dependent upon distant generals for border security. The Tang government had not been able fully to incorporate its own military into its administration when it shifted away from the fubing system. Change was the natural consequence of the dynasty moving from conquest to stability, and thus from shorter-term military commitments to long-term defensive requirements. A further aspect of the changing articulation of the martial side of Tang society and government was the imperial creation of a Martial Temple to parallel the Civil Temple. David McMullen has argued that the resistance of civil officials to the imperial worship at the Martial Temple was an example of civil opposition to the military.5 This is probably true, but the very fact that the Martial Temple itself achieved such prominence in the Tang is also a sign of the rising profile of the martial side of culture. Resistance can only arise in response to something happening, and in this case it was a move on the part of the Tang government to promote martial values and the value of martial accomplishments through a new kind of worship. It had not been an issue for civil officials before both because the distinctions between civil and martial were not as great in the early Tang dynasty and also because it seems that no one thought there should be worship of martial power on the same level as civil power. The shift during the Tang dynasty is clear. Where at the beginning of the dynasty civil and military skills and careers were considered complementary and might reasonably be expected of a senior official, by the middle of the dynasty civil and military careers had effectively split. Imperial attempts to reverse this split, by ritual means like the promotion of martial accomplishments through the worship of Qi Taigong, or by occasionally assigning a high civil official to a military post, failed. There were many reasons for this deep-seated shift, some long term and others specific to the conditions of the Tang dynasty itself. Some of the Tang-specific factors, like the heavy emphasis on using civil service exams for the first time to select government officials, would become regular parts of Chinese culture. Yet just as significant was the more broad-based articulation of Tang society into increasingly specialized areas of expertise. Even farmers went from being farmers who might also serve as soldiers, into farmers or soldiers. Han Yu (768–824) noted that the traditional breakdown of society into four parts, gentlemen, farmers, artisans, and merchants, had, in his time, added the two categories of soldier and monk. Han Yu was not happy with this change and it troubled many officials well into the Song dynasty. Wang Anshi (1021–1086) attempted to reverse this, at least with respect to making farmers and soldiers a single class again, in the eleventh century, without notable success. This seems to indicate that the societal shift separating farmers and soldiers during the Tang persisted across the Five dynasties and Ten kingdoms period into the Song.

Wen and wu in Song dynasty culture 137 Farmers no longer expected also to serve as soldiers. Of course, civil officials, for their part, no longer expected to lead on the battlefield. Very few civil officials took active military control of a campaign, and even fewer were successful as commanders. The military–civil balance at the beginning of the Song was very different from the beginning of the Tang. The Song military was always professional and never maintained any formations similar to the Tang fubing. In addition, neither the Song military nor the Song government had significant fault lines along ethnic divisions, or had to contend with aristocratic privilege or extensive networks of eunuchs. Song culture was Chinese culture, and the chronic, and occasionally acute, hostilities with the steppe polities to its north made non-Chinese culture generally unwelcome in Song territory. The widespread violence of the late Tang and Five dynasties period wiped out the great northern aristocratic lineages, clearing the field for new local strongmen. Southern China was shielded from direct warfare with steppe forces, though there was extensive warfare among the southern kingdoms. Constant warfare or the threat of warfare kept military power in the forefront of any government’s policy concerns. At the same time, there are some very important similarities in the trajectory of civil–military relations between the Tang and Song dynasties. Both dynasties had to manage founding their imperial houses, establishing authority politically and militarily within their respective governments, and expanding their territory through conquest. Both also moved from an early period of military action where generals and military accomplishment were prominent and valued, to a more mature period where the dynasty was fully established and its military goals were more defensive. In the Tang dynasty the move away from the earlier period of military centrality toward a civil–military split that devalued military accomplishment led to rebellion, and the collapse of central authority. The Song dynasty confronted a similar problem of moving from military centrality to established defensiveness. In both cases the founding of the dynasty and early history were focused on bringing stability to a war ridden environment. The Song court was acutely aware of what had happened to the Tang dynasty and set about choosing a different administrative structure to avoid those problems. Its solution, however, was not to diminish the importance of the military, but rather to centralize government power. Arguably, that solution was not so much a choice as the happenstance of a government structure that grew out of the institutional form of the governments of northern military governors.6 The military itself was clearly organized to prevent border generals from gaining the ability to overthrow the central government. Fully half of the Song army was posted to Kaifeng, the capital, at any time, with the remaining forces distributed on the border and around the empire. Within the military itself the highest ranks of the command hierarchy were not filled, preventing any individual from gaining control over an overwhelming force. The military was further divided into two roughly parallel hierarchies, the Palace Corps (dianqian shiwei si) and the Imperial Guard (shiwei qinjun mabu si). None of these policies had any bearing on the relative places of civil and military power.

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Quite early in the Song, during the reign of the second emperor, posthumously known as Song Taizong, the exam system was adopted as the primary means of recruitment for government service. By 983, according to the late Robert Hartwell, the professional bureaucratic elite, which would soon dominate the operations of the Song government, started to replace the founding officials.7 This appeared to men in the eleventh century and after to be proof that the Song dynasty founders knowingly chose to create a ruling elite of scholar-officials (shidaifu) to run the empire in partnership with the emperor. Of course, this choice was part of a policy of placing civil officials over military officials. Since this was a fundamental policy of the Song dynasty, it was imputed to the first emperor, posthumously known as Song Taizu. Some statesmen in the eleventh century, like Sima Guang (1019–1086), understood that this was not, in fact, what had happened. Sima Guang pointed this out somewhat indirectly because the reasons for the emphasis on civil service exams as a recruitment tool were tied to the fact that Song Taizong had most likely usurped the throne from his older brother Taizu after murdering him. Taizong’s compromised political situation, which resulted both from Taizong’s military failures and his unpopularity among the military elite, induced him to greatly expand the use of the civil service exams. Thus, like Wu Zetian in the Tang dynasty, the exams were used by a ruler to recruit loyal officials into government as a bulwark against resistant powerful interests. In Taizong’s case, he feared resistance from almost every quarter of government, including the imperial family itself. He could only rely upon his own entourage. Song Taizu expressed deep ambivalence about the value of men with purely literary backgrounds on a number of occasions. On one occasion, when he was faced with deciding which man should be ranked first among exam graduates, he ordered the two top men to fight it out physically.8 Robert Hartwell suggested that this story might have been apocryphal, but the fact remains that Taizu made very little use of the exam system to recruit officials. He valued competence in officials not literary capability. At the same time, of course, he valued literacy and knowledge. Song Taizu was noted for his own interest in reading, which distinguished him from his peers in the military.9 Song Taizu’s position can best be characterized as pragmatic. He needed military success to build his empire, and he needed some literate and capable bureaucrats around to run the machinery of government. He was also careful to remove powerful military men from important positions of authority when possible in order to bolster his own authority and diminish the chance of coups. Yet we would be wrong to read this process as increasing the importance of civil officials over military officials and generals. Taizu was removing threats to his power and during his reign all the significant threats came from generals. At the same time, however, he desperately needed good generals to win his wars. The major transition to a more civil centered officialdom started under Song Taizong and only became locked in under his son, posthumously known as Zhenzong. This did not come about because of a directed policy choice, but because of historical happenstance. Taizu was not a “civilizer” at all. Taizong,

Wen and wu in Song dynasty culture 139 who was responsible for vastly expanding the use of the civil service exams, was more directed in his intentions, but even he did not hand much power to those exam graduates. Taizong came to the throne with an entourage, and was still ruling through that entourage, a group with extremely varied backgrounds, when he died. Both Taizu and Taizong were very careful not to put successful generals in charge of the government. This was the major break with early Tang dynasty practice. Military merit could lead to promotion within the army, but it could not make a man prime minister. The Song did not have to contend with the ethnic issues of Türkic versus Chinese aristocrats vying for power in the government. The Tang imperial house had to balance those cultural aspects of its own heritage, and deal with lineages of Chinese aristocrats who felt that their pedigree was superior to that of the imperial family and that they should hold positions of power in the government by right of birth. No such groups existed for the Song. The other contenders for court power, the eunuchs, were tightly controlled in the Song, both because regular officials were hostile to them (as had almost always been the case) and because the eunuchs had so undermined the Tang court. A good example of the constraints on eunuchs and the limitations of Taizong’s rulership occurred during the 993–995 rebellion in Sichuan. When Wang Jian (?–999), the eunuch commander in chief, recaptured Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province, on June 17, 994, and took prisoner Li Shun, the rebellion’s leader, the Secretariat-Chancellery suggested that Wang be promoted to Commissioner of the Court of Palace Attendants. Taizong balked at this, fearing that it would impinge upon his executive power. When the Prime Minister backed the Secretariat-Chancellery’s position, claiming that it was the only appropriate position given Wang’s accomplishment, the emperor demanded that another solution be found. Eventually Wang was given the newly created position of Commissioner of Clear Proclamations. Wang Jien was put in charge of the rebellion in the first place because he was a retainer of Taizong. Taizong wanted the rebellion quashed rapidly because it was an indictment of his rule. He had already experienced a number of serious military failures that fundamentally impugned the legitimacy of his rule (not to mention the reasonable belief that he had, in fact, usurped the throne from his nephew and possibly murdered his older brother). Rebellions were, in and of themselves, evidence for bad governance, particularly if they proved hard to suppress. It was therefore imperative that the rebellion be swiftly put down. Taizong turned to a personal retainer and a eunuch to take care of this vital task because entrusting it to a general outside his entourage might have undermined his authority. Even after victory, however, the very fact that his retainer was a eunuch limited the reward he could give. The emperor had to be very careful not only with dispensing rewards for successful military service, but with who he even provided the opportunity to earn those rewards by assigning them important military tasks. His civil officials in the regular bureaucracy, as opposed to the members of his entourage, jealously guarded the status of their own

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positions. And given the problems with eunuchs in the late Tang dynasty it was not too difficult to argue that they should be severely limited in their power. Even while Taizong worried about the loyalty of his own army, the Song government itself emerged as a mostly equal split between civil and military sides. This is not to say that half the government was run by civil officials and half by generals and military officers, but rather that the offices and functions of the bureaucracy were divided between the Bureau of Military Affairs (shumi yuan) and the Secretariat-Chancellery. Together they constituted the Two Authorities, to which was added a third structure, the State Finance Commission (san si). This is something of an oversimplification, particularly with respect to the SecretariatChancellery, which functioned under a variety of similar titles at different times. Overall, the responsibilities of the two sides of government were initially separate. During the Five dynasties, most civil officials confined their work or advice to the throne to non-military and non-financial matters. This practice continued into the Song during the reign of Taizu, with the notable exception of men like Zhao Pu (922–992), Taizu’s close advisor. Gradually, however, civil officials began to speak out on military affairs. Interestingly, military officials never seem to have commented on civil affairs. During Taizong’s reign civil officials consistently argued against offensive military actions. This advice was disregarded when Taizong was intent upon using military success to legitimate his position, and accepted when the emperor’s repeated failures turned him against military adventures. Taizong blamed the army for not succeeding, even though it had been extremely effective under Taizu. Civil officials had good political reasons to oppose war. Wars allowed generals to gain influence, peace allowed civil officials to gain influence. Just as significantly, civil officials had more influence and power in a stable government. As the Song dynasty became more stable, and the military problems changed to defensive problems, the civil side of government became more important. During Song Zhenzong’s reign the civil side of government gained the right to discuss important military affairs. This was partly due to Zhenzong’s own civil orientation. Unlike either his father or uncle, he was not a military man and had not grown up in a military environment. Yet he was left with a serious unresolved war with the Liao and a similar problem with the Tanguts; neither of these problems had any possible upside for him. Zhenzong had also been trained by his father to serve with civil officials. Faced with unpleasant options for every major problem, and given conflicting advice from his civil and military officials, he prevaricated. Ultimately the Liao and Tangut problems were resolved through compromise policies that satisfied neither side of the debate. After the Chanyuan peace in 1005, military matters faded from the court. The senior military men who had advised Zhenzong retired or died, and the routine functions of the military side of the Song government relied upon bureaucratic rather than military skills. Certainly illiterate officers were incapable of serving in the higher ranks of the military bureaucracy, and as time went on civil educated literati staffed the military bureaucracy. Peace, more than anything else, made civil officials dominant in the Song government.

Wen and wu in Song dynasty culture 141 This would appear to confirm the traditional notion that the Song dynasty was a civil dominated dynasty. From the perspective of the background of personnel in the central government this was true. It was not true, however, from the perspective of function and performance. Indeed, as time went on and civil officials were increasingly involved in deciding military policy and in managing the military side of the government, they became increasingly militarized. Civil officials like Han Qi (1008–1075) and Fan Zhongyan (989–1052) were sent out from the imperial court to directly supervise the Song war with the Tanguts from 1038 to 1042. Civil officials argued questions of war and peace, and directed campaigns either from court or from the field. They did not carry weapons or participate in fighting themselves, nor did they come from military backgrounds. But in the same manner that some famous generals were “civilized” by being taught to read after they had succeeded in the field, like Di Qing (1008–1057), for example, these civil officials had been “militarized” by taking on military responsibilities. Early in his reign, Song Taizu toured the military temple (wucheng wangmiao) and criticized the selection of martial exemplars worshipped there. He had a clear notion of what constituted ideal martial behavior, and ordered that a better selection of generals be made.10 Because he was himself a former general, he belonged to the military culture that the state was, in theory, valorizing in the temple. The emperor therefore embodied both the state and the military in a unified way that only his brother Taizong could claim. After them, very few men with military backgrounds reached the top of the government hierarchy. War, however, did not go away as an issue, and generations of men with no experience of the battlefield were forced to make important military decisions based on their educations alone. For long periods in the Northern Song there simply were no generals with field experience either. Peace eroded the military very quickly. Emperors were periodically concerned with the denigration of generals and the concomitant rise in confidence among the civil officials that their book learning was superior to field experience. Yet there was little that could be done to reverse this trend since the long periods of peace so fixed civil officials in charge of military affairs that the short and intermittent wars of the eleventh century could not change things. What is most important to understand here is that Song civil officials were themselves taking up military affairs and combining in themselves the civil and martial aspects of governing. Several attempts were made during the eleventh century to set up a military education system or a military exam system. On a number of occasions civil officials suggested that civil officials should learn martial skills. This was in part a desire to return to the classical ideal of the official who could function as a general or official as needed. Not surprisingly then, military texts received much more attention in the eleventh century than they had before. The Su family, Su Xun (1009–1066), Su Shi (1037–1101), and Su Zhe (1039–1112) were all strong advocates for studying military texts. Two factors ultimately led civil officials to subsume strategic planning and military policy under the authority of civil educated men. First, there was the

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continuing concern that military men were a threat to the dynasty and government. Military men were, by nature, at least in the eyes of the literati, less loyal and less supportive of the status quo than educated men. Also, because they directly controlled the means of organized violence, military men could oppose government authority and upset the political system. Second, the struggle for political power at the Song court led civil officials to use every means at their disposal to disenfranchise military men, simply as a means to shrink the pool of potential competitors. They were similarly insistent about the illegitimacy of eunuchs. Song officials successfully limited the struggle for power within the government administration to men with civil service exam degrees. In order to do so, they had to take control of military policy. In order to do that, they insisted that they were, in fact, more capable than generals in formulating military policy, devising strategies, and overall command of armies. In the final analysis, civil and martial were balanced and unified during the Song in the persons of the government officials. They took on martial responsibilities to wrest power and legitimacy from generals, and prevent field commanders from becoming prime minister. This was only possible because they had effectively redefined or reconfigured the nature of civil and martial skills. In the Tang dynasty martial accomplishment required actual service with the army in the field in battle and on campaign. Martial merit was one very useful component of the requirements for high government service, and there was a significant non-Chinese flavor to martial performance. The Tang dynasty balanced civil and martial, along with Chinese and Türkic, and a strong aristocratic bias to its system. The Song dynasty framed these issues very differently. Everything was Chinese, the aristocracy was minimal, and soldiers were professionals. Han Yu had been correct that the old, four-part division of Chinese society had changed. Farming became a separate profession from soldier, and government official a separate profession from officer. By splitting these responsibilities each group became more specific in their skills. As not just literacy or some education, but an extremely high level of education became a necessity to function in government, only those men who devoted themselves to studying could work in government. The problem up until now is that we have assumed that the categories of civil and martial remained the same during the Tang and Song. They did not. As both categories grew and developed during the Tang they ceased to be things that very many men could collectively master. Political and social conditions further separated the groups who performed these tasks. What happened during the Song dynasty was the reconfiguration and redefinition of these categories. Civil officials began to discuss military affairs and ultimately to take over control of the highest levels of military planning. They did not conceive of themselves as becoming less “civil” by so doing, even though these were indisputably martial areas of knowledge and action. The bureaucratic definitions of these roles has obfuscated a much more important truth. By the eleventh century, civil officials handled both civil and high level military affairs. Military officers, as opposed to military officials, handled the actual conduct of fighting. In the same way, clerks and yamen runners handled much of the actual conduct of local, civil government.

Wen and wu in Song dynasty culture 143 Military men were prevented from gaining too much power, either political or military, so that they could not overthrow the government. Civil officials took over what had previously been martial areas of expertise in the imperial court. Military power was transferred to unthreatening civil officials whose lack of physical military skills prevented them from threatening the dynasty itself, or winning the loyalty of soldiers. This shifting of martial responsibilities to civil officials worked extremely well in keeping the dynasty safe from internal threats. It also explains why Yue Fei (1103–1142) had to be killed when he would not accept a powerless post in central government. When civil officials took over these martial portfolios they returned to a balance of civil and martial roles, but in a new, Song dynasty manner.

Notes 1 Dieter Kuhn, The Age of Confucian Rule (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010). 2 For the martial temple see David McMullen, “The Cult of Ch’i T’ai-kung and T’ang Attitudes to the Military,” T’ang Studies, 7 (1989), pp. 59–103. For the civil temple see Thomas A. Wilson (ed.), On Sacred Grounds: Culture, Society, Politics, and the Formation of the Cult of Confucius (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002). 3 For a comprehensive and learned discussion of this shift see Cheng-Hua Fang, Power Structures and Cultural Identities in Imperial China (Leiden: Brill, 2011). 4 Charles Hucker, A Dictionary of Official Titles in Imperial China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1985), pp. 28–30. 5 David McMullen, “The Cult of Ch’i T’ai-kung and T’ang Attitudes to the Military,” pp. 59–103. 6 Wang Gungwu, The Structure of Power in North China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1967). 7 Robert Hartwell, “Demographic, Political, and Social Transformations of China, 750–1550,” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 42.2 (1982), p. 408. 8 Sima Guang, Sushui jiwen (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2006), p. 47. 9 Tuotuo, Songshi (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1990), juan 3, p. 50. 10 Tuotuo, Songshi, juan 105, pp. 2555–2556.

9

Postcards from the edge Competing strategies for the defense of Liaodong in the late Ming Kenneth M. Swope

In 1619 the Ming Empire suffered its first major defeat at the hands of the Latter Jin at the Battle of Sarhu. Over the next decade, as factional wrangling at the Ming court intensified, military crises mounted with the Latter Jin exerting pressure in the northeast and peasant uprisings in the northwest. These military challenges, combined with the stresses at court caused by the death of an emperor who reigned for a mere month and his successor’s mental ineptitude created the conditions for the articulation of several competing strategies for the defense of the northeast against the mounting barbarian challenge. While some of the strategies put forth were in fact militarily sound and had a reasonable chance of success, others were predicated purely on selfish factional interests and affiliations and were designed more for the purpose of discrediting one’s rivals than for defending the empire from foreign invasion. This chapter shall explore some of the major strategies for the defense of Liaodong in the late Ming, discussing their relative strengths and weaknesses and considering them within the broader context of factional politics and imperial leadership. Indeed, it is my contention that vacillating imperial leadership was largely to blame for the fall of the Ming in 1644 to the peasant rebel armies of Li Zicheng (1605–1645)1 and the Manchu invaders from the northeast. If the Ming emperors Tianqi (r. 1621–1627) and Chongzhen (r. 1628–1644) had been more forceful and better at managing civil– military relations, then the fall of the Ming most likely could have been delayed or even averted. While the Ming defeat at Sarhu had come as somewhat of a shock, the rising Jurchen threat was not new. Moreover, even though their responses to the Jurchens were not always effective or consistent, the Ming had not been idle in the previous decades. They had employed their usual tactics of dividing and conquering their prospective foes, placating some and chastising others with military actions or economic sanctions such as cutting off tribute trade relations.2 In fact, the Latter Jin founder Nurhaci’s (1559–1626) initial statement of grievances against the Ming focused primarily on Ming meddling in such matters.3 Additionally, the Ming had been faced with military challenges in other parts of the empire, most notably in the southwest, where they were dealing with the fallout from the massive thirteen year uprising (1587–1600) of the Miao chieftain Yang Yinglong.4

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 145 In the wake of the Ming defeat at Sarhu, among the few bright spots for the Ming were the military exploits of Mao Wenlong, a swordsman and adventurer who established a base of operations on Pidao, an island near the mouth of the Yalu River, the Ming border with Korea. From this base Mao launched a series of daring raids into Latter Jin territory, some in conjunction with Korean units, prompting Jin incursions into Korea to extricate him. Mao’s successes, however amplified by his own dubious claims, prompted some Ming officials to advocate for a more aggressive forward policy with respect to meeting the Jin threat. Other officials favored a more defensive approach while still others called for a mixture of offensive and defensive strategies. Thus, Mao became a lynchpin figure for the major strategic debates at the Ming court. As will be seen below however, Mao eventually ran afoul of the Ming regional military commander, Yuan Chonghuan, and was publicly executed for insubordination. Subsequently many of his former lieutenants, including Kong Youde and Shang Kexi, became prominent figures in the Qing conquest of the Ming and in the Qing war against Chosŏn Korea. Indeed, some scholars consider Mao’s untimely death to have marked the beginning of the end for the Ming and consider it to be the single most important act in the failure of the Ming to hold Liaodong because it opened the way for the Qing conquest of Korea and the elimination of the major threat to their rear. While I disagree with that assessment, the case of Mao is useful for illuminating the nature of the debates raging at the Ming court and the shortcomings of the last two Ming emperors in the arena of leadership. Mao’s exploits and dramatic end have captivated historians since the events themselves. Within a year of Mao’s execution, Wu Guohua, a supporter of Mao from his home region, wrote a vociferous defense of Mao’s actions, known as Dongjiang kewan, written in the form of responses to an anonymous guest’s questions.5 Wu’s work was in fact a response to a pair of works written in defense of Yuan Chonghuan, Mao’s executioner, by one Cheng Benzhi, who protested Yuan’s subsequent execution by Emperor Chongzhen on charges of treason and incompetence.6 Wu points out that Cheng, having been on Yuan’s payroll, was obviously biased and wrote his spurious account of Mao’s misdeeds to cover up his own master’s many crimes. As Wu puts it, how could Mao have been executed after all his achievements in the 1620s, which included the recovery of Fort Zhenjiang, harassing the Jurchens, defending Tieshan, offering shelter to refugees from Liaodong, strengthening and reinforcing the islands in Bohai for attacking the Jin rear, and protecting Korea when no one else could? Though the Jin continued to raid and retreat, Wu contends, “after Mao ensconced himself in the region, they did not dare set one foot inside the pass.”7 According to Wu Guohua, Mao’s successes aroused the jealousy of Yuan Chonghuan, whose own policies were less than completely effective, despite Yuan’s boasts to the emperor that he could recover all of Liaodong in five years (from 1628).8 For centuries after Mao’s death, this general version of events was accepted. Most likely because there were few concrete Ming victories in the 1620s, as well as the fact that Mao cut a dashing figure as a maverick Ming frontier commander, later historians were inclined to view Yuan’s execution of Mao as a

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grave mistake, one which sorely damaged, if not altogether ruined, the Ming cause in the northeast. For if Mao had not been executed, his supporters argued, then Kong Youde, Shang Kexi, Geng Jimao, and their troops would not have submitted to Hong Taiji, and he would not have benefited from their numbers and experience.9 Mao’s execution also supposedly cut Korea off from vital Ming support and rendered it ripe for invasion by the Latter Jin. Because the Ming lacked a naval presence in Bohai, they could no longer offer a serious threat to the Jin heartland and all of the khan’s attention could now be focused on threatening the environs of the Great Wall and in occupying Liaodong. Even the Jin themselves supposedly later remarked upon how significant the liquidation of Mao had been for their plans. But how accurate are such characterizations? As will be seen below, when confronted by Yuan on that fateful day in the summer of 1629, Mao Wenlong was accused of numerous crimes, including illegally treating with the enemy and with arrogating authority so as to set himself up as a “sea lord” on Pidao. Mao’s supporters contended that he was killed because he possessed information suggesting that it was Yuan Chonghuan who had opened secret talks with the Jin. This rumor was later spread by the Jin themselves, and it became the basis of the charges that led to Yuan’s own dismemberment in the marketplace in Beijing.10 However, records from the Korean and Jin sides, such as the Old Manchu Archives, the Kwanghaegun ilgi, and the Chosŏn wangjo sillok, indicate, to the contrary, that Mao was indeed guilty of all the crimes charged by Yuan and that his execution was in fact, justified.11 Indeed, Mao apparently provoked the Jin into invading Korea and continually demanded additional weapons and supplies from Beijing to feed and outfit his armies while simultaneously resisting the commands of his superiors and using his isolation to entrench himself as a local magnate, taking advantage of the fluid political environment of the Bohai region in the early seventeenth century. In the rest of this chapter I will look at the rise and fall of Mao Wenlong within this particular socio-political context, discussing how the environment allowed Mao to pursue his own agendas and aspirations that seem to have been inspired in part by the region’s increasing involvement in international trade.

The fallout from Sarhu Before returning to the story of Mao Wenlong it is useful to set the broader strategic context. In the sixth month of 1619 as more forts and towns fell to the Jurchens, the veteran frontier official Xiong Tingbi replaced Yang Hao as military commissioner ( jinglüe) in the northeast.12 Xiong was a veteran military commander who had earlier advocated a more aggressive Ming policy in Liaodong. Upon his appointment Xiong pledged to recover Kaiyuan and received the double-edged sword from the emperor, granting him full authority to act in the emperor’s name in the field. The next month Tieling, ancestral home of the Li clan, fell to Nurhaci’s troops. As soon as he arrived in Liaoyang, Xiong executed an officer who had abandoned the city so as to set an example for the men.13

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 147 Xiong then delineated defense corridors and urged the emperor that all the garrisons needed to be restored to their full strength. His main plan was to focus on defending strong points. Believing Shenyang was too far from the Great Wall and would be difficult to defend, Xiong thought that the Ming should temporarily fall back to Liaoyang, where they could use the city’s water defenses to augment their meager strength. Supplies also had to be boosted. Wanli approved this plan.14 But a censor at court wondered how existing supplies could even be lacking, given that the existing troop numbers were so far below their prescribed levels.15 A young official named Yang Sichang (1588–1641),16 who would later rise to prominence for his plan to crush the Ming peasant rebellions, submitted a memorial that addressed the difficulty of paying for and transporting aboriginal troops from the southwest to Liaodong, especially in light of the ongoing unrest in that region of the empire. Yang also pointed out the ineffectiveness of Liao surtaxes and noted the burdens that extra taxes placed upon the people. Yang called for results, not mere troop increases on paper. In another memorial from the ninth month of 1619, Yang expressed his own concerns about systemic shortcomings at every level of administration in the northeast. He lamented, “Now the soldiers cannot be relied upon and neither can the generals nor the officials, nor the people. And as each place falls to the Jin, more are imperiled. Who even dares to stand up against the enemy?”17 Yang invoked the ancient military classics, saying that only money could properly motivate the troops and arguing that without ample funds, nothing could be accomplished. However, he concluded, “If good rewards are bestowed then certainly there will be bravery.”18 He leveled most of the blame at the Ministry of Revenue, arguing that it was the duty of its officials to find the necessary funds. Yang added that even though officials were responsible to the emperor, it was also the duty of the monarch to be responsible to his ancestors and therefore heed the advice of his ministers.19 Yang noted that the officials had already requested funds from the Taicang vault. If the emperor refused to listen and accede to their requests then Liaoyang “will fall tomorrow and the capital will be plunged into chaos next. Simply burning incense and making sacrifices to the ancestors is no kind of plan to rescue the empire,” noted Yang.20 Therefore Yang asked that the emperor immediately release 10 million liang of funds from the privy purse and listen to plans from the military commissioner to raise the morale of the troops. More funds for feeding and supplying the troops and their horses should follow. In this way, argued Yang, “today’s disaster can be turned into tomorrow’s good fortune.” Moreover, “if the monarch was able to rise to greatness in himself then his name would resound amongst the ancestors for myriad generations and the officials will not dare to continue their incessant chatter.”21 But if the funds were not released, warned Yang, then disasters would only multiply and death (for the dynasty) might be the end result. In another memorial Yang expressed his concerns about funding and outfitting the armies and about accountability. He was dubious as to whether Xiong Tingbi could succeed with his proposed 180,000 troops and he wanted to know

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exactly where allocated funds were going. Even if just a force of 100,000 was mobilized, that force cost 16,000 liang per day to keep in the field.22 Additionally, because the empire relied on mercenaries from all over the place, they had to deal with the problem of constant desertions which further limited fighting capability. Yang assumed that better pay would encourage mercenaries to stay on and improve the overall quality of the army over time. But in Yang’s estimation a force of 177,000 soldiers and 100,000 mounts, not counting draft animals like donkeys, camels, and oxen should cost around 289,500 liang per month, which worked out to a whopping 3,724,500 liang per year.23 But costs could be decreased somewhat by growing food and fodder onsite in military agricultural colonies (tuntian) though there were also potential losses during transportation of supplies by land and sea that had to be taken into account. So when everything was added up, Yang figured that the Ming was looking at costs around 4–5 million liang per year for the defense and recovery of Liaodong.24 There was a bright side, however. Yang observed that previous tax increases should have brought in around 5.2 million liang of additional revenue. So now the government simply had to find out where these funds were and decide how to allocate them! Yet after all these suggestions it appears that the throne released a mere 500,000 liang for immediate operations, citing arrearages in collection and problems in other parts of the empire. The various ministries were ordered to discover missing funds and forward them to the central government.25 As many observers then and since have noted, a major problem was the existence of padded rolls and requests for supplies and funds for phantom troops. Officials had come to rely on these revenue streams simply to get by. But because of inflation and other factors costs were still rising while undermanned garrisons were stretched thin. As one example Yang noted that there were supposed to be 60,000 troops garrisoning Changping. One directive transferred 15,000 of these troops to Shanhaiguan. But a recent investigation had revealed that there were only 11,000 troops at both, so what had happened to the rest?26 Who went to Shanhaiguan and who was still at Changping? Yang stressed that the realities of troop dispensation and fund allocation needed to be thoroughly investigated. He also recommended the raising of local militia and baojia (village defense) units and suggested that funds be retained in the localities for such purposes. Yang even proposed new graduated pay systems to improve retention of soldiers and fight salary compression. The newly enthroned Tianqi emperor recommended implementation of these plans.27 Even as such proposals were making their way to the court, the disorganized Ming military was suffering defeats in the field. With the loss of Kaiyuan and other key cities Xiong Tingbi was relieved of his duties. Xiong was impeached for lack of planning and for not wanting to use Liao troops but rather bringing in mercenaries from around the empire, which, incidentally, was standard Ming operating procedure.28 In the end, Xiong actually requested his dismissal, but also defended his strategy, noting that by the time he arrived on the scene, most local officials had already deemed Liaodong lost to the enemy and many had fled the region. So Xiong thought that a more defensive strategy would be more feasible at the present

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 149 juncture and had a better chance of success in the short run.29 Xiong continued, wondering given what had just happened (to the strike force at Sarhu), “how could anyone argue for lightly striking out to meet the enemy?”30 The emperor acceded to Xiong’s request and pressure from other officials and Xiong was replaced by Yuan Yingtai, who was also made Minister of War.31 In the memorial announcing Xiong’s replacement, the Ming talked of raising 130,000 additional troops but they were concerned about logistics since they claimed to have expended 2.3 million liang of silver and one million dan of food in the past year on efforts in the northeast. Officials wanted more funds from the imperial privy purse. They also placed particular emphasis upon the construction and deployment of all manner of firearms, in addition to other weapons, arguing that the guns in particular were essential to restoring Ming fighting spirit. For his part, Yuan Yingtai favored fast, aggressive action, feeling that once properly outfitted a Ming army could certainly defeat the Jurchens. In Yuan’s opinion the main problem was that too many fearful officials never even dared utter the word “fight.”32 In the first month of the first year of the reign of the new Tianqi emperor (1621), the city of Shenyang fell as its defender, He Shixian, fired his cannon too soon and expended all his gunpowder before the Jurchens closed on the city. The next day the vice commander You Shiyong came out and fought but retreated to the city after losing about half his men and did not dare to emerge again. When Yuan Yingtai got the news, he ordered another commander to lead 5000 troops to the rescue, but this force was intercepted and wiped out by the Jurchens and their army submitted. The Jurchens attacked Shenyang for ten days before finally breaching the north gate. He Shixian fled via the west gate for several hundred li before encountering another small relief column of 500 troops. Apparently feeling that they would get no mercy from the Ming, the two commanders then decided to return to Shenyang, where they surrendered to the Jin, earning ranks as vice commanders and becoming part of a process of state building that would repeat itself many times in the ensuing two decades.33 The town of Liaoyang fell about two months later. Prior to this Yuan Yingtai had dispatched two subordinates to engage the enemy forward from his own position at Dongshan. They were defeated and fell back towards their base at Liaoyang, the enemy in hot pursuit. As they assailed the small north gate of the city, Yuan Yingtai raked them with cannon fire, inflicting heavy casualties. He sent another officer outside in an effort to flank the Jurchens but this force was defeated and scattered. At this the Ming commanders lamented the quick dissolution of their grand aspirations and resolved to die fighting rather than retreat, though some sources indicate that Yuan himself advocated flight. Yuan Yingtai, viewing the Jin entry into the city from atop the east gate tower, bowed towards Beijing and thanked the emperor for his beneficence before slitting his own throat. It was said that the Jurchens looted and pillaged the city indiscriminately afterwards, killing a large number of people.34 At this juncture Censor Zhang Quan addressed the Ministry of War saying that the problem was that the empire had been too long at peace and it was

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imperative that they “recruit heroes from the forests, mountains, fields, and marshes to uncover those of martial talent to match the enemy and deal with the mounting threats along the borders.”35 In the summer of 1621 Xue Guoying was made Vice-minister of War and Military Affairs Commissioner of Liaodong and Wang Huazhen (d. 1632) was named Vice-censor-in-Chief of the Right and Touring Pacification Commissioner of Guangning, in Liaodong. Mercenaries were recruited in Tongzhou, Tianjin, Xuanfu, Datong, Shaanxi, Shanxi, Henan, and Zhejiang.36 Nonetheless, more military reverses followed and Xiong Tingbi was recalled to service, given the titles of Minister of War and concurrently Assistant Censor-in-Chief of the Right and Military Commissioner of Liaodong.37

Mao Wenlong’s exploits and debates over a forward strategy It was within this backdrop that Mao Wenlong first gained notoriety. Leading a mere 197 men in four boats, Mao decided to strike at Fort Zhenjiang, which was located near the mouth of the Yalu River. Capturing this location had considerable strategic significance for it would allow the Ming to keep their lines of communication open with their Korean allies and provide a landward base from which a destabilizing strike deep into the heart of Jin territory could be launched.38 It was also relatively easy to supply by sea, provided the Ming retained control of the sea lanes, which was not a problem as of this juncture, the Jin having no naval forces of their own. Mao therefore endeavored to attack and take this critical point in order to help effect a Ming restoration of authority in the region. Indeed, the Bohai region had proved a critical supply lane in the Sino-Korean war efforts against the Japanese in the 1590s, so it is no surprise that officials again recognized the importance of controlling this area for joint operations against the Jin.39 However, there was dissent at the Ming court over what the best plan of action might be. Part of the problem was that Xiong Tingbi and Wang Huazhen were like “fire and water” in their approach to defending Guangning and its environs.40 Believing that the Ming were not in a position to launch a serious offensive against the Jin at this time, Xiong advocated a measured “Threepronged advance” stratagem, that might make use of both land and naval forces, extending out from Guangning and eventually linking up with Korean units and those who had fled from the Jin into Korea or southern Liaodong.41 However, at the same time Xiong was appointed, Wang Huazhen, who had recently gained a measure of fame for his defense of Guangning, was made pacification commissioner (xunfu) of Liaodong.42 Emboldened by his recent success, Wang advocated a more aggressive posture towards the Jin, one that included the use of significant numbers of Mongol mercenaries, in addition to Korean units and regular Ming forces.43 This immediately put Wang at loggerheads with Xiong Tingbi, who though admittedly much more cautious in his approach, also had far more practical military experience than Wang, who had only been serving as an official in the Ministry of Revenue for seven years.44

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 151 Wang, however, was saying what the court wanted to hear and Wang’s plans were given the go ahead and he was allowed to unleash Mao Wenlong, whom Xiong Tingbi distrusted as a reckless agitator.45 Other court officials supported Wang’s aggressive strategy and called for 30,000–50,000 troops to be sent by sea from Shandong and its environs to sweep through Liaodong from the south. It was estimated that these units could be bolstered by Liao refugees and once Zhenjiang was secured, then additional forces from Korea could augment those of the Ming, and Liaodong would be retaken in no time, as spies would be dispatched into Jurchen lands to determine their weaknesses and troop dispensations. According to his own account, Mao first landed on Zhudao (Pig Island). The locals scattered and Mao was able to recover some twenty livestock for distribution amongst his followers. Once ensconced on the island, Mao issued a call for heroes (haojie) and offered to enroll them in regular Ming army ranks.46 Mao then established contact with people inside the fortress at Zhenjiang, setting up a signaling system and planning an attack. Mao’s force crept ashore and stole through the wilderness in the middle of the night, attacking the city under cover of darkness by feigning an attack on one gate while concentrating on attacking another. With the assistance of fifth columnists within the fortress, it was taken and the Jin were put to the run. Mao claimed to have obtained the surrender of myriad enemy troops, but Korean records suggest that most of those who surrendered to Mao were in fact impoverished commoners and that Mao only killed a few dozen enemy soldiers.47 According to Mao, the hopelessly outnumbered Zhenjiang garrison then repulsed a Jin counterattack of some 1000 troops. Though the mood was celebratory, Mao’s officers feared that more Jin troops would be coming soon and that they might be in danger of being surrounded. Subsequent skirmishes resulted in heavy casualties on the Jin side in particular, as the Ming brought their superior firepower to bear, but Mao’s forces were continually outnumbered, despite the fact that he had allegedly obtained the surrender of commoners and soldiers formerly in the service of the Jin.48 More skirmishes continued through the end of 1621, but fearing a massive Jin counterattack, Mao decided to pull back to Pidao. In the wake of Mao’s retreat, Nurhaci descended upon Zhenjiang and torched the place, dislodging more refugees into Korea. Given what had happened, Xiong Tingbi thought that Mao’s victory was a curious triumph indeed, if it could even be called a victory at all. But the Ming court was frantic for positive news from the front and Mao’s daring attack gave them something they could latch onto. Many saw Mao’s victory as a validation of Wang Huazhen’s aggressive strategy and believed that the Ming were now poised to disperse Jin strength and launch a recovery operation for all of Liaodong. Accordingly Mao Wenlong was promoted to the post of Commander of Dongjiang (zongbing guan) and was ordered to coordinate attacks on the Jin rear with the Koreans so that the Jin could not direct all their attentions towards fighting the Ming in the west.49 It was hoped that some 8000 naval units from Fujian and Zhejiang could be sent to Mao for diversionary actions, but Mao asked for

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50,000 troops, arguing that in conjunction with Korean and Mongol units, a force of this size, could, in tandem with another Ming force from the west, catch the Jin in a deadly vise and crush them once and for all.50 From the start it appears that Mao did not view himself as a subordinate player in the war against the Jin. As soon as he established himself on Pidao, citing the large numbers of troops and refugees he had to feed, Mao endeavored to attract traders and merchants from all over the Bohai region to his redoubt, thereby establishing himself as somewhat of an independent “sea king” (haiwang) in the eyes of the Koreans in particular.51 For his part, Mao maintained that any serious effort at recovering Liaodong needed to commence from the islands since they afforded the Ming units a measure of safety. Mao said that relying on defending Guangning was an example of orthodox strategy, whereas launching a naval assault from Denglai and Tianjin via Pidao would be unorthodox. Using both strategies together (i.e., land and sea assaults) would be better still.52 Mao boasted that he could probably recapture all of Liaodong with just 40,000 troops. These boasts aside, that he was recognized as a threat by the Jin is evidenced by the fact that as early as 1624, Mao was contacted by agents of Nurhaci, who was hoping to strike a deal with the Ming commander.53 In any event, other developments soon served to give Mao the freedom of action he desired. In the interior Wang Huazhen had initially ordered one of his Mongol allies to attempt to lure the Jurchens into an ambush, though his plan was curtailed by Ming secretaries at court. In the meantime Ming forces at Fort Xiping managed to repulse a Jin assault with cannon fire. Perhaps emboldened by this minor success Wang then appointed one of his favorites the leader of a strike force against the Jurchens over the originally designated commander, one Sun Degong. With Sun predicting disaster, his replacement was routed in the field and Fort Xiping was lost to the turncoat commander Li Yongfang, thereby opening the approach to Guangning.54 For his part, Sun Degong retreated to Guangning, looted the city stores and fled. Meanwhile, Wang’s erstwhile Mongol allies also looted and plundered indiscriminately. In February–March of 1622 the Jin under Nurhaci entered the nearly empty city of Guangning, where Wang Huazhen had previously been stationed. He then fled to Luyang, where he encountered Xiong Tingbi, who chided him, “You said you could completely pacify Liao with 60,000 troops so what happened?”55 Embarrassed, Wang admitted that Xiong’s strategy had been better. But now Xiong realized that matters were so dire even his strategy had to be revised. They quickly fell back to Dalinghe, leaving the city in the hands of two commanders who surrendered to the Jin khan. Upon hearing the city had fallen, Wang Huazhen retreated through Shanhaiguan, his own forces taking those of Xiong Tingbi with them. Most other local commanders abandoned their posts. Vigorous court debates ensued, both Wang and Xiong were impeached and both were eventually executed, though for a while Xiong retained his rank.56 Curiously, however, rather than utterly discrediting Wang’s Liaodong recovery policy, the defeat at Guangning convinced many at court of the necessity of having a second front open to distract the Jin. Mao Wenlong’s position was thereby strengthened.

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 153 Mao therefore continued to press the court for more supplies, particularly foodstuffs, gunpowder, and cash to pay his soldiers, estimating he needed approximately 20–30 qian per soldier. Mao also agitated for more assistance from the Koreans.57 Mao argued that superior weaponry could compensate for any shortcomings in numbers. Plus, continued Jin activities in the region were displacing ever-larger numbers of refugees. They fled into the mountains and valleys of southern Liaodong and across the Yalu into Korea. Some were brought by boat to Mao’s islands and organized into military companies.58 And though the Koreans continued to question the veracity of Mao’s reports to the Ming court and his abilities as a general, it does appear that he scored some successes against the Jin. Another daring night attack on Jinzhou resulted in the recovery of 1014 guns and cannon, 560 catties of gunpowder, and another 1302 small cannon suitable for use of boats.59 From the Ming perspective, denying such supplies to the Jin was as important as having them for their own use. In his memorial to court, Mao noted that he wanted to garrison Jinzhou, but was short on boats and supplies. After consulting with his officers, Mao deemed it most prudent to pull back to the islands rather than disperse his limited forces. This also allowed him to guard Lushun and remain in a position to strike north when the opportunity arose.60 Over the next several years, a similar pattern emerged. Mao would lead small units of guerrillas against isolated Jin fortresses or settlements, inflicting minor casualties and sometimes capturing supplies. Sometimes he briefly occupied such sites, as when he took the Korean border town of Ŭiju in 1625. Other times his operations were mere pinpricks. For example, a report from the third month of 1628 indicates that Mao’s men killed four and captured seven in a skirmish with the enemy near Fort Zhenjiang.61 But Mao continually complained that his troops were starving and that he lacked the resources to properly carry out his directives. A report from 1628 noted that his men were surviving on fish alone and begged for more aid from the court.62 Meanwhile, the Koreans continued to complain that Mao’s victories were all exaggerated, even sending their own independent reports to Ming officials.63 The Koreans also charged that Mao had been holding talks with Nurhaci since the mid-1620s, observing that Mao had personal ties to some of Wang Huazhen’s other subordinates who had already defected to Nurhaci.64 It should be noted that the Ming were not idle on the mainland during these years either. Even as refugees streamed into Shandong from Liaodong, the court dispatched the newly appointed Minister of War Sun Chengzong (1563–1638) to the Longwu garrison at Shanhaiguan to oversee defenses and improve training and combat readiness.65 Unlike some at court, Sun did not favor a withdrawal of Ming forces all the way to Shanhaiguan. Instead he advocated using Ningyuan as the lynchpin of Ming efforts for both defending Liaodong and reconquering lost territory.66 Interestingly enough, in a court audience just after he was appointed Minister of War, Sun explained that one of the empire’s main problems was that “Nowadays all over the empire we emphasize military officials over civil officials. This causes trouble for the civil officials.”67 Therefore, Sun

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advocated clear jurisdictional responsibilities and clear civilian control over military officials. Sun also stressed that simply raising troop numbers was not enough; the mercenaries needed to be properly trained and fed. Indeed, getting them food rations was paramount, for how could they be expected to train if they had no food?68 Sun requested 200,000 taels in cash immediately, but Wei Zhongxian initially balked, citing the lack of revenues from the provinces and the continued costs of suppressing a rebellion in Sichuan. The emperor eventually acceded to the request though, and also approved another 30,000 for the construction of military carts.69 Debates still raged at court as to how to best deal with the Jurchen menace. Wang Zaijin, who had been Xiong Tingbi’s immediate replacement as Military Affairs Commissioner of Liaodong, requested 1.2 million taels to hire Mongols to attack the enemy from the west, despite earlier failures to do so. There was also a plan to erect an extra cordon of defenses just eight li beyond Shanhaiguan and garrison them with 40,000 more troops. But Yuan Chonghuan and another official deemed this plan too passive. Sun went to Shanhaiguan himself and consulted with Yuan. They decided in favor of the more forward strategy. When their opponents still pushed the defensive strategy, Sun countered by explaining the original logic of the defense array envisioned by the early Ming emperor Yongle (r. 1403–1424). He added that his goal was not merely defensive; he also wanted to recover lost territory in Liaodong.70 And though some at court disliked it, proponents of the forward strategy noted that holding Ningyuan and the islands of Bohai would force the Jurchens to divide their strength and aid the Ming in keeping both land and sea supply lines open. Still, some called for using Mongol auxiliaries and even when Sun questioned their reliability, those in favor of hiring Mongols countered by saying they were actually more cost effective than paying, feeding, training, and supplying soldiers recruited from the interior.71 Since cost seemed to be a major issue Sun then unveiled his plan to “use the people of Liao to defend Liao and the soil of Liao to support the troops of Liao.” He argued that the soil was in fact quite fertile, making it ideal for the establishment of military farms. So the Ming could build stockades atop key mountains and establish thirteen base stations. They would recruit 100,000 Liao people for positional defense in the mountain stockades. Regular, full-time soldiers would garrison the major fortresses and be available as support and strike units, ready to engage the enemy anywhere.72 Finally, Sun’s plan won out and Wang Zaijin was reassigned to Nanjing as Minister of War in the auxiliary administration. Sun was feted by the monarch before he left Beijing and granted the double-edged sword of authority. He reached Shanhaiguan early in the ninth month of 1622. He immediately reviewed the troops, started construction projects, and implemented training programs in the use of firearms. He consulted with Yuan Chonghuan and sent rations and supplies to General Zu Dashou on strategically important Juehua Island. Locals were enlisted in the building projects and military rolls were carefully examined and phantom commanders and soldiers were deleted. Brigades were reorganized into numerically much smaller, but actually real units.73

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 155 For a short time Sun’s plans found favor and his areas of responsibility were increasingly expanded. In mid-1623 he was given additional honorific titles and the emperor sent 100,000 taels in rewards for the men in recognition of Sun’s achievements in restoring discipline and order in the region. But Sun was increasingly isolated at court by supporters of the eunuch Wei Zhongxian and as Jin raids south of the Great Wall persisted and they managed to capture the port city of Lushun in 1625, many came to believe that positional defense and ambushes were the only viable options. The emperor also increasingly trusted only his court eunuchs and started appointing them as army inspectors, a practice his successor would also employ to deleterious effect.74 Nevertheless, despite being impeached by jealous rivals, Sun continued in bolstering the defenses of Ming bases such as Dalinghe. He also called for clarifying the jurisdictions of appointees to frontier posts so as to facilitate quicker unified action in the field.75 Sun retired and was replaced by Gao Di towards the end of 1625.76 Nevertheless, Sun’s actions and efforts paved the way for the subsequent successes of Yuan Chonghuan, as well as Yuan’s clash with Mao Wenlong. Influenced by the aforementioned Korean reports and by other developments, the court urged Mao to relocate his base of operations to Sanshan Island near Lushun, but Mao refused. Mao told the court that relinquishing any more territory would certainly demoralize the people and that it was imperative that multiple fronts be maintained.77 Some of the Ming and Korean sources suggest that Mao was protected by Wei Zhongxian (1568–1627) and his clique at court and that as soon as Wei was ousted, plans were made to liquidate Mao.78 There were also reports, later confirmed, that Mao was encouraging soldiers in his ranks to adopt his surname and consider themselves his private retainers, as opposed to regular Ming troops. It is also clear that Yuan Chonghuan, who was Sun Chengzong’s successor, was becoming increasingly frustrated with Mao’s antics and lack of concrete achievements. There was also the matter of imperial leadership. The Tianqi emperor was mentally incompetent and relied almost entirely on those around him to make virtually all decisions of any consequence. This created an atmosphere at court that was even more factionalized than was already the norm for Ming politics.79 The smallest triumphs were often amplified by officials looking to curry favor with whoever was ascendant at a given moment and the smallest reversals could lead to dismissal or even death. And some officials seeking to steer clear of the dangers of factional affiliation, buried themselves in bureaucratic minutiae, concocting plans that looked good on paper, but were impracticable in the extreme. Meanwhile, even the Ming’s tributary allies were increasingly feeling the pressure exerted by the rising Jurchen threat.

The Korean perspective The situation with Chosŏn Korea was intimately linked to recent historical events. The Ming had sent hundreds of thousands of troops to help repulse a Japanese invasion in the 1590s.80 The war had devastated Korea’s economy and

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infrastructure and although it had also precipitated a series of military reforms, the Chosŏn state was in no condition to fight another major war. The reigning Korean king, known as Kwanghaegun (Lord Kwanghae), had been the crown prince during the war and had been entrusted with rallying popular resistance to the Japanese.81 The Koreans were very leery of the Jin and Mao Wenlong, because Mao’s aggressive adventures seemed to be provoking Jin incursions into Korea, since Mao often retreated into Korean territory. The Korean court was divided as to how to walk the tightrope between the Jin and the Ming. On the one hand, many officials felt that the very existence of Chosŏn had been preserved by virtue of the Ming intervention and that they owed it to the Ming to offer whatever help they could, including any aid requested by Mao Wenlong as the court’s designated military official. Others argued that the Ming had brought as much trouble as assistance to Chosŏn and that the war with the Jin was a Ming affair that should not involve the Koreans if at all possible. Kwanghaegun hoped to keep the channels of communication open with the Ming while also coming to some sort of accommodation with the Latter Jin. For their part, Jin envoys to Korea argued that they wanted to establish friendly, neighborly relations with Chosŏn, but were prevented by the Ming.82 But, as in China, factional politics intervened and Kwanghaegun was deposed and exiled, being replaced by King Injo (r. 1623–1649) in 1623. Injo’s supporters urged the new king to adopt a more pro-Ming policy and the king accordingly severed negotiations with the Jin.83 This, of course, meant working more closely with Mao Wenlong. Actually many Korean officials still distrusted Mao, but they figured that if they made a concerted effort to help him, they could find out where he really stood. Furthermore, given the increasing pressure Mao was putting on Chosŏn to supply his armies, they hoped they might at least see some tangible results for their efforts. Before long, Korean reports to the throne again criticized Mao, charging that most of his reports to the Ming court were exaggerated and that while claiming to fight the Jin, in fact his men generally stayed on the islands and never even bothered to send spies into Jin territory. The Koreans said that Mao’s army of 26,000 consumed at least 100,000 liang of rations per year, but without really achieving anything.84 But when they sent their own reports to the Ming court, Mao countered by sending in Jurchen heads and other evidence of his great deeds.85 As a result, Mao continued to receive honors and commendations from the Ming court. Still, some in Beijing apparently believed the Korean reports and after the accession of Chongzhen in 1628, they sent their own representative to Pidao. This official concluded that Mao was indeed intent on rebelling, confirming Korean allegations that Mao was considering attacking Shandong, possibly with Jin assistance. Mao then executed two leaks in his organization and sent a messenger to the Koreans, protesting his innocence.86 The Koreans remained certain that Mao was no longer acting on behalf of the Ming, but they were also unsure as to whether he was acting in concert with the Jin, or independently.87 Additionally, the Koreans were cognizant of the fact that Mao had originally been stationed in Bohai to make sure the Koreans did not submit to the Jin so

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 157 they were wary of antagonizing him, lest he report their actions to the Ming court.88 Mao also told the king that his actions in quelling local unrest were instrumental in allowing Injo to take the throne, so he’d best continue to help Mao. The Koreans replied that the 20,000 troops Mao dispatched to put down bandits arrived late, and since the king had received his investiture seals from the Ming court itself, how could Mao claim credit?89 But now there were other problems, as tens of thousands were fleeing towards Mao and Korea from the Jin in the wake of Nurhaci’s death in 1626. Mao demanded more supplies from the Koreans to feed these refugees and a special tax was established by the Korean court to help raise the needed grain.90 As of 1626, the Koreans had sent Mao some 140,000 dan of provisions, but he still claimed he was short and needed more.91 This in turn impelled Mao to invite merchants to set up markets on his islands to cover his shortfalls. Mao offered all merchants willing to trade his military protection. He also attempted to produce his own coinage with metals extracted from Korea, asking the Chosŏn court to send fewer tributary missions to the Ming, while endeavoring to create a maritime trade monopoly of his own.92 This illicit trading, at least in the eyes of the Ming court, would be considered one of Mao’s major crimes.93 Mao also tried to establish tuntian in the environs of Ŭiju and on his islands.94 Jung Byol-chul suggests that under Mao’s direction, Pidao became a thriving international entrepot, though ginseng prices rose in both Korea and China.95 Indeed, Mao even welcomed Jin traders to Pidao, a fact which enraged the Ming court. Products traded there included textiles, handicrafts, furs, ginseng, and even military supplies like saltpeter, sulphur, and weapons.96 Yet Mao’s troops still raided the Korean mainland for supplies and the “bones of the starving piled up like a mountain” on Pidao, despite Mao’s efforts.97 The Mingshi notes that Mao’s men survived by dealing in cloths.98 The situation would be exacerbated by Yuan Chonghuan’s later decision to funnel supplies through his own base and curtail deliveries to Pidao, in large part because Yuan questioned what Mao was doing with all the supplies he had been receiving. Furthermore, Nurhaci’s successor, Hong Taiji (d. 1643), favored a more aggressive policy towards Korea for supporting Mao Wenlong and aiding the Ming cause. Although Hong Taiji apparently knew that his father had opened discussions with Mao, he was wary of Mao’s allegiances, and loath to trust him. Mao seemed to be a serious threat in that he could attack the Jin flank by land or sea. Therefore he launched an invasion of Korea in February 1627, which eventually resulted in the establishment of an elder brother-younger brother tributary relationship with Chosŏn.99 Soon thereafter, Hong Taiji struck at the Ming city of Ningyuan, but was beaten back by Yuan Chonghuan, to whom we shall return shortly. When the Jin invaded, Mao’s men supposedly pulled back to their islands and then allegedly came back to the mainland after the Jin pulled out, raiding and looting the homes of commoners, even taking some 3000–4000 captive and sending them to the Ming court as captured Jurchens.100 These actions exposed Mao’s duplicity and uselessness to the Koreans and ingrained in their minds the

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notion that it was Mao himself who provoked the Jin invasion.101 This in turn led some at the Korean court to more forcefully advocate cutting ties with Mao and with the Ming entirely, though a peace treaty concluded with the Jin in 1627 was never fully honored by the Koreans. In the wake of the Jin invasion of Korea and with all manner of rumors swirling around him, Mao decided to pay a visit to Dengzhou, where he might discuss military affairs and clear the air. Mao led forty boats to the port and visited a local temple where be burned some incense. But the presence of so many soldiers along with Mao clearly suggested to many that this was a show of force. Yuan was not pleased with this response and he sent Mao away. Given that Wei Zhongxian was now dead and Yuan Chonghuan was in favor at court, it seems likely that Mao was testing the political waters. Additionally, a new emperor had come to the throne in the form of Chongzhen (r. 1628–1644) and he had made it clear that his first order of business was to purge factions from the court in part to strengthen the frontier.102 It also appears that Mao may have overplayed his hand because he had already started his own discussions with the Jurchens.

Mao’s negotiations with the Latter Jin As noted above, Manchu and Korean sources suggest that Mao Wenlong had been negotiating with the Latter Jin as early as 1622. But Nurhaci died before any concrete agreements could be completed. Hong Taiji did not trust Mao, so he broke off talks and launched an invasion of Korea with the aim of securing his flank and cutting Mao off from valuable supplies. But after he was turned back at Ningyuan in the summer of 1627, Hong Taiji realized that he still lacked the strength he needed to fully engage the Ming. Plus, the Jin were still short on supplies and hampered by refugees fleeing their rule into the arms of Mao Wenlong. So they decided to open talks with Mao again. Apparently an envoy dispatched by Mao himself was executed, but the Jin then sent an envoy of their own to explain the situation.103 By late 1628 Mao realized that his tenure as absolute ruler of Pidao was in jeopardy. His support at court seemed to be dwindling and the Koreans were becoming increasingly resistant to his bullying tactics. So in the eleventh month of 1628 Mao sent more representatives to the Jin khan, talking of the mutual profits they could enjoy by allying. Rumors of these talks reached Beijing, but Mao continued to vociferously deny the charges.104 For his part, Hong Taiji still distrusted Mao and was reluctant to commit to a full-scale alliance. One entry from the Injo sillok even suggests that Mao proposed entering into marriage relations (heqin) with the Jin ruler.105 But even though they had regular communications between 1627 and 1628, no formal treaties were ever proposed or concluded. Mao’s defenders understandably downplayed or contradicted any evidence of his disloyalty, stressing instead his victories and role as a thorn in the side of the Jin. Wu Guohua argued that Yuan Chonghuan simply came to resent Mao’s independent authority and the great responsibility Mao was entrusted with on the frontier. The fact that Yuan divided Mao’s military forces into four separate

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 159 units after killing him demonstrates how jealous Yuan was of centralized authority other than his own, according to Wu.106 Wu further dismissed rumors that Mao wanted to seize Nanjing and administer it as a vassal of the Jin as utterly groundless. Wu added that Yuan Chonghuan benefited from powerful friends at court and that the real reason Mao was executed was because the efficacy of his operations was undermining the efforts of Yuan’s own secret peace negotiations with the Jin.107 Admitting that there were many questions concerning talks with the Jin from all quarters, Wu lamented that Mao’s premature death had made it impossible for everyone involved to present their sides of the story. Wu further lambasted Yuan for not only failing in his pledge to recover Liaodong in five years, but also for groveling in addressing Hong Taiji as khan, when in fact he should have been regarded as no more than a rebellious chieftain.108 Wu then countered Yuan’s enumeration of Mao’s crimes with his own list of ten crimes committed by Yuan himself. For example, despite the fact that he had charged Mao with illicit trading from Pidao, Yuan himself had allegedly marketed grain to the caitiffs. He was also repeatedly tardy in answering Jin raids and in distributing famine relief. Even when the Jin chiefs “planted their felt tents just outside his city,” Yuan never assembled an army, but just cowered behind his fortress walls.109 In some instances Yuan maintained that he lacked sufficient manpower, yet in others he abandoned entire cities without firing a single arrow. So, concluded Wu Guohua, it was only fitting that Yuan was publicly dismembered.110 The Qing writer Chen Yushu also defended Mao Wenlong in his Houle tangji, comparing Mao to the late Ming general and adventurer Zuo Liangyu (1598–1645), who was regarded as a Ming loyalist despite the fact that he despoiled the southern capital of Nanjing for a year in the dynasty’s waning days.111 While acknowledging that Mao was guilty of insubordinate behavior and illegally opening markets, Chen maintained that there was no evidence Mao had dealings with the Jin, an assertion that is countered by Jin and Korean records, as noted above. Echoing the sentiments of Wu Guohua, Chen Yushu suggested that Yuan had wanted to kill Mao for some time due to his desire for unfettered control of frontier defenses.112 Mao hated the oversight of civil officials, whom he considered to be incompetent. Therefore he acted as he saw fit. According to Chen, this behavior prompted Grand Secretary Qian Longxi and Yuan Chonghuan to concoct the plot to assassinate Mao. Chen also noted that, rightly or wrongly, Mao was associated with the Wei Zhongxian faction so his assassination may have been part of the general reckoning that took place in the early years of Chongzhen’s reign.113

Yuan Chonghuan’s perspective Before turning to the account of the execution of Mao itself, it is worth briefly looking at Yuan Chonghuan’s earlier career and his appraisal of the strategic situation so as to establish the context in which he decided to take his drastic action. According to his Mingshi biography, Yuan was a native of Guangdong

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who earned his jinshi degree in 1619. He was valiant, courageous, and vigorous and liked talking about war.114 After the debacles of Sarhu and Guangning, Yuan was entrusted with defending Shanhaiguan in 1622, where, as noted above, he worked with Sun Chengzong among others. Though he initially ran afoul of factions at court, Yuan said that if properly paid and given the necessary support, he alone could defend the pass. The officials at court were suitably impressed with his bearing and Yuan was made an acting military commissioner in charge of supervising Ming armies outside the pass and given 200,000 ounces of gold floral silver with which to recruit mercenaries.115 In general, with the assistance of competent military commanders such as Zu Dashou and Man Gui, Yuan was able to maintain a more aggressive stance in Liaodong and Manchuria and stem the tide of the Jin advance. Early on he even advocated advancing to Jinzhou and using it as a forward base, but he was checked by Grand Secretary Sun Chengzong, though Sun was not entirely opposed to more aggressive action either, as we have seen. But soon thereafter in 1624, the Ming were able to take Ningyuan. This enabled Sun and Yuan to implement some of their plans and demonstrate the potential of a graduated forward strategy.116 At this juncture some at court argued that the armies should pull back, but Yuan vigorously protested, saying, In the art of war you advance, not retreat. Three cities have already been recovered; we can’t lightly cast them away! If these places are disturbed, everything will fall apart and we won’t be able to hold the passes. Now if we select a capable general to guard them, certainly we won’t need to deliberate further.117 Nonetheless, Sun Chengzong’s replacement was opposed to Yuan’s “forward policy” and ordered Yuan to abandon these cities. Yuan flatly refused, saying, “I have been entrusted with the defense of the Ningqian region. Should I need to, I’ll die for it, but I certainly won’t abandon it!”118 It was shortly after this that Yuan rallied the local populace and repulsed the Jin assault in 1626, inflicting tremendous damage on the Jin attackers with his great Western style cannons that were mounted along the city’s walls.119 The court was overjoyed upon hearing this news, as they figured Ningyuan had been lost, and Yuan was the new golden boy of Beijing, being promoted to Censor-in-Chief of the Right.120 It was at this time and possibly in response to Yuan’s victory, that the Jin began stepping up their pressure on the Ming forces in the Bohai gulf and in Korea. Yuan was unable to send assistance as speedily as he would have liked and policy debates in Beijing continued to hamper the overall Ming war effort. Yuan, however, received further promotions and grew increasingly power hungry and overbearing according to his official biographers, often bickering with former close associates like Man Gui. Viewed in this light, it is easy to see how Yuan might have come to resent Mao Wenlong’s continued popularity at court and his freedom of action. Yuan believed that he was the best person for recovering Liaodong and Mao’s adventures were siphoning away precious funds

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 161 with no real results. Yuan advocated a mixed strategy of offense and defense that involved the gradual incorporation of territory from Ningyuan and Lushun. Promoted yet again, Yuan still urged a cautious approach, telling the court that the Ming strength lay in defending fortified bastions with cannon rather than engaging the Jurchens in the wild. Meanwhile, Mao Wenlong’s reckless adventures had provoked a Jin invasion of Korea and threatened to undermine Yuan’s whole strategy. Since the Koreans asked for help, the court told Mao to dispatch troops. He sent about 9000 relief troops by land, but hearing the Koreans had already reached an agreement with the Jin, they were recalled.121 The upshot of the Jin invasion of Korea was that still more power was invested in Yuan Chonghuan. Yuan thought that he could still launch offensive operations, but he also dispatched negotiators to meet with Jin representatives, unbeknownst to the court. Yuan wanted to restore old boundaries and buy some time for war preparations, but the Jin protested that Mao Wenlong and the Koreans were aggravating the situation. Yuan told the court he wished to establish a firm boundary at the Liao River so as to protect the locals and their livelihoods. Once they realized the stability offered by the Ming compared to the Jin, the people would naturally identify with the Ming. Before long, however, Yuan was attacked by Wei Zhongxian’s clique and he asked to retire, eventually being replaced by Wang Zhichen. When a minister memorialized on Yuan’s behalf, his request was ignored. With Chongzhen’s accession to the throne, Yuan Chonghuan was reappointed as Censor-in-Chief of the Right with supervisory jurisdiction in the Ministry of War. He was subsequently given supreme command of military affairs in the Northeast.122 In a meeting with the emperor Yuan boldly proclaimed that he could recover all of Liaodong in just five years if he could just implement his old plan. Yuan noted that people there were starving and fleeing the Jin. Therefore he proposed “using the people of Liaodong to defend Liaodong and the land of Liaodong to nourish the people.”123 He then stressed the importance of unified action between capital and border officials. Chongzhen was suitably impressed and gave Yuan many expensive gifts after investing him with command authority. Upon returning to the front, Yuan immediately executed some men for secretly negotiating with the enemy. He also turned his attentions towards Mao Wenlong, telling Mao he wanted to get a better sense of Mao’s troop strength and supply needs so that they could better coordinate their actions. Mao staunchly resisted Yuan’s directives, complaining that he had but 28,000 serviceable troops and that many of these were on the verge of starvation.124 Meanwhile, a former Jin bannerman named Wang Zideng provided Yuan with information concerning Mao’s secret negotiations with the Jin. Wang suggested to Yuan that he kill Mao to prevent him from rebelling.125 Given Yuan’s penchant for consolidating authority in his own hands, it can be surmised that Wang’s suggestion was readily received, even if there was compelling evidence that Mao was in fact treating with the enemy. Yuan resolved to act fast, before Mao might suspect him.

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The execution of Mao Wenlong Yuan finally resolved to pay Mao Wenlong a visit in the fifth month of 1629. Bringing along a significant contingent of his personal troops, Yuan was greeted by an impressive retinue in twenty-eight boats and treated to wine by Mao Wenlong.126 Yuan tried to once again talk Mao into relocating closer to the Ming base of operations and come back into the fold. Mao protested, saying, “Only I know what is happening in the east. Although Korea appears outwardly weak, secretly they can help us.”127 Yuan was displeased by this answer and he sent Mao away. The next day Yuan started distributing supplies and cash rewards to Mao’s troops for their “loyal” service. He then witnessed an impressive demonstration of Ming cannon. Climbing to the top of the island’s cliffs, Yuan remarked that the place looked like a painting and said that he wished to set his camp up atop the hills. There were heavy storms that night and the island was shrouded in fog the next morning. The waves pounded the rocky island for the duration of the next day and winds whipped across its peaks, giving the place an eerie semblance of a bone yard according to one account.128 Yuan then took tours of all the islets in the vicinity of Pidao, pointing out local landmarks. At the Temple of the Dragon King, Yuan addressed the troops about the region’s significance in the founding of the Ming dynasty and stressed how the territory lost to the Jin had to be recovered by land and sea. He then gave the assembled commanders food and drink again.129 Yuan met with Mao again the next morning. Mao was very deferential in this meeting and the two enjoyed tea and snacks as they talked over defense matters. In this meeting Yuan again emphasized the need for Mao to work with his fellow commanders and stressed the importance of maximizing limited supplies. He was very concerned that Mao refused to recognize these facts. Mao replied, Wenlong has been overseas for eight years and accumulated many achievements. Just because some petty person starts spreading rumors, don’t forget that the food and the money that have reached me have been insufficient and that I’m also short on weapons and mounts. I haven’t been able to accomplish all that I’ve desired. If I’d gotten what I requested once or twice, then I certainly could have helped achieve these goals; it wouldn’t be hard at all.130 At this, Yuan bowed and left Mao’s tent. The next day Yuan doled out more gifts and watched Mao’s men perform a halberd display. The two had more secret talks that night. The following day Mao invited Yuan for tea again, but was clearly uneasy, perhaps because Yuan was once more handing out cash to Mao’s soldiers.131 After announcing that he would continue to oversee western defenses while Mao handled things in the east, Yuan invited Mao to watch an archery display on top of the hill. Mao assented and followed Yuan up to the top of the hill. Once there, Yuan started asking the officers their surnames. As they kept answering “Mao,” Yuan found this quite curious. He then asked them how they could complain about rations

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 163 when they had been sent ample supplies from Ningyuan? He commiserated with their bitterness and suffering on the distant isle, noting how they had given their strength for the state and yet somehow had not received their rations. This was truly lamentable, sympathized Yuan. At this point the men all started weeping and bowed before Yuan. Yuan then turned to Mao Wenlong and berated him about squandering funds without really overseeing all he had been entrusted with, concluding, “Where has all the money we sent you from Ningyuan gone?”132 Mao protested that he had been absolutely sincere and loyal, but Yuan said that Mao had shown the fierce heart of a wolf and that everything he said was basically a lie. Yuan added, “You can still look me in the eye, but how can you resist the imposition of national law as imposed by the sagacious Son of Heaven as derived from Heaven with brave martiality?”133 As Yuan finished talking, he bowed to the west in acknowledgment of the kingly mandate as several guards grabbed Mao and forced him to the ground, taking his cap off. Mao resisted and Yuan addressed him again, saying, You were given the authority of a general. But now you, Mao Wenlong, have treacherously raised yourself to the level of a lord, amassed soldiers, siphoned off rations, slaughtered the refugees of Liaodong, despoiled Korea, harassed Denglai, carried out illicit commerce, looted and plundered commoners’ boats, changed people’s names, and violated the people’s sons and daughters. These are the crimes for which you will be put to death.134 Mao was rendered speechless at first, but then kowtowed and pleaded for his life. Yuan then turned to the assembled commanders and asked if any disagreed with the charges and whether or not Mao should be put to death. Yuan added, “If you don’t think I should kill him, then you may come forward and kill me.”135 The assembled officers lost color and kowtowed to Yuan as well, but did not respond. So Yuan yelled at them again, saying, “Wenlong wears the robes of an official of the third grade and enjoys hereditary privileges, and yet these rewards are so insufficient that he has treated with the enemy?”136 Mao remained silent, but someone else said, “Wenlong has committed crimes so he should die, but we ask the honorable supreme commander for lenience.”137 Yuan replied, “You don’t understand dynastic law. If I don’t kill you [Wenlong] then this land doesn’t belong to the emperor!”138 Yuan then bowed to the west and asked for a double-edged sword. He decapitated Mao in front of his tent and turned to the other officers and said, “The punishment was only for Wenlong. The rest of you have committed no crimes.”139 The soldiers were understandably agitated, but Yuan summoned their officers to his quarters and explained that he was only charged with executing Mao so as to stabilize the troops and succor the people overseas, because sometimes it was necessary to kill people in order to bring peace. Yuan assured the commanders that they would be restored to their old ranks and surnames and he would report to the court that they had done nothing wrong.140 Yuan then divided the 28,000

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troops of Mao Wenlong into four wings, the central one under the command of Mao’s son, Mao Chenglu. He then disbursed another 100,000 liang of silver, giving each soldier about three liang.141 Yuan also bowed before Mao’s coffin and offered felicitations, saying, “Yesterday I killed you by the order of the emperor; this was in accordance with the Court’s law, but today I offer you oblations and this is in accordance with my own personal feelings.”142 Both Yuan and the assembled commanders then wept mournfully. Yuan spent two more days on the island and then departed for Ningyuan. In his report to the Korean court, Yuan echoed similar sentiments, saying he needed to “properly establish the emperor’s awesomeness,” adding, “If we can’t pacify internal bandits, how can we hope to quell the barbarians?”143 Yuan admitted that while there was no doubt that Mao had been a talented commander, he had come to see himself as an island king and regarded only himself as great. This was on top of his engaging in illicit trade and expropriation of military funds. Yuan continued by noting that in the ten years since he had taken Zhenjiang, Mao had done nothing to aid in the recapture of Liaodong, but instead had everyone call him lord, and even made his officers adopt his surname. On top of this, he had kidnapped people, stolen food and cash crops, and killed refugees, not to mention trafficked in goods with the Jurchens.144 It was only because of the penetrating gaze of the Son of Heaven that Yuan was able to unmask Mao and put an end to his nefarious plots. But while they shed no tears for Mao, the Koreans were concerned that Mao’s death might actually bring more instability to the region, which is exactly what happened.145 Of course the emperor had not authorized Mao’s execution, and when Yuan returned from the front, he was brought before Chongzhen to answer for his actions. Yuan told the emperor that Mao was engaged in unlawful activities and overseas trading, causing chaos in the region. Moreover, he had a large following that could have become dangerous. But now Yuan had managed to divide these forces and rein them in. Chongzhen seemed mollified and asked how they would feed the extra troops. Yuan responded that they could be supported in Liaodong. The emperor doubted him, citing rising military costs, but reminded Yuan that the matter was in his hands. But Yuan had earned only a temporary reprieve. Shortly thereafter, the Jin managed to break through Longjinguan and Da’ankou and reached the outskirts of the capital region before they were intercepted by Yuan’s forces. Former partisans of Wei Zhongxian and Mao Wenlong now took the opportunity to impeach Yuan, accusing him of collaborating with the enemy and failing to act speedily in battle. Yuan was arrested and tossed into jail. More charges of treason and collaboration followed, some spread by eunuchs who actually were collaborating with the Manchus, and Yuan was sentenced to death. He was dismembered in the marketplace in the eighth month of 1630.146 It was said that the outraged populace of Beijing fought over scraps of Yuan flesh. His family was sent into exile and as he had no sons, Yuan’s legacy was effectively over. Later, however, Yuan would become extolled as a paragon of righteous Han nationalism, foolishly slain by a micro-managing, shortsighted monarch.147

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 165 But from his own perspective, Chongzhen needed a fall guy for the recent Jin penetration of Ming defenses and assault on the environs of Beijing. As was his wont, Chongzhen was loath to take any of the responsibility for Ming failures. Yuan, like all officials, was expendable.148 History proved to be kinder to Yuan than his ruler had been. Eventually a shrine to Yuan’s memory would be erected in Longtan Park in southeastern Beijing, as would memorials to Yuan’s exploits in other places around the country.149 Ironically Yuan’s executioner, the Chongzhen emperor, would die ignominiously by his own hand, hanging himself as peasant rebels entered Beijing in the spring of 1644.

Conclusion The saga of Mao Wenlong reveals a number of important things about civil–military relations and the role of imperial leadership in the late Ming dynasty. The Ming court was a veritable hornet’s nest and virtually no one escaped un-stung. The situation was exacerbated by the incompetence of Tianqi and the mercurial temperament of Chongzhen. The latter possibly had the mental capacity to properly manage civil–military relations and become an effective supreme commander of the empire’s military forces. But he lacked the force of will and clarity of vision to lead his generals and civil officials in defense of the realm. On the one hand, Chongzhen was paranoid and fearful of even the semblance of factions. But on the other hand, he was often gullible and willing to listen to and adopt all manner of harebrained schemes. In the end he proved unable to separate the wheat from the chaff when it came to choosing competent officials and his unwillingness to accept responsibility for failures or to tolerate even minor setbacks among his commanders (in part because he feared criticism) meant that he had little chance of saving his dynasty. More immediately within the context of Ming defense strategies, the deaths of Mao Wenlong and Yuan Chonghuan signaled the end of a more active forward strategy on the part of the Ming. Seizing his opportunity, Hong Taiji laid siege to the Ming fortress at Dalinghe in 1631. Along with its neighboring fortresses of Xiaolinghe, Songshan and Jinzhou, Dalinghe was key to retaining the forward Ming position and acted as a thorn in the side of the Jurchens. So, after yet more acrimonious debates at court, the Ming decided to go forward with bolstering Dalinghe’s defenses. In fact, it was Jurchen fears over these actions that provoked their assault on the fortress.150 Jin pressure stepped up in the eighth month of 1631 and Dalinghe’s defenders, Zu Dashou and He Kegang, waited for reinforcements in increasing desperation. Unfortunately for them, the relief column under General Wu Xiang was routed. Valiant breakout efforts were also thwarted and the commanders eventually decided to turn the city over to the enemy after a siege of several months. While He Kegang died fighting, Zu Dashou and some twenty-nine family members and retainers surrendered alive pledging to help the Jin take Jinzhou, a promise which they reneged upon as they returned their allegiance to the Ming.151 In the wake of the loss of Dalinghe, the court would vacillate between strategies in the northeast, repeatedly

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appointing and dismissing high officials and grand coordinators, but never recovering the momentum they enjoyed in the late 1620s. The final forward outposts of Songshan and Jinzhou would fall in a series of epic sieges in 1641–1642.152 Turning to the broader regional significance of these events, Mao Wenlong’s exploits are also a testament to the fluidity of borders and boundaries in Northeast Asia in the early seventeenth century. Mao was able to take advantage of disorder to carve out a sphere of influence for himself, even aspiring to a position of regional maritime hegemony. In the process he ran up against the interests of three competing states: Ming China, Chosŏn Korea, and the Latter Jin in Manchuria. In addition to their active and passive resistance, Mao was constrained by the region’s relative poverty, not to mention the devastation wreaked by the actions of both his enemies and his own troops. Finally, the crimes with which Mao was charged reflect the continuing Ming concern over retaining primacy in the East Asian world order. Whether actually sanctioned by Chongzhen or not, Yuan Chonghuan’s assertion to the Korean king that he killed Mao in order to impress upon the troops the reach of the emperor’s awesomeness is a telling statement indeed. Yuan was effectively demonstrating the reach of the emperor’s information networks to his own forces and showing the Jin that the Ming had the ability to conduct far-flung military operations, even though, as it turned out, Yuan was never able to implement his plans for retaking Liaodong. As for the larger international repercussions of the execution of Mao, they were far flung indeed, though perhaps not as cut and dried as suggested by the editors of the Mingshi, who observe, “First Chonghuan ignorantly killed Wenlong, then the emperor foolishly killed Chonghuan. From the time of Chonghuan’s death there was no one who could deal with border affairs and the fate of the Ming was decided.”153 It now seems clear that Mao Wenlong was guilty of treason, though it also seems that Yuan Chonghuan had his own agendas, which exacerbated matters. But even had both not been summarily executed, the Ming would have been hard pressed to solve their military problems. As should be evident from the present discussion, the two greatest obstacles facing the late Ming military were factionalism at court and the absence of a forceful emperor with interest and competence in military affairs. Unfortunately for the Ming, their Jin foes were blessed with the latter and he had the acumen and charisma to overcome the former problem.

Notes 1 For a brief biography of Li, see Arthur O. Hummel, Eminent Chinese of the Ch’ing Period, 2 vols. (Washington, DC: Library of Congress, 1943), pp. 491–493. Hereafter cited as ECCP. For a recent biography of Li in Chinese, see Xie Chengren, Li Zicheng xinzhuan (Beijing: Beijing tushuguan chubanshe, 2007). For a full discussion of the late Ming peasant rebellions in English, see James Bunyan Parsons, Peasant Rebellions of the Late Ming Dynasty repr. (Ann Arbor: Association for Asian Studies, 1993).

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 167 2 See the summary of these activities in Zhao Erxun et al. (comps.), Qingshigao, 4 vols. (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1997), pp. 6–9. Hereafter cited as QSG. Also see Ji Liuqi, Mingji beilüe, 2 vols. (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1984), pp. 1–7. Hereafter cited as MJBL. 3 See Hou Jin xi Ming Wanli huangdi wen in Li Hongbin and Sun Fanming (comps.), Qing ruguan qian shiliao xuanji, 2 vols. (Beijing: Zhongguo renmin daxue, 1984), pp. 289–296. 4 For details on this uprising, see Kenneth M. Swope, “To Catch a Tiger: The Suppression of the Yang Yinglong Miao Uprising (1587–1600) as a Case Study in Ming Military and Borderlands History,” in Kenneth R. Hall and Michael Aung Thwin (eds.), New Perspectives on the History and Historiography of Southeast Asia (London: Routledge, 2011), pp. 112–140. 5 This work was later appended to a collection of Mao Wenlong’s memorials compiled by his son, Mao Chengdou. See Wu Guohua, Dongjiang kewen, as appended to Mao Chengdou (comp.), Dongjiang shujie tangbao jiechao (Hangzhou: Zhejiang guji chubanshe, 1986), pp. 139–145. This modern edition also includes Wu Qian’s Dongjiang yishi, a late Qing collection of materials about Mao. For historiographic details on these sources, see Lynn A. Struve, The Ming-Qing Conflict, 1619–1683: A Historiography and Source Guide (Ann Arbor: Association for Asian Studies, 1998), pp. 182–183. 6 See Wu Guohua in Mao Chengdou, Dongjiang shujie tangbao jiechao, p. 139. 7 Ibid., p. 140. 8 See Zhang Tingyu et al. (comps.), Mingshi, 12 vols. (Taibei: Dingwen shuju, 1994), p. 6713. Hereafter cited as MS. 9 See the discussion in Li Guangtao, “Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” in Ming-Qing Dang’an lunwenji (Taibei: Lianjing chuban shiye gongsi, 1986), p. 163. 10 See Tan Qian, Guoque, 10 vols. (Taibei: Dingwen shuju, 1978), p. 5544. Hereafter cited as GQ. 11 Chen Shengxi, “Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” Shehui kexue jikan, 25.2 (1983), p. 121. 12 MJBL, p. 16. 13 Ibid., pp. 16–17. 14 Ibid., p. 17. 15 MS, p. 23. 16 See Yang Sichang, Yang Sichang ji, 2 vols. (Changsha: Yuelu shushe, 2008), pp. 8–13. Hereafter cited as YSJ. For a biography of Yang, see L. Carrington Goodrich and Chaoying Fang (eds.), Dictionary of Ming Biography, 2 vols. (New York: Columbia University Press, 1976), pp. 1538–1542. Hereafter cited as DMB. For details on his campaigns against the Ming peasant rebels, see Kenneth M. Swope, “Of Bureaucrats and Bandits: Confucianism and Antirebel Strategy at the End of the Ming Dynasty,” in Wayne E. Lee (ed.), Warfare and Culture (Albany: SUNY Press, 2011), pp. 61–89. 17 YSJ, p. 24. 18 Ibid., p. 25. 19 Ibid., p. 25. 20 Ibid., p. 25. 21 Ibid., p. 25. 22 Ibid., p. 34. Cost estimates included support staff like craftsmen and weapon makers. See ibid., pp. 40–41. 23 Ibid., p. 41. 24 Ibid., pp. 41–42. 25 Ibid., p. 49. In another memorial Yang estimated that only 40 percent of raised funds were actually reaching the troops. See ibid., pp. 55–56. 26 Ibid., p. 56.

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40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

66 67

K. M. Swope Ibid., pp. 60–61. MJBL, pp. 23–24. Ibid., pp. 24–25. Ibid., p. 24. MS, p. 298, and MJBL, p. 25. For a biography of Yuan, see ECCP, p. 957. MJBL, p. 25. Ibid., p. 27. Ibid., pp. 28–29. MS, p. 298. Ibid., pp. 298–299. Ibid., p. 299. See Li Guangtao, “Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” p. 165. On the importance of the sea lanes of Bohai in military terms, see Jung Byol-chul, “Late Ming Island Bases, Military Posts, and Sea Routes in the Offshore Area of Liaodong,” in Angela Schottenhammer and Roderich Ptak (eds.), The Perception of Maritime Space in Traditional Chinese Sources (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2006), pp. 41–43. MJBL, p. 32. For a brief biography of Xiong, see ECCP, p. 308. See Li Guangtao, “Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” pp. 165–166. For a short biography of Wang Huazhen, see ECCP, p. 823. See MJBL, pp. 32–33. On the rivalry between Wang and Xiong, see Li Guangtao,“Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” pp. 166–170, and MJBL, pp. 35–36. Li Guangtao, “Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” p. 163. Mao Chengdou, Dongjiang shujie tangbao jiechao, pp. 5–6. See Li Guangtao, “Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” p. 167. See the memorials in Mao Chengdou, Dongjiang shujie tangbao jiechao, pp. 7–9. Mao claimed he liberated some 40,000 refugees when he took Zhenjiang. See Chen Shengxi, “Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” p. 121, and Li Shanhong, “Shilun Mao Wenlong yu Chaoxian de guanxi,” in Shixue jikan, 2 (1996), p. 34. Li Guangtao, “Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” p. 174. Chen Shengxi,“Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” p. 121. See Li Guangtao, “Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” p. 175. Chen Shengxi, “Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” p. 121. MJBL, pp. 32–33. Ibid., p. 33. See the discussion in Frederic Wakeman, Jr., The Great Enterprise, 2 vols. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), pp. 66–69. Mao Chengdou, Dongjiang shujie tangbao jiechao, pp. 12–13. Ibid., p. 15. Ibid., p. 15. Ibid., p. 16. Ibid., p. 110. See ibid., pp. 16, 109. See Li Guangtao, “Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” pp. 177–178. Chen Shengxi, “Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” p. 122. MS, p. 300 and Cai Ding, Sun Gaoyang xiansheng qianhou dushi lüeba in Yu Hao (comp.), Ming-Qing shiliao congshu xubian, 18 vols. (Beijing: Guojia tushuguan chubanshe, 2009), vol. 6, p. 576. For a brief biography of Sun, see ECCP, pp. 670–671. For a traditional chronological biography (nianpu), see Sun Quan (comp.), Gaoyang taizhuan Sun Wenzheng gong nianpu, in Yu Hao (comp.), Mingdai mingren nianpu, 12 vols. (Beijing: Bejing tushuguan chubanshe, 2006), vol. 10, pp. 1–392. Cai Ding, Sun Gaoyang xiansheng, p. 577. See Sun Quan, Gaoyang taizhuan, p. 120.

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 169 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79

80 81 82 83

84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102

Ibid., pp. 121–122. Ibid., p. 128. Ibid., pp. 133–138. Ibid., pp. 144–146. Ibid., pp. 146–147. Ibid., pp. 161–162. Ibid., pp. 189–193. See Cai Ding, Sun Gaoyang xiansheng, pp. 583–586. MS, p. 303. Chen Shengxi, “Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” p. 122. Wu Guohua in Mao Chengdou, Dongjiang shujie tangbao jiechao, p. 140. On Mao’s relationship with Wei, see Li Guangtao, “Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” pp. 182–187. For a more sympathetic recent biography of Emperor Tianqi that gives him a greater degree of agency than most traditional sources, see Lin Jinshu and Gao Shouxian, Tianqi huangdi dazhuan (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui chubanshe, 2008). For a brief account of factionalism and the so-called “eunuch party” at the Tianqi court, see Yan Chongnian, Ming wan Qing xingliu shinian, 2 vols. (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2006), vol. 1, pp. 229–238. For a full treatment of this war, see Kenneth M. Swope, A Dragon’s Head and a Serpent’s Tail: Ming China and the First Great East Asian War, 1592–1598 (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2009). For a biography of Kwanghae, see DMB, pp. 1591–1594. Li Shanhong, “Shilun Mao WenlongyuChaoxian de guanxi,” p. 35. On the relationship between factional politics, the coup, and the Jin invasion of Korea, see James Palais, Confucian Statecraft and Korean Institutions: Yu Hyongwon and the Late Chosŏn Dynasty (Seattle: University of Washington Press 1996), pp. 92–101. See Yan Chongnian and Yu Sanle (comps.), Yuan Chonghuan ziliao jilu, 2 vols. (Nanning: Guangxi minzuchubanshe, 1984), vol. 1, p. 164, which is taken from the Injosillok. Li Shanhong, “Shilun Mao Wenlong yu Chaoxian de guanxi,” p. 36. Chen Shengxi, “Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” p. 122. Yan Chongnian and Yu Sanle, Yuan Chonghuan ziliao, vol. 1, p. 161. Chen Shengxi, “Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” p. 123. Li Shanhong, “Shilun Mao Wenlong yu Chaoxian de guanxi,” p. 38. See James Palais, Confucian Statecraft, p. 789. Li Shanhong, “Shilun Mao Wenlong yu Chaoxian de guanxi,” p. 36. Some sources say he received as much as 260,000 dan of supplies from the Koreans in total. See Jung, p. 47. See Mao Chengdou, Dongjiang shujie tangbao jiechao, pp. 78–80, and Jung Byolchul, “Late Ming Island Bases,” p. 47. See GQ, p. 5486. Jung Byol-chul, “Late Ming Island Bases,” p. 46. Ibid., p. 48. MS, p. 6715. Li Shanhong, “Shilun Mao Wenlong yu Chaoxian de guanxi,” p. 37. MS, p. 6716. Chen Shengxi, “Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” p. 123. Li Shanhong, “Shilun Mao Wenlong yu Chaoxian de guanxi,” p. 36. Yan Chongnian and Yu Sanle, Yuan Chonghuan ziliao, vol. 1, p. 161. On Chongzhen’s ascension to the throne and initial efforts to clear the air in Beijing, see Fan Shuzhi, Chongzhen huangdi zhuan (Xi’an: Shanxi shifan daxue chubanshe, 2009), pp. 12–48.

170 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126

127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146

K. M. Swope Chen Shengxi, “Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” p. 123. Ibid., pp. 123–124. See ibid., p. 125. Wu in Mao Chengdou, Dongjiang shujie tangbao jiechao, p. 141. Ibid., pp. 142–143. Ibid., p. 143. Ibid., p. 144. Ibid., p. 144. See Yan Chongnian and Yu Sanle, Yuan Chonghuan ziliao jilu, vol. 2, p. 71. For a biography of Zuo Liangyu, see ECCP, pp. 761–762. Yan Chongnian and Yu Sanle, Yuan Chonghuan ziliao jilu, p. 72. Ibid., p. 73. MS, p. 6707. For a full-length modern biography of Yuan, see Yan Chongnian, Yuan Chonghuan zhuan (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2005). MS, pp. 6707–6708. On Yuan’s initial efforts to inspect and improve frontier defenses, see Yan Chongnian, Yuan Chonghuan zhuan, pp. 30–40. MS, pp. 6708–6709. Ibid., p. 6709. Ibid., p. 6709. Ibid., p. 6710. Ibid., p. 6711. Ibid., pp. 6712–6713, and Yan Chongnian, Yuan Chonghuan zhuan, pp. 56–62. MS, p. 6713. Li Guangtao, “Mao Wenlong niangluan Dongjiang shimo,” pp. 191–192. Chen Shengxi, “Guanyu Mao Wenlong zhisi,” p. 126. Interestingly enough, this same Wang Zideng apparently followed Mao’s former subordinates in submitting to the Jin a few years later! Li Qing (attr.), Yuan dushi zhan Mao Wenlong shimo in Longdaoren (pseudo.), Youbian jilüe (Taibei: Taiwan wenxian congkan, 1968), p. 41. Struve believes this source to be a truncation of Bo Qizong’s Dongjiang shimo. See Lynn A. Struve, The Ming-Qing Conflict, p. 202. MS, p. 6716. Li Qing, Yuan dushi zhan Mao Wenlong shimo, p. 41. Ibid., pp. 41–42. Ibid., p. 42. Ibid., p. 42. The average amount Yuan gave seemed to be 3–5 liang per soldier. Ibid., p. 43. Ibid., p. 43. Ibid., pp. 43–44. The Mingshi lists twelve more specific crimes enumerated by Yuan, including stealing rations, raiding supply ships, wasting supplies, and having secret dealings with other military officials and with the Jin. See MS, pp. 6716–6717. Li Qing, Yuan dushi zhan Mao Wenlong shimo, p. 44. MS, p. 6717. Li Qing, Yuan dushi zhan Mao Wenlong shimo, p. 44. Ibid., p. 44. MS, p. 6717. Li Qing, Yuan dushi zhan Mao Wenlong shimo, p. 44. Ibid., p. 44, and MS, p. 6717. Li Qing, Yuan dushi zhan Mao Wenlong shimo, p. 45. Yan Chongnian and Yu Sanle, Yuan Chonghuan ziliao jilu, vol. 1, p. 165. Ibid., p. 166. Ibid., p. 167. See GQ, pp. 5544–5545, and MS, p. 6718.

The defense of Liaodong in the late Ming 171 147 See, for example, the discussions in Fan Shuzhi, Chongzhen huangdi zhuan, pp. 58–68; and Yan Chongnian, Yuan Chonghuan zhuan, pp. 182–198. 148 On the circumstances surrounding Yuan’s execution and the politics of the decision, see Fan Shuzhi, Chongzhen huangdi zhuan, pp. 74–79. 149 See Yan Chongnian, Yuan Chonghuan zhuan, pp. 207–218, which includes photos of several of these sites. 150 Sun Quan, Gaoyang taizhuan Sun Wenzheng gong nianpu, p. 324. 151 Ibid., pp. 331–335. For a detailed discussion of the siege of Dalinghe and its significance, see Sun Wenliang and Li Zhiting, Ming-Qing zhanzheng shilüe (Nanjing: Jiangsu jiaoyu chubanshe, 2005), pp. 227–242. 152 On these battles, see Sun Wenliang and Li Zhiting, Ming-Qing zhanzheng shilüe, pp. 337–389. 153 MS, p. 6719.

10 The adaptation of Chinese military techniques to Chosŏn Korea, their validation, and the social dynamics thereof Felix Siegmund Introduction This chapter describes a few aspects of the process of the adaptation of Chinese military techniques to later Chosŏn1 Korea. Such questions are interesting and important to Chinese military historians for two reasons. First, from a comparative angle, it is useful to see how Chinese techniques were spread to the outer reaches of the Sinosphere and how they evolved in geographically rather close, but nevertheless distinct environments. Second, the military field in Chosŏn Korea was tightly interwoven with the Ming. Also, Chosŏn-Korea was important for the safety of Liaodong and Manchuria. The failure of the Chosŏn state to resist the Japanese invasion and the Manchu incursions was an important factor in the downfall of the Ming, who had to commit scarce resources to the wars in Chosŏn instead of receiving assistance from their ally. When the Ming were later in dire need of help to combat the Manchu onslaught, Korea proved unable to provide it. On the other hand, Chosŏn Korea proved to be a more or less reliable junior partner of the Qing against threats from the northeast, especially Russia. For these reasons, military historians of China will be interested in the border regions, where different types of Sinic cultures met. This chapter is in part a general survey of how Chinese military knowledge came to Korea and its impact in the seventeenth century. To this end, it outlines in some depth the exemplary case of the reception and the spread of Qi Jiguang’s military thought in Korea.2 In so doing, I intend to look at the history of military knowledge by centering on knowledge and placing it (and not political history) at the heart of the narrative. I will focus on the adaptation of the military theory of Qi Jiguang in Korea, which is both the most important and the best-documented change in fighting techniques in Korean military history during the long seventeenth century. The examples will be drawn from the regions in the northern part of Korea for two reasons. First, the region is very interesting in the context of China Studies, because of its proximity to what we perceive as “China.” As such, what occurred in that region clearly mattered for the Ming and the Qing. Second, the regional character of the adaptation is very visible in the North, so that the example lends itself to comparison with other regions.

Chinese military techniques in Chosŏn Korea 173 As this chapter touches on texts that have mostly not yet been described in Western languages and that will not be familiar even to most readers with a background in Chosŏn Korea Studies, I use some space to introduce and describe the texts. This might seem out of place, but there are no earlier studies that I could refer the reader to. I hope that the reader will agree that this chapter becomes more useful through its hybrid nature and that the possible confusion of mixing bibliographical information with the study of the history of military knowledge is outweighed by the usefulness of the materials introduced. For the bibliographical information on the texts cited, please refer to the notes section of this text.

The background The period that I would like to term the “long seventeenth century in Korean military history” begins with the Hideyoshi invasion of 1592 and ends with the drawing of a clearly demarcated border between Manchu Qing China and Chosŏn Korea in 1712. Both events are important turning points for political, as well as for more technical military reasons. Developments after the start of the invasion were characterized by frantic reforms. Afterwards, the Manchu threat as well as their eventual incursions in the first half of the seventeenth century gave little opportunity for rest to the Korean military. After being subdued by the Qing in 1636, plans for revenge were ripe. More than once Chosŏn was on the brink of a new military confrontation with the Manchus. This state of affairs came to an end in 1712, when the demarcation of the northern border was agreed on between the Qing and the Chosŏn. The territory in close proximity to both sides of the new border thus changed in status from a vague and shifting frontier to a well-defined border. Following these events, the role of the military deployed on both sides changed from that of a (potential) fighting force to that of a border guard with police duties. The military thought of Qi Jiguang was developed in light of the specific situations Chinese regions faced in the sixteenth century. The military system laid down in the Jixiao xinshu (The text cannot be dated exactly, but must have been written in the 1560s.3 It was originally published in 18 juan and then later in a different version in 14 juan.4) was developed to face the threat of the pirates in the southeastern region. The system of the Lianbing shiji (Again the Lianbing Shiji is not dateable, but must have been written after the Jixiao xinshu.5) was developed in reaction to the threat of a Mongol invasion in the northwestern region. As such, both works were written under the threat of a foreign invasion. Also, they were written with regional questions in mind and not as general works. The North-South division in Qi Jiguang’s theory is quite clear: the Jixiao xinshu system is to be used in the South, while in the North the system of the Lianbing shiji is to be put into practice. This system divides China roughly in two parts and thus provides a complete system that can be adapted to local conditions in both halves. At least, this is how the theory was understood by the military specialist writers in Korea.

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Korea differs from the situation in China in a number of ways. The reason why a comparison should nevertheless be done lies in the dependence of Korean military theory on Chinese models, as well as the important role Chinese military theory and practice played in seventeenth-century Korean military thought. Chinese military theory was understood to be directly relevant to Korea and thus military thinkers tried to find similarities that would help them to analyze situations they had to face in the light of experience expressed in the works of Chinese military literature. That is not to say that such influence was unidirectional. Developments on the Korean peninsula did influence the regional military situation along the border. Also, shared military experiences in joint actions, for example the Hideyoshi invasion and the punitive expeditions against Russia on the Amur River of 1658, were brought back to China.6 But the flow of information from China to Korea was more important.

The direction of the movement of military knowledge and the great blending The validation process is of great significance for the history of military knowledge. Here the quality of ideas is decided and opinions as to this are voiced. This can tell us how military knowledge was understood and how its problems were approached. For this reason, it will be advantageous to look at the adaptation of techniques in Korea as a form of validation process, where the knowledge coming from China was tested and then reorganized into a form that seemed useful for Chosŏn. An example will be given below about Kim Chinam (1654–?) and new gunpowder techniques in the late seventeenth century. Of course, the usefulness for “Chosŏn” is too much of an abstraction to be meaningful on the micro-level. This merely sets the general frame within which more specific and more localized actors would work. The Hideyoshi invasion not only affected the specific region involved in numerous ways, but it also indirectly affected an even larger area. In the field of military knowledge, the invasion played the role of an equalizer: the forces involved were set to a new default, which was the common ground where further development could and would take place. The standards for what military knowledge would mean and for what it should include did change after the invasion, and necessarily so. Technological developments in military technology had been rapid, as had been the development of techniques to make actual use of these technical innovations. Not only did new technology spread, but also new ways on how to employ that technology – new techniques of warfare, in other words – were developed in a mutually influential process. The most influential technological change was the advent of the wide-spread usage of new-style firearms, especially the introduction of modern-style muskets (rendered as “bird guns” choch’ong, Chin. niaochong), and the great efforts invested in their development. Such guns had been known to exist before the invasion, but that knowledge had no practical consequences. Japanese envoys had brought modern Japanese-style muskets to Korea prior to the invasion, so the

Chinese military techniques in Chosŏn Korea 175 weapon could have been known and could have been tested in Korea. But this did not happen.7 Only after having experienced the effectiveness of the new weapons were steps taken to introduce the new-style musket into the Korean army. Apart from new muskets, heavy field artillery, as used by the Ming troops in the war, also deeply impressed Korean military actors. Heavy cannons were the other major innovation in military technology that the war brought. Practical experience in weaponry was the most effective incentive for the development of new weapons and techniques for their usage.8 Hearsay, on the other hand, had little influence, as did instruction books that were not backed up by examples in actual practice. Military knowledge, not astoundingly, was mostly transferred from Ming China to Chosŏn Korea. The flow of information in the opposite direction – from Korea to China – was marginal in comparison, though not unknown. After the Qing took control of China, relations and the exchange with Korea deteriorated. In general, military knowledge was not allowed to be transferred to Korea, which is made obvious by the ban on the export of military books. Raw materials that could be used for the construction of weapons, such as horn for the construction of bows, were also not allowed to be exported. One reason for the increased diffusion of military knowledge in early seventeenth-century Korea was the increasing number of men who had passed the examination. As a result of the intentional opening of the military examinations to recruit manpower, passing the military examination became easier. The reason why so many passed was the looming threat of disaster by a potential Manchu invasion, which indeed happened in 1627 and 1636. However, many of the men who passed the examination had little theoretical or practical knowledge of the techniques of warfare. Experience and training thus became much more important than they had been when the pace of recruitment had been much slower. This is likely to be one of the factors that gave rise to the interest in military books in the seventeenth century. Chosŏn Korea did not receive military knowledge from the Qing, even though the Qing produced a vast amount of military literature.9 At least, it was not received in the form of military books. There is virtually no hint of the knowledge of military books from the Qing in Chosŏn Korea to be found in the rather comprehensive Korean Classics DB corpus. The only instance of a military text from the Qing in that corpus dates from the nineteenth century.10 Even important works are not mentioned. Kang Seokhwa has argued that there was a strong interest in Qing military matters, as can be seen by a number of instances of the adaptation of Qing technology, including fortification techniques and advanced art gunnery.11 Also, the banner system the Manchu used may have been a model for the organization of the newly formed elite cavalry units – the ch’in’giwi and the pyŏlmusa – in the north of Korea.

Military knowledge and its environment Military knowledge obviously does not just float by itself in some strange environment bereft of social and political gravity. It is, in its mostly material

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manifestations, a very down-to-earth business. Even when speaking explicitly about military theory, it is still comparatively easy to see how it relates to the practical world of wood, iron, blood, and weather. Astoundingly, though, such aspects of military history have not been researched very much up until this point, as most scholars seem more interested in the broader implications of grand strategy and military institutions on the national level. These questions surely are important. Nevertheless, it should not forgotten that there are local military outposts, that soldiers worked in local conditions, and that they were influenced by such local factors as terrain, weather, the local populace, the whims of their commanders both as individuals and as parts of their class. This whole area is still vastly under-researched. The adoption of Qi Jiguang’s military thought in Korea can be analyzed in four phases. The first phase was that of first contact and of rough adaptations, which spans from the time of the Hideyoshi invasion to the contact with Chinese troops trained in the new techniques – that is, the early seventeenth century. It reached its climax when even King Sŏnjo ordered a simplified version of the Jixiao xinshu to be made, which, unfortunately, is impossible to trace today. The second phase is that of refined adoption, which witnessed the earliest extant adaptations of the Jixiao xinshu text in Korea. An example for this stage would be Han Hyosun’s Chinsŏl. Phase three is the process towards the canonization of the text. At the end of this phase it effectively was elevated into the rank of a classical military text. This phase is hard to separate from phase two, as this process of canonization did not develop in a purely linear fashion. The fourth phase, the effective canonization of the text and its use as a classic of abstract military theory, begins after the end of this investigation. Or, better yet, it begins to shift over to the fourth phase after this. It is not easy to say exactly where the third phase ends and the fourth phase starts, as the development and publication of the finally canonized text, the Pyŏnghak chinam, is a rather drawn out process. I would argue that the real switch is in the 1780s, when publishing reached its peak and the political situation seemed to favor a change, as the prohibitive stance towards all things Qing crumbled away. There also are other publications, like the Nohae from 1729, which essentially is an excerpt from the section on the crossbow in the Jixiao xinshu. The Jixiao xinshu does not appear in the official sources before 1593.12 This is when our story begins. It then fades out with the publication and the wide dissemination of the Pyŏnghak chinam, which summarizes the Korean scholarship on Qi Jiguang’s military thought and builds a comprehensive system around it.

Adapting and disseminating knowledge The most difficult part of applied knowledge is its application. Seventeenthcentury Korea differed from China in a number of ways. To list only a few

Chinese military techniques in Chosŏn Korea 177 examples, Korea differed in its climate, topographic factors, manpower and way of life, all of which meant different experiences for potential fighters and for the battles they would fight. In illuminating the adoption of military knowledge, I want to differentiate between two types of practices. One is the adaptation of texts, the other is nontextual adaptation. The study of the non-textual adaptation remains somewhat unclear, as the scarcity of source materials make it difficult to pinpoint the exact change at the moment. However, I would like to point out the shapes and forms that seem to arise from the fog. These provide us with hope that further study will make them very visible. The rough outline is showing through the clouds even now, as I hope this study will demonstrate. It was generally accepted in Chinese military theory, that different conditions required different practice. For example, the Wubeizhi states that the material out of which weapons should be made differs in dry and humid conditions.13 In the Jixiao xinshu, similar statements can be found.14 Qi Jiguang states that soldiers of certain localities are better suited for certain work than others, and also recognized that soldier performance is based on their way of life. In other words, people accustomed to farm labor should be preferred as recruits.15 There were a number of ways to disseminate military knowledge. The cases that can be studied in some detail are textual dissemination as well as military education, meaning mostly in the form of drilling. This already points towards a difference in the content of military knowledge by social standing. Education by the book was not for everyone and military education differed by rank; officers were given lectures and common soldiers were subjected to drilling. Both must be seen as forms of disseminating military knowledge and both had a broad impact on the society to which the soldiers belonged. For commoners and especially for slaves, military knowledge was a chance for social mobility, which I will examine later. For lower officials, the realities of the drill were part of their everyday work, thus influencing all aspects of their life. For higher officials, military knowledge was a potential tool in political discourse. Needs thus differed enormously between the different strata of those interested in military knowledge. And the military books published in this period confirm that there were different types of books written for different purposes. As for drilling, we know what is in the books and sometimes even are lucky enough to find evaluations in official and unofficial records.16 Compared to the situation in most fields of older military history, where we have very little material, this is quite lucky. The overall impression is that drilling did not work very well, which resulted in the repeated calls for simplifying drills and for making commands and signals even more lucid. The military texts of the seventeenth century try to answer this problem by simplification, translation, and adaptation. Attempts to translate basic military texts into the vernacular illustrate this most obviously, but the wealth of text editions and the changes made in them also point in this direction. The difficulty of making soldiers understand the texts and act accordingly was understood.

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Actors and authors The actors in the process of spreading military theory were a rather diverse group, so much so that it might not be helpful to assume that they were a group at all. By “actors,” I mean the authors of military works, drill masters, individual soldiers, and even people outside the military who worked on technologies and techniques that influenced military developments. It is clear from a number of sources that the thinkers of Chosŏn, auch as Pak Chega, were certainly aware of the mutual influence in the fields of military and non-military technology.17 The types of books written by military officials differed from those written by civil officials in Chosŏn Korea. Authors of military books could be either military or civil officials. In some cases, even people of chungin background were involved, such as the interpreter Kim Chinam, who used his language skills to secretly bring a new way of purifying saltpeter to Korea in 1698. He wrote the Sinjŏn chach’obang (New Techniques for Cooking Saltpeter). It is stated that he obtained these skills from Chinese artisans from the northern border region. But even after these were brought to Korea, a long series of potentially frustrating tests and experiments was required before it was possible to arrive at a formula that brought the desired results. The materials were slightly different, and local conditions also differed. All this needed to be worked out before any use could be made of the new technology.18 Through this we can catch a glimpse of the ways in which military knowledge was spread in practice and how this could in fact be independent from direct interference by the state. The difference in the social standing of military and civilian authors is also shown both in the way in which they wrote and in the content of their works. Writing military works was recognized as a significant affair, theoretically (though not in practice) equal in standing to civil learning.19 However, military writing was not as sacrosanct as civil writing, meaning the military text tradition could be challenged with small danger to the challenger.20 Writing military works was not something that the literati elite was expected to turn to as a means of achieving prestige. Rather, it was – at least in parts – a form of localized text in-between the fields of literary and technical knowledge. The comparatively low prestige of military texts vis-à-vis their civil counterparts is reflected by the lack of prefaces and postscripts in the majority of such works. It could be said that military texts were not as highly regarded as those on statecraft, philosophy, and other topics that the Confucian gentleman might ponder. They were, however, seen as considerably more important than the texts on handicrafts, commerce, agriculture, language learning, etc. Also, it was potentially possible to raise the relative prestige of the military texts. There was a difference between what civil officials wrote and what military officials wrote. Not surprisingly, technical and more practical topics are generally much more pronounced in the works of military officials, while the more speculative works, especially those involving cosmological ideas, were more often written by civil officials. Also, the way in which they wrote was quite different, even when writing on military subjects. On the one hand, we have richly

Chinese military techniques in Chosŏn Korea 179 ornamented prose that refers the reader to examples of antiquity, mostly taken from the classics of Sinic literature.21 This literature tends to bolster its theses through the tropes of tradition. On the other hand, there is the genre of down-to-earth texts, grounded in actual contemporary practice. Of course, there also are those that stand inbetween, like Han Hyosun, who, in his manual on practical firearms Sin’gi pigyŏl (1603), insists on giving – among others – long excerpts on chariot warfare, taken directly from antiquity’s Seven Military Classics.22 In short, civil officials wrote the more general and theoretical works, while the practical books were often the work of military officials. Also, in general we know much more about the biographical background of civil officials than about their military counterparts, as research interest has been higher in the past, so there is much more material to rely on.

Changing the system The Hideyoshi invasion had shown that the pre-invasion military system in Chosŏn was not effective.23 It had in fact broken down to such an extent that a simple reconstructive continuation of the old military system was out of the question, as there was nothing left on which to base such a restoration. In this kind of situation it seems natural to look for new options. Those were found in the work of Qi Jiguang. Of course, the problems were not only doctrinal. The court did not find it easy to pay for military expenditures, especially not after the wars against Hideyoshi’s troops and the Manchu army. Whether a strong army was actually needed after the lost war with the Manchus and the de facto supremacy of the Qing becoming more and more obvious is not the main point here. The army’s duties included fighting crime and, more importantly, quelling rebellions and uprisings. Internal problems were as important a reason as external ones for maintaining an army. Thus, an effective army that would be able to rapidly respond to challenges to state power at every locality in the state was the unchangeable goal of the Chosŏn central government. What kind of system was needed also depended considerably on what kind of army was needed. This is where military matters are most obviously linked to political questions. If the court hoped to reconquer the territories in the North, a strong and army oriented towards the North would be needed. If not, then the appeasement of the warrior caste in the North, which might potentially feel that it was robbed of its raison d’être and thus might feel inclined to throw its weight around, would be the main problem. The founding of the special units in the northern region should be understood as an answer to this problem of warrior appeasement.

The social dimensions of military knowledge Many problems fall under this heading. The two that I want to briefly address here are the following. What are the social constraints of military knowledge?

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Also, what influence does military knowledge have on the populace, or, in other words, on society at large? Military knowledge has the potential to topple the balance of power in one direction or the other. This is the main reason it is often feared and even more often regulated. Military knowledge means military power and thus needs to be contained. This is done by containing those that have it. The other reason for the regulation of military knowledge is the prestige potentially associated with it. If officially accredited military men are to be given due respect, they must be distinguished from those bearers of military knowledge considered to be as illegitimate. Therein lies the importance of the improvement of the military examination system. Social mobility in Chosŏn society was almost non-existent. Officially soldiers were considered to either belong to the aristocracy (if holding a degree) or to simply remain commoners, meaning peasants. Transforming farmers into professional soldiers who might be unwilling to go back to farming work was not on the agenda. On the contrary, enlisting men in the army was an option to officially affirm their status as commoners and keep them there – thus maintaining the government’s ability to tax them. The situation was different for slaves, who had reason to hope to claim commoner status through service in the army. Wars, the ensuing turmoil, and military status presented a good opportunity for slaves to escape their low social status. Military texts were one of the few types of texts – along with texts on farming and some other technical subjects – that were potentially open to a wider readership and not necessarily restricted to use by the elite alone. This is true for those texts that were translated into Korean and especially for the Chinbŏp ŏnhae, which is entirely written in the vernacular. According to Yi Chinho, this was even in a form that is particularly close to spoken Korean.24 The Chinbŏp ŏnhae notes that it was also directed toward “those military officials who do not know about writing” and who would be enabled through the Chinbŏp ŏnhae to learn the necessary knowledge about drilling, military discipline, and fighting techniques.25 Becoming a soldier meant a chance to climb up the social ladder. At least, this was so for people for whom the chances of a civil career were barred, which in practice meant everyone of non-yangban birth. Even those who took the mass examinations in the early seventeenth century did so for good reasons. Holding a degree, no matter how small, was better than not holding a degree at all in the highly stratified society of late Chosŏn Korea. Even holding a higher military degree was a means for securing status as part of the yangban nobility, as has recently been argued by Park Eugene.26 Without elaborating too much on the details, holding a military degree would elevate an individual’s position in society. Also, and this might be more important, martial skills represented a potential way of getting the respect one desired. The central authorities were aware of this and tailored their treatment of the more “martial” regions towards the appeasement of military men. Martial men without the prospect of making a decent living by serving the state were considered dangerous, because there were career tracks beyond serving the king.

Chinese military techniques in Chosŏn Korea 181 One could take to banditry, smuggle, or set up a local network and thereby gain considerable power. This was, of course, not the virtue of learning that Sinic civilization valued most, but it was nevertheless real power. Especially in the North, where the state was weak, non-state authorities had considerable influence. Even though Qi Jiguang clearly advised for recruitment among plain and rustic peasants and even though this advice was repeated both in military manuals and other documents, appeasing the Northerners was accomplished through recruitment. The policy of trying to appease the martial elements in the frontier population succeeded during most of the seventeenth century. The revolt of the military official Yi Kwal and his followers in the northern province of Hamgyŏng, which eventually helped the Manchu invasion, was taken as a warning in this regard.

From the adaptation to the canonization of military knowledge Military knowledge remained outside the legitimate canon for most of this time period. However, the emphasis on a set of relevant texts was one possible way to attempt to claim legitimate status in society by claiming the equality of military knowledge within the legitimate canon of civil knowledge as represented in the civil examination system. As such, the manipulation of that set of texts was an effective way to shift the balance in exegetical power and to claim control of discursive areas. The way to achieve this was to alter the context of military texts, to alter the way in which they were read, and to establish a tradition of the manipulation of military texts. New contexts could be established in a number of ways. Among these, I want to remark on the canonization of new texts and the change in the way texts were to be read. These examples should throw some light on a part of the process at work in military thought in seventeenth-century Korea. Michael Nylan has written in her definitive work about the power of the civil canon that works in the canon would perform key cultural functions, for example, as an unquestioned authority, as a witness to persistent community interests, as a testament to cultural superiority, as a selective compendium of ideals and traditions: it then no longer merely reflects but also shapes and creates the culture that transmits its values . . .27 The same is true for the military canon, which came to rule the way military thinking could be envisioned in East Asia. Even for the most inventive and original thinkers it held a great deal of influence, as it defined the borders within which military thought was supposed to take place. The manipulation of that canon and the textual tradition associated with it would prove a powerful tool in shifting one’s standing towards social power and thus one’s individual social standing. It goes without saying that this can only be sustained if social groups

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agree on making these their rules, and even then only if the nature of their standing in the world allows them to do this. Most of what was circulated in Korea in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries can in some way be traced back to the influence of Qi Jiguang’s military thought. However, some of his concepts were altered substantially. It would be an over-simplification to assume that his theory was simply passively received. I would suggest that his work was first changed for practical reasons and then later became part of the legitimate canon of military knowledge. The multitude of the early adaptations should be understood as a product of the efforts to make practical use of the new military texts. Later editions, which are much more formalized, are less oriented for practical use and place more emphasis on good style, agreeable form, prestigious forewords (something that is lacking from earlier texts), and so forth. They seem to be aimed for use in social positioning, rather than battlefield practice. In short, the later editions are works of art, while the earlier ones are manuals for warfare. As such, the later adaptation of his theories was no longer something that one considered in making practical decisions, but something one needed to refer to when claiming to make legitimate statements about military matters. Qi Jiguang’s work was central to military discourse in that it was necessary to reference his theories when working on military theory. This is not to say that Qi Jiguang’s thought ever was as far removed from the situation in seventeenth-century Korea and as useless to understanding it as, for example, the Weiliaozi or the Sunzi bingfa. Rather, the text already played the role of a canonical text, influencing theoretical thinking, while it also was used for practical purposes. On a performative level this means that the text had a lot of weight, that referring to it was considered beneficial. This was quite clear to contemporary writers, as can be seen from the preface to the 1684 edition of the Pyŏnghak chinam, which mentions the authoritative character of Qi Jiguang’s writings twice. The Pyŏnghak chinam, a partial translation of the Jixiao xinshu printed in a bilingual Korean-Chinese version, clearly is the single most important adaptation of Qi Jiguang’s work into Korean. It was most likely first published in a Korean version (meaning a Korean printing of the Chinese text in Chinese) in the early seventeenth century. It then became the standard manual for military training in Korea. The standard reference to the first known printing of the book has been 1684, but it is nearly certain that it existed earlier in some version. After 1684 the Pyŏnghak chinam was printed often and spread very widely. Editions are known to have been printed in 1708, 1737, 1739, 1760, 1769, 1787, 1797, 1798, and 1813, as well as a number of editions from the early and mid-eighteenth century that have no exact dates. The earliest edition might have been printed as early as 1649, but this is debatable. This makes the Pyŏnghak chinam the most widely distributed military text of the later Chosŏn period. It is, I believe, the product of the long seventeenth century in Korean military history, the development of which it organizes and establishes as a new tradition, which was potentially orthodox in nature.

Chinese military techniques in Chosŏn Korea 183 The texts were not only printed in the capital, but also in other locations spanning over all of Korea.28 The spread of the text thus reached national dimensions and linked regions together by standardizing military theory. At the end of the eighteenth century it had effectively assumed the rank of a military classic, being an authority in itself. This adaptation, which I would tentatively call a “canonization” of the new manual, stands at the end of a long process of development, which began with the introduction of the Jixiao xinshu in Korea. It developed from regionally very diverse texts towards a unified text, represented in the Pyŏnghak chinam, which then again spread into the regions, making for a concentric movement of military knowledge centered around the capital, but eventually digressing once again and bringing knowledge from the periphery back with it. In the course of this development, different approaches to adaptation and dissemination were taken and attempted. At its simplest, this process meant that different readings were tried out and different parts of Qi Jiguang’s work were alternately emphasized or omitted. Before the Pyŏnghak chinam an astounding wealth of editions, translations, and adaptations of the Jixiao xinshu existed. Yet I have not found a single instance where someone referring to Qi Jiguang’s work declared which of the many versions he was referring to or was asked to do so, even though this cannot possibly always have been clear from the context. It seems that the authors were not quite sure which text they were actually referring to and what the text’s stance on the problems in question might exactly be. So, to perhaps belabor the point a bit, it seems the reference to Qi Jiguang’s work in the later phases mainly served prosodic ends. There was no single standard text of Qi Jiguang’s text in Korea, so reference to it was bound to be unclear. This was one of the reasons that a new standard was deemed necessary. Immediately following the introduction of the Jixiao xinshu text in 1593, prominent voices, including King Sŏnjo himself, demanded a simplified version of the text, which was deemed too complicated for effective use in military education. Another possible reason was that King Sŏnjo himself was unable to understand the text. He gave his consent to the compilation of a simplified version in 1595.29 However, the project had royal support from the beginning and that was a factor in ensuring the production of such a text in Korea. Unfortunately, this first original text is lost, so only speculation is possible as to its concrete form. After that a number of partial adaptations of the Jixiao xinshu were written and published. Notable cases are the manual published under the name Chinsŏl, which combines elements from earlier works with a short summary of the Jixiao xinshju, and the Sin’gi pigyŏl, a treatise on firearms, their use, and drilling techniques that drew extensively on the Jixiao xinshu.30 Both texts were written by the military official Han Hyosun and published in 1603 as part of an effort to prepare Chosŏn against a coming Jurchen (Manchu) invasion. The history of the Jixiao xinshu in Korea evolved before this. It is possible to establish a chronology of the process of adaptation of the text to Korea, which would roughly have developed along the following line. As has been mentioned, there was a simplified edition of the Jixiao xinshu, the existence of which is

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known, but about which we know little else. This could be tentatively called “Translation A” and starts the list of Jixiao xinshu adaptations in Korea. After that came Han Hyosun’s Chinsŏl and his Sin’gi pigyŏl, both published in 1603.31 The Sin’gi pigyŏl contains parts in the vernacular, which gives explanatory comments on some words in the text and also explains some phrases. I am not sure what the exact use of these vernacular parts would have been. I would guess that it was there to help transform the text into an ad hoc (or, more precisely, then not quite ad hoc anymore) oral translation when used in actual instruction, when the instructor might struggle on how to bring some of the Chinese words into understandable Korean, especially since simply giving the Chinese term in Korean pronunciation would not do. But I cannot yet prove this. After this, as mentioned above, we have an interlude of books on fighting techniques compiled partially from the section on such techniques in the Jixiao xinshu. In 1598, the Muye chebo was published, which was an excerpt of fighting techniques from the Jixiao xinshu.32 This was expanded upon by the Muye chebo pŏnyŏk sokchip (1610). This was followed by the Muye sinbo (1759) some years later, which was translated into the vernacular.33 These subsequent efforts at the translation and the creation of new editions of the text bear witness to the ever-growing intensity in the reception of the text. Publication stalled after the Manchu incursions in 1627 and 1636. However, a great number of Jixiao xinshu printings existed in unmodified or only very slightly modified form in Korea. It is quite possible that some of these texts date to the period after the incursions.34 The number of documents mentioning the works of Qi Jiguang grows considerably throughout the seventeenth century. The text is also placed into a much more elaborate context, as references to the Zhejiang bingfa and other such texts are now generally understood and widely used. The expressed admiration for the texts of Qi Jiguang became even stronger in the eighteenth century, while the military usefulness of the text declined. On the other hand, there was a tendency to criticize the Pyŏnghak chinam as being only concerned with drilling and the details of command words and signals.35 This, I believe, is the result of an attempt by military officials to elevate the value of their own groups and defy the all-powerful central elites through disputing the text. The central elites ruled the civil ideological sphere and it was near impossible to contest this. The military, on the other hand, could be contested with a reasonable chance for success. The single most problematic fact about military texts in seventeenth-century Korea is the lack of data to allow the dating of the Pyŏnghak chinam. The Pyŏnghak chinam must have been compiled sometime around the middle of the seventeenth century or shortly beforehand. In the context of the Manchu incursions, this means that it was either during or after the second incursion. The Pyŏnghak chinam was followed by a number of commentaries and glossaries to aid in the understanding of this text. Among these, the Pyŏnghak chinam yŏn’ǔi (1689) has the greatest amount of new content and it diverges so

Chinese military techniques in Chosŏn Korea 185 much from the rest of the works in the Jixiao xinshu tradition that it should be considered an original work. It discusses training and the control of the army in the field and also mixes portions of the Jixiao xinshu text with commentaries and excerpts from other texts and illustrations. The Pyŏnghak chuhae (publication date unknown) is a compilation of vernacular explanatory texts on the Pyŏnghak chinam, which can in part be read as interpretative attempt. Doubtless, the Pyŏnghak chinam is the most influential military text from the middle of the seventeenth century on, as it spawned a series of commentaries and adaptations, which should be understood as reflections of a well-developed discourse on the text and its possible meanings. It remained in that position until Western military techniques began to spread via drill manuals in the nineteenth century. While the Pyŏnghak chinam became the dominant text, there is one other late Jixiao xinshu adaption that is worth mentioning. The 1693 work Chinbŏp ŏnhae by Ch’oe Suk, an adaptation of a part of the Jixiao xinshu into pure vernacular, should be seen as one of the latest products of this development in the reception of Qi Jiguang’s military theory. It was published in Kamyŏng (in the province of Hamgyŏng). What distinguishes the Chinbŏp ŏnhae is that it is written entirely in the vernacular (where other editions had used mixed language), except for the title, which is in Chinese in the original text. This indicates the important role played by texts in the vernacular in spreading military techniques. It is part of a wider tradition of using the vernacular for technical instruction (for example in agricultural manuals and Buddhist scriptures), but it is remarkable for its breadth and the affirmative stance of officials towards using these texts. Slightly after the end of the long seventeenth century in Korean military history, the last Korean Jixiao xinshu adaptation36 was published. The Nohae (before 1729) by Pyŏn Chinyŏng (fl. eighteenth century) is a highly specialized text on the use of crossbows that draws on the description of crossbow tactics in the Jixiao xinshu, which also has a chapter titled “Nujie” (“Nohae” in Korean). Some of the texts mentioned above are partially or even nearly completely in the vernacular Korean written language, mixed with Chinese text to varying degrees. It has been suggested that this might have been a device for keeping the texts in Korea and making espionage more difficult.37 This is unconvincing, as the Chinbŏp ŏnhae best demonstrates. The Chinbŏp ŏnhae would be the text best suited as an example for such a case of obfuscation, as the text itself is in fact entirely in Korean and would be completely unintelligible to anyone without knowledge of that language. However, the title is in Chinese. Moreover, it obviously denotes a military text. This seems like a poor choice if one was intending to keep the text secret. Yet a great number of military works from the seventeenth century have at least a partial Korean translation appended. Also, even if the text is left in Classical Chinese, sometimes words are changed or a few words are omitted or added, supposedly to either improve the text prosodically, or to clarify potentially unintelligible parts.

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A good example for this is the “gun songs” (ch’ongga, Chin. chongge), which are part of the Jixiao xinshu, and then appear in the Sin’gi pigyŏl in slightly altered form with added explanations on some details, along with a few explanatory comments in the vernacular.38 Obviously this is aimed at making the text easier to understand, especially for those struggling with written Chinese. As such, these seventeenth-century adaptations seem aimed at a more practical use, while later editions are less so. The inclusion of the vernacular is an important aspect that separates the military sphere from the civil one. While in the civil sphere using the vernacular was normally frowned upon, it was perfectly acceptable, and more necessary for practical reasons, to do so in the military sphere. Apart from this, there are some works that do not have an obvious connection to the works in the Qi Jiguang tradition. These include the vernacular firearms manual Hwap’osik ŏnhae (1635), the hippological treatise Magyŏng ŏnhae (c. 1637, vernacular), both of which are by the military official Yi Sŏ, and the encyclopedic work Pyŏngga yojip (seventeenth century), whose author is unknown. Military thought outside of the Jixiao xinshu/Pyŏnghak chinam framework was still possible, but had already become marginalized. The two works by Yi Sŏ should be understood as an answer to the needs of strengthening the defense against the Manchu state, which required a better understanding of cavalry and guns, which were the two means considered most useful in countering Jurchen/ Qing aggression and possibly also the means for a (counter-)offensive. These three works outside the new tradition are clearly in the minority as compared to those standing firmly within it. They also are so marginal that it would be difficult to assume that they formed an alternative tradition of their own. But they do bear witness to the fact that after the introduction of the Jixiao xinshu there are few military works that are not in some way connected to it. In sum, one could say that the framework of military theory was readjusted and centered on the Jixiao xinshu and the form it eventually took in the Pyŏnghak chinam.

Rejecting the Qing – or not? On the other hand, this means that other military works and later military developments in China went unnoticed, or, at least, were neither reflected in Korean military theory nor in practical military education. I am tempted to suggest that this should be seen as a result of the hostility towards the Qing in general – an attempt to stay loyal to the Ming, at least in this field. It is speculative to say so at this stage, but perhaps military writers saw their chance to express themselves as staunchly anti-Qing and use this in the power struggle. The military could prove its usefulness not only on the battlefield, but also – as a side project – in the struggle for advantageous discursive positioning. And behind the military there was a real potential for power. As has been noted, a great number of men who had passed the examination had been allowed into the army in order to make the army fit for defense – or even aggression –

Chinese military techniques in Chosŏn Korea 187 against the Manchu power. It would not easily have been possible to simply move from this stance after friendly terms were enforced after 1636, as it was ingrained in the civil as well as the military bureaucracy. But another fact then also needs to be considered. The Jixiao xinshu was not discarded under the Qing at all. It was included in the officially propagated imperial collection Siku quanshu, which had been purged of anything that the Qing court found seriously offensive. Moreover, it saw a long series of printing throughout the nineteenth century.39 As such, it could also be argued that the development of military theory in Chosŏn followed a pattern laid out by the Qing in making use of an adaptation of Qi Jiguang’s military theory. Another possible exception is the organization of elite cavalry units in the Northern provinces, which were organized along lines roughly reminiscent of Manchu banners, as Kang Seokhwa has argued.40 Apart from this, however, there does not seem to be much thought about Qing military techniques. Qing was seen as a potential source of guns and gunpowder. Technology interested the Korean court, but theoretical works did not receive much attention. There is a case mentioned by Pak Saho, who was an envoy to Qing in the early nineteenth century, in which Korean envoys to Qing China were searched on their way back and a number of military works were found in their possession. These were then confiscated by the Qing authorities.41

Conclusion The development of seventeenth-century Korean military techniques was based on Chinese precedents. This was openly acknowledged and is reflected in the military writings of that time. Military knowledge needed to be first transported before it could be adapted. In the case of knowledge coming from another regional context, this meant adaptation to the requirements in the new practice of its new region. This took different forms in the translation and publication of text editions, as well as the creation of new texts. Lines of trial and error are traceable, as is a general line of books that develop around the Jixiao xinshu and then lead to the Pyŏnghak chinam. The validation of military knowledge, influenced by social interests and by military necessity, developed in different streams, of which the current for canonizing Qi Jiguang’s military works was the most successful. This, and the changed attitude toward the military in the Chosŏn court, allowed military officials to compete with civil officials for literary prestige by reinforcing the practical importance of their work, thus elevating their position by elevating the standing of military texts. Military knowledge was a sphere over which military officials tried to reclaim control. They attempted to bring it into a more powerful position in face of the dominant civil knowledge. In order to do so, they borrowed social techniques of textual manipulation from the civil sphere. The discussion about military reform was quite active and practical when there was an external threat, as demonstrated by the frantic activities in this field during the Hideyoshi invasion and the Manchu incursions. Internal threats were in general

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much less of a concern, especially in times of external threat. After the threat was solved or prolonged, social factors once again became more important and the practical use of the military ceased to be seen as a matter of much importance. Also, the social discursive use of military texts increased in such situations.

Notes 1 Chosŏn is the name of Korea under the rule of the dynasty of the Yi clan, which ruled from 1398 to 1910. The term “later Chosŏn Korea” is usually used in Korean historiography to describe the period after the Imjin war – thus beginning in the seventeenth century – and ending with the foreign invasions of the late nineteenth century. The main features were economic accumulation and the ruin and ensuing destruction of part of the ruling aristocracy, the breakdown of the land system, the stagnation of social representation, and the emergence of new social powers outside the ruling yangban aristocracy in the form of so-called “middle people” (chungin) and of groupings of commoners and slaves, whose rebellions shook the country. 2 For an account of Qi Jiguang’s life and the background of his military writing, see Ray Huang, 1587, A Year of No Significance: The Ming Dynasty in Decline (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1981), pp. 156–188. 3 Xu Baolin, Zhongguo bingshu tongjian (Beijing: Jiefangjun chubanshe, 1990), p. 233. 4 The earliest surviving editions date from 1595 for the 18 juan version and 1588 for the 14 juan version. Cf. Xu Baolin, Zhongguo bingshu tongjian, pp. 528–529. Xu Baolin does not comment on the chronological order of these editions, but it is clear from the structure of the text that the 14 juan version must have been edited after the 18 juan. The problem of having two very different versions of the Jixiao xinshu has not been researched enough in the scholarly works. 5 Xu Baolin, Zhongguo bingshu tongjian, p. 239. The earliest surviving edition dates from 1601. See ibid., p. 530. 6 The diary of the commander of that force, Sin Yu, is extant. It is known under the title of Pukchŏng il’gi. There is a modern edition in the Chosŏn sidae pukpangsa charyojip. Cf. Tongbug’a yŏksa chaedan (ed.), Chosŏn sidae pukpangsa charyojip (Seoul: Tongbug’a yŏksa chaedan, 2007), pp. 137–159. 7 However, the first mention of muskets in the Korean official records is in the Sŏnjo sillok. Cf. Han’guk kojŏn pŏnyŏgwŏn (ed.), Sŏnjo sillok, Database of Korean Classics, 25th year (1592), Month 5, Day 1. 8 For a description of a part of this process, see Kenneth Chase, Firearms: A Global History to 1700 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), pp. 188–189. 9 Among all of the Chinese dynasties, the Qing was the most productive in military literature. For a semi-comprehensive list of Qing military texts, see Xu Baolin, Zhongguo bingshu tongjian, pp. 553–644. For a comparative chart of data on the number of texts and their extensiveness, see ibid., p. 22. 10 Kang Wi, Kohwandang such, Database of Korean Classics, p. 396c. 11 Talk held in May 2011, paper published in 2014. 12 Han’guk kojŏn pŏnyŏgwŏn (ed.), Sŏnjo sillok, 26th year (1593), Month 5, Day 5. See also: No Yŏnggu, “Sŏnchong tae Kihyo sinsŏ-ŭi pogŭp-kwa chinbŏp nonŭi,” in Kunsa 34 (1997), pp. 129–130. 13 Mao Yuanyi, Wubeizhi, in Zhongguo bingshu jicheng (hereafter ZBJC) (Beijing: Jiefangjun chubanshe, 1989), vol. 31, p. 4343. 14 Qi Jiguang, Jixiao xinshu shisi juan ben (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2001), p. 73. 15 Ibid., pp. 40–41. 16 Good examples are the discussions on the usefulness of soldier training in the Jixiao xinshu tactics, as they appear in the Sŏnjo sillok. Cf. Han’guk kojŏn pŏnyŏgwŏn (ed.), Sŏnjo sillok, 38th Year (1605), Month 9, Day 28.

Chinese military techniques in Chosŏn Korea 189 17 Cf. Kuksa p’yŏnch’an wiwŏnhoe (ed.), Chŏngyu chip pu Pukhakŭi (Seoul: T’amgudang, 1971). 18 Kim Chinam, Sinchŏn chasobang (Kungnip chungang tosŏgwan, sign. han-ko-cho 77–74), pp. 19r–25v. 19 The term yangban originally described the “two lines” of military and civil officials as arrayed in court ceremonies. Later, it came to be mostly associated with the civil elite. 20 Qi Jiguang did voice such critiques. See for example Qi Jiguang, Jixiao xinshu shiba juan ben, p. 50. 21 A good example of such a work would be the P’ungch’ŏn yuhyang, in which Song Kyubin connects all of his theses to antiquity and calls on ancient authorities to bolster his arguments. Cf. Song Kyubin, P’ungch’ŏn yuhyang (Seoul: Kukpangbu chŏnsa p’yŏnch’an wiwŏnhoe, 1990). 22 Han Mannyŏn (ed.), Sin’gi pigyŏl, Chinsŏl, Tangch’o ki (Seoul: Ilcho’gak, 1995), pp. 139–140. 23 The most useful English language survey of the late Chosŏn military system, attempts at reform and its eventual transformation is found in James Palais, Confucian Statecraft and Korean Institutions: Yu Hyŏngwŏn and the Late Chosŏn Dynasty (Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 1996), pp. 394–545. Palais focuses on the political reform plans of Yu Hyŏngwŏn, but also gives a general description. Especially pp. 394–405, 442–466, 501–534 and 539–545. 24 Yi Chinho, 17–18 segi pyŏngsŏ ŏnhae yŏn’gu (Unpublished doctoral dissertation) (Taegu: Kyemyŏng taehakkyo, 2009), p. 82. 25 Ch’oe Suk, Chinbŏp ŏnhae (Kungnip chungang tosŏgwan, sign. Ilsan-ko 698–15), pp. 1v; 2r. 26 Cf. Eugene Park, Between Dreams and Reality: The Military Examinations in Late Chosŏn Korea. 1600–1894 (Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press, 2007). 27 Michael Nylan, The Five ‘Confucian’ Classics (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2001), p. 14. 28 For a good chart of the editions based on all the major studies on the subject, see Yi Chinho, 17–18 segi pyŏngsŏ ŏnhae yŏn’gu, p. 69. 29 Han’guk kojŏn pŏnyŏgwŏn (ed.), Sŏnjo sillok, 28th Year (1595), Month 6, Day 13. 30 For the influence of the Jixiao xinshu on the Chinsŏl, see Chŏng Haeŭn, Han’guk chŏnt’ong pyŏngsŏ-ŭi ihae II (Seoul: Kukpangbu Kunsa p’yŏnch’an yŏn’guwŏn, 2008), pp. 100–103. 31 Information on all of the texts and their editions mentioned here can be found in Chŏng Haeŭn, Han’guk chŏnt’ong pyŏngsŏ-ŭi ihae (Seoul: Kukpangbu Kunsa p’yŏnch’an yŏn’guwŏn, 2004) and Chŏng Haeŭn, Han’guk chŏnt’ong pyŏngsŏ-ŭi ihae II. There are no English-language materials on most of these sources. 32 Na Yŏng’il et al., Chosŏn chunggi muyesŏ yŏn’gu (Seoul: Seoul taehakkyo ch’ulp’anbu, 2006), p. 2. 33 Ibid., pp. 2, 4. 34 Some information on this can be found in Cho Yŏngjun et al., “Kihyo sinsŏ,” in Muye munhŏn charyo chipsŏng (Seoul: Kungnip minsok pangmulgwan, 2004), pp. 282–409. 35 No Yŏnggu, Chosŏn hugi pyŏngsŏ-wa chŏnbŏp-ǔi yŏn’gu (Unpublished dissertation, Seoul taehakkyo, 2001), pp. 199–203. 36 It is quite possible that there are other texts still unpublished in the archives. As mentioned above, the philological work on military texts and their publication is still in the early stages. 37 At least, I have often been asked about this and everyone seemed to agree to having read this somewhere. The only actual example of such a claim in scholarly works that I have found is Kenneth Chase, Firearms: A Global History to 1700, p. 175, who is

190

38

39 40 41

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referring to an earlier case of using the vernacular for security purposes. The book he is referring to is lost, so it cannot be known whether his case is well-founded. At any rate, Chase makes no claims regarding the Chinbŏp ŏnhae. Han Mannyŏn (ed.), Sin’gi pigyŏl, pp. 45–56. Qi Jiguang, Jixiao xinshu shisi juan ben, pp. 59–62. The 18 juan text version of the Jixiao xinshu does not seem to have cannon songs. However, the usage of cannon songs is much older. Chongge are already mentioned in the Wubian, a Ming military manual from the early or midsixteenth century. Cf. Tang Shunzhi, Wubian, in ZBJC (Beijing: Jiefangjun chubanshe, 1989), vol. 13, p. 848. Werhahn-Mees mentions this in his foreword to his partial translation of the Jixiao xinshu. See: Kai Werhahn-Mees, Ch’i Chi-kuang. Praxis der chinesischen Kriegführung (München: Bernard & Graefe, 1980), p. 13. Information by Kang Seokhwa, to be published. Pak Saho, Simjŏn ko, Database of Korean Classics, 3rd month, 9th day.

11 Craftsmen and specialist troops in early modern Chinese armies Ulrich Theobald

Towards a definition of specialist troops Why does an army need specialists and craftsmen? There are examples in history of armies that were totally independent of such personnel, like the Roman armies whose troops were trained to carry their luggage, repair their tent and weaponry, erect fortifications, and construct siege towers, crossbows, and catapults. They seemed to be all-round talents totally independent of specialists. This might have to do with the fact that by late Republican and Imperial Rome, the armies no longer consisted of peasants recruited for service, but of professionals.1 As a shoemaker needs to know his profession, so a soldier is in need of basic knowledge about his weaponry. Yet if it comes to complex weapons like catapults or siege machines (including fire power artillery), the building of large fortresses, or even the construction of bridges, pontoons, boats, ships, or roads, the basic knowledge of the common soldier is not sufficient. There must be specialists in each army who know how to construct, build, and operate machines and how to destroy fortifications or assail cities. Miners, sappers, and gunners were such specialists in early modern armies and no army, whether in China or the West, could do without them. When looking at eighteenth century armies in Europe, the most surprising issue is that the artillery, today perceived as a very “normal” unit, was still a corps of specialists, meaning tradesmen, not soldiers. Frederick the Great despised gunners as second-rate soldiers hardly fit for the society of the “gentlemen” who officered the other branches of the army, especially the cavalry units.2 While the other members of the officer corps were often members of the aristocracy, artillerymen were looked down upon, not only in Prussia, but throughout Europe, and especially in France. In the same way, the rank-and-file gunners were normally not allowed to carry a musket like the elite troops of the infantry and cavalry. A qualified gunner, on the other hand, could be regarded as greatly superior to the enlisted men in the other arms of service because he knew how to operate complex weapons beyond the ability to handle a standard musket.3 The ordinary private artilleryman in Austria was the Büchsenmeister (master gunner), a fully trained technician who was supported by untrained infantrymen

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(Handlanger) providing the muscle. For this purpose, a regiment of artillery fusiliers was created in 1757. No foreigners were to be enlisted in this unit. The personnel received favored treatment and higher rates of pay (a skill premium). Literacy was essential. During battle, artillery companies were detached as batteries for the support of various infantry or cavalry units and by no means fought as a coherent unit. While the age of absolutism is commonly called the age of fortifications and sieges, necessitating the use of siege artillery with mortars and heavy cannons, there was in fact also a need for mobile field artillery.4 Siege became less important during the eighteenth century, and with the Napoleonic wars artillery units became common in all European states. This development had begun a little bit earlier in France and Austria with Jean Baptiste de Gribauval’s (1715–1789) general reform and standardization of the artillery. Barrels and carriages were redesigned to reduce weight and increase mobility. Additionally, the so-called horse artillery was created; small and very mobile units staffed with mounted gunners. The importance of artillery can be seen in its pure number: In Austria, the number of field guns rose from 203 in 1756 to 1257 in 1805.5 By the end of the Napoleonic wars, a standard European army consisted of three branches: infantry, cavalry, and artillery, which was often grouped into corps operating independently from the supreme commander.6 The personnel for the artillery units was educated in specialized academies and had classes in arithmetics, geometry, advanced maths, mechanics and ballistics, topography and surveying, tactics, logistics, staff, and adjutant work. The artillery officers were some of the most intelligent men of the whole army.7 Engineers were needed for the construction of fortresses. Starting in the early seventeenth century, European history of thought clearly differentiated between the architect and engineer. While the architect was more of a civilian – and a man of spirit and the arts – the engineer was a “child of Mars” and dedicated his work to usefulness instead of creativity. The construction of fortifications is subject to the possibilities and needs of the artillery; it is an applied science of mathematics, and especially of geometry. The origins of the architectura militaris are to be found in Italy (with the star fort or trace italienne as its apogee under the Ancien Régime). In France, the title of engineer was tied to the king, emphasizing his important function in strategy. An engineer was to be better educated than a civilian architect. Besides being knowledgeable in construction, he had to be an expert in military affairs, especially in ballistics.8 In the eighteenth century, more emphasis was placed on temporary field fortifications and the outworks of already existing fortresses. The Prussian corps of engineers was relatively small and scattered over the various fortresses. In 1742 a pioneer regiment was founded, composed of sappers and miners. The troops were recruited from civilian miners.9 In Austria, there was an engineer academy to train the officers of the engineer corps. Each infantry regiment had a platoon of sappers, and a sapper corps was established in 1760. The miners were originally part of the artillery units and united into a small miner brigade in 1763, but transferred to the engineers in 1772. A pioneer

Craftsmen and specialist troops 193 battalion was established in 1758 with the duty to clear roads and erect bridges. These specialist units included not only experts in their own field, but also those of other professions, such as surgeons, fouriers, and chasseurs. Austria also had two companies of pontoneers managing 100 wooden and metal pontoons each at its disposal.10 Foresters and huntsmen were employed as Jägers (“hunters”) and mainly entrusted with skirmishing. The Border corps of Austria also had two companies of sharpshooters. Light troops or hussars, often composed of people from the border nations, such as Pandours or Croats, served as independently operating support for the normal infantry. Frederick also despised these kinds of Austrian troops, because they allegedly lacked bravery and discipline. General staff, medical services, transport, and the commissariat, as well as the Freikorps (privately organized units), can also be seen as specialist troops, not to forget the “second arms,” the Navy. In summary, specialist troops were engaged in the operation of military activities that required extraordinary knowledge and a different mode of fighting. They were deployed for the support of regular troops in field battle (cannoneer units), during siege (bombardiers, miners, sappers), on the way to the battlefield and back (engineers, pioneers, pontoneers), after the battle (medical services), or for the organization of the campaign itself (general staff, commissariat, and transport). I have made this excursion to show what we know about specialist troops in Western armies. By comparing this information with contemporary China, we will see that there were in fact similar concepts, but with different preferences. Unfortunately, an equivalent to the abundant treasure of written and visual sources we have at our disposal to study warfare in the West cannot be found for China. There are very few illustrations of warfare or warriors before the nineteenth century, and there are virtually no technical descriptions of the skills a gunner needed. Therefore, we must rely on administrative regulations and official chronicles and archival documents to gather information about specialist troops supporting the army. While specialist troops (including physicians and chaplains) were a regular part of the army, the military also needed civilian specialists who were hired just for the duration of the campaign. Craftsmen were specialized persons serving the army in their field of knowledge during a campaign, from bakers to carpenters and miners. Craftsmen who were ordered to produce uniforms, tents, muskets, or gunpowder in peacetime will not be considered here, nor will the people doing unskilled labor for the army, like drivers or porters.

Specialist troops among the Banner units First, we will look at the composition of the troops of Qing China, as reflected in the regulations for the fixed numbers (ding’e) of troops in the various garrisons and units provided by the Qingchao huidian zeli, a collection of administrative regulations for the Qing state, in order to gain an impression of what types of

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specialist troops existed in the traditional11 army of Qing China. This is much easier for the Banner troops (baqi bing, Manbing) than for the common Green Standard troops (luying bing, Hanbing). Among the Banner troops garrisoned in the Capital, three units can be called specialist troops, namely the Firearms Brigade (huoqi ying), the Scouting Brigade ( jianrui ying), and the Vanguard Brigade (qianfeng ying). The specialization of the last two was rather in tactics and function than in their instruments of fighting. The provincial Banner troops had the following specialists mentioned in the Baqi tongzhi,12 the official statutes of the Eight Banners, at their disposal: 1

Artillery specialists • Artillery regimental commander (huo[qi] ying canling): 1 person in Qiqihar. Interestingly enough, this commander did not directly command any gunners, but only not further specified troops (bing) of Manchus, Soluns, Dagurs, Barhus, and Chinese. It might be that this regimental commander was dispatched from the Capital artillery regiment. • Artillerymen (pao xiaoji):13 672 in provincial garrisons in China proper (not Manchuria). • Gunners (paoshou): 237 in provincial garrisons in China proper (not Manchuria). The titles pao xiaoji and paoshou seem to refer to the same task, because they never both appear in the same garrison.14 The paoshou, nevertheless, appears to have occupied a lower position.15

There were thus in total 909 gunners in the provincial Banner garrisons, at least nominally. 2

Musketry specialists • Musketry regimental commander (niaoqiang ying canling): 1 person in Ula, Jilin. This person commanded 48 musketry officers (niaoqiang lingcui) and 626 musketeers (niaoqiang xiaoji). • Manchu and Mongol vanguard musketry [officers] (Manchu Menggu niaoqiang qianfeng [xiaoji]): 12 men. These persons are only mentioned among the staff of the garrison of Dezhou, Shandong. They belonged to the imperial bordered and plain yellow Banners and commanded 188 musketeers (niaoqiang xiaoji). • Musketry officers (niaoqiang lingcui):16 To be found in the provincial Banner garrisons in China proper, with a total number of 314. Musketeer units are to be found in the garrisons of Shanxi, Henan, Zhejiang, Hubei, and Gansu, reinforced by the 48 musketry officers in Ula, Jilin. In some places, the ethnic origin (Manchu, Mongol, and Chinese) is specified. • Mounted musketeers (niaoqiang xiaoji): Most musketeers, totaling 4084, were commanded by the officers just mentioned (except the vanguard officers in Dezhou). There are two exceptions, namely 680

Craftsmen and specialist troops 195

3

4

musketeers in the garrisons of Haiguan and Miyun, Zhili, that seem to have been incorporated into the non-musketeer platoons, with no special musketry officer commanding them. • Musketry men (niaoqiang bing): 200 troops. They are only to be found in the garrison of Fuzhou, and were directly commanded by nonmusketry officers. Like with the paoshou gunners, it seems that the niaoqiang bing had a lower status than the niaoqiang xiaoji. • Infantry musketeers (niaoqiang bubing): 400 men in Ningxia, Gansu, commanded by non-musketry officers. The special mention of the term “infantry” suggests that Banner musketeers normally disposed of a horse and were mounted musketeers.17 Naval specialists • Supervisor-in-chief of the naval forces (shuishi ying zongguan): 1 person, in Qiqihar, Heilongjiang. • Assistant commandants of the naval forces (shuishi ying xieling): 3 persons, in Lüshun, Shengjing (modern Liaoning), Fuzhou, and Guangzhou. • Company commanders (shuishi ying zuoling), lieutenants (shuishi ying xiaojixiao), and platoon commanders of the naval forces (shuishi ying fangyu): These officers commanded the naval forces in Jilin, Heilongjiang, Fujian, and Guangdong. • Overseers of dockyards (chuanchang guanli zaochuan guan): These officials were actually not military personnel and are therefore only referred to with their official rank (like sipin ‘fourth rank,’ wupin ‘fifth rank,’ etc.). They were nominally garrisoned in Qiqihar but were responsible for dockyards in the province of Jilin. • Shipmen or mariners (shuishou) were to be found in more places than those just mentioned. Just like the musketeers not commanded by a musketry officer, these seamen or “rivermen” were apparently commanded by cavalry officers. This is true for the nominal 1929 seamen in the various garrisons in Jilin and Heilongjiang, but also in Zhapu, Zhejiang, as well as in Fuzhou, and Guangzhou. The 60 seamen in Lüshun were commanded by 50 officers or NCOs (non-commissioned officers, lingcui), which is quite a surprising ratio and shows that it is difficult to generally translate lingcui as “NCO,” “officer,” or “common soldier.” In this case they seem to belong more to the lower ranks. Scribes and clerks

Although scribes cannot be considered “troops” because they do not fight (sappers or miners also do not fight directly against the enemy), they were of great importance for the administration of their garrison and the organization of warfare. They were experts in accounting and all the paper bureaucracy needed to exchange information between commanders, the general staff, and the central government, and during the march to the front, when the troops were to be equipped with the necessary food and transport tools, and they had to care for

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the supplies in the camp. The omnipresence of scribes (Manchu bithesi, Chinese translit. bitieshi) in the official and archival documents demonstrates that the army could not do without them. The post of bithesi was a kind of lower official rank that is mentioned in the biographies of many high officers and therefore often seems to have been a kind of trainee position to learn about the organization of a campaign, before being promoted to the post of a “fighting” officer. Nearly all registers and lists of military staff mention scribes among the officers, and the officers are never without scribes. Their official rank ranged from 7 to 9. In many cases their role seems to have been that of a quartermaster or that of an accountant, as the following titles show: A yinwu bithesi or suiyin bithesi controlled the seals, a dangfang bithesi took care of the garrison archive, a lixing bithesi was entrusted with penal matters, the yinku bithesi with the funds of the garrison, and a cang bithesi, taizhan bithesi, or juntai bithesi with the provisions and the logistics. There were also translators, the fanyi bithesi. Other types of specialist troops did not exist. Unfortunately, similar information cannot be obtained so easily for the Green Standard troops. Therefore, it is difficult to estimate how great a proportion of the troops used muskets, or how many cannons all types of troops had. Such data have to be extracted from sources other than the official regulations for the garrisons (bingzhi). The Green Standard garrisons of Xuanhua and Datong, Shanxi, for instance, were staffed with 1000 gunners (paoshou).18 The information above shows that there were, scattered across various places in the empire, artillery and musketry units that were sometimes commanded as separate units, and were sometimes integrated into other units. They operated as part of a corps and could be deployed whenever there was a need for such specialist troops. A question I am still battling with is how many troops had muskets at their disposal. Looking at the directives in the Baqi tongzhi, it seems as if the elite Banner troops in the northeastern provinces did not make use of muskets at all, while up to 50 percent of the troops of the Banner garrisons in the central provinces were equipped with muskets (see table below), while all others only used bows and arrows. This raises the question which armament was that of specialists: Was it the muskets, a seemingly advanced but highly unreliable and imprecise weapon? Or was it the bow, which demanded much higher skill and greater bravery but had a better rate of hitting the target effectually, and was an efficient weapon even when fired at full speed? Bows and arrows were extensively used in war, as can be seen in the copper plate engravings of the Qing wars produced in the eighteenth century, as well as in the accounting book of the second Jinchuan war (1771–1776), which states that almost 500,000 arrows were used in a five-year war,19 in contrast to 2,525,086 jin (1507 metric tons) of lead for bullets and cannonballs.20 Yet the use of muskets as a convenient and easy-tomanufacture weapon must have been so widespread at the end of the eighteenth century that one can no longer speak of musketeers as specialists. Even during the rebellion of Wu Sangui, contingents of 2000 Green Standard musketeers seem to have been quite available.21

Craftsmen and specialist troops 197

Permanently employed craftsmen among the Banner units A lot of Banner garrisons had a fixed number of permanently employed craftsmen ( jiang) at their disposal. Most of them were entrusted with special tasks, but the regulations often merge them under the term gong-jian-tong-tie jiang, “craftsmen for bows, arrows, brass, and iron.” In the Capital and the garrisons in the province of Shengjing, ironsmiths were prevalent, and no other craftsmen are mentioned at all. Their main task might have been producing horseshoes, arrowheads, and weapons. More detailed information is provided for some garrisons in Heilongjiang and some provincial garrisons in China proper. Bowmakers (gongjiang) and arrowmakers ( jianjiang) were part of many provincial garrisons. Their high numbers show how important bows and arrows were as weapons, in contrast to muskets, which were still seen as special weapons in the early eighteenth century, at least ideologically. In the copper plate engravings of the great eighteenth century wars, therefore, bows and arrows are the most prevalent weapons of the Banner units, whose troops fought as mounted archers. Mounted musketeers are only seen among the Dzungars. Qing musketeers were exclusively infantrymen, at least in these illustrations.22 Table 11.123 shows how important a part the craftsmen played among the troops. In two garrisons in Gansu, Huining and Huiyuan, the term jiangyi is used, suggesting that these craftsmen were not permanently employed but recruited from among the local trades according to need. Yet in fact, the dated term yi simply points at someone working for the government or an individual official (officer) belong to a government institution, like the genyi “manservants” allotted to each soldier and officer during war. Garrisons disposing of naval or fluvial personnel also employed boat carpenters (chuanjiang).

Artillery units in action In the following part of the chapter, I will examine the activities of the artillery units, as well as the types of cannon used by the Qing armies. Artillery pieces in early and mid-Qing China were cast of iron or brass. Only a few military units possessed artillery weapons at all, and the most important of these was the Firearms Brigade (huoqiying) in the Capital. Uniaxial mountings, Table 11.1 Relations of different arms and functions in selected provincial Banner garrisons

Gunners Musketeers Infantrymen Craftsmen Trainees

Hangzhou

Fuzhou

Jingzhou

160 736 322 96 128

28 240 320 120 220

80 1824 700 168 400

Chengdu 48 256 96 144

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which Europe used for field artillery from the sixteenth century onwards at the latest, and which allowed the artillery units enormous mobility, were not totally unknown in China, but rather rare. Of the twenty-four types of cannon and howitzer presented in the picture volumes of the Da Qing huidian “Collected statutes of the Great Qing,” only seven were mounted uniaxially, most others biaxially.24 Most barrels (paotong) were installed on square biaxial carriages (paoche) with four often very small wheels, like in Western naval artillery, that did not allow long-range movement. These cannons were solely made for defense purposes in fortifications. Light cannon types with a barrel weight of 100 jin (59 kilos) or so could be transported on the back of a mule or by two porters. Some heavier pieces could be carried by camels (therefore sometimes called tuopao “camel guns”, or probably more generally “cannons carried by beasts”),25 but for the heavy artillery, the only transport possibility was melting them down and recasting them near the front. This was the custom during three wars, namely the First and Second Jinchuan campaigns (1747–1749, 1771–1776) and the campaigns against Burma/ Myanmar (1766–1770). There were also some types of cannon whose barrels consisted of pieces which could be screwed together ( jiujie pao), yet those cannons only had a very small caliber, and the construction could diminish the effect of the propellant gases. Therefore, all materials for cannons and equipment, from gun metal to cleaning shovels, had to be procured in the home garrisons and be transported by porters or mules to the war theatre. Iron for cannonballs (paozi) and barrels was bought on the free market and was therefore called “merchant iron” (shangtie).26 Brass and lead (for bullets) were often confiscated from among the metals earmarked for the provincial mints.27 When the materials necessary to cast the cannons arrived at the designated location, the commanding officer had to determine an adequate place to install a camp foundry (suiying paoju, “cannon foundry following the camp”). Here, the furnaces were erected in which the metal was melted down and the cannons, howitzers, and cannonballs were cast. But casting was only part of the work. The casting molds were made of clay and sand and therefore gave the cannonballs and barrels only a very crude shape. In a workshop, all parts of the barrel could be processed correctly, especially the “soul” inside the barrel, whose surface has to be as smooth as possible and fit the size of the cannonballs exactly in order to let as little of the propellant gas as possible escape. In the Jinchuan mountains, producing a high-quality soul in the artillery pieces was impossible. Therefore, the barrels had to be cast as ready-to-use pieces without a rifled bore, the cannonballs had to be adjusted to the concave diameter, and both – cannonballs and barrel – had to be made as smooth as possible. Regulations like the Gongbu junqi zeli, the Ministry of Works’ regulations for military equipment, and the Da Qing huidian tu contain details concerning not only the exact dimensions of the particular types of guns, but also the weight of the projectiles and the amounts of gunpowder required. Thus, the quality of

Craftsmen and specialist troops 199 the guns cast on the spot cannot have been very high – the destructive force and range of the cannons were below the standard of the guns produced in the normal state workshops in the provincial capitals or the garrisons. Among the materials needed for casting cannons were tools like drill heads (zuantou), but barrels were cast with a hollow core (paoxin), without applying any drilling or rifling process, except probably boring the touchhole.28 When cannons and ammunition were ready, they were transported to a battery platform that cannot have been very far from the furnaces, since the cannons were cast on-site because they were not easy to transport. As can be seen in the copper plate engravings, wheel-furnished mounts served to pull the guns to the batteries for just a short piece of way, where the road or a path could be made broad and even enough for the purpose. Yet there were also some barrels that were simply mounted on wooden balks. A device for adjusting the barrel to the target seems not to have existed in such constructions. The battery itself was protected by redoubts against shots and attacks of the rebels that would try to harass the gun crew while loading, cleaning, and adjusting. The dimensions of such a battery and its surrounding could be enormous, as some figures from written sources prove: For one battery, seven wooden redoubts had to be erected. Within the surroundings giving enough protection to the gunners and the other staff, the battery was erected with a dimension of six to seven zhang (about 20 meters).29 As the cannon was meant to fire down from the battery platform, it must be assumed that the cited dimension corresponds to the height. Yet this would mean that the batteries were erected as a kind of ramp inclined along the slope of the hills just above the fortifications of the enemy. That the construction of such large platforms consumed time and manpower can be attested by several documents: Several thousand troops were used to erect wooden constructions and to pile up a battery platform.30 For this purpose, trees were cut down to erect palisades for protection.31 The batteries ideally had to reach at least the same ground level as the fortification of the enemy.32 When the batteries were high enough, the enemy’s hideouts would be easier to aim at. Other battery platforms were only two to three zhang high (about 8 meters),33 or four to five zhang (about 14 meters).34 Because of the inferior quality of the barrels, the range of fire cannot have been very impressive: According to several statements it was only the distance of an arrowshot, or even less.35 The guns and howitzers proved most effective when placed above the target. This meant that the batteries often had to be erected on a mountain ridge and the cannons fired down on the enemy’s war towers.36 This made the transport of cannons even more difficult, but it also shows either that the imperial gunners did not know their job very well, or that the gunpowder and the cannons cast in the mountains were of really poor quality. Howitzers (chongtian pao) were rarely used in spite of the steep angle which made them, with their highly inclined parabolic trajectory, more effective in bombarding the enemy towers and trenches than cannons, with their less inclined trajectory.

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There are many proofs that the quality of the guns was nothing to write home about: For example, the melting furnaces of the camp foundry were not allowed to be set up too near the battery. Bursting gun barrels seem to have been such a commonplace incidence that the generals took precautions to prevent too many soldiers or workers from being injured or killed by metal fragments. Once workers or porters had taken the cannonballs and gunpowder to the battery, they had to leave immediately and go back to the foundry.37 The imperial artillery had a major problem: The cannons cast on the spot regularly exploded and caused damage to equipment and people. It became evident that the brass was of inferior quality because it contained too much slag (kuangxing), and that it was useless as gun metal.38 Yet the need for cannons and howitzers was so urgent that the commanding generals nevertheless ordered artillery pieces to be cast in the camp foundries. It was ordered that only when not the slightest impurity (shayan) was to be seen, was the material suitable for casting. Therefore, it was a better method to spend time refining the metal than to cast the pieces prematurely and lose time through recasting the exploded cannons – and lose the lives of gunners and workmen to boot.39 Half of the burst cannons was “as black as soot,” due to the very high amount of lead compounds (qiansha) contained in the material.40 The staff of the camp foundry was to be recruited from the logistics stations. These persons did not only bring the material for the cannons – brass bars or rods or “crab shells” (xieke) produced in Leshan41 – from Chengdu to Jinchuan, but also had to transport the finished barrel along with the ammunition from the camp foundries to the battery and thus provided the gun crew with new supplies. Head of the camp foundry was a foreman or “engineer” (suiying ju zhangfu) who had to supervise the cannon casting, which means that he was a skilled workman and an expert in metallurgy. The workers serving in the foundry and later transporting the guns and the cannonballs to the battery were allowed to walk back to the foundry without having a specified task to do and were thus paid for a non-productive period. The foreman, who as an expert craftsman was much more expensive than the unskilled laborers, was not allowed to go back to the foundry without doing productive work. If this regulation was not just made for principle, it seems clear that the distance between the foundry and the battery must have been at least several li (one li normally equalled to 500 m). One reason for this great distance might be that the locations of battery and foundry were not calculated according to the danger arising from bursting guns or from enemy snipers, but rather according to topography – there had to be a location convenient enough to establish a foundry as near the battery as possible – and to the danger that the enemy might be able to make a counter-attack. Should the enemy conquer the battery or some cannons – which happened several times during the war – at least the foundry would not fall into their hands. The distance between the foundry and a battery could be up to ten stations, or day-travels, which seems possible when it was only a question of transporting cannonballs, but not if a freshly cast cannon had to be pulled forward to the battery.42

Craftsmen and specialist troops 201 Nevertheless, there was a long period of time during the first half of the war when the finished barrels had to be transported up to the top of mountain ridges to fire down on the enemy’s castles. This practice also seems to have been common during other wars, like in Mongolia, where fortified batteries were set up on top of mountains in Uliasutai.43 Whenever the front advanced, the battery had to be relocated too, and ideally the foundry followed it at a corresponding distance. During long periods of the war, the front advanced only very slowly, and therefore the camp foundries often remained in the same place for months. When the battery was moved, the commanding official had to decide which cannon could be pulled forward on its mount and which cannons should be melted down, either because they were too heavy to be transported, because the mountain path was too narrow or too steep, or because a cannon had become unusable. The responsibility for this decision was borne by the supervising Grand Minister (zongli dachen), because the cannon brass was of high value and any loss would have to be refunded to the “owner,” in most cases the provincial mint. Metal that is cast and recast several times will of course lose much of its original quality, and in order to regain the original pureness of the brass, the foreman had to add eight or nine jin of “pure” brass to every 100 jin of remelted brass. If the brass had already been remelted and recast several times, or had been buried in order to hide it from the enemy and was therefore heavily corroded, the foundry master had to add up to 16.375 jin (16 jin 6 liang) to every 100 jin of the corroded material. We will now take a look at the “normal case,” in which cannons were not cast on the spot but brought with the troops from the garrisons. Unfortunately, there is no evidence of how the cannons and howitzers were produced in the garrisons. It might be that the furnaces of the provincial mints were used for this purpose. Artillery pieces were cast according to about two dozen models described in detail in the Da Qing huidian tu,44 or according to local custom, so that in the end, each provincial garrison possessed its own types of guns. Standard cannons were not common. Even in the West, standards for field and siege artillery were only adapted in the course of the eighteenth century. The campaign against Wu Sangui made it necessary to cast a special type of cannon, the “great red-coat cannon” (da hongyi pao, actually “great Dutch cannon”).45 Twenty pieces were cast especially for this war, apparently in Beijing or in a larger provincial garrison, and sent to the war theatre in Changsha, accompanied by two officials, one from the Ministry of War, and one from the Ministry of Works.46 The efforts of the Jesuit missionary and scholar Ferdinand Verbiest (Nan Huairen, 1623–1688) to cast cannons were well remembered at that time.47 During the campaigns against the Dzungars, cannons were brought from the garrisons, along with other equipment or foodstuff. The same caravan of mules that brought rice also transported cannons to the front. Three camels (or other beasts of burden) could be tied together side by side to transport one cannon (mei pao yi wei pei tuo san zhi), but the copper plate engravings show that one

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camel could also carry one smaller gun.48 Horses were also used to transport cannons. Of a total contingent of 5150 horses, for instance, 150 beasts were used for the purpose of carrying artillery pieces.49 The numbers were surely not very high: General Xizhu, for example, was allowed thirty pieces of mother-and-child cannons (zimu pao), General Fei Yanggu fifty pieces.50 It seems to have been very common to join small batteries with a platoon of musketeers (qian pao qi fa),51 a method that can also be seen in many scenes on the copper plate engravings. Garrisons in the conquered territory were immediately equipped with artillery, like the four batteries of zimu cannons in Ulaanggom.52 The cannons were to be procured by the Ministry of Works (gongbu), which can only mean that the cannons were produced in a foundry in Beijing and then sent to the troops’ garrisons in the west, like the forty pieces of cannon sent to Ningxia in 1724.53 Yet not all cannons used by the various garrisons were new. Some pieces were retained after the demise of the Ming and continued to be used during the campaigns in Xinjiang, much to the discontent of the leading generals Huang Tinggui and Arigun, because the four large “divine” cannons (da shenpao) used in the camp of General Yarhašan were already worn out (duanlie) and too dangerous to be fired.54 Probably as a result of such experiences, as well as the fact that the transport of cannons from Beijing to the “Wild West” was a complicated matter, it was decided that new cannons were to be cast in Liangzhou, Gansu. The case from the Jinchuan wars was treated as a precedent in the campaign against Muslim insurgents of the Tarim Basin, and cannons were cast directly in the war theatre. Yarhašan asked to send craftsmen ( jiangyi) as well as all materials needed to the camps, as well as to cast cannons in the camp. For the casting of twenty to thirty new cannons, experts were to be hired, and the Generals Sunggari and Huang Tinggui were to strictly observe if they put the right spirit into their work.55 Apparently, the cannon casters were either hired on the labor market, for example from blacksmiths or producers of agrarian tools, or selected from workers employed in state-owned workshops like the provincial mint. For this extraordinary task expert state officials and craftsmen “from far away” were especially sent to Liangzhou. The experience the Generals Jaohui and Šuhede had gained during the Jinchuan war was now to be useful in producing cannons to fight the rebel Khwāja-i Jahān (“Hojijan”).56 The craftsmen were not sent directly home (to the indefinite neidi, “inside the provinces”) after the necessary cannons had been cast, but remained with the army and cast further pieces of artillery in Aksu, where 120 gunners operated the batteries.57 Cannons and other weapons were also produced in Suzhou, Gansu.58 The brass used to cast the cannons was not brought back, neither in the shape of cannons nor as brass ingots or rods; instead, the material was to remain on the spot for the casting of new, Chinese-style coins in Xinjiang. The brass thus became part of a complex reorganization of the whole coinage system in the newly conquered territory. Therefore, the casters remained for one or two years to realize these monetary politics.59

Craftsmen and specialist troops 203 Many cannons were also to remain in the conquered territory as a means of protecting the garrisons that were to be established or manned to prevent future uprisings, like Hami, Barkol, Yarkant, Kašgar, or Ili. The contingents left in these garrisons included a considerable number of craftsmen: Namely, there were 160 officers (lingcui), 320 vanguard cavalrymen (qianfeng), 2800 normal cavalry troops (mabing), 600 infantry troops (bubing), 40 gunners (paoshou), 80 craftsmen ( jiangyi), and 240 trainees ( yangyu bing).60 The ratio of gunners to craftsmen in Ili (40:80) was thus similar to other provincial capitals like Chengdu (48:96) or Jingzhou (80:168), Hubei, but they disappeared behind the large number of cavalry troops.

Different types of craftsmen employed and hired by the army A sufficient number of different cannons seem to have been available in the western garrisons, so that on each campaign against the Dzungars and the Uyghur city-states in the Tarim Basin, cannons could be brought along with the equipment. These outposts were extremely important for supplying the campaigning troops. General Yue Zhongqi was entrusted with the fortification of Barkol, where ramparts and a number of batteries of an unknown size were built.61 The defense of a fortification was taken over by specialized troops, namely musketeers and gunners. For this type of fortification, laborers ( fuyi) were recruited from the provinces to undertake the construction work (chenggong). At least some of the laborers seem to have been convicts (renfan) sentenced to do this hard work for sixty days. Their penalty fulfilled, they were allowed to become soldiers or were free to return to their home villages.62 For wooden fortifications, craftsmen of princely establishments or from workshops in the capital could also be dispatched.63 The irrigation canals of the military colonies (tuntian) were also planned and dug by craftsmen (gongjiang), while the fields themselves were worked by the troops.64 As an expression of imperial power, steles with inscriptions were erected on the sites of victory. The inscriptions were incised by craftsmen who were especially brought to the sites of the battlefields, like Yarkant.65 Specialists in metal processing were dispatched to the military colonies to help the troops in the colonies cast their own tools for working the fields. There were several different ways to obtain iron. The most convenient way was to melt down weapons (“swords to ploughshares”), but the craftsmen also cooperated with local experts in prospecting different places where rocks contained a sufficient amount of iron ore to make iron of. The tradesmen were to train the colonist troops in working the iron, and were then sent back home.66 Such experts did not necessarily come from the private labor market. The Mongol Banner troops (or Dzungars?) settled down in the colony of Khobdo, Mongolia, were first to be trained how to use agrarian tools. Green Standard troops, already experienced with the military colony system, were sent to Khobdo, along with several experts in woodcutting, stonecutting, and smithery (mu-shi-tie jiang), to provide the basic work for the colonists.67

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Green standard troops, like the Banner troops, apparently included a handful of craftsmen, as another statement about the colonization of Ili shows: Craftsmen from the Green Standard troops were to be selected to purchase the necessary materials and prepare the first sets of agrarian tools that the colonists would later use.68 This incident proves that the Green Standard garrisons, like the Banner garrisons, also had regularly employed craftsmen at their disposal. During the war against Wu Sangui and his allies, boats played an important role in the deployment of troops. Therefore, boat carpenters (duogong, chuanjiang) were often hired to prepare tools that would allow the army to cross rivers and waterways,69 but war ships ( jian) also played an important role in many battles.70 The army often used pontoon bridges ( fuqiao), and they sometimes had to be repaired by specialists.71 They played a very important role in the Jinchuan wars, during which craftsmen were once sent out at night to connect the two banks of a mountain creek.72 Rope bridges (suoqiao) or makeshift bridges (pianqiao) were also often used. An important bridge south of an enemy castle at Giyaržisang was destroyed by divers from Hunan, who tore down the wooden pillars of the construction.73 Craftsmen were also to be used to produce camel saddles (luotuo anxie). Many families in the province of Shanxi specialized in the processing of wool and the making of ropes. These were to be entrusted with the production of the tools needed by the army, and paid an appropriate price.74 Craftsmen for all kind of specified work were often hired from among the people. Unlike the Roman soldiers mentioned in the beginning, the Qing troops did not do the crude work. They saw themselves as gentlemen and not as men of the trades or the workshops. It seems that not even the manservants (genyi) of the troops, who each officer was served by in large numbers, engaged in woodcutting and construction work. This dirty work was taken over by craftsmen from among the people.75 The fine work, however, was done by experts in the garrisons, like huge amounts of arrows that were sent to the war theatre in Jinchuan from the nearest Banner garrison, as well as from Beijing. The making of arrows required real expertise and could only be done by craftsmen who were regularly employed in the garrisons, as was seen above.76 Craftsmen (or laborers?) could even be granted a reward that was normally a privilege of soldiers.77 Craftsmen ( jiangyi) in the camps were so important that the emperor issued a special edict stressing the need to nourish them sufficiently. The military seems to have regularly abused the funds for the civilian craftsmen.78

The pay of hired craftsmen and experts The regulations for war expenditure, Junxu zeli, promulgated in 1784, provide detailed instructions about the payment granted to craftsmen hired by the army.79 Alongside many less or not specialized persons, like granary workers (cangfu)

Craftsmen and specialist troops 205 and grain measurers (douji), logistics laborers (zhanfu), and workers constructing sheds and stables (tagai fupeng/mapeng renfu), real specialists are also dealt with, categorized into different professions. The regulations determined that all workers coming from provinces other than the one where the war took place (in the case of the western campaigns, Gansu, probably including Shaanxi) were to be granted a so-called baggage payment (xingzhuang yin) of six silver liang. This money was to cover the travel expenses. Craftsmen hired in the province where the war took place were given four, five, or six liang, depending on the distance to the war theatre. All craftsmen were furthermore paid out a sum of three liang of “money for the comfort of the family” (anjiayin). This sum was to cover the losses incurred if the family’s nourisher could not work for his business. On the march from their hometown to the border of the province (in case the war took place beyond the borders of the proper provinces), the craftsmen obtained a daily pay of 0.06 liang (or six fen) to buy food with, and outside the provincial borders one sheng (1.035 litres) of rice. This regulation was also common for soldiers. It was apparently easier to distribute rice than to organize moneychangers and food stalls. In the war theatre, the monthly pay granted to the craftsmen differed according to their profession. Cannon casters were given three liang per month, and others, like boat carpenters (chuanjiang), blacksmiths (tiejiang), stone cutters (shijiang), wood cutters (mujiang), tailors (caifeng), and artisans mounting pictures or maps (biaobei), were given only two liang, while ferrymen (dufu) and boatmen (shuishou) received only one and a half liang. They were also fed daily with one sheng of rice, and their families were granted a monthly share of three dou of rice, equivalent to one sheng per day.80 Other groups of specialists were physicians ( yisheng), hired employees of government agencies (gongshi), scribes (shushi), painters (huajiang), and papermakers (zhijiang). The money for the comfort of the families of physicians was as high as fifty liang, that for the others half of this sum. The baggage pay for the physicians was thirty liang, that of the others fifteen liang. The monthly pay for the physicians was three liang, the same as for cannon casters. Employees of state agencies were granted a mere one and a half liang, the others two liang. Physicians and state employees were allowed the assistance of a manservant, for which they were also given money. All persons of the latter group were not given any money for their travel to the war theatre.81 This makes it evident that the army set up a clear hierarchy of who was really needed, namely the men of the physical trades, with the cannon casters, who were real professionals in their field and could not be replaced, at the top. Compared with the rest, their work was also quite difficult, dangerous, and demanding. Craftsmen of other professions stood in second place, and those with the easiest physical work, like scribes, painters, and papermakers, were valued less. It is interesting to see that the labor pay for a physician was not higher than that for a cannon caster, but that he was given more allowances to carry all his luggage and equipment with him, and granted a higher pay for his family. It is

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not certain what kind of work the gongshi “state employees” did (probably yamen runners, li), but it seems that, in one way or another, they were experts in bureaucratic matters and could be hired out from their actual workplace to do some work in the war theatre. Finally, there is the interesting question of how long craftsmen and experts were used for the army. From the regulations just explained it seems as if there was no time restriction and that they could be hired as long as the campaign lasted. This was different from the peasants, who were, according to the household registers, recruited to do the porterage labor in the logistics stations. These porters had to be replaced every five months before they were set free to return to their fields.82

Summary Early modern Chinese armies included several specialist troops, which were mainly musketeer companies and artillery units. In the course of the eighteenth century, the niaoqiang musket became so common that one can no longer speak of their handlers as specialists, although officially, some Banner regiments still continued to use the specialist designation of “musketeers” as a kind of elite troop. The bow and arrow remained the preferred standard weapon of many Banner units, be it because of tradition or heroism, but surely not because of lower cost. Artillery units were still very rare at the end of the Qianlong reign (1736–1795), and there were very few field cannons available for the troops to the battlefield. Instead, cannons were often cast when needed, either in government workshops, in garrisons close to the battlefield, or even on the spot. Heavy artillery was used against fortresses, mainly in the shape of howitzers, but light guns were likewise regularly used against enemy troops in battles. Yet compared to seventeenth and eighteenth century Western armies, artillery played a far less important role in Chinese warfare. The same is true for musketeers. Other weapons, like bows and arrows in the Banner troops, or the shields, sabers, or pole-arms used by the Green Standard infantry units, were still very important and even gained more importance with the increasing use of village militia from the late eighteenth century onwards.83 In late imperial Chinese warfare, siege warfare did not play a crucial role. There were virtually no techniques for crushing a fortress by digging tunnels. Accordingly, there was no specialized miner corps among the Chinese troops of that age. Sappers were needed more often to do ad-hoc construction work of ramparts, saps, or trenches in the field when conditions on the battlefield required a static type of warfare. Yet there was also no specialized sapper corps, and the people digging out trenches or erecting barricades were hired civilian workers. Most garrisons had a certain number of tenured craftsmen at their disposal, mainly blacksmiths and bow- and arrow-makers. During warfare, there was a huge need for all different kinds of experts. These were mainly hired from the population of the region, and in many instances came from far away districts. The army hired a lot of craftsmen to do all the work that surpassed the “normal” job requirements of a soldier.

Craftsmen and specialist troops 207 All work with wood and stone was done by civilian experts, and the army engaged private ferrymen and boat carpenters, as well as physicians and secretaries. Yet what is most astonishing is that the army did not employ tenured experts in cannon casting. Although there must have been casters in various state-owned workshops, like the mints, apart from fortress artillery, the arsenals of the huge armies of Qing China had only a small array of cannons at hand. Field artillery was rarely used, and if problems with the material occurred, private experts or semi-experts were hired. For geodesy, surveying, and even for ballistic calculations, the army made use of Jesuit mathematicians like Felix da Rocha (1713–1781).84 This is an excellent example to demonstrate that, although Chinese armies were staffed with experts and specialists, and knew how to integrate civilian craftsmen into the army during war, any kind of scientific education for engineers was missing. But the reasons for this are another story.

Notes 1 A very basic introduction into such specialist professions of the Roman army is given by Adrian Goldsworthy, The Complete Roman Army (London: Thames & Hudson, 2003), pp. 145–149, 186–197. 2 Philip Haythornthwaite, Frederick the Great’s Army: Vol. 3 Specialist Troops (London: Osprey, 1992), p. 3. 3 Philip Haythornthwaite, The Austrian Army 1740–80: Vol. 3 Specialist Troops (London: Osprey, 1995), p. 3. 4 Geoffrey Parker mentions the common conception of the warfare of that age as “revolv[ing] around sieges, not battles.” See Geoffrey Parker, The Cambridge Illustrated History of Warfare: The Triumph of the West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), p. 168. 5 David Hollins, Austrian Napoleonic Artillery 1792–1815 (London: Osprey, 2003), p. 4. 6 Geoffrey Parker, Illustrated History, p. 198. 7 David Hollins, Austrian Napoleonic Artillery, p. 11. 8 Hartwig Neumann, Festungsbau-Kunst und-Technik: Deutsche Wehrbauarchitektur vom XV. bis XX. Jahrhundert (Augsburg: Bechtermünz, 2000), pp. 146–149. 9 Philip Haythornthwaite, Frederick the Great’s Army, p. 10. 10 Philip Haythornthwaite, The Austrian Army, pp. 9–12. 11 “Traditional” means before the creation of the new local militia during the midnineteenth century. 12 Baqi tongzhi (Changchun: Jilin wenshi chubanshe, 2002), fascicles 32–35. 13 Charles O. Hucker, A Dictionary of Official Titles in Imperial China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1985), has not translated the term xiaoji as a separate rank. In the Capital and the Northeastern provinces, xiaoji seemed to be a kind of elite cavalryman, but still a common soldier, not an officer. 14 The garrisons staffed with paoshou were located in Fujian, Guangdong, Shaanxi, and Gansu. This might hint at a peripheral status of these provinces. There were no gunners at all in Shandong and Jehol. 15 The subordinates of xiaojixiao “lieutenants” are either called xiaoji, like in the Baqi tongzhi, or bingding “common troops,” like in the listings in the war expenditures code Junxu zeli, in Xuxiu siku quanshu (hereafter XSKQS) (Shanghai: Shanghai guji chubanshe, 2002), vol. 857. 16 The lingcui is commonly regarded as a kind of NCO, or “corporal.” H[ippolit] S[emenovich] Brunnert and V. V. Hagelstrom, Present Day Political Organization of

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China (London: Kelly and Walsh, 1912), p. 326. Yet because these persons do not have a superior in the garrisons, they must be considered officers. Compare the characters for the Banner rank xiaoji that are written with the horse radical. This word appears in the Former Han period (206 bce–ce 18) and is explained as “fierce rider,” cf. Luo Zhufeng (ed.), Hanyu da cidian (Beijing: Hanyu da cidian chubanshe, 1993), vol. 12, p. 882. The Manchurian counterpart of this term is aliha cooha, meaning “Manchu or Mongolian cavalryman,” cf. Jerry Norman, A Concise Manchu-English Lexicon (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1978), p. 14. Pingding Zhungar fanglüe, in Yingyin Wenyuange Siku quanshu (hereafter SKQS) (Taibei: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1986), vol. 357–359, Zhengbian, fascicle 1 (QL 19/ run4/yihai). Zheng Qishan (comp.), Pingding Liang Jinchuan junxu li’an, ed. Xizang shehui kexue yuan, in Xizangxue Hanwen wenxian huike, series 2 (Beijing: Quanguo tushuguan wenxian suowei fuzhi zhongxin, 1991), fascicle 2, fol. 185a. Pingding Liang Jinchuan junxu li’an, 2, fol. 184b. The figure above would result in a daily firing rate of more than 34,000 charges each and every day over a five-year period (with an average bullet calibre of 6.4 qian or 24 g). The use of no more than 273 arrows per day is also purely statistical and does not correspond to the real importance of bow and arrow in battle. Pinging sanni fanglüe, in SKQS, vol. 354, fascicle 42 (KX 17/12/yisi). A series of these copper plate engravings is to be found on http://crossasia.org/digital/ schlachten-bilder/index/english-start, from the collection of the Berlin State Library, as well as in the private, yet scholarly, online collection “Battle of Qurman,” see www.battle-of-qurman.com.cn/e/hist.htm. The numbers do not include officers. Da Qing huidian tu (Taibei: Wenhai chubanshe, 1992), fascicle 98, [fol. 18–22]; 100, [fol. 3–25]. Pingding Zhunggar fanglüe, Zhengbian, f. 77 (QL 24/8/xinchou). Pingding Liang Jinchuan junxu li’an, 2, fol. 43a–b. Pingding Liang Jinchuan fanglüe, in SKQS, vol. 356, f. 48, fol. 18a–19a (QL 38/1/ xinhai). Pingding Liang Jinchuan junxu li’an, 2, fol. 46a–46b. Ibid., 2, fol. 64a. Pingding Liang Jinchuan fanglüe, 63, fol. 4a (QL 38/6/yiyou). Ibid., 19, fol. 13b–14a (QL 37/2/guiwei). Ibid., 50, fol. 1b–2a (QL 38/2/bingyin). Ibid., 51, fol. 17a (QL 38/2/jiashen); 57, fol. 24a–24b (QL 36/r3/yiyou). Ibid., 58, fol. 8b–9a (QL 38/4/bingshen). Ibid., 61, fol. 17a–17b (QL 38/6/dingyou). Ibid., 52, fol. 1a (QL 38/3/gengyin); 54, fol. 16a (QL 38/3/jiwei). Ibid., 21, fol. 5a (QL 37/2/guisi); 22, fol. 2b (QL 37/3/renyin), 12b–13a (QL 37/3/ yisi); 48, fol. 10a (QL 38/1/bingwu). Ibid., 2, fol. 43b–44b. Ibid., 19, fol. 19a–19b (QL 37/1/guiwei). Ibid., 51, fol. 19a (Q 38/2/jiashen); 53, fol. 7a–7b (QL 38/3/jiachen). Ibid., 57, fol. 1a (QL 38/r3/dingchou). Ibid., 58, fol. 7a–7b (QL 38/4/xinmao). Ibid., 2, fol. 44a–45b. Ibid., Qianbian, 34 (YZ 11/4/gengshen); Zhengbian, 53 (QL 23/4/dingmao). Da Qing huidian tu, f. 98–100. Joseph Needham, Science and Civilisation in China, vol. 5, Chemistry and Chemical Technology, part 7, Military Technology; The Gunpowder Epic, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), p. 392, and Nicola di Cosmo, “Did Guns Matter? Firearms in the Qing Formation,” in Lynn A. Struve (ed.), The Qing Formation in World-Historical Time (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2004), p. 140, describe the advent and

Craftsmen and specialist troops 209

46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84

early use of the hongyi cannon in China. The word yi “clothes” was used by the Manchus to avoid the taboo word yi “barbarian.” The word hongyi “red [hair] barbarian” referred to the Dutch. See also Lu Xixing (ed.), Zhongguo gudai qiwu da cidian: Bingqi xingju (Shijiazhuang: Hebei jiaoyu chubanshe, 2002), pp. 137–138. Pingding sanni fanglüe, 29 (KX 16/3/yisi). Ibid., 8 (KX 13/8/dingyou). Pingding Zhunggar fanglüe, Qianbian, 53 (QL 16/10/yiyou). Ibid. Ibid., Qianbian, 2 (KX 54/6/renshen). Ibid., Qianbian, 5 (KX 57/run8/bingwu); similar statements in 8 (KX 59/10/yimao), 9 (KX 60/9/guichou), etc. Ibid., Qianbian, 10 (KX 61/7/dingyou). Ibid., Qianbian, 15 (YZ 2/11/gengxu). Ibid., Zhengbian, 56 (QL 23/5/guichou and jiayin). Ibid., Zhengbian, 57 (QL 23/6/xinwei); 59 (QL 23/7/wushen). Ibid., Zhengbian, 60 (QL 23/8/bingyin). Ibid., Zhengbian, 64 (QL 23/11/wuxu); 66 (QL 23/12/wuyin). Ibid., Zhengbian, 72 (QL 24/5/yihai). Ibid., Zhengbian, 75 (QL 24/7/dingwu). Ibid., Xubian, 31 (QL 30/7/renchen). The yangyubing, Manchurian term hūwa abure cooha, were “young men brought up at state expense” that were destined for military service, cf. Norman, Manchu-English Lexicon, p. 142. Pingding Zhunggar fanglüe, Qianbian, 24 (YZ 9/6/gengxu). Ibid., Qianbian, 27 (YZ 9/11/renxu). Ibid., Qianbian, 31 (YZ 10/9/guichou). Ibid., Zhengbian, 45 (QL 22/10/gengwu). Ibid., Zhengbian, 82 (QL 24/11/yisi). Ibid., Xubian, 17 (QL 27/5/renzi). Ibid., Xubian, 22 (QL 28/9/wuyin). Ibid., Xubian, 27 (QL 29/11/gengwu). Pingding sanni fanglüe, 25 (KX 15/7/jiyou), or 31 (KX 16/6/renzi). Ibid., 42 (KX 17/11/jiachen). Ibid., 42 (KX 17/11/yihai), or 59 (KX 20/10/dingwei). Pingding Liang Jinchuan fanglüe, 12 (QL 36/12/bingzi). Junjichu yue zhe bao, 2776.156, no. 37513 (QL 40/8/16, memorial by Artai), quoted in Zhuang Jifa, Qing Gaozong shiquan wugong yanjiu (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1987), p. 164. Pingding Zhunggar fanglüe, Qianbian, 17 (YZ 7/11/bingzi). Pingding Liang Jinchuan fanglüe, 64 (QL 38/6/bingchen). Ibid., 57 (QL 38/run3/renwu). Pingding sanni fanglüe, 1 (KX 10/12/jiwei). Pingding Zhunggar fanglüe, Qianbian, 33 (YZ 11/2/gengshen). Junxu zeli, in XSKQS, vol. 857, Hubu junxu zeli, 6. Ibid., paragraph “Ge xiang jiangyi anjia gong-shi-lu fei”. Ibid., paragraph “Yisheng gongshi shushi huajia deng zhengzhuang anjia gongshi kouliang”. Ibid., paragraph “Zhanfu anjia gongshi kouliang”. For this topic, compare Philip A. Kuhn, Rebellion and Its Enemies in Late Imperial China: Militarization and Social Structure, 1796–1864 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1970. Joanna Waley-Cohen, The Culture of War in China: Empire and the Military under the Qing Dynasty (London: Tauris, 2006), p. 58.

12 Military atrocities in warlord China Edward McCord

The warlord era from 1916 to 1927 saw a deterioration of civil–military relations to the lowest point in modern Chinese history. The status of the military had begun to rise during the military reforms of the late Qing dynasty. This was due in part to deliberate efforts by the imperial government to make military careers more attractive to members of the educated elite by stressing modern military education and chances for professional development within its New Armies. The most important factor in increasing the attraction of military service, however, was a rising sense of nationalism. In face of growing foreign challenges, soldiers and officers found increased appreciation for the service they performed in the defense of the nation.1 The role of military forces, particularly the New Armies, in supporting the 1911 Revolution also reinforced the sense of the military as a patriotic force serving the interests of the people and the nation. The emergence of warlordism, however, undermined the positive relationship that had been developing between soldiers and the Chinese people. On one level, any political trust in the military dissolved under the despotic rule and increasing financial exactions of warlord government. In a more immediate way, the numerous military conflicts that accompanied the rise of warlordism disrupted the lives of the people and destroyed their livelihoods. The starkest contributors to the negative turn of civil–military relations of the warlord era, though, were the large number of devastating atrocities wreaked upon the civilian population by warlord armies. The change in attitude toward the military is clearly seen in this lament following a series of military atrocities in Hunan: “The nation establishes troops to protect the people; now because of troops people have no means of self-protection.”2 To the extent that the subject of modern Chinese warlordism has drawn scholarly attention, most studies (my own work included) have tended to focus on the politics of warlordism without giving much attention to the actual wars by which the warlords established their positions and adjusted their power relations.3 Likewise, the impact of these wars on the Chinese people has been largely neglected. One outstanding exception to this pattern was Diana Lary’s path-breaking 1985 study of common soldiers in the warlord era, which gave considerable attention to the violence inflicted on the Chinese people by soldiers over the course of the period’s innumerable wars.4 In some of my own recent work, I have tried to

Military atrocities in warlord China 211 build on this base by looking more closely at military atrocities where the effect of war and military rule on the Chinese people was particularly pronounced. This work however has so far focused more on how the Chinese people responded to these atrocities rather than how these atrocities were actually experienced.5 This chapter is an attempt to work backward to provide a stronger foundation for understanding how these atrocities arose amid the conditions of warlordism and the impact they had on the lives of the Chinese people. The extent of the military atrocities inflicted on civilians during the warlord period can be sensed from term often applied to these tragedies by the Chinese people themselves: bingzai. Literally translated as “military disaster,” the character zai in this phrase is the same used to describe natural disasters in cases such as floods, droughts, or plagues of insects. In the Republican era, however, this character also appeared with increasing frequency to refer to two particular man-made disasters that were to become characteristic of the era: military disaster (bingzai) and bandit disaster ( feizai). The feature of bingzai that made this term so appropriate was that they were not just arbitrary acts of violence by individual soldiers but rather wide-ranging assaults that often left entire communities devastated in ways not unlike major natural disasters. Contemporary descriptions of the threat presented by marauding soldiers often picked up on this natural imagery. As one account related, “the people fear troops like a flood, or like vicious beasts; as soon as they smell the dust raised by their hooves, they flee for their lives in terror.”6 This analogy therefore provides a starting point in trying to understand the way in which the calamity of warlordism was visited upon the Chinese people.

Troop disasters under warlordism The term bingzai, as commonly evoked in the early Republic, actually encompassed a wide range of harms perpetrated by the military upon civilian society during the warlord era. Thus, the term was deployed to include not only the direct effects of the numerous military conflicts of the period, but also broader injuries related to the imposition of military rule over civil society. Under these circumstances, military atrocities cannot be totally separated from the broader bingzai that accompanied the rise of military in the warlord era. Indeed the conditions of warlordism acted as a specific substratum linking the different components of bingzai experienced by the Chinese people under warlord rule. Thus military atrocities must be understood in the way in which they were both tied to and distinct from the broader bingzai experience of this period. Perhaps the most obvious manifestation of the bingzai of the warlord era was the devastation of war itself. As I have argued elsewhere, it was the decision to turn to military force to resolve the political disputes of the early Republic that provided the main context for the rise of warlordism.7 Once warlordism became established, though, these early political conflicts soon blended into more wideranging military contests among individual warlords and warlord coalitions over political power and resources.

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As these conflicts unfolded, the livelihoods of civilians were obviously affected on a broad level by the interruption of commerce, the disruption of planting seasons, the breakdown of transportation systems, and the collapse of public services that occur in any battle zone, exacerbated in this case by both the frequency and the geographic spread of war in China during the warlord era. More specific harm also came to specific communities or populations from the destruction of battle itself and from destructive measures linked to specific offensive or defensive strategies.8 And of course there were always unfortunate civilians who found themselves mowed down in the crossfire of opposing forces.9 A clear distinction must be made, however, between the collateral effects of war seen in such cases and military atrocities, where civilians themselves become the direct and deliberate targets of military violence. Beyond the destructiveness of warfare itself, other features of bingzai in the Republican period derived from a systemic financial logic embedded in the military competition that was a characteristic feature of warlordism. At its most basic level, the rise of warlordism marked the emergence of military force as a foundation for political power, but under conditions whereby this military force was controlled, and political power sought, by competing military commanders (or warlords). Given this military competition, the main imperative for warlords was not only to maintain but also to increase the military forces under their control. Every warlord thus faced constant pressure to identify new sources of revenue to support his military ambitions. The assumption of military control over civil administration (for example, as provincial military governors) was therefore essential not only in legitimizing a military commander’s political power but as a means to provide access to financial resources. One important facet of the bingzai of the warlord period, then, was the rapacious financial demands of military rulers, which could take numerous forms such as increased taxes, forced loans or advances from public organizations, the raiding of civilian coffers for military expenses, and the issue of devalued banknotes. The effect on Chinese society was not only an increased financial burden to support warlord armies, but a dramatic shift of public funds from civil purposes, such as education, to military uses. The financial machinations of warlord military governors, based on their “official” control of both provincial military and civil administrations, might be seen as the top layer of the military disaster of this era. The competitive nature of warlord politics meant that both the demand for military expansion and thus the need for additional financial resources were essentially without limit. At the same time, this demand for funds was also often exacerbated by a culture of corruption within the military where not only top commanders but lower officers siphoned off funds meant for military supplies and troop pay into their own pockets. In most warlord regimes, then, financial demands frequently outran available financial resources. The bottomless financial appetite of the warlord system would have a ripple effect on civil–military relations as one moved downward from military governors to their subordinate military commanders, and then finally to the soldiers at the bottom of the military hierarchy, who were often forced to accept reduced or even deferred pay over long periods.

Military atrocities in warlord China 213 For commanders in the field, financial shortfalls were often remedied by exactions on local communities. In essence these exactions were variations of the time-honored military tactic of “living off the land.” Although often ad hoc in nature, these exactions in many cases also became regularized as “customary” expectations of civil support for military operations. Thus, many military commanders on campaign, or simply in transit, came to expect local officials, with the aid of public organizations, to collect provisions (often without compensation) and provide quarters for their troops. Representatives of military units on the march would often meet with local officials and/or community leaders in advance to map out their specific requirements, so that everything would be prepared for their arrival. Local communities were usually also expected to “entertain” the unit’s officers, and sometimes their troops, in the form of “welcome” and “send-off ” banquets. Logistical expenses were also reduced by requiring local communities to provide bearers for the transport of military supplies and provisions.10 These exactions, and the burden they placed on local communities, were normally short-term disasters in the sense that they remained one-time and ad hoc “contributions” to passing military units. In some cases, though, settled forces also imposed specific and continuing logistical demands on the areas they garrisoned.11 Many commanders on campaign also found it expedient simply to let soldiers fend for themselves. To avoid the appearance of outright robbery, underpaid soldiers might seek to redress their own financial difficulties by forcing the acceptance of depreciated currency. In other cases even appearances were disregarded with the outright seizure of goods and services from merchants or local residents.12 To the extent that military commanders could not meet their own payrolls, they were often forced to condone such lapses in military discipline, or even actively supported them as a means of preventing troop disaffection. Thus Diana Lary cites a number of warlord commanders who actually encouraged their troops to loot, and to use this loot as a substitute for more regular rations.13 The financial conditions of warlordism therefore contributed to an exploitative and abusive civil–military relationship that was an important facet of the overall military disaster experienced by the Chinese people. At the same time, the ad hoc exactions of commanders and the petty thievery of soldiers encouraged by these financial conditions also created an environment conducive to the commission of even more violent and horrendous atrocities on the civilian population. To the extent that petty thievery was condoned by officers, it was only a short step away from more general looting. And it is in the violence of looting that other aspects of military atrocities – from simple destruction, to arson, to torture, to rape, and to killing – often took place. The conditions of warlordism itself, therefore, led to the poisoning of civil–military relations, and set the stage for the infliction of military atrocities on the Chinese people. There was, however, one other specific feature of the bingzai of the warlord era, and the atrocities suffered by the Chinese people, that can also be linked directly to the broader condition of warlordism. The military and political fragmentation of warlordism meant that the treatment of Chinese civilians by

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warlord armies could vary considerably from one military unit to the next. Some of the most devastating military atrocities of the warlord era were inflicted on the people of Hunan by invading Northern armies during the North-South War in 1918. Nonetheless, these atrocities were only committed by some of the military forces involved in this invasion. There were other forces, most notably those led by Wu Peifu and Feng Yuxiang, that gained a reputation for orderly behavior and discipline.14 Thus, even in the face of the financial pressures described above, some military commanders resisted the temptation to condone abusive behavior by their troops and were able to enforce military discipline within their units. Thus, in the end, whether troop discipline in any specific unit was strict or lax often depended on the training, capability, and disposition of its commander. There were, of course, also interest calculations behind these disparities in military discipline and behavior. Certainly allowing troops to loot might endear a commander to his troops, and solve some of his financial difficulties. The cost of poor discipline, however, could also be a serious reduction in military efficiency. It is no coincidence, then, that of the numerous Northern commanders involved in the Hunan invasion in 1918, it was mainly the commanders of the most disciplined troops, such as Wu Peifu and Feng Yuxiang, who survived as effective “players” beyond the war in Hunan. Similar calculations were also reflected in differences in troop quality. Some of the most ill disciplined troops involved in the Hunan atrocities were actually “pacified” bandits.15 The incorporation of bandit bands into regular armies provided many commanders with an opportunity to increase troop strength quickly (with men already accustomed to violence and who often came with their own guns). At the same time, it was very hard to force these ersatz soldiers to follow the discipline needed for battle, let alone police their behavior toward civilians. When opportunities presented themselves, these bandit-soldiers were quick to fall back on their old habits to prey on the civilian population, and when confronted by actual battles many were quick to desert and return to their old profession. Commanders who sought to maintain military efficiency therefore normally sought to avoid the recruitment of bandits. The actual experience of any community, in terms of military exactions or abuse could, therefore, vary greatly depending on what military forces they encountered. This too was, as I have noted elsewhere, “the result of the warlord system, which left military commanders largely accountable to no one but themselves.”16 The experience of living under warlordism was not just the actual economic losses or physical hardships suffered, but also a broader and continuing climate of uncertainty that enveloped the Chinese people as they faced either the prospect of yet another war or military conflict, or even a simple change in garrison forces. In many ways, military atrocities epitomized both the devastation and the climate of uncertainty and fear that characterized life under warlordism for many Chinese civilians. Here a return to the analogy of natural disaster may prove useful. Any of the natural elements involved in natural disasters may have a dichotomous effect – positive or negative – on the environment or human

Military atrocities in warlord China 215 society. The best example of this may be the element of water in floods. Water, on one hand, is necessary for life; it is essential for agriculture; in the form of rivers and seas it provides a conduit for efficient transportation; and it can even be harnessed to provide energy. On the other hand, in the form of floods, water has enormous destructive capacity. People living along a river, or on a flood plain, thus may develop a heightened awareness of the potentiality for floods, paying particular attention, for example, to a sudden or heavy rainstorm. Nonetheless, they also live in uncertainty since they cannot always predict when a distant storm might send a flash flood their way. This same ambiguity was also reflected in the relationship between civilians and the Chinese army in the warlord era. Armies are meant to be a positive force as protectors of society. But they also have enormous destructive potential. The Chinese people therefore might hope or even expect that troops arriving in their community might be relied upon to preserve local order. Nonetheless, in the warlord era they quickly learned, from their own experience or that of other communities, that they could also face a burst of financial exactions or the pillaging of their homes, or even threats to their lives. Part of this learning experience was an understanding of the particular circumstances that increased the potentiality for violent troop behavior.

The circumstances of military atrocities Military atrocities of various sorts occurred in alarming frequency over the warlord period. Nonetheless, these incidents were also both sporadic and uneven in terms of the areas and populations affected. Some of this irregularity, as noted above, was due to differences in the quality of military units and the dispositions of their commanders. At the same time, just as weather patterns and seasons can be used to predict the potential for natural disasters, specific military circumstances also created particular environments conducive to looting or other troop abuses. Clearly, the outbreak of war was the main context for many military atrocities, even as the geography of war also influenced where they might occur. There were, however, also two lesser circumstances in the warlord era that often produced military atrocities: mutinies by underpaid soldiers and harassment by troops involved in bandit suppression campaigns. While the atrocities produced under these circumstances may have been similar, each of these contexts had their own characteristics. While war itself may have been the primary environment for most military violence against civilians, even within this context military atrocities were most commonly the work of armies on the move. On one hand, retreating troops sought to reduce the sting of their defeat, and provide some security in the face of an uncertain future, by plundering the communities they had previously been charged with protecting. Advancing troops, on the other hand, looked to the communities they conquered to provide what they no doubt saw as well-deserved spoils of victory. There was also a certain logic to the path of military violence in war that bears some resemblance to the course of a rising flood. Just as the

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effects of a flood are often first felt by inhabitants along the banks of affected rivers, the first victims of military atrocities were usually those who lived along the routes taken by military forces in their advance or retreat – namely along roads, railroads, and waterways. Not surprisingly, the most concentrated destruction often occurred in cities that served as main transportation nodes. But in this case, human geography also intersected with natural geography. As nexuses of commercial and administrative resources, cities and towns were not only strategic assets to be acquired but also obvious potential targets for plunder.17 In the most extreme cases, where no attempt was made to bring the violence against civilians to an immediate end, the path of destruction could then reach outward toward villages in the countryside not unlike rising waters spreading out over a flood plain. Much like Pakistanis who found themselves trapped when that country’s devastating floods in 2010 failed to recede as quickly as expected, Chinese citizens who simply sought to survive the immediate carnage of passing soldiers often found themselves subjected to more prolonged and systematic violence under military occupation. These patterns of violence can be clearly seen in a wide-ranging sequence of military atrocities that occurred in Hunan province over the course of the NorthSouth War from 1917 to 1920. The war itself actually began in Hunan when some of the province’s commanders revolted, in September 1917, against the intrusion of a centrally appointed military governor backed by an invading Northern army. While eventually spreading to other provinces as well, the conflict within Hunan itself unfolded in a seesaw manner as different Northern and Southern forces advanced and retreated across the province. In the first stage of the war, the Hunan Army, joined by allied military forces from Guangdong and Guangxi, attacked occupying Northern armies and pushed them back to Yuezhou on Hunan’s northern border. The second stage of the war began with a multipronged assault by nearly 150,000 Northern forces in March 1918. Although the outnumbered Southern forces were able to beat back this assault at several points, ultimately they were forced to retreat to Hunan’s southern and western borders. At that point the war stalled as internal divisions among the Northern armies blocked any ability to capitalize on their victory. These divisions eventually led to the partial withdrawal of some occupying Northern units from the province in May 1920, followed quickly by a military collapse and disorderly retreat by the rest. The war ended in mid-June as a triumphant Hunan Army chased the remnants of the Northern invaders from their territory.18 The NorthSouth War in Hunan thus provided multiple contexts for a range of military atrocities as various forces crisscrossed the province in victory and defeat. Indeed, the recurring, and seemingly unrelenting, incidents of military violence experienced by many communities during this seesaw war was one of the defining features of the war’s impact on the Hunan people. The first taste of the violence the Hunan people would face in this war occurred in September 1917 as Northern troops based in the capital Changsha marched through Liling and You counties to attack “rebel” units in south Hunan. As it advanced, the Northern army looted the communities in their path and

Military atrocities in warlord China 217 impressed local people to serve as bearers. Many residents who resisted were shot. When defeated Northern troops retreated back through this area two months later, though, they found the buildings along the main roads, which they had previously looted, empty of goods or people. Therefore the soldiers split up into smaller groups to raid more outlying villages. Troops escaping eastward to Jiangxi province left a trail of robberies and killings in Liling and You counties. Other soldiers retreated through Yuezhou, the rich commercial port that served as the northern gateway to Hunan. The troops not only plundered the city but set fire to many of its neighborhoods. The city then had to accept further “disturbance,” as one source puts it, from arriving Southern armies.19 The violence endured by these communities would pale next to the atrocities that would accompany the reversal of Northern and Southern fortunes at the beginning of the second stage of the war. In the face of a massive Northern counterattack, the Southern armies set the tone of their retreat by carrying out a wide-scale robbery of banks, pawnshops, and stores in advance of their withdrawal from Yuezhou in mid-March 1918. Similar looting accompanied Southern withdrawals from other areas. At the same time, as Southern armies collapsed, many armed soldiers joined bandits bands in the hills, giving rise to a “bandit disaster” that would take place alongside of the emerging “military disaster.”20 The looting by Southern troops, however, turned out to be mild in comparison to the violence carried out by arriving Northern armies. The Northern advance was accompanied not only by widespread looting, but by the indiscriminate killing of civilians and the rape of women by troops in some of the more undisciplined Northern units. Certainly not all Northern forces were involved in these atrocities. Pushing south from Yuezhou, forces under the command of Wu Peifu entered the Hunan capital on March 26. Wu’s relatively disciplined troops seemed to offer the hope that the city would escape any serious harm. This hope was crushed, however, as Wu’s army continued south and the newly appointed governor, Zhang Jingyao, led his unruly forces (containing large components of incorporated bandits) into the city on March 31.21 Zhang’s troops, as one account noted, were “unrestrained in their violence; killing, robbing and raping, there was nothing they did not do.”22 The violence of Zhang’s troops was matched by many other Northern forces advancing into Hunan at the same time. Some of the worst atrocities took place in the major transportation nodes of Liling and Zhuzhou.23 Seeking to cut off Wu Peifu’s southern advance, Southern commanders led their troops in a successful flanking attack against weaker Northern forces in east Hunan. Seeking to retreat north to Changsha, the Northern forces first regrouped in Liling city. It was here that a particularly harsh cycle of devastation began. On April 27 Northern troops initiated a systematic pillaging of the city. Once they were done, barrels of oils were poured down the city’s streets and then set alight. The resulting fires destroyed a large part of the city’s commercial district. Thousands of residents became trapped between the flames and the city’s waterfront. Many died in the flames themselves, but others were shot by soldiers as they tried to flee, or were drowned in attempts to ford the river. The Northern troops then moved east to

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Zhuzhou, a key railway junction between Changsha and Liling. As their Southern enemies continued to advance, the Northern forces also set fire to Zhuzhou and fled north. Very quickly, however, the Southern assault lost its momentum and regrouped Northern armies began to push them back. After first retaking Zhuzhou, the Northern forces moved quickly by train into Liling, recovering the county seat on May 7.24 What followed was one of the most notorious and devastating military atrocities of the warlord era. Soldiers disembarking from the train spread out over Liling city, killing any person they found. Even citizens who sought sanctuary in churches were massacred. Many residents were again trapped against the city’s waterfront, and many attempting to cross the river on makeshift rafts were shot by troops gathered on the shore. Meanwhile a systematic pillage of the city was taking place that would continue for several days. Finally, many of the town’s remaining buildings, whether public buildings, shops, or residences, were torched, often burning alive any inhabitants who had tried to remain hidden in their homes. Most of the people not killed fled the city. When a new Magistrate arrived a week later he reported finding a city of corpses. The only living residents still in the city were a few cripples who had been unable to flee. The once vibrant commercial and industrial city of Liling had become a ruined ghost town.25 While the destruction of Liling was one of the most famous incidents of the war, many other cities were similarly devastated. Major Hunan cities such as Xiangxiang, Hengshan, Hengyang, and Baoqing were largely deserted after undergoing alternating Northern and Southern assaults and becoming the targets of repeated pillaging by troops from both sides.26 Insofar as such cities lay in the path of military advances or retreats, or were actual strategic objectives of battling forces, they were the first to suffer extensive devastation, not unlike riparian communities in the face of a flooding river. The devastation did not end however with these cities. As military commanders and forces continued to jostle for power and for access to resources, the waters of destruction from the Hunan war continued to rise and spread out to cover the countryside for a prolonged period of time. Citizens of Changsha who had fled the city found that even villages ten miles from the city were not safe from raiding parties of Northern soldiers.27 Likewise the troops who had been involved in the destruction of Liling quickly also spread out to plunder the rest of the county.28 A 1918 calculation of the total losses suffered by Liling county found that while over 8000 died in the county seat, another 13,000 were killed in outlying townships. Similarly, while Liling city was estimated to have suffered 6.5 million yuan in property losses or damages, another 13 million yuan in damages was also recorded for the rest of county.29 A detailed account of the bingzai in Baoqing county also reveals a wide-scale level of devastation second only to Liling.30 Some destruction was the direct result of a number of military clashes within the county over the course of the war, including a two-hour battle inside the county seat itself. As control of the county switched back and forth several times both the county seat and various

Military atrocities in warlord China 219 villages and towns in the path of passing troops were repeatedly pillaged. After finally establishing their control over the county in May 1918, Northern troops engaged in an orgy of looting, killing, and rape inside the county seat.31 Following this, groups of Northern soldier conducted a series of raids of outlying townships to strip their residents of their money and possessions. Household heads were tortured to force them to reveal hidden wealth, women were gang-raped, and families were massacred.32 After the systematic and repeated pillaging of villages in the county’s western township, several thousand people simply abandoned their homes and fled from the county.33 Most of the military atrocities that occurred in Hunan during the North-South War were perpetrated during the seesaw conflicts at the beginning of the war and with the extension of Northern troop control over the province. The retreat of Northern troops from Hunan in 1920 did not, fortunately, result in a level of violence equal to what had occurred when the Northern armies entered the province. The main reason for this difference was the suddenness of the Northern collapse. While there was some looting as Northern soldiers seized what they could along the path of their retreat, the speed of the retreat left no time for the more deliberative pillaging seen at the beginning of the war. There was, nonetheless, one major exception to this general pattern when several Northern units found their path for retreat from the province cut off by the rapid advance of Southern forces. As they searched for a route of escape, these forces initiated a chain of destruction through the counties of Xinhua, Anhua, Ningxiang, and Xiangyin before they were finally forced to surrender to surrounding Southern armies. The worst of the atrocities committed by these troops occurred in the Anhua commercial town of Lantian. After surrounding the town, the Northern troops, under the direction of their officers, began a systematic plunder of its shops and residences. Many women encountered by the raiding troops were raped and any resisting citizens were killed. Once the town was thoroughly pillaged, it was set afire. Citizens who attempted to flee from the town were shot by the surrounding troops or forced back into the flames. Between six and seven hundred bodies were eventually recovered from the town’s ashes, though the actual number of deaths was no doubt much higher. Property losses were estimated at between seven and eight million yuan. The Lantian massacre thus served, in some ways, as the coda for all the atrocities inflicted upon Hunan during the North-South War.34 While the atrocities committed during military campaigns clearly created a sense of terror among affected populations, there is however no indication that terror was deliberately deployed as a military strategy. This is one area where atrocities in the warlord era contrasted to those carried out by Japanese soldiers in the subsequent Sino-Japanese War. Japanese atrocities were often grounded in or supported by a specific military policy of terror intended to break the will of the Chinese people or to deprive the Chinese government of supplies or manpower needed to continue its resistance. Arson, rape, or murder committed by troops on the ground were therefore counterpoints to aerial bombardments of civilian population centers as features of modern mass warfare. To the extent

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that military atrocities were accepted, condoned, or even encouraged by warlord commanders, their purposes were much more limited. As noted above, many commanders simply found it in their interest to look the other way as their troops pillaged civilian communities, especially when their capacity to supply or pay their troops was limited. There is little evidence, however, of the strategic use of atrocities against civilians for broader political or military purposes. There is, for example, no indication that any atrocities were deliberately pursued in an effort to terrorize the affected population into political submission. The pillaging by both retreating and advancing troops also suggests a pattern of behavior that focused more on immediate needs rather than any effort to deprive enemy forces of access to manpower and supplies.35 In this sense, military violence was displaced from legitimate targets of war on to the civilian population. Ironically, the lack of any deliberate use of terror as a military strategy only reinforced the actual arbitrary and uncertain nature of atrocities that were committed, and thus in no way lessened the actual terror experienced by the civilian population. The experience of the Hunan people during the North-South War was an extreme example of the relationship of military atrocities to military campaigns. Generally speaking, military atrocities were much less likely to occur when military forces were established in stable garrisons. Warlord commanders who gained administrative control over territories were more likely to seek to restrain misbehavior by their troops in the interest of preserving the material bases needed for long-term revenue extraction, even as access to such resources reduced the need to condone plunder as a means of troop provisioning. Under these circumstances the nature of the “troop disaster” shifted from wanton plunder to more “normalized” expropriation. In the case of Hunan, it would take some time for the original “flood” of destructive behavior by troops who had become accustomed to looting to recede. But slowly the incidents of troop violence began to decrease.36 There were, however, other circumstances outside of military campaigns that also provided context for military atrocities. One such special case was atrocities committed by troops in anti-bandit campaigns. To some extent the movement of troops in such campaigns replicated the conditions also found in wartime conflicts, as troops on the move were generally given more freedom to seize provisions from the communities they passed. But in many cases, innocent civilians again became the displaced (or misplaced) targets of military violence, standing in for the bandits who were supposed to be suppressed. This was also related to special circumstances of warlordism. Commanders assigned to bandit suppression campaigns were clearly interested in the rewards that might occur from a successful campaign. At the same time, bandits were notoriously difficult to suppress – since they could easily disperse among the people or flee to other jurisdictions. Commanders, meanwhile, were reluctant to see their “capital,” in the form of their military forces, depleted in such campaigns. In cases where circumstances prevented an easy victory against an actual bandit band, many commanders turned their troops against the local population under the excuse that the people were harboring the sought-after bandits, or more directly simply designated villages as bandit lairs and the villagers as bandits.37

Military atrocities in warlord China 221 Finally, there was one other set of circumstance that could often lead to the perpetration of atrocities where the displacement seen above was even more pronounced. This was the case of atrocities committed during troop mutinies. The main reason for mutinies in the warlord era was the failure or inability of commanders to provide full pay for their armies. When unpaid soldiers mutinied, then, they often directed their anger not against their officers but toward local communities, plundering civilians in order to settle their salary arrears. Some of the worst examples of mutiny-based atrocities occurred in Hubei province under the control of the Northern warlord Wang Zhanyuan. Military forces in Hubei during Wang’s military governorship grew from one division in 1913 to five divisions and nearly a dozen independent brigades in 1920. As the total forces hosted by Hubei rose to nearly 100,000 soldiers, Wang quickly dried up all available sources of funding. By mid-1919 the pay of some units was three to four, or even as much as seven, months in arrears. With increasing frequency these units began to mutiny, culminating in the plunder of the provincial capital, Wuchang, in June 1921. In the case of the Wuchang, Wang’s scheme to disband older troops with less than full payment of owed salaries or severance pay, in order to replace them with lower paid new recruits, served as the immediate spark for the mutiny. It was, however, the people of Wuchang who suffered for Wang’s perfidy. Organized bands of soldiers marched into the city to raid not only government offices and the provincial treasury but also the homes and shops of the city’s residents. As they carried away much of the city’s wealth, the soldiers set fire to much of its commercial districts. Property losses were estimated at between thirty and forty million yuan, while several hundred people were seriously injured or killed.38 As seen in all of the above cases, some degree of displacement emerges as a common theme of military atrocities in the warlord era. Communities pillaged during military campaigns, by either advancing or retreating troops, were not in fact legitimate or even plausible military targets of these campaigns. Likewise, civilians arrested or killed by troops in bandit suppression campaigns were often as not stand-ins for actual, and more elusive, bandits. Urban communities robbed by mutinying troops were targeted primarily as sources of wealth, suffering in the place of untouchable military or political authorities who were actually responsible for the conditions giving rise to troop dissatisfaction. The particular injustice felt by the victims of such displaced violence, from the soldiers who were meant to protect them, was clearly another special characteristic of the experience of military atrocities under warlordism and the resultant degradation of civil–military relations.

Soldiers as vectors of disaster While it is useful to understand the specific circumstances under which military atrocities were more likely to have occurred in the warlord era, the actual nature of troop disasters was also determined, just like natural disasters, by the specific agent of the disaster. So, just as floods are defined by the destructive capacity of

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water, the vector for bingzai was a human agent, specifically soldiers. In the end, the volitional and personal nature of human agency distinguishes bingzai (and its cousin feizai) from the numerous natural disasters also endured by the Chinese people in the warlord era. The special capacity, and inclination, of soldiers to inflict violence on civilian populations is, of course, based on their relative access to, and experience in, the use of, weapons. Equally importantly, however, soldiers are not simply individual agents of violence but members of a collectivity of violence – an army. While the warlord era no doubt saw numerous acts of violence by individual soldiers, military atrocities were for the most part acts of collective violence. This capacity for organized violence also gave soldiers an additional comparative advantage over civilian populations and increased the destructiveness of that violence when it was directed against civilian communities. The soldiers themselves clearly understood this advantage. Thus, it is hardly surprising that raids on villages in Hunan conducted by Northern troops during the North-South War were the work of bands of soldiers or that the mutineers that devastated Wuchang in 1921 organized themselves in advance, assigning specific targets in the city to groups of soldiers from specific units.39 The collectivity of these activities, however, should alert us not only to the greater capacity for violence by military organizations but also the influence of the social dynamics of military life itself on the behavior of soldiers. Diana Lary has outlined a number of ways in which the conditions of military life in warlord armies contributed to increased violence against civilians. First, insofar as these soldiers were trained to use violence, this violence could be turned as easily against civilians as against enemy troops. They were, in essence, desensitized to the use of violence.40 Second, Lary suggests that training focused on obedience over all else may have created soldiers without a sense of responsibility or a moral code of their own. Third, most warlord soldiers were underpaid, mistreated, and regularly brutalized by their own officers. The harshness of their own lives therefore socialized them to behave in the same brutal and predatory way toward civilians. Finally, insofar as most soldiers of this era were recruited from the dregs of society, their brutality may have been an act of violent retribution against a civilian society that had originally given them no respect.41 These factors help explain the level of callous murder and destruction noted in many atrocity cases in this period. In Liling, it was observed that soldiers killed as if intoxicated or at play.42 In another case in the Zhuzhou area, soldiers laughed and compared killing techniques tried out against men who had been arbitrarily seized along the road.43 While the conditions of military life may offer some insights into the motivations of soldiers who committed atrocities, as “human” agents their specific acts may also be grounded in broader “human” explanations. On the simplest level, military atrocities may be linked to basic human needs and desires, or to emotions such as anger, greed, or lust. In some cases soldiers may have robbed civilians simply to procure food needed to satisfy their own hunger. The burning of furniture, wooden agricultural implements, door frames, and even roof beams as

Military atrocities in warlord China 223 cooking fires also served an immediate need for large military encampments, even with their disproportionate effects on the communities affected.44 In more thorough pillaging, however, the motivations of the soldiers involved clearly went beyond immediate physical needs to a broader desire, or greed, for wealth. Looting clearly lay at the heart of many of the atrocities committed by Chinese soldiers in the warlord era. The thoroughness of this looting was often commented on as successive waves of troops pillaged the same residences and shops over and over.45 The first object of such looting was, of course, easily movable wealth in the form of money or jewelry. The techniques employed in this search for this wealth included pouring water onto floors and smashing walls to find hiding spaces, the exploration of wells for any hurried tossed items, and digging up recent graves looking for jewelry.46 When the money was gone the soldiers turned their attention to other property. In many military camps, the goods taken from shops and residences were piled high in the aftermath of pillaging expeditions.47 The problem with this loot, though, was that it was difficult to move or to transmit into actual usable wealth. Given the amount of loot, men in the communities that had just been robbed were often impressed as bearers to aid in its transportation. Ill-treated and abused, many of these bearers would never return to their homes.48 Special markets run by unscrupulous merchants also sprang up to help soldiers turn their loot into money.49 Following a mutiny in Yichang in West Hubei in 1920, mutineers seeking to monetize the bolts of silk they had acquired had the audacity to sell them back to the very stores they had stolen them from.50 What started as looting, though, often escalated into other forms of violence. This escalation is clearly shown in the case of one family shop that was robbed four times during the Wuchang mutiny. The first raiding party simply demanded and took the family’s money. The second party carried away the shop’s goods. The third party killed two of the family’s members in an attempt to force the family to reveal more hidden funds (unsuccessfully since there was, in fact, nothing left). Finally the fourth party, angry that there was nothing left for them, set the shop on fire, and then killed the owner and his wife when they tried to put the fire out. Only the family’s nine-year-old daughter survived this tragedy.51 Most of the accounts of military atrocities committed in this period have numerous examples of people cruelly tortured, by a wide variety of means, to force the disclosure of hidden wealth. Troop anger over the failure to find expected wealth often resulted in acts of indiscriminate murder, the wanton destruction of immovable property, and the firing of buildings.52 In such cases, then, looting seems to unleash a frenzy of violence and an indifference to civilian lives that intersected with other habits of brutality bred in military life. No discussion of military atrocities in this era can be complete without some special attention to the widespread phenomenon of rape. In many cases, the rape, and often murder, of women seemed to have been opportunistic acts by troops on looting expeditions.53 In other cases, however, parties of soldiers set out with the specific objective of finding women. Although often described by the soldiers themselves as a search for prostitutes, in fact the real goal was rape, which

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could be directed at women from any level of society.54 It is inadequate to “explain” widespread rape in such cases simply as the result of “human” sexual desire or lust. Theoretical studies of rape have long shown that rape is more about power than about sexual gratification.55 Approached from this angle, the widespread incidence of rape by warlord soldiers requires a social explanation. Most warlord soldiers were recruited from the large masses of under or unemployed – and unmarried – men present in Chinese society during the Republican period.56 Even before this era, the Qing dynasty had been obsessed with the potential social threat of these “bare sticks” (guanggun), made dangerous not only because of their poverty but because this poverty made it difficult for them to find a place in society in expected roles as heads of households.57 Thus, Judith Stacey notes, “The plight of individuals doomed to lonely bachelorhood in a society that validated few alternatives to marriage and family life is a recurrent theme in the village studies of the pre-Communist period.”58 For Stacey, these young men were the male emblems of a broader family “realization” crisis that emerged in significant proportions in this era.59 It is hardly surprising, then, that many young men saw “eating military rations” (chi liang) as a way out of a life of economic desperation.60 Equally important, though, in the face of their effective social impotence, military service no doubt offered these men not only a livelihood but also an alternate affirmation of their masculinity. Violence under these circumstances clearly had social meaning as an assertion of male power. In this same way, the specific violence of rape no doubt acted as an even more direct display of masculinity. Understanding rape as display of masculinity also draws attention to the social context in which these rapes occurred. First, most of these rapes were not simply perpetrated by individual soldiers against individual women. Rather, as noted above, they more often occurred in the context of either looting parties or other forays by groups of soldiers specifically looking for women, and often involved gang rapes. Under these circumstances, rape may have actually taken on social characteristics with some of the coloration and social function of visits to brothels in more “legitimate” contexts. Through rape, individual soldiers displayed their masculinity through both violence and the domination of women, but they did so within a group of brother-soldiers, making the act of rape itself function to some extent to strengthen bonds of military comradeship – at the expense, of course, of their victims. There was, however, also a second social context for rape, and that was of the families of the victims themselves. The shocking nature of opportunistic rapes perpetrated during looting parties was increased in the way that the men in the raped women’s families were often forced to produce and then watch the violation, and often death, of their mothers, wives, and daughters.61 The degradation of such demands was increased when, as noted above, the women violated were described and treated as prostitutes. The subordination and humiliation of male family members through such rapes was also a way to reconfirm the power, and masculinity, of the soldiers. While women may have been the direct physical victims of rape, an additional target was the family itself, and by extension civilian society as a whole.

Military atrocities in warlord China 225 This analysis also suggests a gendered perspective on the arbitrary seizure and execution of a large number of men in some atrocity cases. These men were often executed on the charge that they were either enemy soldiers or enemy spies in plainclothes. But as in the case of rapes, these seizures and executions were carried out by “bands of brothers,” and thus may have used violence as a method of increasing group camaraderie. At the same time, these executions could also serve as another direct assertion of masculine power relative to civilian males who had been able to “realize” their social positions through their families. Genital mutilation (most commonly stuffing severed male organs in the victims’ mouths), which often accompanied these random executions, reinforced this assertion of masculinity.62 When examined from this gendered perspective, these massacred men, no less than raped women, were displaced objects of violence serving deeper purposes. Any generalizations about the motivations behind military violence still run up against some specific and significant disparities in the behavior of individual soldiers and specific military units. One such disparity, both often noted and notable, was seen in the types and the level of violence against civilians perpetrated by Northern armies in contrast to Southern forces in Hunan during the North-South War. An account of the looting of Yuezhou in 1918 noted that, “the Southern army stole as they left, but the Northern army plundered, raped and killed as they advanced.”63 Likewise, a record of the devastation inflicted by Northern and Southern armies crisscrossing Baoqing County in 1918 concluded, “In regard to military plundering, the Northerners and the Southerners were the same; but in raping, burning, and killing, the Northerners were much worse than the Southerners.”64 Such reports reveal an aspect in the unevenness of military violence that goes beyond the quality and discipline of different commanders or their units, namely the degree of identity, or lack of identity, between soldiers and the people in battle zones. Hunan was notorious for its particularly strong sense of provincial identity. As a result, many Hunanese opposed the invading Northern troops as unwelcome outsiders.65 Insofar as Southern soldiers saw themselves as defending their “own” people from outside domination, they seem to have been more restrained in their acts of violence against civilians. Perhaps responding to the resentment they perceived against their presence in Hunan, Northern forces seemed to exhibit less compunction about abusing the civilian population in the areas they conquered. More to the point, they showed a tendency to identify the civilians they encountered with the enemy they fought on the battlefield.66 In some cases, there were also suspicions and accusations that broader resentments over specific battle results combined with regional antagonisms to create some particularly extreme examples of troop violence against civilians. Some Northern soldiers were reported suggesting that their systematic destruction of Liling was the result of its being the hometown of a leading Hunan military commander whose counterattack in east Hunan had routed the Northern forces and forced their initial retreat from the Liling area.67 Likewise, it was suggested that the directed burning of Lantian by Northern forces at the end of the war was a

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reprisal for an attack on the Northern troops by a local guerilla force on the previous day.68 These communities thus became, in yet another way, the displaced objects of Northern anger toward their Southern military opponents. Nonetheless, the atrocities suffered by the citizens of Liling and Lantian were not, in fact, isolated incidents but part of a chain of destruction that also involved attacks by the same Northern forces on many other communities. It is possible, then, that these explanations for the targeting of these communities arose among the victims as they grasped desperately to make some sense of the devastation they suffered. Nonetheless, the relative ferocity of Northern troop attacks on civilians in these cases was congruent with broader patterns of behavior during the North-South War that still suggest that regional and provincial identities may have either strengthened or weakened inclinations by soldiers to take out their frustrations on civilian populations. Recognition of the influence of regional and provincial identities on troop behavior is another reminder of the human element in military atrocities. While the emphasis in this section has been on the motivations behind atrocities, soldiers could also decide, for human and humane reasons, not to commit acts of violence against civilians. In one notable example, a Northern soldier saved one nineteen-year-old Hunanese boy from a mass slaughter for the simple reason that the boy reminded him of his own younger brother.69 In the end, of course, it was this capacity for both mercy and cruelty that ironically again contributed to an atmosphere of uncertainty that accompanied all atrocities in this militarydominated period.

Victims and survivors As in the case of natural disasters, one of the main features of the experience of the victims of military atrocities in the warlord era was the extent to which the violence they faced was largely determined by external factors beyond their control. Unlike hurricanes or floods, however, which might occur with some regularity and follow seasonal weather patterns, the military atrocities that occurred with the emergence of warlordism were a new and, at least initially, unexpected phenomenon for many of their victims. It was not surprising that in the aftermath of these military disasters, older residents had to look back to the devastation of the Taiping Rebellion to find any comparable experience.70 In most cases, then, it would take actual atrocities themselves to alert people to the new dangers they now faced at the hands of military forces. For the people of Hunan, the North-South War was a wake-up call to the extraordinary and growing threat presented by troops on campaign. The reentry of Northern troops into Yueyang in March 1918 was accompanied by many cases of rape, plunder, and kidnapping. News of these incidents quickly raced ahead of the advancing troops. The day before they entered the county seat of Pingjiang, the town’s residents began to flee south in panic, telling everyone they met: “Northern troops are coming to kill! It’s terrible! Flee!”71 An account of the experience of the Zhuzhou area in 1918 noted that the common people (baixing)

Military atrocities in warlord China 227 had not previously experienced a “troop disaster” (bingzai), so they did not realize how cruel soldiers could be. As a result many of those living outside of actual battle zones saw no reason to flee as military forces approached. They soon regretted this decision as large numbers of men were killed and women, both young and old, were gang-raped, often to their deaths. As this news spread, the people in the area finally tried to flee, only to find themselves trapped by soldiers surrounding them on four sides.72 An account from Baoqing County noted that the people had become more watchful with the outbreak of war as a result of initial looting carried out by Southern troops. Many, however, had actually hoped that conditions would improve with the arrival of Northern soldiers, because these troops were from regular “national” army units.73 In an incident indicative of this relaxed vigilance, a child playing in the road, unaware of the potential danger, was killed by passing Northern soldiers. As news of this and other similar cases spread, the people panicked and began to flee into the hills.74 Women, of course, had special reason to fear the approach of soldiers, as rape became an increasingly conspicuous aspect of general troop violence. In many cases, women who found their path to escape blocked committed suicide.75 Military raiding parties, meanwhile, often adapted to this heightened vigilance to prevent the escape of their prey. Thus, soldiers in the Changsha area developed a strategy whereby they would first completely surround a targeted village, next fire a few shots at the front of the village, and then finally capture the villagers en masse as they tried to flee to the hills at the village’s rear. The villagers would then be tied up while the soldiers searched their persons and homes for hidden wealth; and then raped the now defenseless women at their leisure.76 It was in response to such circumstances that the chronicler of the atrocities in Baoqing noted that the people learned to “fear troops like a flood, or like vicious beasts.”77 In confronting the danger of military atrocities, as in the case of natural disasters, information was often important in enhancing the possibility of survival. One detailed and highly personalized local account of the military disaster in east Hunan provides insights into the way in which people used extensive social networking and grapevine reports to track the dangers they confronted. The author of this account first heard news of killing and burning in Liling, and along the railroad from Liling to Zhuzhou, from a traveler from a neighboring village who had returned home after witnessing these incidents. Other reports of killings in Zhuzhou and other areas quickly followed from other neighbors and relatives. In the face of these reports, the author’s family began their own preparations to flee the area. After some vacillation about taking this drastic step, as conflicting reports of the advance and retreat of various military forces were assessed, the author’s family finally decided to join over a hundred other people from their area in flight to the county border. A neighbor who only escaped at the last moment confirmed the wisdom of this move with further tales of rape, murder, and looting by advancing Northern troops.78 Details in some of the reports received by the author’s family in this case provided more specific lessons about dealing with the emerging danger. In some

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areas, people were initially torn between flight and staying to protect their properties. One report of the killing of men who had remained to guard their homes, while the rest of their families fled, showed the folly of this strategy. Another neighbor reported on Northern troops who killed all the men in one family, on charges that they were Southern soldiers, on the sole evidence of guns found in their home. So the author’s family threw any weapons among their possessions into a nearby pond to avoid this danger. A local peasant meanwhile warned the fleeing people that simply the presence of a nearly troop encampment could be dangerous, as these troops were likely to spread out into the countryside (xiaxiang) in their pillaging forays. This resulted in a decision to send a relative’s son to spy on troop movements.79 An account of the particularly cruel killing of a local school teacher warned that being a civilian with fairly high local status offered no assurance of safety. Another chilling tale came from a man who escaped from a Red Cross refugee center after an attack by Northern troops that led to the killing of the officials running the center and the dispersal of the refugees gathered there.80 This ended any hope that these centers might offer some degree of safety. The lessons gathered from these reports no doubt played some role, along with incredibly good fortune, in keeping the author’s family physically safe. The home they had left behind, however, was completely plundered and destroyed.81 Although not in the same detail, similar accounts of fear and vigilance can be found in the accounts of other troop atrocities. In the case of the Wuchang mutiny, a state of tension was already aroused as a result of a series of over twenty mutinies around the province by underpaid troops beginning in late 1919 that culminated in a major incident at Yichang in west Hubei on June 4, 1921, which had resulted in the destruction of nearly two-thirds of the city, and nearly one thousand deaths.82 This tension reached a new peak when many of the still unrepentant Yichang mutineers were transported to Wuchang on June 7 and rumors spread that martial law had been declared. One personal account relates the effort made by one man, clearly with friends in high places, who immediately set out to visit acquaintances around the city and within the governor’s yamen to find out any news about possible troop disorder. Finally, one of these friends warned him of impending danger and urged him to return home. When the sound of gunfire broke out at midnight, the author of the account gathered his family and friends into an inner courtyard where they passed a fearful, and yet ultimately safe, night.83 Accounts such as these provide some sense of the state of fear created by recurring troop atrocities, which were of course shared by many less fortunate family members, neighbors, and friends who, consumed by the conflagrations of these incidents, left no accounts behind. As in the case of many natural disasters, one important aspect of the terror faced by the people in the cases of these military atrocities was the extremely limited options for self-protection. This again had much to do with the “element” at the heart of the disaster. The very fact that soldiers were behind these atrocities made self-defense particularly difficult. Thus one declaration by a group of Hubei citizens following the Wuchang mutiny noted that at least in case

Military atrocities in warlord China 229 of bandits, people had the right to use force to defend themselves. When attacked by official troops (representing, at least in theory, legitimate authority), nothing could be done.84 Of course, there were those who did attempt to resist. But given the balance of force in the hands of the offending soldiers, provoking troop anger through resistance often had worse results than submission.85 The only truly effective option for self-defense, at least in the sense of the prevention of personal injury or the preservation of life, was flight. With sufficient warning, many people fled in the advance of approaching soldiers. As seen in the case of Liling, though, many others would make desperate efforts to flee only as atrocities unfolded; and in the aftermath of atrocities the survivors would have even greater incentives to seek security elsewhere even as their chances for escape without harm were greatly reduced. Part of the experience of military atrocities, then, was not just the atrocities themselves but massive population dislocations, including the near complete draining of the populations of major towns. Of course, those who did flee may have escaped temporarily with their lives, only to face equal difficulties in surviving with only what little resources they had been able to carry with them.86 Given the hazards of flight itself, the decision to flee was still not an easy one. As seen in the Zhuzhou case above, many people were reluctant to leave their homes and possessions behind (which could then fall prey to bandits and robbers as well as pillaging troops). An additional level of uncertainty was created by the inconsistent levels of discipline among various military units that did not necessarily make every approaching military column a threat. And, of course, in some cases there was simply insufficient warning to make an effective escape even if this was the obvious best strategy. So in many cases, residents either chose, or were forced, in modern terminology, to “shelter in place.” As seen in the Wuchang case above, some families were able to escape the notice of rampaging troops behind their locked doors. But this was largely a matter of good fortune. Even the most strongly barricaded residence could not long resist the determined efforts of military raiding parties. In the most extreme cases, such as the burning of Liling in 1918 and Lantian in 1920, numerous people who had attempted to hide were trapped in the conflagration and burned to death.87 Under these conditions, some people attempted to add an additional layer of security by seeking foreign protection for their property, under the assumption that even rioting troops would be reluctant to give offense to treaty-protected foreigners. In Changsha, for example, foreign merchants sold licenses to hang their business plaques and national flags in front of Chinese stores or residences, even as foreign banks offered protection, for high fees, for money deposited in their vaults. Buddhist temples meanwhile sought protective associations with Japanese monks, while Catholic and Protestant churches and other philanthropic associations, such as the Red Cross, sought to extend their protection of their foreign connections over potential victims.88 Even these measures, however, did not always work. In Yichang, mutineers pillaged foreign firms along with Chinese businesses.89 In Hunan, rampaging troops attacked both Red Cross and Christian refugee centers protected by foreign missionaries.90

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The above discussion highlights the extent to which the repeated incidence of military violence, and the news of military atrocities, created a widespread climate of fear and uncertainty among affected civilian populations. Beyond the specific acts of violence themselves, then, the experience of military atrocities affected the daily lives of the broader population in the sense of heightened vigilance. Of course, this climate of fear was more intense the closer one got to the epicenter of any particular military incident. Not unlike people who live through major earthquakes, the survivors of military violence also remained skittish of “aftershocks.”91 At the center of this broader climate of fear, however, were of course the actual victims of military atrocities. For those who were actually discovered or seized by rampaging troops, the only hope was to accede as much as possible to their demands and hope for mercy. Such appeals were sometimes effective. Much to his own surprise, given the death he witnessed all around him, a relative of the author of the Zhuzhou account cited above was seized and released by soldiers four times before finally reaching safety with his family.92 A Northerndialect-speaking servant in the home of a provincial assemblyman in Wuchang was able to use a native place appeal to get Northern mutineers to leave without further violence after they had robbed the home clean.93 But for every reported case where appeals to soldiers’ humanity stayed their hands, many other situations occurred where such appeals only seemed to evoke more ferocity. Thus, when a mother begged departing Wuchang mutineers, who had just cleaned out the family’s shop, to leave enough food for her three-year-old child, one soldier turned instead to shoot the child with the words, “We’ll give you something to eat!”94 The actual circumstances of each atrocity were, of course, unique. One common feature shared by many of the atrocities in the period, though, was the combination of different types of violence that made the experience of these atrocities so overwhelming. Attempts to report on these cases thus often fell back on clichéd expressions to reflect the scope of the disaster, commonly bemoaning, “Burn, kill, rape and rob; there was nothing they [the soldiers] did not do.”95 In many cases there were post-facto efforts to make a detailed accounting of the number of people killed or injured, the women raped, and the amount of property destroyed.96 But such aggregate lists give us little insight into the actual experience of the victims and survivors of these incidents. To understand how these atrocities actually affected its victims, it may be useful to shift attention away from individual victims to broader effects on families. This is not to discount the suffering, and even death, of individual victims, but to recognize that for survivors the losses suffered were perhaps more clearly felt in terms of consequences for family survival and continuity.97 Some of the effects of military violence were immediate, and were not unlike the effects of a major flood, or hurricane, where all property in its path, and many lives, are destroyed. Murdered adults produced large numbers of orphans with no one to care for them. The death of children meanwhile destroyed the reproductive hopes of many families. In the midst of military conflicts, or in flight, families

Military atrocities in warlord China 231 were separated. In the following days, people searched piles of the dead or smoking ruins looking for missing family members, many of whom would never be found.99 For survivors, property losses were not just measured in monetary terms but in the sustainability of their family’s livelihood. Shopkeepers lost not only their capital and their goods to pillaging troops, but also often the shops themselves to fires. In rural areas, battles and threats from rampaging troops interrupted planting and harvests. Draft animals were seized to fill military cooking pots. Even tools, doors, and window frames were either consumed by cooking fires or ruined in acts of wanton destruction.100 In this devastated landscape, some families lost all hope for survival. Thus in one case, an entire family committed suicide, even after escaping from the soldiers that destroyed their home, by throwing themselves into a river.101 Focusing on families also helps to see beyond physical losses to the broader social effects of military atrocities. This is particularly true when considering incidents of rape. A staggering number of women became victims of rape in the military atrocities of this era. Beyond the rapes themselves, and the murder of victims (or death attributed to gang-rape), many women committed suicide either to avoid capture (and expected rape) by soldiers or in shame after they had been raped.102 Without discounting the suffering of these women, rape, as suggested above, was not just an attack on individual women but on their families. It is not surprising then that many men lost their lives trying to protect their mothers, wives, or daughters from rape. In some cases, male family members also joined the women in committing suicide after rapes in a sense of shared shame.103 In this sense, rape cannot be seen in isolation from an overall assault on families represented by military atrocities. This assault on families was also experienced in more symbolic ways. For example, some accounts make particular note of the gratuitous destruction of ancestor tablets, either when used by soldiers for cooking fires or simply smashed on looting expeditions. The reporting of such acts itself is sufficient to suggest how readers might share in the shock experienced by victims of such losses.104 A similar sense of violation no doubt resulted from the destruction of graves, as soldiers dug up coffins looking for loot and left broken bodies scattered across the landscape.105 Finally soldiers involved in military atrocities also assaulted social values and social relations in broader ways. Temples were looted and their ceremonial paraphernalia sold off; while others were destroyed in the process of serving as troop barracks.106 Christian churches and philanthropic societies were attacked.107 The soldiers also had no respect for age. Pregnant women were raped and their fetuses ripped from their bodies in retribution for resistance.108 Young children, and even infants, were often the targets of particular cruelty, often in efforts to extort funds from families or in anger when demands for money produce no results.109 Accounts from the period often took particular note of the rape of elderly women, some in their seventies or eighties.110 Respected members of the gentry class received no special treatment. A Changsha report noted a case where Northern soldiers took particular delight in mocking a Qing juren, forcing 98

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the man to serve as a bearer for ten days before he was finally able to escape.111 The scholarly elite, easily identified by their long gowns, were kidnapped and held for ransom.112 Gentry homes were also obvious targets for soldiers seeking loot, and gentry members were often tortured and killed to force them to give up their wealth.113 At the hands of rampaging troops, social status and social values were turned upside down. In the end, our ability to understand either the motivations of soldiers involved in military atrocities in the warlord period, or the experiences of their victims, is limited by the sources left behind from this era. Nonetheless, a close reading of the materials written by survivors or observers of these atrocities does reveal patterns of behavior that provide at least some insight into the impact of these atrocities on Chinese society. Among insights revealed in such accounts are the broader effects of military atrocities on the fabric of Chinese society that went beyond either the loss of life or physical destruction.

Conclusion Military atrocities have of course occurred in many societies and in many different contexts. In the case of modern Chinese history, much attention has been paid to the violence committed by Japanese troops during the War of Resistance, particularly because the focus on these atrocities plays an important role in the construction of a nationalist narrative of Chinese victimization at the hand of foreign imperialism. This should not obscure, however, the numerous examples of military atrocities committed by Chinese against other Chinese in China’s modern history. Some of the most terrible, and yet now largely forgotten, of these military atrocities occurred in the warlord era. It has been the argument of this chapter that the conditions of warlordism itself were to a large extent responsible for an explosion of military atrocities in a variety of contexts. Military atrocities were, of course, only one aspect of the “troop disaster” experienced by the Chinese people during the warlord era. It was, nonetheless, the most obvious representation of a changed relationship between the military and civilians under warlordism. Returning to the quotation cited in the introduction of this chapter, soldiers became feared “like a flood.” Campaigning or mutinying troops often swept all before them in a torrent of destruction. At the same time, the perpetrators of these atrocities were “like vicious beasts” in the sense that this destruction was not just the impersonal effect of elemental forces of nature but the acts of men who, from at least the perspective of their victims, had lost their humanity.114 The effects of these atrocities were also by no means limited to the immediate loss of life or the destruction of property experienced by affected communities. Politically these atrocities created a new and negative perception of the military, which coalesced into specific anti-warlord movements, as well as a broader conceptualization of the evils of military rule that would inform the emerging political agendas of both the Nationalist and the Communist Parties.115 At the same time, it might be argued that these atrocities destabilized not only the political

Military atrocities in warlord China 233 but also the social order, and thus laid the groundwork for the subsequent social struggles to reconstitute Chinese society that accompanied the political movements of these two parties.

Notes 1 For a discussion of changing attitudes toward the military during late Qing military reforms, see Edmund S. K. Fung, The Military Dimension of the Chinese Revolution (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1980), pp. 62–113. 2 Hunan shanhou xiehui (ed.), Xiangzai jilue (N.p., 1919), vol. 1, p. 95. 3 There have, however, been some notable exceptions, such as Arthur Waldon’s From War to Nationalism: China’s Turning Point, 1924–1925 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). 4 Diana Lary, Warlord Soldiers: Chinese Common Soldiers, 1911–1937 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985). 5 Edward A. McCord, “Burn, Kill, Rape and Rob: Military Atrocities, Warlordism and Anti-Warlordism in Republican China,” in Diana Lary and Stephen MacKinnon (eds.), The Scars of War: The Impact of Warfare on Chinese Society (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2001), pp. 3–47; “Cries that Shake the Earth: Military Atrocities and Popular Protests in Warlord China,” Modern China 31.1 (2005), pp. 3–34; and “Victims and Victimizers: Warlord Soldiers and Mutinies in Republican China,” in James Flath and Norman Smith (eds.), Beyond Suffering: Recounting War in Modern China (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2011), pp. 130–152. 6 “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” in Hunan lishi ziliao bianji weiyuanhui (ed.), Hunan lishi ziliao (Changsha: Hunan renmin chubanshe, 1959), no. 3, p. 128. 7 Edward A. McCord, The Power of the Gun: The Emergence of Modern Chinese Warlordism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993). 8 For example, in 1916 the commander of a local Hunan force raised in opposition to Yuan Shikai ordered the burning of all buildings outside the walls of Dayong city to facilitate his army’s assault on Northern troops holding the city. Wu Yuncheng, “Bingzai feihuan gaikuan,”, in Yongding wenshi ziliao, 9 (1995), p. 7. 9 Hunan shanhou xiehui (ed.), Xiangzai jilüe, p. 98; “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” pp. 115–116, 120. 10 “Liling bingxian jilue”, in Hunan lishi ziliao bianji weiyuanhui (ed.), Hunan lishi ziliao (Changsha: Hunan renmin chubanshe, 1959), no. 3, pp. 101, 107–108; “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 116. 11 See, for example the impositions placed by occupying Northern troops on the Hunan town of Lantian in 1918. Liang Yangchu, “Minguo chunian Lantian de yichang da haojie,” in Lianyuan wenshi ziliao, 2 (1993), p. 113. 12 Hunan shanhou xiehui (ed.), Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 122–125. 13 Diana Lary, Warlord Soldiers, p. 72. 14 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 101. 15 Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou binghuo ji – biluan shiri jianwen jiyao,” in Hunan wenshi ziliao (Changsha: Hunan renmin chubanshe, 1964), vol. 8, pp. 153, 154. 16 Edward McCord, “Burn, Rape, Kill and Rob,” p. 29. 17 These insights on the geography of military atrocities are indebted to a discussion with Toby Lincoln at the annual meeting of the Association of Asian Studies in Philadelphia, March 2010. 18 Edward McCord, Power of the Gun, pp. 253–264, 296–300. 19 “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 101; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 96. 20 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 96; “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 109. 21 Ibid., pp. 39–40, 96, 118.

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22 Ibid., p. 96. 23 The railroad from Changsha turned east at Zhuzhou and then passed through Liling on its way to serve mines in Jiangxi’s Pingxiang county. “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 100. 24 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 96–97; “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 102. 25 “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 103; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 97–98, 135–136. 26 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 98. In one specific example, nearly ten thousand homes were plundered in Hengshan as competing forces battled in the county for several weeks. When a new magistrate arrived in April 1918 he found only seventeen people remained in the county seat. Ibid., pp. 138–139. 27 Ibid., p. 118. 28 “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 103. 29 Ibid., p. 114. 30 The author of this account declared that, “While in the tragedy of burning and killing, no place was worse than Liling, in the bitterness of devastation no place exceeded that of Baoqing.” “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 115. 31 Ibid., pp. 115–118. 32 Ibid., pp. 126–128. 33 Ibid., p. 125. 34 Contemporary accounts of the Lantian massacre can be found in Dagongbao (Changsha), June 17, June 19, July 3, July 6, July 7, July 14, and August 15, 1920. This incident is discussed in greater detail in Edward McCord, “Cries that Shake the Earth.” A Chinese account can be found in Liang Yangchu. 35 This is not to say that opposing forces did not try to stop supplies from reaching their enemies. Thus in the seesaw occupation of Liling County by Northern and Southern forces in 1918, both sides issued orders forbidding local communities from supplying provisions for the other side, in essence trapping the local people between competing demands. “Liling bingxian jilue,” pp. 108–109. One town in Xiangyin County was plundered by a Southern force in retribution for supplying funds to a temporary Northern garrison that had threatened to mutiny due to a lack of pay. Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 137–138. 36 Thus an account following the Liling atrocities noted that the situation had “settled,” but large numbers of troops remained garrisoned in the county and periodic violent incidents continued to occur. “Liling bingxian jilue,” pp. 104–105. 37 “Liling bingxian jilue,” pp. 106–107, 109; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 98–99. In a series of anti-bandit campaigns in Liling County in the summer of 1918, Fengtian troops simply rounded up and killed numerous villagers as suspected bandits when they found the actual bandits had disappeared. The troops were then rewarded with medals for their “victory.” These campaigns also gave the troops involved the opportunity to plunder villages designated as bandit lairs, even when there was no evidence of banditry. In the wake of these campaigns, formerly rich areas were left with “no unbroken tools in their rooms, no animals in their corrals, no grain in their pots, and no clothes in their closets.” “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 104. In one case where the actual bandits fled in advance of a bandit extermination campaign, over two hundred innocent civilians were shot trying to escape from attacking troops, while several dozen others were arrested and executed. As a result of situations like these, people learned not to report bandits to the authorities for fear that troops sent to deal with them might end up causing more harm than the bandits themselves. Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 133. 38 The Wuchang and other Hubei mutinies are examined in more detail in Edward McCord, “Victims and Victimizers.” Losses and casualty figures are from Hankou xinwenbao [Hankou news], June 21, 1921; Hankou zhengyibao, June 17, 1921; Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji (n.p., 1922), pp. 80, 93.

Military atrocities in warlord China 235 39 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 118; United States Department of State, “Decimal File, 1 910–1929: Internal Affairs of China,” (hereafter USDS) 893.00/3947 (Huston, June 9, 1921); Chen Runqing, “Wuchang bingbian qinliji,” in Wuhan wenshi ziliao, 12 (1983), p. 32. 40 Diana Lary, Warlord Soldiers, p. 106. 41 Ibid., pp. 87–90. Lary’s analysis relies to some extent on the contemporary insights of the Guomindang activist Zhu Zhixin. 42 “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 103. “Playful” killing was also noted in Baoqing. “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 118. 43 Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” p. 156. 44 “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 105; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 98, 134. 45 See, for example, “Baoqing bingzai jilue,” p. 118. 46 “Liling bingxian jilue,” pp. 103–104, Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” p. 150; Long Wenwei, “Yueyang binghuo muji ji,” in Hunan wenshi ziliao (Changsha: Hunan renmin chubanshe, 1964), vol. 8, p. 163. 47 “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 103. 48 Ibid., p. 109; “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 126. Over seven hundred bearers seized in Xinhua in 1920 were reported to have never returned to their homes. Dagongbao, June 21 and August 16, 1920. 49 In the wake of the Northern troop advance into East Hunan in 1918, a market to process loot emerged over the Jiangxi border at Pingxiang, taking advantage of the Zhuzhou-Pingxiang railroad for easy transportation of the stolen goods. “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 104. 50 Shibao, December 26, 1920. 51 Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, p. 47. 52 Many such cases are related in a detailed account of atrocities committed in the eastern township of Baoqing County. “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” pp. 119–124. 53 Ibid., pp. 116–122. 54 An example of troops searching homes for “prostitutes” (hua guniang) is noted in Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” p. 150. A poem written about the defaming of “good” families in such searches is included in Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 382. 55 Susan Brownmiller, Against Our Will: Men, Women and Rape (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1975). 56 These unemployed and married men provided a resource pool not only for warlord armies but for expanded banditry. Phil Billingsley, “Bandits, Bosses, and Bare Sticks: Beneath the Surface of Local Control in Early Republican China,” Modern China 7.3 (1981), p. 237. 57 Matthew H. Sommer, Sex, Law, and Society in Late Imperial China (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2000), pp. 12–15. 58 Judith Stacey, Patriarchy and Socialist Revolution in China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), p. 93. 59 Ibid., pp. 68, 79–107. 60 Wu Yuncheng, “Bingzai feihuan gaikuan,” p. 13. 61 “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 108; “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” pp. 116, 118; Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” p. 153; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 99, 120. 62 Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” pp. 153, 156, 157; “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 109; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 120. 63 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 96. 64 “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 118. 65 One letter from Changsha published in a newspaper equated the Hunanese hatred of Northern forces as equal to the hatred of Belgians for Germans. Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 421. 66 This was particularly true in cases where Northern troops seemed to take revenge against civilians for battlefield losses. Ibid., p. 404.

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67 USDS 893.00/2857 (Johnson, May 11, 1918), 893.00/2860 (Knecht, May 19, 1918). 68 Dagongbao [L’Impartial] (Changsha), June 17 and 19, 1920. 69 Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” pp. 152–152. 70 Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, p. 93; Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” p. 158. 71 Long Wenwei, “Yueyang binghuo muji ji,” p. 163. 72 Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” p. 152. 73 “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” pp. 120, 126. 74 Ibid., p. 127. 75 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 119; Long Wenwei, “Yueyang binghuo muji ji,” p. 163. 76 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 118. 77 “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 128. 78 Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” pp. 147–150. 79 Ibid., pp. 148–149, 150. 80 Ibid., pp. 153–154. 81 Ibid., p. 155. 82 Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, p. 93; Guomin xinbao, October 19, 1921. 83 Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, pp. 78–79. 84 Ibid., p. 103. The declaration actually makes an additional distinction between mutineers who return to their camps, and thus remain part of the regular army and beyond the reach of the people, and mutineers who flee, and thus can at least still be tracked down and suppressed by the authorities. 85 Many examples of the futility of resistance appeared in reports from the period. For example, the defenders of one strongly guarded shop actually shot a member of a raiding party of soldiers on the night of the Wuchang mutiny. Angered by this resistance, the soldier used oil to set fire to the shop, burning eighteen clerks inside to death. Ibid., p. 51. 86 “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 103. 87 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 97; Dagongbao, July 7, 1920. 88 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 129–130. 89 Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, p. 116; USDS 893.102IC/7. 90 Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” pp. 153–154; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 420; Six hundred people in a Protestant refugee center in Baoqing were assaulted by over one hundred troops who killed those who tried to flee then stripsearched those who remained. “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 117. 91 The citizens of Wuchang reportedly remained in a state of panic for several days after the Wuchang mutiny. Those who could, fled the city; others remained as much as possible indoors and in hiding. This climate of fear also resulted in frequent rumors and alarms that undermined official proclamations assuring the restoration of order. Efforts to increase security actually had a counter-effect by creating fear that these measures were a response to new threats of troop disorder. Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, pp. 87, 89, 92, 95–96. 92 Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” pp. 150–151. 93 Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, p. 12. 94 Ibid., p. 27. 95 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 132. While frequently cited, this common expression appeared in various forms. See ibid., fulu, p. 4; Dagongbao, June 26 and July 27, 1920. 96 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 101–103. 97 This approach is influenced by the analysis of Judith Stacey, Patriarchy and Socialist Revolution in China, pp. 79–104. 98 See, for example, “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 103.

Military atrocities in warlord China 237 99 One account relates the experience of one man in the Zhuzhou area in 1918 in his search for a missing brother. He joined large numbers of other people searching for their relatives in decomposing piles of bodies, counting over one hundred bodies in one case and nearly eighty in another. Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” pp. 156–157. 100 “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” pp. 118, 123. 101 “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 103. 102 See for example, “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” pp. 118, 120; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 119. Particularly “virtuous” cases of women committing suicide to avoid rape often received special attention in atrocity accounts. One woman in Changsha reportedy drowned herself in a pond, even while holding her infant son above the water so he could be rescued. See ibid., p. 114. The daughter of a provincial assemblyman in Wuchang buried her head in the mud at the bottom of a shallow pool to ensure her death. Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, pp. 12–13. 103 In Baoqing, a father distracted soldiers intent on the rape of his daughters with an angry declamation on his family’s honor. He was then killed by disappointed soldiers who found his daughters had taken this chance to escape. “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 122. Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, p. 26, reported on a new husband who died trying to stop the rape of his wife. In Baoqing, a sixty-year-old man hung himself after failing to prevent the rape of his elderly mother. “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 118. Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 99, provides reports of whole families who hung themselves together after rapes. 104 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 100, 134. Concern over the loss of ancestor tablets is shown in a case where family tablets were found to be the only items hidden on the person of a man fleeing with his family from looting troops. While the man had to suffer additional humiliation as the soldiers mocked him for his filial piety, the soldiers were apparently sufficiently satisfied with the amusement this provided to allow the man and his family to escape without further harm. Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, p. 29. 105 “Liling bingxian jilue,” pp. 104–105. As this account notes, soldiers were even “cruel to the dead.” 106 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 12; “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 105. 107 Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 117; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 120; Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” pp. 153–154; “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 103. 108 Ye Jingwu, “Wuwu Zhuzhou,” p. 160; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, p. 99. 109 Liu Cuochen, Ezhou canji, pp. 16, 27; “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” pp. 119, 127. 110 “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 118; Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 116, 137. 111 Hunan shanhou xiehui, Xiangzai jilüe, pp. 116–117. 112 “Baoqing bingzai jishi,” p. 120. 113 Ibid., p. 124. In Liling in 1918, gentry were strung up, doused in oil, and set afire when they were unable to provide the money demanded by soldiers. “Liling bingxian jilue,” p. 109. 114 In the wake of the Lantian massacre in 1920, one newspaper editorialized that the officers and soldiers involved deserved to be treated more as animals than as humans. Dagongbao, June 25, 1920. 115 See Edward McCord, “Burn, Kill, Rape, and Rob,” pp. 34–44.

13 The military ascendant The ascendancy of the Chinese military during the Resistance War 1937–1945 (and afterwards) Diana Lary From the start of the Resistance War the military was completely dominant over the civil in China. After July 1937, in the face of the massive Japanese invasion, the military took priority over all else. Its dominance was scarcely questioned; the Guomindang (GMD) government committed all of China’s resources to military resistance. The civilian population, especially in the most immediately threatened areas of northern and eastern China, reacted to the military resistance with a mixture of pride and dread. The pride was for the staggering courage of the soldiers in the early stages of the war, especially in the defense of Shanghai in the fall of 1938 and in the Xuzhou Campaign in the spring of 1938. The dread was for the terrible consequences of war for civilians, the refugee flights, the bombings, and the rapacious behavior of Japanese troops. Within the pride and dread was embedded what was a new popular emotion in China – admiration for soldiers, so long denigrated by civilians, as their popular name “grey rats” showed. The ascendancy of the military in wartime seems obvious, the norm for any country at war. This was so in the late 1930s, as the world descended into war. In Japan the outbreak of full-scale war raised the military to an even higher status than it had had before fighting began; war was the culmination of the longrunning ambitions of the military. In less militaristic countries, the military’s low-key peacetime status was transformed in wartime, especially when the war was a response to aggression or invasion. In the Allied countries armies expanded rapidly at the start of World War II, as people, anxious to serve their nation, flocked in to uniform, and the civilian population was behind them. In China the process by which the military rose in status did not fit either of these models. It involved not only the rise in the military’s importance within the society, but also a transformation of its reputation amongst civilians. Before the Japanese invasion the status of the military within Chinese society was low. The traditional low status of the military, summed up by the expression zhongwen qingwu (“put the emphasis on the civil, downplay the military”) had been underlined and strengthened in the late Qing by civilian contempt for the military, as Chinese forces lost in war to a succession of foreign powers. The Qing policy, in reaction to the string of defeats by foreign armies, was to take urgent measures to strengthen and transform the status of China’s military. This

The military ascendant 239 policy turned out to be suicidal; it led directly to the Wuhan Rising in 1911, in which young soldiers from the new armies turned against the dynasty and precipitated the process that brought it down. The young officers’ revolutionary ideals were not realized. The Republic’s first, civilian president, Sun Yat-sen, was soon replaced by the ultimate militarist, Yuan Shikai, whose vision of centralized militarism leading to his own translation into emperor failed. His failure ushered in the disseminated militarism of warlordism, after 1916. This dismal process brought the status of the military to new lows, in the minds of virtually every sector of Chinese society. Some hated the military because it made China weak, in the face of foreign aggression; some hated the predatory activities of soldiers; some resented the road blocks that the military put in the way of progress and modernization. The military was not seen as a suitable career for sons of good families, either in the officer corps or in the ranks; the old phrase haotie bu dang ding, haoren bu dang bing (‘good iron does not make nails, good men do not make soldiers’) was still very much in force. The despair of the first decade and a half of the Republic gave birth, in the mid-1920s, to the hope for a different, progressive kind of military. It started with the establishment of the Whampoa Military Academy in Guangzhou, which gave training to an exceptional generation of young men, some destined to become commanders in the GMD armies, others to be members of the Chinese Communist (CCP) military elite.1 The GMD’s military growth, from Whampoa to the Northern Expedition (1926–1928) to the establishment of its government in Nanjing (1928), put the military on a new and dominant footing, underpinned by Sun Yat-sen’s theory of three stages of revolutionary development, the first of which was military control. The military government in Nanjing was not strong enough to bring all China under unified control. The GMD military itself was divided, between the wellarmed, German-trained elite units attached to Nanjing and regional forces in Guangxi, Manchuria, and the Northwest, who scarcely gave any allegiance to Nanjing. Manchurian autonomy was resolved in a bitter way, by the Japanese invasion (1931), and Feng Yuxiang was severely weakened, but other regional militarists kept their distance and autonomy from Nanjing. After their terrible setbacks in the late 1920s, in which the CCP and its armed forces were decimated, the surviving CCP forces were for much of the early 1930s on the brink of disaster, eventually forced to abandon their base in Jiangxi and go on the Long March that brought them eventually to Yan’an, in the remote hills of Shaanxi in 1935. Even the purported coalescence in national unity of all Chinese in the name of resistance to Japan, after the Xi’an Incident (December, 1936), did not bring full military unity, or even a universal conviction that military unity was essential for China’s survival. There was, in fact, a strong undercurrent of opinion that strengthening the military was pointless, that China was too weak to resist the military might of the looming Japanese threat. For people who held this opinion, the most prominent Wang Jingwei, political appeasement and accommodation to Japan was the only sensible route for China to take.

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The appeasement approach turned out to be wrong. Once the war started, military resistance was immediate; China did not give in to Japan. The invasion stimulated great waves of patriotism, which demanded resistance. At the same time popular feeling towards the military changed dramatically. Except for areas in north China that came immediately under Japanese control, virtually the whole government, the whole society, and the whole economy were geared for war. This was China’s first experience of total war; in it the military was allimportant. The regional militarists and the CCP all followed the GMD government’s lead in putting the military first, giving it first call on resources, manpower, modern technology, and training. China became a military world. The militarization affected the images of different groups within the military in particular ways.

Common soldiers The new image of China’s soldiers showed them as China’s new heroes, fighting to save the nation. The image was the product of mass anger. It spoke to the new popular nationalism, a spectacular blossoming that the writings of intellectuals and journalists of the 1920s and 1930s had not been able to create, in spite of their passionate efforts. Japan created mass nationalism in China. In a time of national invasion, in which the whole race seemed to be under attack, it was almost impossible not to feel the pull of nationalism. The soldiers were the standard bearers. The most celebrated men were the Eight Hundred Heroes, who held the Sihang Warehouse (Sihang cangku) in Shanghai for ten days in October, 1937 against ferocious Japanese artillery bombardment, the whole defense taking place under the eyes of the world press just across the Suzhou Creek.2 The promotion of soldiers as heroes was boosted by torrents of media coverage, newspaper photographs, cartoons and reportage, some government, most commercial, in newspapers and magazines. Virtually the entire media became propagandists for the national cause. The coverage underlined the brutality of Japanese troops, and extolled the courage of China’s soldiers. The aim was to express outrage, and to get the entire population behind the troops. Music played another, equally important part in creating support for the war. Choral, martial music was new to China. It was seen by people in authority as the ideal way to raise spirits, in a way that was cheap and universal. The voices of the people were harnessed for the cause. There was no tradition of choral singing in China, beyond the singing of work songs. Now choral singing became (and remains) a key part of life in China. The March of the Volunteers (Yiyongjun jinxing qu) had stirred the hearts of patriotic people after the Japanese occupation of Manchuria in 1931, but the song is difficult to sing and it is rather formal; it eventually became the national anthem. In the early years of the war a wave of new songs appeared; one collection has more than fifteen hundred titles.3 Most of the songs were dedicated to China’s soldiers. Tian Han, Ai Qing, Lao She, Wen Yiduo, Hu Shi, and Guo Moruo, some of China’s most celebrated intellectuals, all wrote librettos. So did

The military ascendant 241 politicians and generals. Bai Chongxi wrote the words for a rather stern song, Hard-working Men Join the Army (Jinfu congjun). He Xiangning, widow of the early revolutionary Liao Zhongkai, wrote a song to encourage women to support the troops, by sewing and knitting. Send Winter Clothes to the Soldiers at the Front (Zeng hanyi yu qianfang jiangshi) created the novel idea that everyone could contribute to the war effort. The music for the new songs was taken from Chinese and Western sources. Mendelsohn provided the music for The New Air Force (Xin kongjun), Gounod for The Song of the Advancing Army (Jinjun ge) and Bach for Down with Japan (Da Riben). Beethoven was the composer for In Memory of the Soldiers of Song Hu (Song Hu zhenwang jiangshi). Two leading Chinese composers emerged, Nie Er, who had died in 1935 not long after he wrote the music for March of the Volunteers, and Xian Xinghai, who wrote many songs during his time in Yan’an, but who is best known now for the Yellow River Concerto.4 The wave of emotive propaganda helped to create a powerful image of soldiers as heroes, men (and occasionally women) who were fighting for the salvation of the rest of the population, willing to lay down their lives for their nation. The admiration for soldiers led to widespread popular support and help for the fighters, the willing provision of food and other supplies while they were on the move, and care for those who were wounded. The population in some places also showed a willingness to support disbanded soldiers who continued the fight against the Japanese as guerrillas. The early years of the war were probably the highest point that respect for soldiers ever reached in China. As time went on, the enthusiasm waned. The terrible casualties that China’s armies experienced led to more and more desperate efforts by the government to recruit new soldiers. By the last years of the war the conscription tactics used by the government agencies had become a scandal. Peasant families feared and hated recruiters. The reputation of soldiers did not change, but popular enthusiasm for sending men in to the army did. On the CCP side, armies grew rapidly in the last years of the war. In some cases this came about by the recruitment of guerrilla and other irregular fighters into the armies. In other cases men from the puppet armies went over to the CCP, as they saw that the war would soon be over, and they needed to secure their own future. The CCP armies gave them the chance of “becoming new” (zixin) through ideological training, even for the most undesirable troops. This willingness to accept dross and turn it in to something worthwhile may be an explanation of the steady improvement of the CCP armies.

Generals The common soldiers were not the only men of the military to be embraced by the Chinese people in the early years of the war. The war revived a category of hero that had been missing from Chinese culture for centuries – hero generals, on the model of the legendary strategist of the Three Kingdoms period, Zhuge Liang and the patriotic martyr Yue Fei of the Southern Song. These two great

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martial heroes had survived in popular culture. Now Yue Fei returned to his pinnacle of fame a millennium after his death; his great poem, The River Runs Red (Manjiang hong) became the theme song of the Resistance War. But China had been starved for more contemporary hero generals and strategists. Now a whole new generation came to prominence. The first modern military hero was the handsome and dashing Cai Tingkai, hero of the defense of Shanghai in 1932. In the years between then and the fullscale Japanese invasion in 1937 Cai was one of the most admired figures in all of China (though not in the Nanjing government). He toured China, and the Overseas Chinese communities, and was given rapturous welcomes. Ma Zhanshan, another early hero in the struggle against Japan, was a romantic figure from the northern borderlands. He was a swash-buckler, usually portrayed seated proudly on horseback. At the end of 1931 he led his cavalry units against the Japanese in Heilongjiang, and though they did not prevail, he became a national hero, a modern version of the horseman from the steppes. Once the war started Cai and Ma were joined in the pantheon of heroic commanders by Bai Chongxi (known as Xiao Zhuge Liang, or Little Zhuge Liang) and Li Zongren, celebrated for their roles in one of the few Chinese victories against the Japanese armies, at Taierzhuang (March–May, 1938). On the Communist side several heroic military figures emerged during the war. The jovial and popular Nie Rongzhen and the one-eyed Liu Bocheng joined the existing communist military heroes, Zhu De and He Long. They were all tough, brave, and humorous men who feared no one. Lin Biao, later one of the CCP’s most brilliant commanders, spent most of the Resistance War in Moscow, recovering from mysterious injuries – or possibly suffering from mental illness. The reemergence of a tradition of heroic generals was exciting from a wartime propaganda point of view, but difficult for those in overall leadership. Chiang Kai-shek stood above the generals, as their commander in chief, but he was not respected as a battlefield commander either by them or by the people as a whole. He had last seen action in early 1926, in the ill-fated Jiangxi Campaign on the Northern Expedition to reunite the country. Though he always appeared in military uniform, he never felt that he got the respect that he deserved from the top echelons of the military, even those closely connected with him. Field commanders found him infuriating, because of his micro-managing, his habit of issuing a constant stream of directives (shouling), which contained oftencontradictory commands about how to conduct battles.5 The directives were so often inappropriate or useless that commanders tended to ignore them, or delay implementing them in the likelihood that they would be countermanded. Mao Zedong had a different, lurking problem in his own camp, with the CCP military. He had almost no command experience, and though he fully recognized the importance of the military (as seen in his famous aphorism ‘political power comes out of the barrel of a gun’) he had no claim to military command capacity on his own account. He solved this deficit neatly, by staying above military command issues, leaving the fighting to others and spending his own time working on his writing, which included general texts on war (On Guerrilla War, On Protracted

The military ascendant 243 Warfare) and on Yan’an’s relationship with Chongqing and with the USSR. He presented himself not as a soldier, but as a rather austere, simple civilian.

Guerillas The war revived another ancient Chinese martial tradition, the haohan and Shuihu traditions of bold, daring fighters, who took on enemies with huge, almost foolhardy courage and often won surprising success. This tradition was reborn in the early stages of the war, with the rapid growth of guerrilla or mobile fighting. In the occupied areas guerrilla fighters emerged early in the war, some of them disbanded GMD soldiers, some Communists, some local bandits – but all with a common enemy, the Japanese. The romantic ideal of defeating an enemy by brilliant stratagem, a few brave fighters inspired by furious nationalism, promised a great deal of success against a thinly stretched invader; it has inspired a whole genre of literature and film about the war. Guerrilla actions brought with them great costs. The major cost was born by the local people in the areas where the guerrillas operated. The Japanese strategy of “draining the water,” the “burn all, kill all, destroy all” of punishing the communities where guerrilla activity occurred brought nightmares of savage revenge. Mo Yan’s novel Red Sorghum and the 1987 movie based on it give a vivid portrayal of the costs of guerrilla activity.6 Guerrilla warfare also had costs for the government and for the organized armies. By its nature it required leaving a great deal of initiative to local commanders – and they had to be local if there was to be any success. The GMD seems to have lost much of its command connection to guerrilla units fairly early in the war, though many units survived until the end of the war. One was a unit run by a refined civil servant and intellectual, He Siyuan, former head of civil government in Shandong (and later mayor of Beiping just before the CCP capture of the city). He withdrew into the salt flats and marshes of the Yellow River delta, and kept a skeleton provincial government operating until the end of the war, with no fixed location, no income, and no authority.7 The CCP in Yan’an had great difficulty in bringing the various guerrilla units under their control, though eventually they seem to have achieved a high degree of control over some rural areas – the key bases from which the Civil War was fought. In Shandong it took the CCP years to establish control over most of the guerrilla bases.8 This did not mean that the overall reputation of the military in Shandong went up. In fact in much of the province it went the other way. Large parts of the armies once commanded by Han Fuju, the former provincial governor, went over to the Japanese puppet government in Nanjing during the war, after Han was executed by Chiang Kai-shek.

The military and the economy Throughout the war the military was dominant in the economy of all areas of the country, whether this meant having first call on resources, transport, and money

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or simply in requisitioning what they needed from the civilian population. In the Occupied Areas Japanese forces requisitioned whatever they needed in the way of buildings, food, and other supplies. They press-ganged men as they needed to, without regard for the families these men needed to support.9 This behavior, though it differed little from the behavior of occupying armies in other parts of the world, disrupted and almost destroyed the parts of the economy not directly controlled by Japanese concerns, such as the industry in Manchuria. In the unoccupied areas, despite valiant efforts to relocate industry or to generate new enterprises, the economy was crippled by the war, and by the inability of the government to control or mitigate inflation, caused by the need to print paper money to finance the military. The government was unable to perform its most basic economic function, to mitigate famine. A terrible famine gripped Henan in 1941 and 1942, and killed millions of people. The lack of food, the disruption of transport, and the fact that the famine area fell in both occupied and unoccupied parts of the province meant that hundreds of thousands of peasants starved. This was a fundamental betrayal of the old contract between government and the people, that in times of famine the government would provide relief. The message for the wartime economy on its relationship to the military was grim: the military could dominate the economy, and extract from it whatever it wishes, but it could not make it function well. Military domination of the economy was something akin to slow economic bankruptcy for the rest of the economy.

Missing from the military One large group of people was notably absent from the wartime military: the educated civilian elite. Students and intellectuals existed in a world quite apart from the military and the armies. Students were not expected to participate in fighting. There was no expectation that they would go in to the armies. Officers were provided from special military schools, and there was an over-abundant supply of men for the ranks. The role of students was to prepare themselves to take on leading roles in future, civilian governments. They were provided with government stipends, and given fine educations at the Southwest Combined University (Xinan Lianda) in Kunming and other refugee universities. The young people were deeply patriotic, but as far as the war was concerned they were deep in the rear areas, far away from the fighting. Some students were involved directly in the war, those who had stayed in Beiping when the elite universities left for the south in late 1937. Many of these students joined secret organizations and launched clandestine activities against the Japanese – and, in many cases, against their own families, whom they saw as collaborating with the Japanese. In September, 1940 seventy young students were arrested in Beiping as “Chongqing agents,” and over half of them executed; many were the children of men working actively for the occupation.10

The military ascendant 245 The contribution of the refugee intellectuals in Free China to the war effort was patchy. They ones who had fled from the great cities into the interior were deeply patriotic (unlike those who stayed in the occupied areas), but their role in the war was hard to find. In the early years of the war they were active in every aspect of propaganda work, but as the war went on the high tide of propaganda abated, their direct participation waned. Many turned against the GMD government. Some even moved to Yan’an to work with the CCP. The question of intellectuals going into the army never arose. Intellectuals seem to have played little role in intelligence work, which was reserved for the dark legions commanded by Dai Li and other specialists. A few intellectuals, such as Hu Shi, went into the diplomatic service, and others served on government agencies and commissions. Guo Moruo carved out a career for himself in Chongqing as a cultural administrator. Most intellectuals were disconnected from the actual waging of the war. They were marginal and often impoverished, very much displaced people. In the CCP camp, the situation of intellectuals was not much better. As Mao Zedong tightened his hold on the Party, intellectuals were less and less likely to criticize the Party and its leader. The Rectification Campaign in 1942 showed what happened to intellectuals who took a divergent view from Mao; it was quite clear that there would be no mercy for them. In Yan’an intellectuals were silenced not by the military but by the political arm of the leadership. The distinction between Chinese intellectuals and Western ones in wartime is intriguing and culturally determined. The expectation in Allied countries was that everyone had to do their bit, and the war meant often a time away from intellectual life, sometimes working in intelligence, at other times in the armed forces. Students were expected to go into the military and defer their studies. The few intellectuals who sat out the war were despised and derided. Christopher Isherwood and W. H. Auden left Europe for California at the start of the war in Europe, ironically just after they had published an influential book on their experiences in China in early 1938, one of the most graphic accounts of the war there.11 In the Axis countries semi-hereditary military elites determined much of the way that the military and intellectual worlds related to each other. With notable exceptions, intellectuals accepted the dominance of the military and did not openly oppose it, or actively support fascism.12 The clear-cut distance between intellectuals and the military that emerged during the Resistance War reinforced the demise of the old mandarinate, now clearly gone for good, and with its demise the idea that a civilian elite chosen for intellectual brilliance should stand above and in control of the military. Zhongwen qingwu had become zhongwu qingwen (“put the emphasis on the military, downplay the civil”).

The military and culture One twist to the reversal of the zhongwen qingwu pattern was that soldiers were no longer beyond the pale in cultural terms. Though there were some really crude and uneducated commanders (Han Fuju was a prime example),13 others

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thought of themselves as cultivated, as adherents of traditional culture. Many of the graduates of modern military schools had started their education in traditional schools, not in modern primary or secondary schools. Their entry into military schools was determined by the fact that, after 1905, there had been very few career opportunities for youths who could not afford a modern university education. These men had a thorough grounding in traditional culture; they wrote poetry and practiced calligraphy. Even those soldiers with less education studied calligraphy. Feng Yuxiang’s strong, square characters can be found on almost as many monuments and scenic places as Guo Moruo’s more refined ones. The generals’ sense of culture was of course different from that of the modernizing intellectuals. It drew much more on traditional popular culture, and elite cultural elements of poetry and calligraphy. Its importance was that it showed that soldiers had enough confidence attached to their own cultural capacity to them to feel not a smidgen of inadequacy or inferiority vis-à-vis intellectuals.

Foreign critics of the Chinese military One group of wartime residents in China did not share the general admiration for the Chinese military – foreign observers in China. On the Japanese side military observers were dismissive about the Chinese military, and astonished that the Chinese military had the nerve to resist their armies. On the Allied side, the view of the GMD military grew more and more critical as the war went on. The early, positive views of the Chinese military espoused by the American officer Evans Carlson, who respected the ordinary Chinese soldiers (though not the supreme command in Chongqing), were not shared by later Americans.14 As the war went on there was more and more dismissive and derisory comment on the Chinese military from Western sources – diplomats, journalists, military attaches. In retrospect the criticisms tell us as much about them as about the people they were commenting on, especially those of the acerbic American Joseph Stilwell. Stilwell felt that he understood China better than any other foreigner in China, and he was convinced that he was a supreme judge of men, a judge so perceptive that it was quite acceptable for him to speak his mind, politely or (usually) otherwise. Stilwell’s acid, bitter comments made him very unpopular with the Chinese military he was supposed to be representing.15 At the same time they gave strength to those foreigners who were writing glowing descriptions of the CCP and its armed forces.

Wartime military trajectories The rise in the status of the GMD military early in the war did not survive into the later stages. The political and economic clout of the military was not affected, either in the GMD or the CCP camps, but the respect and admiration for the military declined. Some of this was due to general war-weariness, but other reasons for the decline had to do with the course of the war.

The military ascendant 247 The trajectory of the GMD forces, in terms of public respect, was downwards. After 1938 there were very few victories to celebrate, and although, until 1944, there were no more major defeats, the prolonged stalemate had a terrible effect on morale within the military and on its standing beyond the military in the civilian population. This standing had already been undermined by the disasters of the scorched earth actions, the breaching of the Yellow River Dyke (June, 1938) and the burning of Changsha (November, 1938), both done in the name of resisting the Japanese, but exacting a terrible cost on civilians. Stalemates distort and often destroy the internal unity of a group. While the war was omni-present in Chongqing, with almost daily bombings, the military leadership, who could do nothing to stop the bombing, seemed incapable of breaking the stalemate in the land battles. The equivocal, quarreling, back-biting military leadership, and the erosion of the early unity, undermined the military in the eyes of politicians and foreign observers, who saw at first hand that the military seemed to put in-fighting as its prime concern, ahead of winning the war. The wartime inflation caused by the continuing overspending on the military distressed the civilian population dependent on the money economy, but it had equally bad effects on the military, whose wages and salaries did not keep up with inflation. Whether the government could have financed the war without resorting to inflation is doubtful, but the fact of inflation did much to tarnish. The military trajectory of the CCP was different from that of the GMD. The gradual strengthening of the base areas and the coalescence of CCP power over the guerrilla areas meant that the CCP seemed to be winning on the military front. There is no better way than winning to raise the status of the military. The CCP was able to appear successful in part because the Japanese, in spite of waging the war in China in the name of containing communism, actually spent relatively little time or effort in attacking the base areas. The reasons for this had to do with the strategic and tactical difficulties for a modern, mechanized army in taking on opponents living deep in the mountains. The effect was clear; while the GMD armies suffered disastrous casualties in 1937, 1938, and 1944, the CCP armies never had to deal with such losses, because they seldom engaged large Japanese forces equipped with major armaments. The rugged topography in which the red armies fought allowed them to determine their own tactics (with thanks to Sunzi) while avoiding positional battles in which they would certainly have been defeated.

Shamed and disgraced soldiers The war was a period of shame or disgrace for some members of the military. For one group the cause of this shame was failure in battle. Zhang Zizhong, one of the commanders in the Beiping-Tianjin region, brought terrible shame upon his head when his units collapsed before the onslaught of the Japanese armies in 1937, and he himself was forced to flee on a bicycle. Zhang managed to recoup his reputation later in the war, and in fact emerged as one of the great wartime

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heroes when he was killed in battle in 1940. His death made him a huge hero, a status that has only grown over time.16 Some generals lost their reputations because of strategic or tactical errors. Zhang Fakui was tacitly blamed for failing to anticipate the Japanese armies’ landings on the shore of Hangzhou Bay in late 1937. This failure allowed the Japanese to speed up their assault on Nanjing. For Zhang it brought an effective end to what had previously been a brilliant career; the rest of his commands were in the far south, little involved in the war. Tang Shengzhi, garrison commander of Nanjing in December 1937, was blamed for the failed defense of Nanjing, a failure that was followed by the Nanjing Massacre, led to his virtual disappearance from the Chinese military scene. And Han Fuju paid for his failure to defend Jinan at the very end of 1938 with his life; he was executed only a month later.17 No record was more disgraceful that that of Wu Huawen, a former subordinate of Han Fuju. Some time after Han Fuju’s death Wu led his units over to the puppet administration in Nanjing, presumably motivated by the desire to survive in a hostile world. He remained “loyal” throughout the war, helping to put down guerrilla activity in Shandong. At the end of the war Wu’s units went back to the GMD government, but stayed only until he was “persuaded” by Communist forces to defect during the defense of Jinan in late 1948, a critical loss to the government.

Long-term outcomes The wartime ascendancy of the military is sometimes reversed. The defeat of the Axis powers meant the disgrace of the military in Japan, Germany, and Italy, and the virtual destruction of the military in those countries. The Allied countries turned away from a huge military, and moved towards smaller standing armies; the majority of servicemen and women were demobilized. China took neither course, but moved instead to the most terrible form of warfare, civil war. The outcome of the Resistance War was two armed camps within China, poised to take each other on. At the end of the war the GMD armies were demoralized and fractious, devastated by the losses in the last deadly campaign of the war, Ichigo (1944–1945). The commanders were at odds with each other, and Chiang Kaishek’s position as generalissimo was less secure than the exalted title suggested. The GMD government had on its side the most powerful nation in the world, the USA, willing to help it regain control of all of China.18 This help could not bring to the GMD forces the spirit they needed to accomplish this task. The CCP forces, though still heavily outnumbered by the GMD forces, were full of confidence. There were reasons for this. They were strategically located near Manchuria, the region where, by general agreement, the civil war was likely to start. The CCP had a powerful ally in the USSR, which had taken control of the vast Japanese resources in Manchuria in the last days of the war, and was disposed to pass at least part of the weaponry, the vehicles, and the rolling stock

The military ascendant 249 that the Japanese left behind to the CCP. One of the most important advantages for the CCP was access, almost for the first time, to motorized transport. In the comparison between the two forces what is left unsaid was that there would be no democratic or civilian peace bonus for China. China was still shrouded in war, and would be for the next four years. The Civil War would be decided on the battlefield. The CCP victory in the Civil War did not mean the end of the military ascendancy. The survival of the Peoples’ Republic depended on her armies, in the Korean War and later in the constant external threats. Beijing has also depended on the military to save the party from the people, most notably in June, 1949. The Republic of China on Taiwan has been equally dependent on the military, to protect the island from invasion.

The meaning of military ascendancy The War of Resistance ushered in a dramatic rise in the status of the military in China, and in its ability to command resources. It marked a parallel decline in the status and power of the civil, especially of intellectuals. The pattern has continued. Both in the PRC and the ROC the military has been dominant ever since the start of the Resistance War. Though civilian politicians have been the most visible public figures in the PRC, and now too in the ROC, none of them have tried to diminish or restrict the military to any significant degree. In the ROC military training has been mandatory for all young men, a policy driven as much by the threat from the Mainland as from the militarization of society. The one time that the PRC military was disastrously weak was after the misguided and failed war with Vietnam in 1979 – by no coincidence just before Deng Xiaoping re-launched the Four Modernizations (one of which was national defense). This weakness may have been essential for the dramatic change of tack that Deng’s policies brought, but it was not profound enough to limit the demands of the military for priority within the larger society, nor to bring it more tightly under political control. The mysterious but bulky military appears to have a far greater degree of autonomy than any other institution. Very occasionally political leaders try to express their attachment to the military by wearing military uniform (Jiang Zemin is an example), but these appearances carry no more conviction that these costumes are anything more than dress-up than do the elaborate uniforms that the members of the British Royal Family wear on state occasions.19 The contemporary Chinese military seems impervious to external analysis, let alone criticism or attack from the intellectual world in China, which seems to know little about the military. Since the opening up in the early 1980s Chinese intellectuals have worked and written on a vast range of economic, social, and (cautiously) political issues, but not on the military, which still seems to be out of bounds. The military is culturally self-sufficient. It has its own artists, performers, writers, film studios, publishing houses, journals, and theatres, all supported by their own training schools. The members of the military-cultural world seldom

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seem to stray far from the military world. One exception is the writer Mo Yan, who went into the army when he was 22, and is still formally a part of the army. Another is the actress Bai Ling, who served in Tibet as a military artiste in a PLA entertainment troupe. Bai is from a military family, but not on the right side; her grandfather was a GMD officer. She eventually left the army – and China – for a career in Hollywood. The separation of the military and the intelligentsia, so marked in the Resistance War, has continued. In the realm of new ideas and political argumentation, the military was a major topic for late Qing revolutionaries and reformers. It has not been since then, either in the early Republic, during the war years or since 1949. Whether this quiescence is to be put down to the CCP’s desire for absolute dominance, or is also a reflection of the distaste of the military for the messiness of debate and democracy is impossible to tell, because the one thing the military is brilliant at above all is keeping its inner workings completely secret, certainly from the outside world and perhaps too from its political “masters.” In the ROC the military is better known, not least because all young men have to serve in the military. And one of the few really sympathetic portrayals of soldiers has come from the son of one of the great Republican soldiers, Bai Chongxi. Bai Xianyong’s portrayal of the lives of some of his father’s subordinates in Taibei ren, remains one of the most moving accounts of the life of ordinary soldiers.20 But even in these days of full democracy, the military – whose support for the introduction of democracy was critical – remains above direct analysis or criticism, for the obvious reason that its leaders can make the case that the military is the key protector of the island from being taken over by the Peoples’ Liberation Army, the successor of the CCP’s wartime armies. The separation of the military from the civil seems to be more entrenched than ever in the Chinese world. The separation is replicated in the academic study of China. The literature on the Chinese military is impoverished, especially in comparison to the great amount of work on intellectual history. In historical biography, there is hardly a single good biography of a modern general, as opposed to hundreds on intellectuals.21 Our lack of knowledge or understanding of the military is a huge, and possibly critical, gap in our understanding of China.

Notes 1 Colin Green, “Turning Bad Iron into Polished Steel: Whampoa and the Rehabilitation of the Chinese Soldier,” in James Flath and Norman Smith (eds.), Beyond Suffering: Recounting War in Modern China (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2011), pp. 153–185. 2 The Eight Hundred Heroes became iconic symbols of courage; their commander Xie Jinyuan, who was assassinated later in the conflict, became a national hero. 3 Xingzhengyuan wenhua jianshe weiyuanhui, Kangzhan gequ xuanji (Taibei: Wenjianhui, 1997). 4 Diana Lary, The Chinese People at War (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010), pp. 54–56.

The military ascendant 251 5 Chang Jui-te, “Chiang Kai-shek’s Coordination by Personal Directives,” in Stephen MacKinnon, Diana Lary, and Ezra Vogel (eds.), China at War: Regions of China, 1937–1945 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2007), pp. 65–90. 6 The novel: Mo Yan, Red Sorghum (New York: Viking, 1993); the film: Red Sorghum, dir. Zhang Yimou (1987). A recent film on the same subject is Guizi laile (Devil on the Doorstep) (2000), directed by Jiang Wen who played the hero in Red Sorghum. 7 He Zichuan, Yige chengshi aiguo de Shandong xuezhe (An Honest and Patriotic Shandong Scholar) (Beijing: Beijing chubanshe, 1996), pp. 323–334. 8 Lai Xiaogang, Springboard to Victory: Shandong Province and Chinese Communist Military and Financial Strength, 1937–1945 (Leiden: Brill, 2011). 9 Ju Zhifen, “Labour Conscription in North China, 1941–1945,” in MacKinnon, Lary, and Vogel, China at War, pp. 207–226. The economic effects of the Japanese occupation have not been studied to anything like the extent of the economic problems of the unoccupied areas of China. 10 Diana Lary, The Chinese People at War, p. 104. 11 Christopher Isherwood, Journey to a War (New York: Random House, 1939). Isherwood was bitterly criticized for leaving England, and never returned. He became an American citizen. 12 Two European intellectuals who did openly support fascism were Louis-Ferdinand Celine (France) and Martin Heidegger (Germany). Both are highly controversial to this day. 13 In life Han Fuju was famous for telling shockingly bad jokes. Many of them survived his death, repeated again and again during the war. 14 Evans Carlson, The Chinese Army (New York: Institute of Pacific Relations, 1940). 15 Hans van de Ven, War and Nationalism in China (New York: Routledge Curzon, 2003). 16 Arthur Waldron, “China’s New Remembering of World War II: the Case of Zhang Zizhong,” Modern Asian Studies 30.4 (1996), pp. 945–978. 17 Diana Lary, “Treachery, Disgrace and Death: Han Fuju and China’s Resistance to Japan,” War in History 13.1 (January 2006). 18 The task of getting GMD forces into position in the east and north was hampered by the complex process of repatriating millions of Japanese soldiers and civilians to Japan, a process that lasted for more than a year. 19 Some members of the Royal Family do serve in the military, but their ceremonial uniforms are not the ones they wear while on duty. 20 Pai Hsien-yung (Bai Xianyong), Taipei People (Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 2000). Joshua Fan’s study of old soldiers is equally moving. Joshua Fan, China’s Homeless Generation: Voices from the Veterans of the Chinese Civil War (New York: Routledge, 2011). 21 The exception is Jay’s Taylor’s recent biography of Chiang Kai-shek. Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek and the Struggle for Modern China (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2009).

Chronology

Xia Shang Western Zhou Eastern Zhou Spring and Autumn Warring States Qin Western Han Xin Eastern Han Three Kingdoms Western Jin Eastern Jin Northern and Southern Dynasties Sui Tang Five Dynasties Northern Song Southern Song Yuan Ming Qing Republic People’s Republic

2100–1500 1500–1045 1045–770 770–256 722–476 475–221 221–206 206–9 9–23 25–220 220–280 265–316 317–420 317–589 581–618 618–907 907–960 960–1126 1127–1278 1279–1368 1368–1644 1644–1911 1912–1949 1949–

BCE BCE BCE BCE BCE BCE BCE BCE/CE CE CE

Glossary

Ai Qing An Bianting An Lushan An Shouli anbei jiangjun andi jiangjun andong jiangjun anguo jiangjun anji jiangjun anjiayin annan jiangjun anqiang jiangjun anxi jiangjun anyi jiangjun anyuan da jiangjun anyuan jiangjun ba gong bahu jiangjun baqi bing bashe bayin Bai Chongxi Bai Ling Bai Qi Bai Xianyong baihu jiangjun baijia baixing bang sikong Bei fubing beilian Beiping bi jiangjun Bili bitieshi Biyong Bian bian jiangjun bianjun

艾青 安邊庭 安祿山 安守禮 安北將軍 安狄將軍 安東將軍 安囯將軍 安集將軍 安家銀 安南將軍 安羌將軍 安西將軍 安夷將軍 安遠大將軍 安遠將軍 八公 拔胡將軍 八旗兵 茇舍 八音 白崇禧 白靈 白起 白先勇 白虎將軍 百家 百姓 邦司空 北府兵 被練 北平 裨將軍 篳篥 筆帖式 辟雍 弁 偏將軍 邊軍

254

Glossary

biaobei Bie Lu binli binshe bingbu bingfa bingfang bingjia bingmu bingzai bingzhi Bofumao Bohai boshui jiangjun bu jun sikong bubing bubing jiangjun budao jiangjun bulu jiangjun Cai Na Cai Tingkai caifeng caiguan jiangjun canjiang cang bitieshi cangfu Cao Cao Cao Pi Cao Zhongmin Ce ch’in’giwi Ch’oe Suk Chai Wu changcong bing changming Changsha cheqi jiangjun Chen Ping Chen Yang Chen Yu Chencang Cheng Chengdu jiangjun chenggong chengmen jiangjun Chengpu chengxiang Chengzheng chi liang chimei jiangjun Chiyou Chiang Kai-shek Chosŏn

裱背 別錄 賓禮 賓射 兵部 兵法 兵房 兵家 兵募 兵災 兵制 伯父懋 渤海 波水將軍 補軍司空 步兵 步兵將軍 捕道將軍 捕虜將軍 蔡那 蔡廷鍇 裁縫 材官將軍 參將 倉筆帖式 倉夫 曹操 曹丕 曹忠敏 測 親騎衛 崔橚 柴武 長從兵 長鳴 長沙 車騎將軍 陳平 陳暘 陳餘 陳倉 丞 成都将军 城工 城門將軍 城濮 丞相 程鄭 吃糧 赤眉將軍 蚩尤 蔣介石 朝鮮

Glossary choch’ong ch’ongga Chongqing chongtian pao Chongzhen Chu Liji chu sai chuying sikong chuzheng zanzhi chuzong sikong chuanchang guanli zaochuan guan chuanjiang chungin Chunqiu fanlu ci ci sikong cijian da jiangjun cipu cishi cishe cizhi cong er pin cong san pin cong yi pin Conghua da hao da hengchui da hengchui bu da hongyi pao da jiangjun Da Qing huidian tu Da Riben da shenpao da sikong da sima da sima da jiangjun da sima piaoqi jiangjun da situ Da Tang kaiyuan li Da Yuan Dachi dagu dahan jiangjun Dai guo Dai Li Dai wang dajia guchui daliangzao Dalinghe dangfang bitieshi dangguo dangkou jiangjun dashe

鳥銃 銃歌 重慶 衝天砲 崇禎 樗裡疾 出塞 楚營司空 出征暫置 楚中司空 船廠管理造船官 船匠 中人 春秋繁露 次 次司空 刺奸大將軍 賜酺 刺史 次舍 次直 從二品 從三品 從一品 從化 大號 大橫吹 大橫吹部 大紅衣炮 大將軍 大清會典圖 打日本 大神礮 大司空 大司馬 大司馬大將軍 大司馬驃騎將軍 大司徒 大唐开元礼 大宛 大池 大鼓 大漢將軍 代國 戴笠 代王 大駕鼓吹 大良造 大凌河 檔房筆帖式 當國 蕩寇將軍 大射

255

256

Glossary

dasheng fu Datong datong jiangjun dayin dayue de Dezhou Deng Xiaoping Deng Yu Deng Denglai di Di Qing diannei jiangjun dianqian shiwei si dianqian si dianzhong jiangjun ding’e dingbian zuo fu jiangjun dinghu jiangjun Dingxian dingyuan da jiangjun dingyuan jiangjun Dingzhou dishi jiangjun Dong Zhongshu Dongjiang kewen Dongjing menghua lu dongxi ban Dou Rong douji du du gong Du Mao du sikong Du Yannian Duan Zhi duanlie duanxiao nao ge dudu dudu beitao zhujunshi dufu duguan duhu jiangjun duliao jiangjun duting duwei duxiang duxiang sikong duzhi duogong er pin jiangjun Er’chun

大晟府 大同 大通將軍 大尹 大阅 德 德州 鄧小平 鄧禹 鄧 登萊 笛 狄青 殿内將軍 殿前侍衛司 殿前司 殿中將軍 定額 定邊左副將軍 定胡將軍 定縣 定遠大將軍 定遠將軍 定州 地士將軍 董仲舒 東江客問 東京夢華錄 東西班 竇融 斗級 都 度攻 杜茂 都司空 杜延年 段志 斷裂 短簫鐃歌 都督 都督北討諸軍事 渡夫 都官 都護將軍 度遼將軍 都亭 都尉 都鄉 都鄉司空 都知 舵工 二品將軍 貳春

Glossary ershi jiangjun erzheng jiangjun fajia guchui Fan Sui Fan Zhongyan fanbing fanbingmu fanbuluobing fanyi bitieshi fanzhen bing fangxiang Fei Hou Chen He Fei Yanggu feizai fenchong jiangjun fenwei da jiangjun fenwei jiangjun fenwu jiangjun Feng Fengshi Feng Yuxiang fengguo shang jiangjun fenghou Fengzhan fu duzhi Fu Hao fubing fubo jiangjun fuguo jiangjun fuguo shang jiangjun fuhan jiangjun fuhan jiangjun fuhu jiangjun fuju jiangjun fujun jiangjun fuqiao futu jiangjun fuwei da jiangjun fuyi Fuzhou jiangjun Gai Yan Gan Mao ganggu Gaozong Gaozu gechuan jiangjun genyi Geng Yan Geng Geng Jimao gengshi jiangjun gongbu Gongbu junqi zeli gongchen guan

貳師將軍 貳征將軍 法駕鼓吹 范睢 范仲淹 番兵 番兵募 番部落兵 繙譯筆帖式 藩鎮兵 方響 費侯陳賀 費揚古 匪災 奮衝將軍 奮威大將軍 奮威將軍 奮武將軍 馮奉世 馮玉祥 奉囯上將軍 烽堠 風占 副都知 婦好 府兵 伏波將軍 輔囯將軍 輔囯上將軍 復漢將軍 輔漢將軍 復胡將軍 浮沮將軍 撫軍將軍 浮橋 復土將軍 扶威大將軍 夫役 福州将军 蓋延 甘茂 掆鼓 高宗 高祖 戈船將軍 跟役 耿弇 耿 耿繼茂 更始將軍 工部 工部軍器則例 拱宸管

257

258

Glossary

gong-jian-tong-tie jiang gongjiang gongshi Gongsun Shu Gongsun Yan Gongsun Zan gongzheng gouzhi fanu gu guchui bu guchui ju guchui shier an guchui shu guayin jiangjun guandeng Guandu guanjun jiangjun Guannei Guanpin biao guanyuan zidi Guanzhong guanggun Guangling Guangning guangwei jiangjun Guangwudi Guangxi Guangzhou jiangjun Guangzhou Guizi laile Guo Maoqian Guo Moruo guo sikong guogong Guomindang guoren guowei Haiguan Haixi Hamgyŏng Han Andi Han Anguo Han Fuju Han Gaozu Han Hyosun Han Jingdi Han Lingdi Han Mingdi Han Qi Han Wendi Han Wudi Han Xin Han Yu

弓箭銅鐵匠 弓匠 供事 公孫述 公孫衍 公孫瓚 工正 枸指發弩 鼓 鼓吹部 鼓吹局 鼓吹十二案 鼓吹署 挂印將軍 觀燈 官渡 冠軍將軍 關内 官品表 官員子弟 管仲 光棍 廣陵 廣寧 廣威將軍 光武帝 廣西 廣州将军 廣州 鬼子來了 郭茂倩 郭沫若 國司空 國公 國民黨 國人 國尉 海關 海西 咸鏡 漢安帝 韓安國 韓復榘 漢高祖 韓孝純 漢景帝 漢靈帝 漢明帝 韓琦 漢文帝 漢武帝 韓信 韓愈

Glossary Hanbing Hangzhou Hao Zhao haohan haojie haoren bu dang bing haotie bu dang ding He Long He Shixian He Siyuan He Xiangning Hedong Henan heqin Heilongjiang jiangjun Heilongjiang hengchui henghai jiangjun hengye da jiangjun hengye jiangjun Hong Taiji Hongmen yan hongyi hou da jiangjun hou jiangjun Hou Jing houyan Hu Shi huben jiangjun huchen hujia hujun jiangjun huaiyuan da jiangjun huajiang Huazhou Huang Chao Huang Shigong san lüe Huang Tinggui huangmen guchui Hui Shi Huining Huiyuan Hun Xiaodi Huo Guang Huo Qubing huo[qi] ying canling huoqi ying huwei jiangjun huya da jiangjun huya jiangjun Hwap’osik ŏnhae Injo jinu jiangjun

漢兵 杭州 郝昭 好漢 豪傑 好人不當兵 好鉄不當釘 賀龍 賀世賢 何思源 何香凝 河東 河南 和親 黑龍江將軍 黑龍江 橫吹 橫海將軍 橫野大將軍 橫野將軍 皇太極 鴻門宴 紅夷 后大將軍 后將軍 侯景 侯奄 胡适 虎賁將軍 虎臣 胡笳 護軍將軍 懷遠大將軍 畫匠 華州 黃巢 黃石公三略 黃廷桂 黃門鼓吹 惠施 惠寧 惠遠 渾小弟 霍光 霍去病 火[器]營參領 火器營 虎威將軍 虎牙大將軍 虎牙將軍 火炮式諺解 仁祖 積弩將軍

259

260

Glossary

jishe jiangjun Jisun Jixiao xinshu Jiyan jia jiali jian jian’er jiande jiangjun jianjiang Jiankang jianling neishi jianmen jiangjun jianrui ying jianwei jiangjun jianwu jiangjun jianyi da jiangjun jianyi jiangjun jianzhong jiangjun jiang Jiang Taigong Jiang Wen Jiang Zemin jiangjun jiangli Jiangling Jiangning jiangjun jiangtun jiangjun Jiangxi jiangyi Jiangzhou jiaofang jiaoren jiaozheng jiegu (rhythm drum) jiegu (drum of the Jie people) jili Jilin jiangjun Jin Ridi Jinfu congjun jinjun Jinjun ge jinwei da jiangjun jinwei jun shier weifu jinwu wei shang jiangjun jinyi wei jinzheng Jinzhou jinzi jiangjun Jing Jing Dan Jingkou jingshi zhangbing

積射將軍 季孫 紀效新書 籍偃 笳 嘉禮 艦 健兒 建德將軍 箭匠 建康 監領内侍 監門將軍 健銳營 建威將軍 建武將軍 建義大將軍 建義將軍 建忠將軍 匠 姜太公 姜文 江澤民 將軍 將吏 江陵 江寧將軍 將屯將軍 江西 匠役 絳州 教坊 校人 校正 節鼓 羯鼓 吉禮 吉林將軍 金日磾 勁夫從軍 禁軍 進軍歌 禁衛大將軍 禁衛軍十二衛府 金吾衛上將軍 錦衣衛 金鉦 錦州 金紫將軍 荊 景丹 京口 京師掌兵

Glossary Jingzhou Jingzhou jiangjun jiu qing Jiu Tangshu jiujie pao jiupin zhiguan tixi jiuqing jiangjun juren jue Juehua Island jun fanu jun sikong jun sikong cheng jun sikong cheng jun sikong ling jundafu junji jiangjun junli junrongzhi junshi jiangjun junsima juntai bitieshi juntianfa junwang junwang shizi junwei Junxu zeli junyu junzheng junzhong sikong junzhu junzi Kaiyuan kaiyue Kang Fude kangwei jiangjun Kim Chinam Kong Xi Kong Youde kongdong Kuai kuangxing Kunming Kuoqi Kwanghaegun Kwanghaegunilgi langqi jiangjun Lao She Latter Jin Leshan li (subofficial funct.) li (rites) Li Guangli

荊州 荊州將軍 九卿 舊唐書 九節炮 九品職官體系 九卿將軍 舉人 決 覺華島 郡發弩 軍司空 軍司空丞 軍司空丞 軍司空令 軍大夫 浚稽將軍 軍禮 鈞容直 軍師將軍 軍司馬 軍臺筆帖式 均田法 郡王 郡王世子 軍尉 軍需則例 軍獄 軍正 軍中司空 軍主 君子 開元 凱樂 康伏德 抗威將軍 金指南 孔熙 孔有德 空洞 夬 礦性 昆明 彍騎 光海君 光海君日記 郎騎將軍 老舍 後金 樂山 吏 禮 李廣利

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Li Kui Li Shang Li Shun Li Yongfang Li Zicheng Li Zongren libu liguo jiangjun lishi lixiang lixing bitieshi lizhi Lianbing shiji lianshuai lianzuo Liang Wudi Liang Xiaowang Liangzhou Liao Zhongkai Liaoyang liehou lin Lin Biao lin gao tai Linyi lingjiang jiangjun lingjun da jiangjun lingjun jiangjun lingyin lingzuoyou da jiangjun Liu Bang Liu Bei Liu Bocheng Liu Chou Liu Dao Liu Fuling liu jiangjun liu qing Liu Qingyuan Liu Rengui Liu Shang Liu Shilong Liu Xiang Liu Xin Liu Xiu Liu Xuan Liu Yan liu yi Liu Yigong Liu Yu Liu Yuanjing Liu Ze Liutao

李悝 酈商 李順 李永芳 李自成 李宗仁 吏部 立國將軍 力士 離鄉 理刑筆帖式 利趾 練兵實紀 連帥 連坐 梁武帝 梁孝王 凉州 廖仲愷 遼陽 列侯 臨 林彪 臨高臺 臨沂 淩江將軍 領軍大將軍 領軍將軍 令尹 領左右大將軍 劉邦 劉備 劉伯承 劉疇 劉道 劉弗陵 六将军 六卿 柳慶遠 劉仁軌 劉尚 柳世隆 劉向 劉歆 劉秀 劉玄 劉縯 六藝 劉義恭 劉裕 柳元景 劉澤 六韜

Glossary liuxiang liuyi longhu wei shang jiangjun longqi jiangjun longxiang jiangjun Longyou louchuan jiangjun lubu lubu guchui luying bing Luzhou Lü Chen Lü hou Lü Taihou Lüshun luanjia luotuo anxie Ma Yuan Ma Zhanshan mabing Maling mapeng renfu mashang yue Manbing Manbo Manzhou Menggu niaoqiang qianfeng [xiaoji] Manjiang hong Mao Chenglu Mao Wenlong Mao Zedong mei pao yi wei pei tuo san zhi menxia sheng mengjin jiangjun mengshi Miyun ming Ming mingwei jiangjun Mo Yan mujiang mu-shi-tie jiang Muye Nan Huairen Nanjing Nanxun bei Nanyang naochui bu naogu nayan da jiangjun nayan jiangjun Neidi neishi sheng niaoqiang bing

六鄉 六藝 龍虎衛上將軍 龍騎將軍 龍驤將軍 隴右 樓船將軍 鹵簿 鹵簿鼓吹 綠營兵 潞州 呂臣 呂后 呂太后 旅順 鑾駕 駱駝鞍屉 馬援 馬佔山 馬兵 馬陵 馬棚人夫 馬上樂 滿兵 曼柏 滿洲蒙古鳥槍前鋒[驍騎] 滿江紅 毛承祿 毛文龍 毛澤東 每礮一位配駝三隻 門下省 孟津將軍 猛士 密雲 命 明 明威將軍 莫言 木匠 木石鐵匠 牧野 南懷仁 南京 南巡碑 南陽 鐃吹部 鐃鼓 納言大將軍 納言將軍 内地 內侍省 鳥槍兵

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niaoqiang bubing niaoqiang lingcui niaoqiang xiaoji niaoqiang ying canling Nie Er Nie Rongzhen ningji jiangjun ningshi jiangjun ningshuo jiangjun Ningxia Ningxia jiangjun Ningyuan ningyuan jiangjun Nohae Nujie Nurhaci paiban Pangong Pang Juan pao xiaoji paoche paoshou paotong paoxin paozi pian zhan pianqiao piaoqi da jiangjun piaoqi jiangjun piaoqi wei shang jiangjun Pidao pipa pin pingbei jiangjun Pingdi pingdi jiangjun pingdong jiangjun pingkou jiangjun pinglu jiangjun pingman jiangjun pingnan jiangjun pingqiang jiangjun pingxi jiangjun pinsun pojian jiangjun pokou jiangjun polu da jiangjun poqiang jiangjun Pukchŏng il’gi pulei jiangjun Puzhou Pyŏlmusa Pyŏn Chinyŏng

鳥槍步兵 鳥槍領催 鳥槍驍騎 鳥槍營參領 聶耳 聶榮臻 寧輯將軍 寧始將軍 寧朔將軍 寧夏 寧夏將軍 寧原 寧遠將軍 弩解 弩解 努爾哈赤 拍板 泮宮 龐涓 礟驍騎 砲車 礟手 砲筒 炮心 炮子 偏战 偏橋 驃騎大將軍 驃騎將軍 驃騎衛上將軍 皮島 琵琶 品 平北將軍 平帝 平狄將軍 平東將軍 平寇將軍 平虜將軍 平蠻將軍 平南將軍 平羌將軍 平西將軍 品孫 破奸將軍 破寇將軍 破虜大將軍 破羌將軍 北征日記 蒲類將軍 蒲州 別武士 邊震英

Glossary Qi Qi Jiguang qi jiangjun Qi Lüe qichui qilian jiangjun Qiling Qizhou qian jiangjun qian pao qi fa qianfeng qianfeng ying Qiang qiangnu jiangjun qiansha qin qinwang qinwei Qingu Xi Qing Qingchao huidian zeli qingche qingche jiangjun qingshi qingshi liao Ranyou ren renfan renwei jiangjun renwu jiangjun Ru Chun ru sai san pin jiangjun san sheng san si san ya sangang wuchang sangong sanhao guan sanhao jiangjun sanshi guan sanshi shuai sanwei Sarhu shayan Shaanxi Shandong Shanhaiguan shang da jiangjun shang jiangjun Shang Kexi Shang Yang shang zhuguo

齊 戚繼光 騎將軍 七略 騎吹 祁連將軍 啓淩 岐州 前將軍 鎗礮齊發 前鋒 前鋒營 羌 強弩將軍 鉛沙 親 親王 親衛 禽滑釐 清 清朝會典則例 輕車 輕車將軍 卿事 卿士寮 冉有 仁 人犯 仁威將軍 仁武將軍 如淳 入塞 三品將軍 三省 三司 三衙 三纲五常 三公 散號官 散號將軍 散實官 三十帥 三衛 薩爾滸 砂眼 陝西 山東 山海關 上大將軍 上將軍 尚可喜 商鞅 上柱國

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Shangguan An Shangguan Jie shangshu sheng shangtie shangye she Shelu Shen Jiaben Shen Qingzhi Shen Yue Shenlong Shenyang Shenzong sheng Shengjing jiangjun shi (troops) shi (army officer) Shi Chaoyi Shi Siming Shi Yu shiba ban zhidu Shidaifu shier wei shifu shijiang shiju yue shiliu wei shishi shisi weifu shisun shiwei qinjun mabu si Shizishan shouling Shu shumi yuan shuren shushi shuaifu shui sikong shuiheng da jiangjun Shuihu shuishi ying fangyu shuishi ying xiaojixiao shuishi ying xieling shuishi ying zongguan shuishi ying zuoling shuishou sibing sigedun Sihang cangku sikong Sikong zuoshi Siku quanshu

上官安 上官桀 尚書省 商鐵 上邪 舍 射廬 沈家本 沈慶之 沈約 神龍 瀋陽 神宗 笙 盛京將軍 師 士 史朝義 史思明 史旟 十八班制度 士大夫 十二衛 士夫 石匠 食舉樂 十六衛 師氏 十四衛府 世孫 侍衛親軍馬步司 獅子山 手令 蜀 樞密院 庶人 書識 率府 水司空 水衡大將軍 水滸 水師營防禦 水師營驍騎校 水師營協領 水師營縂管 水師營佐領 水手 司兵 司戈盾 四行倉庫 司空 司空佐史 四庫全書

Glossary sima Sima fa Sima Guang Sima Rangju siming da jiangjun Sin Yu sipin situ Song Hu zhenwang jiangshi Song Taizong Song Taizu Song Yi Songshi sou sousu duwei Su Shi Su Xun Su Zhe Suzhou Suzhou Suzong sui (territorial unit) sui (tunnel) suiyin bitieshi suiying ju zhangfu suiying paoju Suiyuan cheng jiangjun Sun Bin Sun Bin bingfa Sun Chengzong Sun Degong Sun Quan Sun Wu Sun Yat-sen Sun Yirang Sunzi Sunzi bingfa suoqiao tagai fupeng Taibei ren taichang bian jiangjun taichang jiangjun taichang si Taierzhuang Taiping xingguo taishi jiangjun taishi taishi liao taiwei taizhan bitieshi Taizong Tang Dezong Tang Gaozong

司馬 司馬法 司馬光 司馬穰苴 司命大將軍 申瀏 四品 司徒 淞滬陣亡將士 宋太宗 宋太祖 宋義 宋史 蒐 搜粟都尉 蘇軾 蘇洵 蘇轍 肅州 蘇州 肅宗 遂 隧 隨印筆帖式 遂營局長夫 遂營炮局 綏遠城將軍 孫臏 孫臏兵法 孫承宗 孫得功 孫權 孫武 孫逸仙 孫怡讓 孫子 孫子兵法 索橋 搭蓋夫棚 臺北人 太常偏將軍 太常將軍 太常寺 台兒莊 太平興國 太師將軍 太史 太史寮 太尉 臺站筆帖式 太宗 唐德宗 唐高宗

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Tang huiyao Tang liudian Tang Shengzhi Tang Taizong Li Weigong wendui taohui jiangjun taokou jiangjun taolu jiangjun taonan jiangjun taoni jiangjun taopi bili taoyi jiangjun Tian Guangming Tian Han tian sheng wu cai Tian Xu Tianbao tiandao jiangjun tianhe jiangjun tiankou jiangjun tianlu jiangjun Tianqi tianshi jiangjun tianwai jiangjun tianwu tianyi jiangjun tiejiang ting tingwei tingwei da jiangjun tingzhang Tongzhou tu Tubo tuanjie bing tun tuntian tuopao Wanli Wang Anshi Wang Fanzhi Wang Huazhen Wang Jian Wang Jien Wang Jingwei Wang Mang Wang Ping Wang Zaijin wangshizi wei Wei Wei Wei benming lü Wei Chengzi

唐會要 唐六典 唐生智 唐太宗李衞公文對 討穢將軍 討寇將軍 討虜將軍 討難將軍 討逆將軍 桃皮篳篥 討夷將軍 田廣明 田漢 天生五材 田繻 天寶 天道將軍 田禾將軍 殄寇將軍 殄虜將軍 天啟 天士將軍 填外將軍 天武 殄夷將軍 鐵匠 亭 亭尉 廷尉大將軍 亭長 同州 突 吐蕃 團結兵 屯 屯田 駝礮 萬曆 王安石 王梵志 王化貞 王翦 王繼恩 汪精衛 王莽 王平 王在晉 王世子 威 衛 魏 魏奔命律 魏成子

Glossary wei jiangjun Wei Liao Wei Qing Wei Ran Wei Rui Wei Wendi Wei Xiao Wei Zhongxian weicao weikou jiangjun Weiliaozi weiwei da jiangjun weizheng weizishou wen Wen Wen Yiduo wencheng jiangjun wenmiao Whampoa wu (five-man squad) wu (military, martial) Wu wu cai Wu Chu qi guo zhi luan wu guan Wu Guohua Wu Han Wu Huawen Wu Nian Wu Qi Wu Sangui Wu Xian Wu Zetian Wubi wuchen jiangjun wucheng wangmiao wude wude jiangjun wuguan gong Wuhan wuhou da jiangjun Wuhuan wujie jiangjun Wujing qi shu wuli wuli jiangjun wulü jiangjun wulüe jiangjun wumiao wupin wuwei houguan jiangjun wuwei jiangjun

衛將軍 尉繚 衛青 魏冉 韋叡 魏文帝 隗囂 魏忠賢 尉曹 威寇將軍 尉繚子 衛尉大將軍 為政 圍子手 文 (civil, cultural standards) 文 (King of Zhou) 聞一多 文成將軍 文廟 黃埔 伍 武 武 (King of Zhou) 五材 吳楚七國之亂 五官 吳國華 吳漢 吳化文 武念 吳起 吳三桂 巫鹹 武則天 塢壁 武臣將軍 武成王廟 五德 武德將軍 武官公 武漢 武侯大將軍 烏桓 武節將軍 武經七書 五禮 五利將軍 武旅將軍 武略將軍 武廟 五品 五威后関將軍 五威將軍

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wuwei jiangjun wuwei qianguan jiangjun wuwei youguan jiangjun wuwei zhongcheng jiangjun wuwei zuoguan jiangjun wuxing wuxue wuyi jiangjun Wuyuan Wuzi Xi’an Xi’an jiangjun xiliu junzi Xinan Lianda xiping da jiangjun xiyin Xizhou Xizhu xia jiangjun xialai jiangjun xiaxiang xian xian sikong Xian Xinghai Xianbei xiandao sikong Xiandi xianwei xianwu jiangjun xianzu Xiang (name of a town, Western Zhou) Xiang (name of a school, Western Zhou) xiang xiang sikong Xiang Yu xiangshe xiangwei jiangjun Xiangyang xiao Xiao Daocheng xiao di Xiao He xiao hengchui xiao hengchui bu xiao luanjia xiao sheng Xiao Yan xiaoji xiaojia guchui xiaoqi jiangjun xiaotu xiaowei Xiaowendi

武衛將軍 五威前関將軍 五威右関將軍 五威中城將軍 五威左関將軍 五行 武學 武義將軍 五原 吳子 西安 西安將軍 習流君子 西南聯大 西屏大將軍 細引 西州 席柱 下將軍 下瀨將軍 下鄉 獮 縣司空 冼星海 鮮卑 縣道司空 獻帝 縣尉 顯武將軍 羨卒 向 庠 鄉 鄉司空 項羽 鄉射 相威將軍 襄陽 簫 蕭道成 小笛 蕭何 小横吹 小橫吹部 小鑾駕 小笙 蕭衍 驍騎 小駕鼓吹 驍騎將軍 校徒 校尉 孝文帝

Glossary Xiaowu Xie Jinyuan xieke xin (trustworthiness) Xin (name of a dynasty) Xin kongjun Xin Tangshu xing cheqi jiangjun xing da jiangjun Xing De xing duliao jiangjun xing fenwu jiangjun xing tiankou jiangjun xing zhengxi jiangjun xingchui xingjun xingyi jiangjun xingzhuang yin xinwei jiangjun xinwu jiangjun Xiong Tingbi xionghe jiangjun Xiongnu Xu Xuzhou Xuandi Xuanhua xuanhui jiangjun xuanwei jiangjun xuanwu jiangjun xuanyi jiangjun xuanyi jiangjun Xuanzong Xue Andu Xuegong xuegong xunguan xunguanzi Xunjia xunwei Xunzi yaban Yalu River yayue yan Yan Zhijin Yan Zhitui Yan’an yan’nan jiangjun yanshe yanwei jiangjun yanwu jiangjun yanyue

孝武 謝晉元 蟹殻 信 新 新空軍 新唐書 行車騎將軍 行大將軍 刑德 行度遼將軍 行奮武將軍 行殄寇將軍 行征西將軍 行吹 行軍 興義將軍 行裝銀 信威將軍 信武將軍 熊廷弼 匈河將軍 匈奴 序 徐州 宣帝 宣化 宣惠將軍 宣威將軍 宣武將軍 宣毅將軍 宣義將軍 玄宗 薛安都 學宮 穴攻 勛官 勛官子 荀家 勛衛 荀子 押班 鴨綠江 雅樂 嚴 閻知金 顏之推 延安 厭難將軍 燕射 嚴威將軍 嚴武將軍 燕樂

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yang Yang Gongze Yang Hao Yang Sichang Yang Tan yangban Yangfan yanglie jiangjun yangwei jiangjun yangwu jiangjun yangyu bing yi (campaign) yi (righteousness) yi bing Yi Kwal Yi Sŏ Yi Yin Yifeng Yijing yijun jiangjun Yili jiangjun yisheng yishi jiangjun yiwei yiwenzhi Yiyongjun jinxing qu yizheng Yizhou yin (filling the moat below the city wall) yin (universal principle) yinku bitieshi yinlongzhi yinwu bitieshi yingyang fu yingyang jiangjun yinyu jiangjun yinzi bili yingfeng yingjun sikong Yingling yingyang fu langjiang yingyang langjiang yong Yongming yongwei jiangjun yongwu jiangjun you da jiangjun you jiangjun you suo si youji jiangjun youqi jiangjun youshi Youzhou

陽 楊公則 楊鎬 楊嗣昌 楊譚 兩班 暘樊 揚烈將軍 揚威將軍 揚武將軍 養育兵 役 義 議兵 李适 李曙 伊尹 儀鳳 易京 翊軍將軍 伊利將軍 醫生 翊師將軍 翊衛 藝文志 義勇軍進行曲 義征 益州 堙 陰 銀庫筆帖式 引龍直 印務筆帖式 鷹揚府 鷹揚將軍 因杅將軍 銀字篳篥 應奉 營軍司空 營陵 鷹揚副郎將 鷹揚郎將 勇 永明 勇威將軍 勇武將軍 右大將軍 右將軍 有所思 遊擊將軍 游騎將軍 右師 幽州

Glossary yu Yu Huan yu sikong yubao bu yubao gu yushi dafu Yuwen Rong Yuan Chonghuan Yuan Shao Yuan Shikai Yuan Yingtai yuanwai jiangjun Yue Fei Yue Yang Yue Zhongqi Yuefu shiji yueqi jiangjun Yueshu yueying yunhui jiangjun Yunmeng yunqi jiangjun zahao jiangjun zaju zai Zeng hanyi yu qianfang jiangshi Zhapu Zhai Fangjin Zhai Huang Zhai Jiao Zhai Yi zhanfu Zhang Fakui Zhang Han Zhang Jiao Zhang Mengtan Zhang Qian Zhang Quan Zhang Shuo Zhang Yi Zhang Yimou Zhang Yu Zhang Zizhong zhanggu Zhangjiashan zhangshi zhangsun Zhao Jianzi Zhao Pu Zhao Shicheng Zhao wang Lü Lu Zhao Xiangzi Zhaodi

獄 魚豢 獄司空 羽葆部 羽葆鼓 禦史大夫 宇文融 袁崇煥 袁紹 袁世凱 袁應泰 員外將軍 岳飛 樂羊 嶽鍾琪 樂府詩集 越騎將軍 樂書 樂營 云麾將軍 云夢 雲旗將軍 雜號將軍 雜劇 災 贈寒衣與前方將士 乍浦 翟方進 翟璜 翟角 翟義 站夫 張發奎 章邯 張角 張孟談 張騫 張銓 張說 張儀 張藝謀 張羽 張自忠 杖鼓 張家山 長史 長孫 趙簡子 趙普 趙始成 趙王呂祿 趙襄子 昭帝

273

274

Glossary

zhaowu da jiangjun zhaowu jiangjun zhaoya jiangjun zhaoyi da jiangjun zhaoyong da jiangjun zhaoyu da jiangjun zhechong jiangjun Zhejiang bingfa zhenbei jiangjun zhenbing jiangjun zhendi jiangjun zhendong jiangjun zhenguo shang jiangjun zhenhou jiangjun Zhenjiang zhenjun jiangjun zhenlü zhennan jiangjun zhenqian jiangjun zhenshu zhenshuo jiangjun zhenwei jiangjun zhenwei jiangjun zhenwu jiangjun zhenxi jiangjun zhenyi jiangjun zhenyou jiangjun zhenyuan jiangjun Zhenzong zhenzuo jiangjun zheng zheng san pin zhengbei jiangjun zhengdong jiangjun Zhenghe zhengkou jiangjun zhenglu jiangjun zhenglu qian jiangjun zhengman jiangjun zhengnan da jiangjun zhengnan jiangjun zhengren zhengxi da jiangjun zhengxi jiangjun zhengxi qian jiangjun zhengyuan jiangjun zhengzu zhi (wisdom) zhi (knowing) zhibing zhige jiangjun zhihui shi zhijiang

昭武大將軍 昭武將軍 爪牙將軍 昭毅大將軍 昭勇大將軍 兆域大將軍 折衝將軍 浙江兵法 鎮北將軍 鎮兵將軍 震狄將軍 鎮東將軍 鎮囯上將軍 鎮后將軍 鎮江 鎮軍將軍 振旅 鎮南將軍 鎮前將軍 鎮戍 鎮朔將軍 振威將軍 震威將軍 振武將軍 鎮西將軍 貞毅將軍 鎮右將軍 鎮遠將軍 真宗 鎮左將軍 鉦 正三品 征北將軍 征東將軍 政和 征寇將軍 征虜將軍 征盧前將軍 征蠻將軍 征南大將軍 征南將軍 征人 征西大將軍 征西將軍 征西前將軍 征遠將軍 正卒 智 知 治兵 直閣將軍 指揮使 紙匠

Glossary zhijinwu da jiangjun zhili zhishi guan zhisu zhiwei jiangjun zhiwu jiangjun Zhiyuan ling zhizong da jiangjun zhizong jiangjun zhong zhong fanu zhong hao zhong hujun zhong jiangjun zhong lingjun zhong sikong zhonghao jiangjun zhongjian jiangjun zhongjun jiangjun zhonglei jiangjun Zhongping zhongshu sheng menxia sheng zhongshu sheng zhongwei zhongwen qingwu zhongwu jiangjun zhongwu qingwen Zhongzong Zhou Bo Zhouli Zhu De Zhu Fu Zhu You Zhuge Changmin Zhuge Liang zhuguo da jiangjun zhuhe jiangjun zhushuai zhutian da jiangjun zhuwu jiangjun zhuyi zhige jiangjun zhuangwu jiangjun Zhuolu zidi Zilu zimu pao zixin Zong Bing Zong Qi Zong Que zongbing guan zongguan zongli dachen

執金吾大將軍 治禮 執事官 直宿 智威將軍 智武將軍 職員令 秩宗大將軍 秩宗將軍 忠 中發弩 重號 中護軍 中將軍 中領軍 中司空 重號將軍 中堅將軍 中軍將軍 中壘將軍 中平 中書省門下省 中書省 中尉 重文輕武 忠武將軍 重武輕文 中宗 周勃 周禮 朱德 朱服 朱祐 諸葛長民 諸葛亮 柱囯大將軍 誅貉將軍 主帥 柱天大將軍 著武將軍 朱衣直閣 壯武將軍 涿鹿 子弟 子路 子母礮 自新 宗炳 宗綺 宗愨 總兵官 總管 總理大臣

275

276

Glossary

zongzheng Zou Yan Zu Dashou zugudiao zujia zuzhang zuzheng zuantou zuo cheqi jiangjun zuo da jiangjun zuo jiangjun zuo you jianmen zuo you ling zuo you lingjun zuo you longwu jun zuo you shence jun zuo you shenwu jun zuo you sikong zuo you tun zuo you wei zuo you wuhou zuo you xiaowei zuo you yulin jun zuoji jiangjun Zuo Liangyu zuoshi

宗正 騶衍 祖大壽 租雇調 組甲 卒長 卒正 鑽頭 左車騎將軍 左大將軍 左將軍 左右監門 左右領 左右領軍 左右龍威軍 左右神策軍 左右神武軍 左右司空 左右屯 左右衛 左右武候 左右驍衛 左右羽林軍 佐擊將軍 左良玉 佐史

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Internet sources www.battle-of-qurman.com.cn/e/hist.htm. http://crossasia.org/ http://crossasia.org/digital/schlachten-bilder/index/english-start http://db.itkc.or.kr/itkcdb/mainIndexIframe.jsp

Index

Ai Qing 240 Aksu 202 Ames, Roger T. 41 An Lushan 3, 12, 60, 135–6 Analects see Lunyu Anhua 219 archery 20–2, 25, 30–1, 44, 109, 111–12, 162, 197 Arigun 202 arrows 196–7, 204, 206 artilleryman (pao xiaoji) 191, 194 Auden, W.H. 245 Austria 191–3 Bai Chongxi 241–2, 250 Bai Xianyong 250 bamboo flute (di) 130 Ban Gu 23, 35 bandits 157, 164, 167, 214–15, 217, 220–1, 229, 243 Banner troops see Eight Banners (baqi) banquet music (yanyue) 130, 132 baojia (village defense) 148 Baoqing massacre 218, 225, 227 Barhus 194 Barkol 203 barrel drum (ganggu) 125–7 barrel drum of the naogu type (naogu) 125 Battle of Guandu 83–8 Battle of Muye 51 Battle of Sarhu 144, 146–9 Battle of Yanling 25, 27 Battle of Zhuolu 123 Beijing 146, 149, 154, 156, 158, 160, 164–70, 201–2, 204 Beiping 243–4, 247 big drum (dagu) 123, 125–6, 129–30 big transverse flute (da hengchui) 125

Big transverse wind instrument orchestra (da hengchui bu) 126–7 big-size-carriage (dajia guchui) 125–7, 129–30 bingjia (military strategists) 35 bingmu (conscript-recruits) 9, 104, 108, 110–11, 114–18; origins 108; selection 116; use 115 Biyong 20 Blowing on Horseback (qichui) 124–5 Bofumao 19 Bohai 145–6, 150, 152, 154, 156, 160, 168 bows 191, 196, 197, 206 brave warriors see mengshi Büchsenmeister 191 Bureau of Military Affairs (shumi yuan) 140 Cai Na 67 Cai Tingkai 242 cannons: cannon casters 202, 205, 207; cannonballs 196, 198, 200; casting 197–202, 207; gunpowder 193, 198–200; gun songs 186; howitzers 198–201, 206; in Europe 191–2; manuals 179, 183, 186; quality 198–200; transport 198–202; types 198, 201–2 Cao Cao 84–6, 88, 90 Cao Pi 84, 86 Cao Zhongmin 109 Carlson, Evans 246 Cen Zhongmian 55 ceremonies 14, 22, 123–5, 127–32 Ch’oe Suk 185, 189 Chancellery (menxia sheng) 135 Changping 148 Changsha 201, 216–18, 227, 229 Chanyuan peace 140

Index 289 chariots 20–2, 25, 27–9, 31, 34, 44, 54, 105, 129, 131, 179; troops 14, 125 Chen Yang 123, 132–3 Chen Yu 73 Chen Yushu 159 Chen Zhi 55–8 Chencang 55 Cheng Benzhi 145 Chengdu 139, 197, 200, 203 Chengzhou Eight Army 18–19 Chiang Kai-shek 242–3, 248 chimes with blades (fangxiang) 130 Chinbŏp ŏnhae 180, 185, 189, 190 Chinese Communist (CCP): armed forces 239; guerillas 241, 243, 247 Chinese opera (zaju) 131–2 Chinsŏl 176, 183–4, 189 Chiyou 123 Chongqing 243, 245–7 Chongzhen, Emperor (Ming) 13, 144–5, 156, 158, 161, 164–6 Chosŏn see Korea ci sikong (sikong who keep watch on the city wall) 55, 57–8 civil temple (wenmiao) 134, 136, 143 civilians: elite 244–5; and violence 215–17, 220–2, 225–6; and war 212, 214 civil–military relations: approaches 1–4; balancing 134, 137, 142–3, 181; civil control 12–13, 138, 140–3, 155, 159; competing 142, 187; deterioration 210, 212–13, 221; division 6, 12, 27–30, 52, 63–4, 69–70, 134–7, 140, 250; eunuchs 135; fusion of functions 7, 12, 19, 28, 50–2; haotie bu dang ding, haoren bu dang bing (“good iron does not make nails, good men do not make soldiers”) 239; principles 39; zhongwen qingwu (“put the emphasis on the military, downplay the civil”) 238, 245 clerks 10, 28, 49, 91, 142, 195 Collection of Music Bureau Poems (Yuefu shiji) 124 commander-in-chief (zhushuai) 105 commanders: aristocrats 18, 28, 30, 75; and civil offices/officials 5–6, 9, 12–13, 19, 28–9, 77, 137, 213; corruption 212; heroes 16, 19, 79, 241–2; political power 9, 12, 30, 212; promotion 105, 108, 151; responsibilities 19–21, 28–9, 31, 37, 41, 53, 60, 74–6, 98 Confucianism 7–8, 35, 38, 40–4, 65, 134, 178

Confucius 24, 29, 40, 42 Conghua 110 conscript-recruits see bingmu conscription see military service Court of Imperial Sacrifices (taichang si) 125, 127–30 craftsmen 10, 54, 193, 197, 200, 202–7; in Europe 192–3 da Rocha, Felix 207 Da Yuan 58 Da’ankou 164 Dachi 20, 22 Dagurs 194 Dai Li 245 Dalinghe 152, 155, 165, 171 Datong 150, 196 de Gribauval, Jean Baptiste 192 Deng Xiaoping 249 Deng Yu 79 Denglai 152, 163 Dengzhou 158 Department of Music (yueying) 128 Department of State (shangshu sheng) 135 descendants of officials see zidi desertion 7, 13, 49–50, 58, 107, 148, 214 Dezhou 194 Dezong, Emperor (Tang) 96 di Cosmo, Nicola 8 Di Qing 141 Dingxian 36 distinguished guard (xunwei) 104–5 Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong) 42 Dong Zhongshu 38 Dongjiang 145, 151, 167, 168–70 Dongshan 149 Dongyi 19 double-reed vertical flute (bili) 123–5, 129 double-reed vertical flutes without holes (jia) 124–5, 129 drinking ceremony (cipu) 131 drum and wind music (guchuiyue): categories 124; functions 124–5, 127–8; origins 123–4 drum and wind music of the imperial escort service (lubu guchui) 129 drum and wind music of the twelve podiums (guchui shier an) 129 drum and wind music of the yellow gate (huangmen guchui) 124 drum and wind music orchestra (guchui bu) 126–7 Drum and Wind Office (guchui shu) 127–31

290

Index

drum of the Jie people (jiegu) 130 drum with mallet (zhanggu) 130 drums (gu) 123–4, 126–8 du sikong (sikong in charge of city defense) 47, 55–7, 60 Du Yannian 47, 58 Du You 74 Duan Zhi 81 Duke of State (guogong) 104 Dunhuang 107, 109–10 Dzungars 197, 201, 203 East-West Group (dongxi ban) 130–2 Eight Banners (baqi) 10–11, 175, 187, 194, 196–7, 203–4, 206 Eight Hundred Heroes 240 eighteen squad system (shiba ban zhidu) 93 eight-sounds classification (bayin) 124 emperor’s carriage (luanjia) 129–30 emperor’s small-size-carriage (xiao luanjia) 129–30 equal-field system (juntianfa) 120 Fairbank, John K. 5 Fan Li 26 Fan Zhongyan 141 fanbing (allied troops) 104 feather screen drum (yubao gu) 126, 129 Feather screen orchestra (yubao bu) 126–7 Feng Fengshi 58 Feng Yuxiang 214 Feng Yuxiang 239, 246 Fenghao 18 Firearms Brigade (huoqi ying) 194, 197 five offices (wu guan) 48, 51, 56 Five Phases (wuxing) 37–9, 43 five talents (wu cai) 37 five-man squad (wu) 38 fortification 191–2, 198–9, 203 France 191–2 Frederick the Great 191 Freikorps 193 Fried, Morton H. 11 Fu Hao 19 fubing (territorial soldiers) 9, 10, 104, 106–8, 111–12, 112–20, 135–7; origins 104–6; selection 106–7; use 105 Fujian 195 Fuzhou 195, 197 Gansu 194, 197, 202, 205 Gao Di 155 Gao Min 56

Gaozong, Emperor (Tang) 111 Gaozu, Emperor (Han) 73–4 Gaozu, Emperor (Tang) 95 Gawlikowski, Krzysztof 4 general title: classification 87, 90–2, 95–7; decline of 76, 81, 90, 94; held by imperial relatives 74, 81–2, 99; held by officials 89; honorary title 94– 7; increase of 80, 85; temporary title 75, 80–2 generals see commanders Geng Jimao 146 gentry 63–4, 66–7, 69 Giyaržisang 204 golden signal bell (jinzheng) 125 Gongsun Shu 80, 85 Gongsun Zan 55 Graff, David A. 11 Graham, Angus Charles 38 Great Plan (Hongfan) 38 Great Wall 146–7, 155 Green Standards (luying) 194, 196, 203–4, 206 Gu Jiguang 106, 116 Guangdong 216 Guangling 68–9 Guangning 150, 152, 160 Guangwu, Emperor (Eastern Han) 78–81 Guangxi 216 Guangzhou 195 Guanzhong 22 guard command of the imperial bodyguard (shuaifu) 104–5 gunner (paoshou) 191–7, 199–200, 202–3 gunpowder 174 Guo Moruo 240, 245–6 Guomindang (GMD) 238–40, 243, 245–8, 250 Haiguan 195 Hall, David L. 41 Hamgyŏng 181, 185 Hami 203 Han Anguo 74 Han Fuju 243, 245, 248 Han Hyosun 176, 179, 183–4 Han Qi 141 Han River 25 Han Xin 74 Han Yu 136, 142 Handlanger 192 Hao Zhao 55 Hartwell, Robert 138 He Kegang 165

Index 291 He Long 242 He Shixian 149 He Siyuan 243 He Xiangning 241 Hebei 108, 135 Hedong 111, 112 Heilongjiang 195, 197 Henan 108, 112, 150, 194, 244 Hengshan 218 Hengyang 218 Hideyoshi invasion 173–4, 176, 179 home guards see tuanjie bing Hong Taiji 146, 157–9, 165 Horizontal Blowing (hengchui) 124 horn (changming) 123, 125–7 Hu Shi 240, 245 Huai River 25 Huainanzi 24, 52 Huang Chao 135 Huang Shigong san lüe 35–6 Huang Tinggui 202 Hubei 111, 194, 203, 221, 223, 228 Huining 197 Huiyuan 197 hujia (double-reed vertical flute) 123–5, 129, 132 Hunan 111, 204, 210, 214, 216–20, 222, 225–7, 229 Hundred Schools of Thought (baijia) 24, 29, 35 hunting 20–2, 30–1, 65–6, 69, 131–2, 193 Huntington, Samuel P. 2, 5 Huo Guang 77, 81 Huo Qubing 76 Hwap’osik ŏnhae 186 Ili 203–4 imperial bodyguard (qinwei) 104–5, 113 imperial bodyguard 135 imperial Guard (shiwei qinjun mabu si) 137 Imperial Music Bureau (dasheng fu) 129 infantry 6, 19–21, 25–8, 30–1, 34, 38, 191–3, 195, 197, 203, 206, 231 Institute for Music and Dance (jiaofang) 128, 131 Isherwood, Christopher 245 Janowitz, Morris 2, 6 Jaohui 202 jian’er (valiant fighters) 9, 104, 111–19; origins 111–12; selection 112; use 112, 116 Jiang Taigong 35, 40

Jiang Zemin 249 Jiangling 67–8 Jiangxi 217 Jiangxi Campaign 242 Jiankang 64–6, 69 Jilin 194–5 Jin Ridi 77 Jinchuan campaigns 10, 196, 198, 202, 204 Jinzhou 153, 160, 165–6 Jixiao xinshu (New Treatise on Disciplined Service): Korean versions 182–6 Juehua 154 jun sikong (military sikong) 47–8, 50–3, 58–60 junzheng (military judge) 58–60 Kaifeng 129 Kaiyuan 146, 148 Kaiyuan Ceremony of the Great Tang Dynasty (Da Tang kaiyuan li) 125 Kamyŏng 185 Kašgar 203 Khobdo 203 Khwāja-i Jahān 202 Kim Chinam 174, 178, 189 King Injo 156 King of Chu 48, 53 King Sŏnjo 176, 183 King Wen 4, 35 King Wu 4, 35, 51 Kong Youde 145–6 kongdong (mining) 55 Korea 113, 114, 145–6, 150–3, 155–7, 166, 169, 172–3, 175, 178, 180, 188–9 Korean War 249 Kuhn, Dieter 134 Kuhn, Philip A. 8 Kunming 244 kuoqi (palace guards) 9, 104, 112–19; origins 112–13; selection 113; use 112 Kwanghaegun 146, 156 laborers 57, 193, 200, 202–6 Lantian 219, 225–6, 229 Lantian massacre 219, 225–6, 229 Lao She 240 Lary, Diana 210, 213, 222 law 3, 20, 31–2 Leshan 200 Lewis, Mark Edward 38 Li Guangli 58 Li Shun 139 Li Xueqin 50, 55 Li Yongfang 152

292

Index

Li Zicheng 144, 166 Li Zongren 242 Lianbing shiji (Practical Account on Troop Training) 173 Liangzhou 202 Liangzhou 202 Liao 147–8, 151–2, 154, 161 Liao Boyuan 76, 85 Liao Zhongkai 241 Liji (Records of Ritual) 20–2 Liling massacre 217–18, 222, 225–7, 229 lin (piling up a hill for attack) 54 Lin Biao 242 Linyi 36 Liu Bang see Gaozu, Emperor (Han) Liu Bei 84–5, 87–8 Liu Bocheng 242 Liu Chou 123 Liu Dao see King of Chu Liu Qingyuan 67 Liu Shang 81 Liu Shilong 66 Liu Yan 78 Liu Yu 65–7, 71 Liu Yuanjing 66 Liu Ze 74 Liutao (Six Secret Teachings) 29, 35–8, 40, 42–3 liuyi (six arts) 6, 20, 44 logistics 6, 13, 28, 149, 192, 196, 200, 205–6, 213 Long March 239 long term conscripts (changcong bing) 112 Longjinguan 164 Longwu 153 Lorge, Peter 5, 8, 11 Lü, Empress Dowager (Western Han) 74 Lunyu (Confucius, Analects) 29, 40–2, 65 Luoyi 18 Lushun see Lüshun Lüshun 153, 155, 161, 195 Luyang 152 Ma Yuan 81 Ma Zhanshan 242 Magyŏng ŏnhae 186 Man Gui 160 Manchu 172–3, 175, 179, 181, 183–4, 186–7, 194, 196 Mao Chenglu 164 Mao Wenlong 145–6, 150–2, 155–70; negotiations with Latter Jin 158–9; execution 162–4 Mao Zedong 242, 245

March of the Volunteers (Yiyongjun jinxing ju) 240–1 martial dancing 21–2 Mendelsohn 241 mengshi (brave warriors) 111–12, 115, 118–19; origins 111; selection 111; use 111 Mengzi 41 mercenaries 9–10, 13, 114, 119, 148, 150, 154, 160 merchants 3, 42, 120, 136, 152, 157, 213, 223, 229 middle-size-carriage (fajia guchui) 125, 129–30 militarism 239–40, 249 militarization 8, 16, 65, 67, 69, 141, 240, 249 military camps 52–3 military colonies (tuntian) 148, 154, 203–4 military culture 64, 68–70, 136, 141, 249 military education 6, 18, 20, 22, 24, 28, 30, 44, 52, 141, 177, 183, 186, 210, 212 military examinations 15, 35–6, 105, 141, 175, 180 military farms see military colonies (tuntian) military jurisdiction 58–60 military knowledge: authors 178–9; canonization 181–6; dissemination in Korea 177; social dimension 179–81; transfer to Korea 175–6 Military Music and Song Orchestra (naochui bu) 126–7 military music see drum and wind music; music Military Orchestra (junrongzhi) 130–2 military schools 6, 20, 22, 30–1, 35–6, 244, 246, 249 military service: compulsory 9–10, 114–20; imperial escort 14, 124, 126–32; Korea 180; levelihood 224; Qin-Han 49–50; Qing 191; Republic of China 241; Song 139, 142; Spring and Autumn 6, 25, 27; Tang 9–10, 105–10, 112, 114–21; volunteer 9–10, 118–19, 121; Warlord era 210, 224; Warring States 31, 34; Western Zhou 20 military status 2; attraction 67–8, 180–1; deprivation of power 80; high status 8–9, 11, 16, 64, 76, 79, 89–90, 104, 109–10, 142, 210, 238, 241, 246, 249; low prestige 9, 11, 106, 119, 238–9, 248 military tactics 25–6, 34, 53–5, 144, 158, 185, 213, 247–8

Index 293 military temple (wumiao) 134, 141 military training (training) 6, 15, 18, 20–2, 24, 28, 30–2, 153–4, 222, 241, 249 military violence: bingzai (military disaster) 211–13, 218, 222, 227; circumstances 215–21; looting 223; rape 223–5; victims 226–32 military virtues: codes 7, 36–9; primary virtues 39–43 Ming, Emperor (Eastern Han) 79 Ministry of Personnel (libu) 105, 135 Ministry of War 13, 105, 135, 149, 161, 201 Ministry of Works (gongbu) 198, 202 Miyun 195 Mo Yan 243, 250 Mongols 150, 152, 154, 194, 203 mouth organ (sheng) 130–1 Mozi 25, 28, 34, 53–7, 60 music 14, 18, 21, 22, 240–1; see also drum and wind music Music Including Short Flutes, Cymbals, and Singing (duanxiao nao ge) 124 musicians 125–9; selected from soldiers 130–2 musketeer (niaoqiang bing) 194–7, 202–3, 206 muskets (niaoqiang) 174–5, 191, 193, 196–7, 206 mutiny 215, 221–3, 228–30, 232 Muye chebo 184 Muye chebo pŏnyŏk sokchip 184 Muye sinbo 184 Nanjing 239, 242–3, 248 Nanjing massacre 248 Nanyang 67–8 Napoleonic Wars 192 Nie Er 241 Nie Rongzhen 242 nine ministers (jiu qing) 47 nine-rank system (jiupin zhiguan tixi) 93 Ningxia 195, 202 Ningxiang 219 Ningyuan 153, 157–8, 160–1, 163, 164 Ningyuan 153–4, 157–8, 160–1, 163–4 Nohae 176, 185 Northern Headquarters Army (Bei fubing) 64–5, 67 Nurhaci 144, 146, 151–3, 157–8 Nylan, Michael 181, 189 Ōba Osamu 75, 81 oboe (bili) 126–7, 129–31

Palace Command (dianqian si) 130–1 Palace Corps (dianqian shiwei si) 137 Palace Domestic Service (neishi sheng) 135 palace guards see kuoqi Palace Secretariat (shumi yuan) 135 Palace Secretariat (shumi yuan) 135 Pangong 20 panpipe (xiao) 124–5, 127, 129 physicians 10, 193, 205, 207 Pidao 145–6, 151–2, 156–9, 162 Pingjiang 226 poverty 120, 166, 224 private troops 19, 31, 155, 193 professionalism 3, 6–7, 13, 37, 42–4, 52, 135, 137, 142, 180, 191, 210 Pyŏngga yojip 186 Pyŏnghak chinam 176, 182–7 Pyŏnghak chinam yŏn’ǔi 184 Pyŏnghak chuhae 185 Qi Jiguang: adoption in Korea 176; military thought 173, 177, 181–2 Qi Taigong 136 Qian Daxin 75 Qian Longxi 159 Qiqihar 194–5 Qiu Xikui 56 Ranyou 29 recruitment see military service Red Sorghum 243 ren (benevolence or leadership skills, integration abilities) 37–42 rhythm drum (jiegu) 126 Ricci, Matteo 11 rites 6, 18–20, 22–4, 26–7, 30–2, 39, 43–4, 129 ritual music (yayue) 125, 129 salaries 15, 50–1, 75, 148, 221, 243, 247 Sang Hongyang 77 sangang wuchang (Three Bonds and Five Constant Virtues) 38 sanhao jiangjun (non-mainstream general titles) 90–1, 95–7 Sanshan 155 Scouting Brigade (jianrui ying) 194 Secretariat (zhongshu sheng) 135 Secretariat-Chancellery (zhongshu sheng menxia sheng) 135 Shaanxi 150, 205 Shandong 108, 194 Shang Kexi 145–6

294

Index

Shang Kexi 145–6 Shangguan An 77 Shangguan Jie 77 Shanghai 238, 240, 242 Shangshu (Book of Documents) 19, 38, 51 Shanhaiguan 148, 152–4, 160 Shanxi 150, 169, 194, 196, 204 Shelu 20 Shen Jiaben 48, 58 Shen Qingzhi 70 Shen Yue 70–2 Shengjing 195, 197 Shenyang 147, 149 Shenzong, Emperor (Song) 35 shi (army officer) 19 Shi Siming 60 Shi Yu 19 shifu (type of official) 52 Shijing (Book of Odes) 4, 19, 21–2, 39 short oboe made of the bark of a peach tree (taopi bili) 126 Shujing see Shangshu (Book of Documents) Sichuan 139 siege 53–5, 191–3, 201, 206 signal bells (zheng) 124 sikong (Master of Works): civil tasks 47–8, 50; military tasks 52–60; salary 50–1 Siku quanshu 187 Sima fa (The Methods of the Sima) 23–4, 26, 31, 35, 37–8, 40, 43 Sima Guang 138, 143 Sima Qian 38 Sima Rangju 36 Sima Xin 73 Sin’gi pigyŏl 179, 183–4, 186, 189–90 Sinjŏn chach’obang (New Techniques for Cooking Saltpeter) 178, 189 Sitting-on-the-Horse-Music (mashang yue) 124 six generals (liu jiangjun) 28 six ministers (liu qing) 28, 48, 51 sixteen guards (shiliu wei) 105 small transverse flute (xiao hengchui) 125 Small transverse wind instrument orchestra (xiao hengchui bu) 126–7 small-size-carriage (xiaojia guchui) 125–6, 129–30 soldiers sent on campaign (zhengren) 108 Soluns 194 Song Xianggong 23, 24, 26 Song Yi 73 Songshan 165–6 Stacey, Judith 224 standby guard (yiwei) 104

Stilwell, Joseph 246 strategies: atrocities 219–20, 227–8; defensive 144–5, 148, 150, 154, 161, 165; forward 151, 154, 160–1, 165; Japanese strategy 243, 248; orthodox and unorthodox 152 Su Shixue 55 Šuhede 202 Sun Bin 36–7 Sun Bin bingfa (Sun Bin’s Art of War) 35–8, 42 Sun Chengzong 153, 155, 160 Sun Degong 152 Sun Quan 84–5, 87–8 Sun Wu 36–7 Sun Yat-sen 239 Sun Yirang 55–7 Sunggari 202 Sunzi bingfa (Sunzi’s Art of War) 4, 35–8, 182 Swope, Kenneth M. 5, 8, 11 Taibei ren 250 Taierzhuang 242 Taizong, Emperor (Tang) 113–14 Taizong, Emperor (Song) 138–41 Taizu, Emperor (Song) 138–41 Tang Shengzhi 248 Tang Taizong Li Weigong wendui (Questions and Replies between Tang Taizong and Li Weigong) 35–6 Tang Zhangru 107, 111 Tanguts 140–1 Tarim Basin 202–3 territorial soldiers see fubing The River Runs Red (Manjiang hong) 242 three capital guards (sanwei) 104, 115–16 Three Commands (san ya) 130 Three Departments (san sheng) 135 three excellences (san gong) 51, 61 Tian Guangming 59 Tian Han 240 Tianjin 150, 152, 247 Tianqi, Emperor (Ming) 13, 144, 148, 155, 165 Tibetan troops (fanbingmu) 104 Tieling 146 Tieshan 145 tingwei (officer of the defense pavilion on the city wall) 57–8 Tongzhou 150 tribal soldiers (fanbuluobing) 104 tu (undermining city walls, surprise attack) 55

Index 295 tuanjie bing (home guards) 9, 104, 108–10, 114–19; origins 108; selection 109; use 108 tunnels 53–4, 59 Türkic 135, 139, 142 Ŭiju 153, 157 Ula 194 Ulaanggom 202 Uliasutai 201 valiant fighters see jian’er van de Ven, Hans 5 Vanguard Brigade (qianfeng ying) 194, 203 Verbiest, Ferdinand 201 victory celebration 127 volunteer soldiers see yizheng Waley-Cohen, Joanna 5 walking and blowing (xingchui) 125 walls 48, 53–5, 57–9 Wang Aihe 39 Wang Anshi 136 Wang Fanzhi 107 Wang Huazhen 150–3, 168 Wang Jien 139 Wang Jingwei 239 Wang Mang 75, 77–8, 80, 86–7 Wang Ping 59 Wang Xin 50 Wang Zaijin 154 Wang Zhanyuan 221 Wang Zideng 161, 170 War Office (bingfang) 135 warlordism 210–14, 220, 232 watching lanterns ceremony (guandeng) 131 Wei Qing 76 Wei Rui 69 Wei Xiao 81 Wei Zhongxian 154–5, 158–9, 161, 164 Weiliaozi 29, 31, 35–7, 40, 43, 182 well-field system 18, 24 wen and wu see civil–military relations Wen Yiduo 21, 240 Wen, Emperor (Western Han) 74, 76 Wen, Emperor (Song, Nanchao) 68 Wen, Emperor (Sui) 94 West Six Army 18–19 Whampoa Military Academy 239 Winston, W. Lo 37, 41 wooden clapper (paiban) 130 Wu Ding 19

Wu Guohua 145, 158–9, 167, 169 Wu Huawen 248 Wu Nian 67 Wu Peifu 214, 217 Wu Qi 36, 41 Wu Sangui 196, 201, 204 Wu Xian 19 Wu Zetian, Empress (Tang) 138 Wu Zixu 26 Wu, Emperor (Liang, Nanchao) 63, 66–70, 90, 92–3 Wu, Emperor (Western Han) 76–7 Wubeizhi (Records on Military Preparedness) 177, 188 Wubi 123 Wuchang 221–3, 228–30 Wuhan 239 Wujing qi shu (Seven Military Classics) 35, 179 Wuzi 31, 35, 37–40, 42–3 Xi’an Incident 239 Xian Xinghai 241 Xiang 20, 31 Xiang Yu 73 Xiangxiang 218 Xiangyang 64–7, 69–71 Xiangyin 219 Xiaolinghe 165 xiaotu (type of soldiers) 53 Xiaowen, Emperor (Northern Wei) 90 Xiaowu, Emperor (Song, Nanchao) 66, 69 Xinhua 219 Xinjiang 202 Xiong Tingbi 146–8, 150–2, 154 Xiongnu 53, 76 Xiping 152 Xizhou 107 Xu 20, 31 Xu Baolin 35 Xuanfu 150 Xuanhua 196 Xuanzong, Emperor (Tang) 9, 113 Xue Andu 69 Xue Guoying 150 xuegong (tunnel attack) 53 Xuegong 20, 22 Xunzi 40–2 Xuzhou 48 Xuzhou Campaign 238 Yalu River 145, 150 Yan Gengwang 49

296

Index

Yan’an 239, 241, 243, 245 Yang Gongze 69 Yang Hao 146 Yang Sichang 147, 167 Yang Yinglong 144, 167 yangban nobility 180 Yangtze River 25, 87 Yarhašan 202 Yarkant 203 Yellow Emperor 123 Yellow River 25–6, 78, 82, 241, 243, 247 Yellow Turban Rebellion 8, 82 Yi Kwal 181 Yi Yin 19 Yichang 223, 228–9 yin (filling the moat below the city wall) 54 yin and yang 38–9 yizheng (volunteer soldiers) 9, 104, 113–15; origins 113; selection 113 Yizhou 59 yong (courage) 7, 37–8, 42 Yongle, Emperor (Ming) 154 You 216, 217 You Shiyong 149 Youzhou 111 Yu Haoliang 48 yu sikong (prison sikong) 47, 49, 51, 60 Yuan Chonghuan 145–6, 146, 154–5, 157–9, 161, 165–6, 169–71 Yuan Shao 55 Yuan Shikai 239 Yuan Yingtai 149 Yue Fei 143, 241–2 Yue Zhongqi 203 Yueshu (Book of Music) 123 Yueyang 226 Yuezhou 216– 217, 225

zahao jiangjun (insignificant general titles) 87, 90, 95 Zhang Fakui 248 Zhang Han 73 Zhang Jiao 82 Zhang Jingyao 217 Zhang Qian 124 Zhang Quan 149 Zhang Wenru 35 Zhang Yu 74 Zhang Zizhong 247 Zhao Shicheng 58 Zhao, Emperor (Western Han) 77 Zhapu 195 Zhejiang 150–1, 167, 194–5 Zhejiang bingfa 184 Zhenjiang 145, 150–1, 153, 164, 168 Zhenzong, Emperor (Song) 138, 140 zhi (wisdom or professional knowledge, strategic-tactical abilities) 7, 37–8, 41–3 Zhili 195 Zhu De 242 Zhu Fu 35 Zhudao 151 Zhuge Changmin 67 Zhuge Liang 241–2 Zhuge Liang 55 Zhuzhou 217–18, 222, 226–7, 229 zidi (descendants of officials) 9, 104–5, 109–10, 115–19; origins 109; selection 109–10; use 115 Zilu 29 Zong Bing 68 Zong Qi 68 Zong Que 67–70 Zou Yan 38 Zu Dashou 154, 160, 165 Zuo Liangyu 159, 170