A History of China (51 page)

Most other rebel groups were also flawed. Two smugglers, Zhang Shicheng (1321–1367) and Fang Guozhen (1319–1374), initially threatened the Yuan in the 1350s and early 1360s, but poor administrative skills hampered them. Fang, a pirate involved in illegal salt trading, was successful in attacking at sea but could never establish governance on land. Zhang had a grand opportunity to topple the dynasty, as his troops occupied an area that provided one-third of the ­agricultural tax revenues and had one-fifth of the total population in the country. However, according to later, hostile, and possibly unreliable Chinese sources, he and his subordinates abandoned themselves to the pursuit of ­sensual ­pleasures and failed to pay attention to government. Neither Fang nor Zhang succeeded in setting up a government and left themselves vulnerable to other rebels who could mobilize support from those Chinese with administrative skills.

Chen Youliang (1320–1363) was still another potential adversary for the Yuan, and (even more to the point) for the rebel leaders who were vying to determine which one of them could unify the Chinese and deal the final blow to the Yuan (which for many Chinese had lost the Mandate of Heaven). A ­violent opportunist, Chen joined other rebel organizations but betrayed one leader after another until he assumed the title of “emperor” of a revived Han dynasty in 1360. He created a powerful military force, well-balanced between an army and a navy. Yet his lack of foresight, his unthinking belligerence, and his almost exclusive reliance on the military culminated in his downfall. In 1363, in a major battle on Poyang Lake, in the province of Jiangxi, with his principal opponent, Zhu Yuanzhang (1328–1398), he had the superior naval force but was outmaneuvered, outplanned, and outthought. He was killed when a stray arrow pierced his eye, and his leaderless forces panicked and either died while attempting to escape or surrendered.

The fates of the Red Turbans and the rebel leaders of late Yuan resemble the course of other unsuccessful dissidents in Chinese history – or, at least, the Chinese sources portray them in that way. They seemed to show greater ­interest in plundering than ruling. Unable to develop a plan or a vision for China, they moved from place to place, providing their supporters with ­tangible opportunities for profit but without establishing stable institutions or an orderly government. They did not permanently occupy specific regions with the intention of governing. Without such intentions, they could not attract the essential assistance of skilled administrators or experts in devising a stable, long-lasting system. Naturally, the Chinese Confucians who later wrote the histories of these rebel groups depicted them simply as marauders (perhaps a distorted image). Yet we are dependent on the victors’ version of events. The groups who lost did not offer a competing scenario.

In any case, the rebel groups continued to proliferate, partly due to the Yuan’s ineffectiveness. It did not develop a cohesive plan for coping with the economic distress of the peasants and other inhabitants whose lives had been shattered by the floods along the Yellow River and Huai River areas. Even its military responses to the rebellions were surprisingly weak. Chancellor Toghto (fl. 1340–1355), the most successful Mongol commander, had defeated several rebel units and appeared on the verge of crushing the dynasty’s principal antagonists. However, his victories led to resentments and a fear that he, a sinicized Mongol, would depose the emperor and place himself on the throne. He had tried to recruit more Chinese into the bureaucracy, had tried to deal with the Yellow River floods, and was simply too powerful an official, and in 1355 his opponents persuaded the emperor to strip him of his position. Within a year he had been murdered, which eliminated the most capable commander under the court’s supervision. With such actions and policies, the court, in effect, defeated itself.

Zhu Yuanzhang was the ultimate beneficiary of the Yuan’s decline. Although his childhood and early life were on the surface not a propitious background for a future emperor, his early days actually positioned him for his later career. Born into a poor peasant family and then orphaned at the age of sixteen, he went to work at a Buddhist temple as a domestic. He could thus identify with and eventually gain popularity among the rural pauper population. His stay in the temple also offered him opportunities to learn to read and write, to gain exposure to Buddhist teachings, and to use Buddhism as the mantle for his own secular objectives. However, fearful of a sudden Yuan attack on his temple because of its association with rebels, he joined the Red Turbans and thus gained experience in forging links with the military. After several years with the disunited and conflict-laden Red Turbans, he began to build his own forces. In attempting to develop a military, he had the advantage of knowing about Buddhism and thus attracting Buddhist support and expertise in warfare and in command as a result of his years with the Red Turbans.

Capitalizing on these advantages, he mobilized a force that captured Nanjing in 1356. Most important, as he occupied new territories, he cultivated scholars and officials who helped him to administer these lands. Such ­attention to government differentiated him from other rebels. He actually meant to rule his newly conquered domains. Thus, his success was almost inexorable. He defeated Chen Youliang at the battle of Poyang Lake in 1363 and overwhelmed Zhang Shicheng in 1367. In the following year, he compelled the last remnants of the Mongol armies to flee northward to Mongolia. Having quelled his rebel opponents as well as the tottering Yuan dynasty, he now ­proclaimed himself as the emperor of a new Ming (Bright) dynasty in 1368, with a capital in his original base in Nanjing in south China. Since most of the rebels and Zhu himself had been centered in the southern part of China, his choice of location for the Ming capital was not surprising. The locus of ­political power appeared to be shifting to the south.

Having endured at least a century of foreign rule, Ming China sought to avert still other attacks and invasions from peoples beyond its northern and western borders. Zhu Yuanzhang and the court were determined to limit Chinese contacts with foreigners and to dominate foreign relations. Restrictions on dealings with foreigners would presumably reduce the potential of foreign conquests because foreign agents would be unable to gather intelligence that would facilitate military expeditions against China. Simultaneously, because the Ming required powerful armed forces to avert further foreign assaults, the court initially accorded military commanders a high status. In addition, it needed the military to overwhelm the dissidents and rebels within China, an enterprise that consumed several decades.

An emphasis on internal stability accompanied the pressure to limit ­relations with foreigners. The court concluded that a strong emperor was needed to maintain domestic peace and thus a potent country able to stave off the ­so-called barbarians. The resulting government was more despotic than in ­earlier dynasties, with fewer restraints on the emperors’ power. Chinese ­scholars often ascribed this growing despotism to Mongol influence, with the Mongol khans portrayed as autocratic rulers. A likelier explanation is that the Ming emperors legitimized their greater authority by referring to the reputed oppressiveness of the Yuan period and the need to avoid such a fate.

Legitimacy and stability were, without doubt, the principal concerns of the first emperor. His elaborate accession to the throne and his restoration of the sacrifices to Heaven and Earth and other Confucian and Buddhist rituals were his initial attempts to secure recognition as a legitimate ruler. Establishment of an imperial capital in Nanjing and choice of his eldest son, Zhu Biao ­(1355–1392), as his heir were additional efforts to bolster his and his dynasty’s authority. He entrusted his nine sons with lands throughout the country to ensure his own power and thus to centralize control. In 1370, he reinstated the civil-service examinations to recruit additional competent civil administrators, an important symbolic step as well because it offered a sharp contrast with the Yuan, which had not used the examinations as the exclusive means of selecting officials. In effect, the emperor sought to ­reestablish ­indigenous and stable institutions with a more dominant ruler and ­carefully circumscribed and regulated relations with foreigners. Consolidation and ­control were basic concerns.

Yet he continued to face impediments throughout his reign. Campaigns against the Mongols persisted until his last years, as the threat they posed did not readily dissipate. One such Chinese assault resulted in the virtually total destruction of the first Mongol capital at Khara Khorum – a blow to the ­prestige of the previously powerful rulers of the greatest empire in world history. Yet no final crushing blow had been administered to the Mongols. Similarly, the emperor’s harsh domestic policies did not impose the total ­control he craved. Execution of corrupt or ineffective officials in the mid 1370s did not lead to the stability and consolidation he sought. Thus, he initiated a relentless and ­all-encompassing purge directed mainly at a previously favored official in the Secretariat named Hu Weiyong (?–1380). Hu had made a sharp ascent in the bureaucracy. had ensconced associates and allies in important official positions, and appeared to be a rising star in government. The emperor, somewhat ­paranoid and fearful of any challenges to his authority, noticed Hu’s growing prominence and became concerned about a potentially influential clique in the bureaucracy that was loyal principally to Hu. In 1380, he moved to avert such a possibility, accusing Hu of contemplating a coup d’état and executing him and several thousand of his reputed supporters. He then abolished the venerable agency known as the Secretariat, placing its own authority and responsibility in his own hands and in those of the later emperors of the dynasty. The abolition of the Secretariat, which had, on occasion, served as a bureaucratic check on the absolute power of the emperors, contributed to the growing despotism, as the first emperor (renowned as Hongwu) became his own “prime minister.”

The purges persisted even after the elimination of the so-called Hu Weiyong clique and were particularly directed against any questioning or challenge to the emperor’s wishes or policies. Critics of Emperor Hongwu’s favorable tilt toward Buddhism were severely punished. Others who alluded to the ­arbitrariness of the judicial system were similarly harassed or harmed. During the last decade of his reign, few men, even the most renowned figures in the empire, were spared from the emperor’s purges. In the period from 1393 to 1395, he ordered the executions of three of the most eminent generals in the country as well as some of the most competent nobles. He even demanded that one of his sons-in-law commit suicide. Simultaneously and ironically, the emperor issued injunctions that emphasized concern for the proper ­administration of justice. A law code known as the
Da Ming lü
, a set of regulations referred to as the Grand Pronouncements, and instructions to his descendants he labeled the Ancestral Injunctions were produced at his behest, and each enjoined against injustice, treason, and corruption. Despite such pronouncements, the emperor sought total control, using purges and the full authority of the imperial throne.

Yet the emperor could not dominate all events. In 1392, his carefully selected and groomed heir apparent died, disrupting plans for the succession. The emperor named the deceased heir apparent’s son, Zhu Yunwen (1377–1402?), as his ­designated successor, but age was taking its toll, and he could not as readily impose his youthful candidate on his own older sons. Zhu Di (1360–1424), one of his sons, who had a sizable army based along the northern frontiers of China, resented his father’s passing him over as a ­potential successor. Having a powerful force under his command, he bided his time to challenge his young nephew, who resided in the dynastic capital in Nanjing.

The death of Emperor Hongwu in 1398 permitted Zhu Di to reveal his imperial ambitions openly. The resulting civil war and Zhu Di’s victory meant that the official histories offer his version of events, and many of the documents and records representing his nephew’s viewpoint were either lost or destroyed. Despite the one-sided depiction in the accounts transmitted to the present, the records still indicate that the nephew’s short reign witnessed an amelioration of the first emperor’s severe policies. He restored power to the leading ministers, revised some of his grandfather’s harsh laws, and eliminated some of the privileges that the first emperor had granted to Buddhists and Daoists. Recognizing the threat posed by Zhu Di, he conceived of abolishing the title of “prince,” which had been bestowed on the first emperor’s son, among others. Zhu Di, who was referred to as the Prince of Yan and charged with the defense of Beijing and the surrounding regions, considered this new policy as provocative and used it as a pretext for a coup d’état.

Zhu Di, asserting that opportunistic and corrupt court officials had misled the youthful emperor, initiated a rebellion against his nephew. With a powerful army and an excellent command structure, he made significant inroads against his nephew, whose forces were not as well organized or as ably led. After ­several years of intermittent warfare, Zhu Di’s troops reached the capital at Nanjing. During the ensuing battle the young emperor’s palace was set afire, and the emperor supposedly burned to death. Yet, shortly thereafter, rumors circulated that he had donned a monk’s garb and managed to escape from the conflagration that consumed the palace. Whether he died or survived by assuming a disguise, the young emperor would never reappear.

Yet the uncertainty surrounding the ousted emperor’s disappearance ­shadowed and somewhat unnerved Zhu Di for the rest of his reign, to which he had given the title Yongle (“Eternal Joy’). Fear that the deposed ruler might suddenly emerge and challenge his authority plagued Emperor Yongle, as an aura of illegitimacy persisted. His policies, on occasion, reflected efforts to affirm his legitimacy. His court historians, for example, falsified court records to denigrate his nephew’s status and to bolster his claim to be the true designated successor to the throne.