The History of China - #16 - E. Zhou 5: The Partition of Jin

Episode Date: March 26, 2014

The transition from the Spring and Autumn to the Warring States Period is, all in all, an eight decade process. But the major event that would shape the conflict to come is the civil war that would destroy the pre-eminent power of the 6th century BCE Zhou Empire, and result in the total breakup of the State of Jin into three of the seven soon-to-be warring states: Han, Wei, and Zhao. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You're listening to an Airwave Media Podcast. History isn't black and white, yet too often it's presented as such. Grey History, The French Revolution is a long-form history podcast dedicated to exploring the ambiguities and nuances of the past. From a revolution of hope and liberty to the infamous Reign of terror. You can't understand the modern world without understanding the French Revolution. So search for the History of China. Episode 15, The Partition of Jin. Last time, we concluded the duo of biographies with Sun Tzu and his Art of War. Today, we finally get into all the messy, complicated, and thoroughly enjoyable goings-on of the Zhou Empire

as it devolves into the chaos of the Warring States period. I call it chaotic and messy because, unlike every other major shift in political power up until now, there is not one single event that heralds the start of the Warring States. The Xia were overthrown by the Shang, the Shang by the Zhou, and the Spring and Autumn was set off by the destruction of the Western capital and the royal family's flight eastward. All in all, pretty straightforward so far. In contrast, the transition from spring and autumn to the warring states is not so clear-cut, to the point where, in spite of a huge amount of information, scholars still can't agree on quite where to put the date that it happened.

Instead, the transition results from the culmination of many factors that had been collectively eating away at the Zhou Kingdom and the very idea of unity throughout the Huaxia area of civilization for, at this point, centuries, and most of which had only gotten worse and more pronounced with time. We've already covered the major factors in earlier episodes, but to quickly revisit them, the powerlessness of the Zhou kings and the ongoing decoherence of the empire into its factionalized states and their satellites. Hand in hand with this was the breakdown of family ties that had once been the glue

holding the different Zhou duchies together. On top of this was the now decades of grinding, ceaseless warfare and the militarization of the states against one another, along with a new and powerful weapon of war, which was incorporating the quote-unquote barbarian peoples into a state's own sphere of influence, rather than expelling them from Zhou lands entirely. Together, these factors worked to drive the already hostile Ducal states

yet further apart and more towards de facto independence from the throne in Chengzhou. There are five dates which have been put forth as the official beginning of the Warring States period. They are, in chronological order, 481 BCE, which is the final year recorded in the spring and autumn annals, 476 proposed by historian Sima Qian, since it marks the inauguration of King Yuan of Zhou, who is the 27th king of Zhou and the 15th of the Eastern Zhou, 453 marking the beginning of the partition of Jin, which we will cover at length in today's episode.

441, the inaugural year of Yuan's successor, King Ai of Zhao. And finally, all the way up through 403 BCE, when the outcome of Jin's partition was at last formally recognized by the royal court. Most frequently, it is historian Sima's date of 476 that is used, but that is more out of deference to the fact that he was the first scholar, or at least the first whose works survived, to catalog the period, rather than it being anything more important than an arbitrary year. So yet another Zhou king was enthroned. So what? No one really cared what was going on in Chengzhou anyway, even at the time it was happening. The real thing to take away from all this is that the transition from spring and autumn to the Warring States period did not occur all at once, nor even with much more of a bang than was usual for the era.

Indeed, the states of Zhou had been in near-constant warfare with one another long before they got a period named after it. Rather, it was an eight-decade transition after 300 years of societal and political decay. That said, the single pivotal event we can point at and say, okay, before this was spring and autumn and after this was the warring states, was the violent civil war and eventual breakup of one of the major players during the Spring and Autumn, the state of Jin, known historically as the Partition of Jin. For those of you who have been following along closely up to this point, this may come as a bit of a shock. After all, when last we checked in with the state, back in episode 12, it had been riding high in the saddle, still comfortably enjoying its status as preeminent power and hegemon within the Zhou kingdom. It could have comfortably been called the first among equals among Zhou's other major players, Chu, Qin, and Qi, and for a brief moment, Wu. Even everyone's favorite boogeyman of the era, Chu, had been soundly defeated by the Jin in the 6th century BCE,

which then let loose its warhound of the south, Wu, to further ravage the state. But underneath that outward veneer of power, there was something rotten in the state of Jin. Succession crises had over the course of the 7th and 6th centuries become the norm rather than the exception, coupled with extensive, regular royal bloodletting, and even outright civil war. You may recall the Li-Ji unrest of 651 that had literally turned father against sons

and brother against brother in pursuit of the Jin throne. The intervening years had done nothing to lessen the cutthroat nature of Jin politics. The ongoing hostility and distrust within the royal house of Ji had resulted in a, quote, secondary feudalization within Jin during the early and middle spring and autumn periods. What this means is even as it continued its policy of expansion and from the outside in seemed nigh invulnerable, its dukes had begun implementing a policy of promoting trustworthy non-family members to key positions.

And while this might seem like a great idea to the modern mind, surely meritocracy is better than nepotism, right? In practice, this over time fractured the state into feudal sub-powers, stripped the duke of his power, and paralyzed the state's bureaucracy in an archaic gridlock while the other states continued to modernize and centralize their power structures. By 546 BCE, as Jin was concluding its latest successful war against Chu, its internal factionalization had resulted in six families controlling virtually all aspects of the Jin governmental machine. These clans, collectively termed the Six Retainers, were the Zhao, Wei, Han, Fan, Zhong Han, and the most powerful, the Zhi. Each of these clans

ruled over their domains with near complete autonomy, and the Duke of Jin looking less and less like the supreme ruler of his state, and more and more like a powerless figurehead. And make no mistake, the relationships between these six clans was hostile on a good day. And 479 BCE was not a good year by any measure, marking the breakdown into outright civil war between all of the six retainers and the Duke of Jin. Early in the conflict, the players learned exactly what stakes they were playing for when both the Fan and Zhong Han clans were not just defeated,

but exterminated by their foes. The now four retainers, Zhi, Zhao, Han, and Wei, continued to duke it out amongst themselves. By 490 BCE, the Zhi family, under the leadership of Minister Zhi Boyao, controlled not only the most territory within Jin, but also exerted a cripplingly large degree of control over the royal court as well. Every major decision of state policy had to pass directly through him. Flush with power, Zhiboyao began paying what he thought of as due retribution on his rival clans, demanding that they cede territorial claims to House Zhi. Seeing no other way, the Han and Wei clans both reluctantly complied with Zhi's demands. Only the Zhao, headed by their Viscount Xiang, stood defiant and rebuffed the Zhi's claims on

their lands. Incensed at such an affront, the Zhi forged a secret alliance with the Han and Wei to attack the Zhao clan and force its capitulation. And yes, apparently Ziboyao saw nothing at all strange or risky about turning around and making allies out of the families he just forced to concede territory. Ziboyao, we will come to see, seems to have a bit of a blind spot for these kinds of details. Regardless of how quote-unquote secret Minister Zhi thought his pact with Han and Wei were, Viscount Xiang was no dummy. Or at least, it didn't take an especially bright man to notice that emissaries of the Wei and Han were summoned to the Zhi capital not once, not twice, but three times, and

each time the Zhao's invitation was notably absent. The Viscount managed to connect the dots, and concluded that war was afoot. Meeting the combined armies of Zhi, Wei, and Han in the open field would have been suicide, and so Viscount Xiang opted to holock in the fortified and walled city of Jinyang, which is modern Taiyang, the capital of Shanxi province. Jinyang was chosen for its defensive posture, its ability to be provisioned, access to flowing water via the Fen River, and most importantly when siege warfare is to be raised,

a population and governor whose loyalty and dedication were beyond question. It was in 450 BCE that the Battle of Jinyang, also known as the War of the Clans, commenced, with the arrival and encampment of the allied Zhi, Wei, and Han armies outside the walls of Jinyang. They laid direct siege for more than three months, but since besieging a walled city was still a, let's call it, developing art, the swords, arrows, and spears a Zhou military fielded were hardly sufficient to do much more than scratch the concrete hard rammed earthen walls and of course with every attempt the jid defenders were more than willing to rain death down from above after these first three frustrating months the allied clans abandoned the direct siege tactics and instead opted for a different approach, letting nature do the work for them. The nearby Fun River, which up until this point had been a vital resource for the defensively postured city, was now repurposed by the Zhewei and Han as a weapon

against the populace within. The attackers strategically dammed and diverted the flow of the river to no longer flow alongside the city, but now directly into it. The records of the Grand Historian tell of the city quickly being totally flooded, with buildings submerged in 20 feet of brackish, stagnant water up to their third story. Though their city had now been rendered a walled lake, the Zhao forces and their civilian population were not willing to admit defeat, in spite of the fact that they were now forced to perch above the torrents and hang their kettles from the rafters in order to cook. Standing water, a confined population, and the general rigors of war, however, will take their toll.

Disease and death ran rampant throughout Jin-Yong, and all the more so when the food supply ran out, no doubt greatly accelerated by the waters rotting any grain supplies close to the ground. After a time, the populace had been reduced to eating anything they could find, including their own dead, and even children, according to accounts, by the third year of the siege. Still, the populace remained resolute, and it was in fact the Zhao leadership that began to waver. In conference with his advisor, Viscount Xiong admitted, quote, source is exhausted, the officials starving and ill, and I fear we can hold out no longer.

I am going to surrender the city, but to which of the three states should I surrender? End quote. From Fort Sumter to the Battle of Gettysburg. From the Emancipation Proclamation to Appomattox Courthouse. From the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments to the Compromise of 1877, from Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses S. Grant and William Tecumseh Sherman, to Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. The Civil War and Reconstruction was a pivotal era in American history. I'm Rich. And I'm Tracy. And we're the hosts of a podcast that takes a deep dive into that era, when a war was fought to save the Union and to free the slaves. And when the work to rebuild the nation after that war was over turned into a struggle to guarantee liberty and justice for all Americans. Look for The Civil War and Reconstruction wherever you find your podcasts.

But his advisor, a man by the name of Zhang Mengtan, counseled the Viscount not to surrender, but to pursue a third option. And one has to wonder how it took them three years of starvation and waiting to think of it. His suggestion was, why not reach out to the Han and Wei, who had every reason to still harbor a grudge at their Zhi taskmasters. It didn't take much convincing, and Viscount Xiang dispatched Zhang Mengtang to parlay with the enemy leaders. The Han and Wei clans, it must be noted, had been offered nothing if not a fair deal by Ziboyao. When the Zhao had been destroyed, the three remaining houses would evenly split the territories gained. And to be fair, reading about Ziboyao, he seems almost too honest and, well, block-headed

to have been anything but sincere in that pledge. The lords of Wei and Han, on the other hand, were rather more flexible in their loyalties. Never mind the fact that, again, they had been more or less forced into this alliance with a clan that had just annexed large portions of their own territories. Suffice it to say, there was still a bone to pick. What's more, Han and Wei both realized that once Zhao was dismantled, there would be exactly nothing stopping the Zhi from turning around and annexing them completely as well. Their fears were apparent to the Zhi minister, Yu Zhi, who approached his lord and advised him,

quote, The men and horses of Jinyang are eating each other, and the city is soon to fall. Yet the lords of Han and Wei show no joy, but instead are worried. If those are not rebellious signs, then what are they? End quote. The lord of Zhi, however, paid his minister no mind, even going so far as to tell his two allies of such misgivings with dismissive laughter. Seeing that his advice had fallen on deaf ears, and possibly seeing a grim future for the Zhi, ruled over as it was by such a complete blockhead, Yu Zhi excused himself from his lord's court and took up a post as envoy to the faraway

and much safer state of Qi. Despite Lord Zhi's scoffing at the very idea that his allies would so much as think of rebellion, obviously that's exactly what they were plotting chang mun tans secret visits to both viscounts confirmed that they were fully on board with a mutiny against their so-called ally on a plan of action, as well as a date to enact it. When Minister Zhang reported back to Jin Yang and Viscount Xiang of Zhao with the news, the Viscount was overjoyed. On the verge of utter defeat, starving, diseased, and sopping wet, there was at once a sudden hope that maybe, just maybe, they could actually pull this off. In his joyous state, he bowed before his minister several times, which I would like to pause for a moment and really hammer in the fact that a Viscount bowing before his lowly minister, regardless of circumstance, simply was not done.

A lord bowing before a subordinate was like flipping the positions of heaven and earth, and yet Viscount Xiang was so thankful he did it anyway. It goes to show how absolutely desperate Xiang was to break the siege and save his people. At this point, Lord Ziboyao was once again given a chance at stopping this mutiny in progress, dead in its tracks. This chance came in the form of one of his clansmen, Zhiguo, noting a sudden change in demeanor in the lords of Han and Wei.

He had chanced to see the two of them following their meeting with Minister Zhang, and realized that far from the nervous, apprehensive wrecks they had been just days before, they were now in unusually, alarmingly good spirits. He presented this information to his lord, along with his educated guests, that the two allies were plotting something devious. And once again, Zhebo Yao put two and two together and got three. He once again placed his trust and faith fully in his allies, stating, Since I have been this good to them, they would surely not attack or deceive me. Our troops have invested Jinyang for three years.

Now, when the city is ready to fall at any moment, and we are about to enjoy the spoils, what reason would they have for changing their minds? End quote. What's more, Zhi then once again told the lord of Han and Wei about his underling's silly, ridiculous suspicions, realizing that with just about anyone else, their ruse would have been up and their heads probably already on pikes, endeavored to be less transparent in their actions. After all, a blockhead like Zhi Boyao might be able to overlook what was right in front of his face, but the rest of this camp was clearly catching wise.

Zhiguo, the clansman who had informed his lord of Han and Wei's treachery, once again noted that the two viscounts had once again radically changed their disposition, now on guard and highly secretive. He must have rolled his eyes at the sheer obviousness of it all, and went straight back to Zhibo Yao, now insisting the pair were definitely up to something devious, were totally not being honest, were probably planning outright rebellion, and Lord Zh should execute both of them before they were able to act on it further. Lord Zhi, of course, would hear nothing of such nonsense, nor of Zhiguo's compromise position that at the very least they should buy off the two

by offering them even more land when Zhao fell. But Lord Zhi felt he had already been absolutely fair in his dealings with the Han and Wei, and one-third of the Zhao lands should be more than sufficient to ensure their loyalty. And he wasn't about to rewrite that agreement against his own interests. With nothing left to say, Zhi Guo, we can only imagine, shook his head in resignation before washing his hands of the whole ordeal. If the hammer was about to drop on the Zhi clan, and it clearly was, he wasn't going to be around to watch it happen.

He packed up his belongings and his family and left the Zhi court, even going so far as to change his surname from Zhi to Fu, just to be safe. This second bullet miraculously dodged. Minister Zhang Mentang wasn't about to risk a third. He urged Viscount Xiang to move up his plot's timetable to, oh, I don't know, right now. The Viscount agreed, and once more dispatched Zhang to inform his co-conspirators of the change in plans. Thus, on the night of May 8th, 453 BCE, a contingent of Zhao troops snuck out of their besieged city and made their way to the banks of the diverted Fun River. They quickly looped around the dams that had been constructed by the Zhou forces and quietly assassinated the guards stationed there. It was time to free Jinyang

from the fun's power. But not yet time to set the river right, at least not entirely. The Zhi army had encamped near the now dry, natural riverbed. And so, with the right tweak, and with the Han and Wei strategically encamped on either side, the river was re-diverted directly into the heart of the sleeping Zhi camp. Turnabout, after all, is fair play. As the water cut directly through the camp, the Zhi were thrown into chaos, desperately trying to contain the rampaging waters. And just then, the hammer dropped.

Cut in half as it was by the unexpected river, the Zhi were now assaulted on both sides by the full might of the Han and the Wei. Moreover, the Zhao poured from the city gates to strike from the front. Confused, wet, in the dark, and being slaughtered on three sides, the Zhi were quickly and totally defeated. In the chaos of the melee, Lord Zhi Boyao himself was taken captive and dragged before the victorious Lord Xiang. And Xiang had a bit of a grudge to settle with Lord Zhi, wishing to both punish and

humiliate the foe who had kept his feet wet for three years. Drawing his sword, he personally executed Zhi, and then commanded that his skull be cleaned of flesh and rendered into the Viscount's own wine cup, the first, though far from the last, documented case of such a gruesome trophy being collected in world history. In the aftermath of their crushing and surprising defeat, the Zhi clan were rounded up one and all and put to the sword, extinguishing their family entirely. Or almost entirely. Zhiguo, who was now living with his family as Fuguo,

had the right of it and was spared execution when he seemed to have disappeared entirely. And so, the results of the Battle of it and was spared execution when he seemed to have disappeared entirely. And so, the results of the Battle of Jinyang were almost as the Zhi clan had promised their wayward allies. The vanquished families' lands were divided equally among the three victors. The only detail Zhi had gotten wrong, of course, was that they found themselves on the wrong end of the defeat. In the aftermath of the war's conclusion, the three powers found themselves in more or less a stalemate. In an uneasy, but stable for the moment, truce emerged. None of the families could feasibly

gain an upper hand over the others, and none of them were willing to place any kind of trust in an ally, certainly not after the fate that had resulted from the Zhi clan's trust. Zhao, of course, had committed no such treachery, but then again, who was going to trust a man drinking wine out of a human skull? Through all this, you may have noticed that the Duke of Jin, Ai, was notably absent from anything resembling leadership or decision-making. That's because by this point, the Duke had been reduced to complete puppet to his ministers,

so much so that when I died in 434 BCE, the Zhao, Han, and Wei just went ahead and divvied up the royal domain amongst themselves, leaving I's successor, Duke Yeo, in nominal control of a mere two counties. Gene was now de facto three separate entities entirely, though the state of affairs would not be formally recognized and the edifice of Gene's status as unified duchy done away with entirely for almost another half century.

This interim period is known as the Era of Three Genes. Official partition would not occur until 403. Pulling back for a moment from the self-destructing state to view its effects on the larger region, the fallout of Genes' breakup was immediate and intense. It had been a pillar of stability and strength for the rest of the empire, and its partition resulted in a huge power vacuum developing. The ambitions of Jin's rival states were once again left unchecked by the former hegemons' stabilizing influence. Chu, the biggest defender, was resurgent and took this opportunity to once again eyeball its northern neighbors. In 479, while the Ji clan was busying itself making territorial demands on the other clans of Jin,

the Chu king invaded and annexed the minor state of Chen. When even such bald-faced aggression provoked no response from the preoccupied Jin, Chu followed up in 447 by occupying Cai. Both Qi and Qin, to Jin's immediate east and west, respectively, were not nearly so bold in their ambitions, but they did take the opportunity to seize a few holdings here and there, shore up their defenses, and solidify their holdings on the surrounding non-Han tribes.

Next time, the calm before the storm is finally broken, and the three genes, now called, appropriately enough, the states of Han, Wei, and Zhao, once again launch into war against one another, and drag the neighboring state of Qin into the fray. And Wei learns the hard way that stepping on the toes of every surrounding state all at once does not make for friendly relations or good political strategy. Thank you for listening. You don't have to be living an ocean away to dread the idea of going to the post office. The lines, the jostling, it's a real bother.

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