The History of China - #163 - S. Song 6: Filial Impiety

Episode Date: March 31, 2019

Back in Song China, we have a tale of two emperors: one who is devoted utterly to his father, and the other who's...well... not. Time Period Covered: 1165-1194 CE Major Historical Figures: Retired Emperor Gaozong [r. 1127-1162, as retired emperor 1162-1187] Emperor Xiaozong [r. 1162-1189, as retired emperor 1189-1194] Emperor Guangzong [r. 1189-1194] Empress Dowager Wu [1115-1197] Empress Li [1144-1200] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You're listening to an Airwave Media Podcast. The Civil War and Reconstruction was a pivotal era in American history. 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. I'm Tracy. And I'm Rich. And we want to invite you to join us as we take an in-depth look at this pivotal era in American history. Look for The Civil War and

Reconstruction wherever you find your podcasts. Hello and welcome to the History of China. Episode 163, Filial Impiety After a feverish four-episode trek through the hinterlands of the Asian steppes north of the Gobi, we have at long last returned to the bosom of civilization, the Middle Kingdom. Yes, home sweet song. Before launching in, let me just say once again, for any who might not have listened to the announcement I recently put out, that any and all Patreon subscribers will be able to continue the adventures of Genghis Khan and the Mongols

via bonus episodes I'll be releasing via that service. So for as little as $1 an episode of the normal feed, you will be able to join the horde on its long ride of conquest across Eurasia. The blue sky still calls, and you know you want to. Anyways, today we rejoin the down-but-not-out Southern Song Dynasty under the reign of its second emperor, and the 11th Song Emperor overall, Xiaozong, the filial. When we'd last left off with young Xiaozong in 1165, he'd still been reeling from the abject failure of his surprise attack into the Jurchen-held territories of northern China,

which had led to him at last accepting and ratifying the Treaty of 1164. This had somewhat improved relations between the two powerful empires, but with the Song still playing second fiddle to the Jin. Though such an outcome was clearly deeply frustrating and disappointing to the ever-revengeous Xiaozong, the fact that he would not launch any further campaigns against the Jin over the course of his two-and-a-half-decade reign is notable. Though some, especially those classical historians and chroniclers who would later write while themselves subjugated by foreign domination, such as during the Yuan and Qing periods, though some of them have pointed out that this is a sign of failure as a ruler, many others recognize that rather than a failure,

it was a redirection of energies towards internal reforms and goals, things that could be more readily and less riskily accomplished than warmongering and expansionism. Historian Gong Wei Ai writes that these classical historians' perspectives, living as they were under the yoke of foreign masters, caused them to, quote, so concentrate their attention on the issue of reconquest of the north that they overlooked the outstanding contributions Xiao Zong made to his empire's economic, military, and cultural strength, end quote. In so doing, he strengthened the foundations of his dynasty such that they would be able to weather the increasingly turbulent storms that would sweep across the East for a further 90 years. We'll start today off with a brief re-explanation and discussion of the concept of filial piety,

and the role that it played and largely continues to play in Chinese and Confucian society. Known in Mandarin as xiao, the concept of filial piety, the duty and respect a son or daughter owes to their parents and elders, is one of the central tenets of traditional East Asian society. Sons and daughters are duty-bound to take care of, listen to, and abide by their parents in a way that even in 2019 is far more total and lifelong than it is in much of the Western world. This respect is not only limited to the living, but also to the dead, which is to say a family's ancestors.

Coming up soon, as of the publication of this episode is the national Chinese holiday that is all about filial piety, the Qiming Festival, also known as the Tomb Sweeping Festival. Just like it says there in the name, it's where families get together, travel en masse to their collective grave sites, and clean them up, then offer them food, prayers, and even gifts to the dearly departed. And while certainly many modern young Chinese people are significantly less bound by some of the more onerous obligations of Xiao, it's still a central and often overriding component of their personalities. I mean, good luck getting most Chinese people to do something that their family doesn't approve of even if they might personally want to, and all that applies well into adulthood. There has always been, and does remain, a very genderized element to Xiao, as Confucianism is, let's face it,

an innately sexist philosophy. Now, it's not going to be any kind of a great shock to anyone that a 2,500-year-old philosophy is going to tend to place men above women, and Confucianism is certainly no exception. Thus, while elders are respected and listened to, a mother would ultimately, for instance, need to accede to her son once he became the head of the household. This particular element you'll see less and less of amongst the younger generations of Chinese, but is still very much alive and well among older generations and those more traditional areas of the interior. So I bring up this discussion of filial piety and its central, overriding importance in Chinese culture today, because this episode is going to put on display

two emperors, father and son, who could not possibly have had more different takes on the concept of Xiao and their observance of it. One will be so pious that he'll literally be named after the concept, while the other will so shock the Song Empire with his callous disregard of this central virtue that they'll wind up kicking him out of office altogether. That's how important Xiao is. Alright, so that said, let's get into it. Emperor Xiaozong was, in almost every respect, the very embodiment of an absolutist activist ruler. His marks one of the very few times during the whole lifespan of the Southern Song that the imperial court was not dominated by a power clique of ministers and counselors. Quote, the emperor's power was supreme and unchallenged. Xiaozong was a demanding emperor

who dismissed his ministers without hesitation if they failed to meet his expectations. End quote. Under his watchful eye, forceful personality, and guiding vision, Southern Song would achieve an era of peace, prosperity, and strength for the two decades that followed. Administratively, he instituted large-scale reforms of the nature and function of the various court ministries, which, while important in their own way, we can safely bypass in their specifics. That, however, would just be the beginning. Xiaozong also sought to reform the agricultural and economic practices of the realm to bolster its output and stability. In terms of agricultural policies, Xiaozong was strongly of the mind that farming served as the very backbone of the nation's strength. How could soldiers be expected to maintain vigilance, or administrators perform their assigned tasks, without a stable food supply after all. As I've mentioned repeatedly, one of the

prime breadbasket regions of the south, and consequently now of the entirety of Song, was the central coastal areas surrounding the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze River, and south into the fields and hills of modern Zhejiang. Here, therefore, Emperor Xiaozong directed special attention to improving and stabilizing the region's output. This was done by, at long last, re-establishing a plan that had gone back to the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period of the mid-10th century, large-scale irrigation programs, canal building, rebuilding, and maintenance, and flood control projects. And the results were a notable success. Gong Aiwei writes that, quote, on terms of economic reforms, Xiao Zong sought to improve his empire's finances by trying to trim the fat of state expenditures, conducting nationwide surveys of what funds were being directed where and for which purposes.

This resulted in wide cuts to religious ceremonies' budgets, reorganization and paring down of the officialdom, and even looked for any components of the military that might be reorganized or trimmed down to further economic efficiency. In this last bit, at least, there proved to be very little that the government censors found that they could do, as the circumstances and neighbors of the realm require that the Song military maintain its strength, sitting, as it was, about somewhere over 400,000 men strong. Even so, in the other two areas of official and ceremonial reform, large-scale cuts to the budget were enacted, actions that would win Xiaozong praise in the historical annals as one of his greatest virtues. Yet, in spite of his cost-cutting efforts, Emperor Xiaozong would find, much to his

chagrin, that he would need to maintain the heavy levels of taxation on the populace at large. Though Xiaozong frequently attested that he wished to ease the populace's burden by doing away with some of the more hated forms of taxation, the irregular, supplementary, and commercial taxes especially, his hands were ultimately tied by the needs of the military and defense spending. Apart from the actual soldiers, these defenses would include something that had not been a part of Song defensive strategy since the first conflict between the Song and Jin dynasties half a century before. It was the construction of large-scale defensive walls and works at strategic locations throughout the southland, as well as the repair and reconstruction of many of the city walls that had been damaged or destroyed during the Jin invasions south of

the Yangtze. Over the course of the late 1160s and into the 1170s, these products were conducted largely in secret and with care not to arouse the suspicion or hostility of the Jurchen on the other side of the border, as it was feared by the court that the northern regime might take exception to these constructions owing to the fact that the Treaty of 1123 had specifically stipulated that the Chinese could build no new defensive fortification structures. In any event, both the fact that the 40-year-old treaty had long been overridden by the subsequent agreements, as well as the fact that, as we'll discuss more later on, the Jurchen were paying less and less attention to their southern border rather than to their own domestic issues and a very strange set of

occurrences occurring in the northwest. Thus, the Song defenses did not arouse any protest or action by the Jin border defenses. In terms of actual military manpower, it was imperative that troop numbers be not only maintained, but expanded, and preferably while minimizing increased costs while doing so. A rather ingenious solution was put forth and quickly adopted by the pacification's commissioner of Sichuan, a recent appointee named Yu Yunwen. Personally appointing a new command staff, he likewise went through the roles of the imperial troops and discharged many of those career soldiers deemed to be past their prime or otherwise unfit for duty. To replace them, Commissioner Yu didn't enlist new professional soldiers, but instead reorganized the local defense corps called the Yishir, or loyalist

soldiers, a quasi-militia force with at least a passing resemblance of the old Baojia military system once implemented under the new policies of Wang Anshi way back in 1070. Like the older system, the Yixue militiamen were bound to defend their own localities, but Commissioner Yu was able to at least partially repurpose them to take on some of the responsibilities of border defense along the northwestern and western frontiers, while incurring far less of a cost than hiring actual soldiers, as well as being able to train them extensively in modern combat techniques during the winter months when they would not be busy by their farming and local responsibilities. In addition, the military command dragged out an ancient but time-tested

way of reducing troop costs, the Tuentian military agricultural colony system. Off and on again, all the way back to the Warring States period, 1500 years before, the Twentian system had soldiers live and work on their own fortified farming colonies, thus growing much of their own food each year and allowing them to be far more self-supporting. At least, on paper. Because there was a reason that the Twentian system was only periodically dusted off and dragged out over the prior millennia and a half. Though it sounded like a great solution, in practice it was rather susceptible to mismanagement and grift by the local commanders and ran at a loss as often as actually saved on costs. Thus, even by 1165, the policy was being

called off and abandoned in those border regions where it was not making financial sense to continue. Back in the capital, Emperor Xiaozong was no slouch himself in the military arts. Gong writes, quote, he personally took part in five major military maneuvers. Three of these were carried out during the Qian Dao period in 1166, 1168, and 1170. On each occasion, he donned his armor and directed the maneuvers. It was a grand spectacle, and all participants were richly rewarded. The emperor also regularly practiced horsemanship and archery." His ambition to, it seemed, personally lead the grand attack against the Jin that would finally sweep the Jurchen barbarians away and reclaim all of the northern Chinese territories that his forebears

had lost was both fanciful and raised more than a few eyebrows among his courtiers. This would finally come to a head in 1169, when following an injury to his eye while practicing his archery, his chancellor finally told him that enough was enough. It was the emperor's job to lead, not to bleed. And Xiao Zong's childlike fantasy of leading the charge to victory was far more likely to end with him face down in the battlefield and with the realm as a whole thrown into chaos for it. This wouldn't be the only way that his ministers restrained the more bellicose urges of their emperor. When he was pushing for a northward invasion in 1167,

for instance, Xiaozong's chief military administrators told him that while, yes, of course the ultimate goal was reconquest of the north, they required a preparatory period of at least ten years before they deemed the Song forces capable of successfully mounting such a campaign. Xiao Zong chafed under such restrictions, but in a fairly rare instance of him listening to his ministers rather than up and firing those who stood in his way, he would, if begrudgingly, finally accede to their demands that caution and waiting for

the opportune time was the correct decision. This would hold until 1174, with the proclamation of a changing of the era from qian dao, or the supernatural path, to chun xi, meaning pure serenity. Thanks to the emperor's frugality and the relative peace across the realm, the Song population had come to enjoy by 1174 a comfortable and largely prosperous existence, in spite of the heavy tax burdens. The imperial treasuries overflowed with revenues, and the emperor had come into his own as the dominant force over the entire government, albeit with his father, the retired emperor Gaozong, still watching and advising him from the wings. Given such political stability and the fact

that Xiaozong had largely purged his government of those ministerial elements that significantly differed from his own vision of absolutist power, the era of pure serenity would see the imperial throne of Xiaozong come to its apex of assertive and activist authority over Song policy. Even so, the lack of headway his government had made with the Jin regarding the improvement of their treaty conditions, and most especially the negotiations over return of the lands holding the old Song imperial tombs, frustrated him to no end. At one point, he refused to rise from his throne to receive the Jin ambassador, which was a stipulation of their peace treaty. Yet when a subsequent mission arrived to strongly complain of this breach of etiquette, and to demand why the Song emperor had failed to uphold his end of the treaty,

Xiao Zong, not quite willing to risk war over such a slight, backed down and thereafter observed proper form when receiving the Jurchen emissaries. Still, he is recorded as being more than a little salty over his empire's still inferior status, bitterly expressing his regret in 1176 that, quote, the domestic laws of Song are far superior to those of Han and Tang. The only thing in which we lag behind is military achievement, end quote. His advisor sought to comfort him, telling him repeatedly over the remainder of his reign that, though indeed the Song was not of the same military caliber as the great dynastic orders of old, it was even greater,

and would in time achieve its due greatness, but by a different path than sheer martial might. Like Confucius had taught a millennia ago, they said, the Song's absolute moral superiority and the total benevolence of its rulers would lead to its ultimate victory through the power of moral justice rather than by sword and bow. or take a deep dive into the Iron Age or the Hellenistic era, then check out the Ancient World Podcast. Available on all podcasting platforms, or go to ancientworldpodcast.com. That's the Ancient World Podcast. In spite of his personal disappointment at not getting to write out all theoden of Rohan's style against the djinn, the song's extensive funding of its own

defensive re-entrenchment, combined with the Jin's own internal and border distractions, resulted in the Song government gaining a significantly stronger position in negotiations with their Jurchen counterparts. Large-scale military exercises, such as those in 1177 and 1185, put on display the prowess of Song archery, horsemanship, and swordplay, richly rewarding those who won or put on a great display. In fact, breaking with the long-standing tradition of the gentleman scholar, university students and candidates for the imperial civil service exams were now required to show aptitude in such martial disciplines, as well as their literary pursuits. By the 1180s, quote, it was said that the Jin feared that the

Song might one day launch an attack against them, end quote. Though Xiaozong would never see that goal realized in the course of his reign, the mere possibility and the burgeoning Song military muscle that seemed to back up such a threat did succeed in keeping the peace and checking any idea of further southward aggression by the Jin. One instance of Xiao Zong's absolutist tendencies getting the better of him during his reign would occur in 1178 in a dispute with the wise and inveterable former imperial tutor Shi Hao, who after a retirement of some 13 years was recalled to the capital by the emperor's own request to serve on as his chief counselor. It was noted even at the time that this was a rather curious choice, given that both Xiao Zong and Shi Hao were by this point

infamous for their stubborn natures. The emperor was his way or the highway, and Shi Hao was famously upright and unyielding, and certainly not about to take any crap from one of his own former pupils. The incident in question arose following a protest-turned-riot that had broken out in early autumn as a result of a military impressment policy of young men across the capital city. In order to accomplish this widely unpopular order, the commandant of the Bureau of Military Affairs had rolled out the palace guard to round up the 6,000 conscript that his edict demanded. Some of the people apparently mutilated themselves to avoid the draft, and in large parts of the city, riots, theft, property destruction, and fighting

with the palace guards was reported. In the aftermath, and following a great many arrests, two scapegoats were singled out for the disturbance, while the rest of the rioters were released shortly thereafter. One was a member of the palace guard, accused of violating his orders by exceeding authority and taking liberties with the civilians and their property. The other was a civilian who was accused of inciting the riot. Both faced the death penalty when they were found guilty of their charges. At this, Shi Hao was aghast. Yes, he argued, the convicted soldier deserved the death penalty. After all, military discipline must be upheld, and others must know the consequences of violating orders. But the civilian man was another issue entirely. The man had only been acting in self-defense against the immoral actions of

the soldiers, Shi protested, and did not all men have the right to self-defense? Then Shi Hao took it one step further, and it would turn out a step too far. He went so far as to directly criticize the emperor himself for an error of judgment in trying to dilute responsibility for the military's actions by implicating the civil population into culpability. He drew on the ancient story of the downfall of the Qin dynasty, in which shortly after the first emperor's death, two conscripted soldiers, Chen Shi and Wu Guang, instigated a rebellion against the throne when the law stipulated their execution for failing to report to their posts on time, even though the

road had been washed out by floodwaters and was impassable. Though the rebellion was put down, it had spelled the beginning of the end for the Qin, because Shi Hao argued its incompetent emperor, Qin Arshi, had allowed the military to ride roughshod over the civilian population. As you might well imagine, Xiaozong was not thrilled to be so criticized, and definitely not thrilled to be compared to the poster boy of imperial incompetence, Arshe. Enraged, Xiaozong doubled down on his decision and had the civilian executed. This caused Shi Hao to tender his immediate resignation and retire to his home in Mingzhou, much to Xiao Zong's regret. In spite of, and to be fair, in part because of, such absolutist tendencies, most of Xiao Zong's subsequent decade of rule remained much the same, prosperous, peaceful, and with the imperial treasuries overflowing with tax revenues. It would have

been a nice time to live in southern Song China, but it doesn't really make for a compelling narrative flow. So, that now established, let me just go ahead and press the fast-forward button real quick. In the 10th month of 1187, the retired Emperor Gaozong shuffled off his mortal coil at the age of 80. He had reigned as an emperor for more than 35 years before retiring for a further 25. Gaozong would be the last descendant of Song Taizong to sit the throne, as every subsequent monarch beginning with Xiaozong would come from the house of Taizu. For some emperors, especially ones with an activist authoritarian bent like Xiaozong, one might think that his old man finally kicking the bucket would be a chance to finally

step out of his shadow and into his own. You might think that, and in other times, you might have even been right. But Xiao Zong was not about that life. This is a great time for me to once again bring up his temple name, Xiao Zong, and what it means. As I mentioned at the beginning of the episode, it means filial. And boy howdy, was Xiao Zong about to earn that title. Gong Aiwei notes, Xiaozong's extraordinary devotion to the retired emperor was a significant feature of his behavior within the imperial family and in court politics. For his entire reign, he played the dual role of

emperor and filial son, and occasionally he compromised his own ideas for the sake of filial obligation. For example, although frugal himself, he submitted to the requests of his extravagant father, whose monthly stipends amounted to 40,000 strings of cash, end quote. Now that's what I call some walking around money. Also, even though Gaozong had taken on the title of retired emperor, he was only ever really semi-retired. He was still consulted on state politics, still met with his advisors, and in most respects still had the capacity to run the empire when and if he felt like it. Otherwise, he could, and often did, considering the cash burning a hole in his silk pockets, kick it on down to his adoptive son and let him do the legwork.

But with Gaozong's death, Xiaozong now had the one-two gut punches of feeling compelled, and doubtless heartfeltfully so, to mourn the passing of his father to the fullest extent of the rituals, and also now having to deal with all of the affairs of state rather than just what dad didn't feel like that day. In respect to the former, Xiao Zong was fastidious to, and in the eyes of his ministers well beyond, a fault. He was apparently so emotionally devastated that he suspended all court audiences for over a month, and when he returned under mounting official pressure, he walked with the aid of a cane. In the case of the latter, that of his official duties, he would prove to be not quite so devoted. Ignoring his counselors' and ministers'

exhortations, Xiaozong insisted on observing the full mourning rites for his adoptive father, a process that would require three years. And as for those affairs of state? Well, Xiao Zong looked around, remembered that he had one surviving son, the 39-year-old heir apparent Zhao Dun, and said, yeah, that guy can probably handle it, and then promptly went back to his new full-time occupation of mourning his father. Just one little hitch to that plan, Zhao Dun was by all accounts severely neurotic and or suffered from something like bipolar disorder. Xiao Zong ordered that his son would now be the one with whom ministers would discuss pertinent state business, an honor that confused the officials and so terrified Prince Dun that he outright refused to take up his assigned responsibilities. In truly autocratic fashion, however, Xiaozong simply refused his son's

refusal. The emperor seemed to have made up his mind even before their first joint meeting, and when Zhao Duan managed to make it through without dropping stone dead or setting the palace on fire, Xiaozong deemed him ready to take up the reins of governance. In spite of protests of his officials, who doubtless had known for years that the crown prince was something less than stable, the emperor stated that he wasn't going to hear any further debate on the topic, nor of any topic of state for that matter. Prince Duan was at the helm now. Take it up with him. I mean, unless he agrees that I should come back, in which case, no. That resounding no would quickly go from

temporary to permanent. On February 18th, 1189, Xiao Zong abdicated the throne in favor of his heir, who was seated as Emperor Guangzong. It was a double promotion for the prince, who in the same day had been first granted the title of Wang, and then Huangdi. Thus, in later tellings, he remembered it as a day of Shuangchong Xiching, or double celebration. In honor of such an auspicious occasion, the city of Yuzhou, an urban center in the far west, was renamed to, the shortened version of that, Chongqing, which would eventually serve as the provisional capital of the Republic of China during the Second Sino-Japanese War following the capture of Nanjing and stands today as one of four centrally administered provincial-level cities in China alongside Beijing, Tianjin, and Shanghai. But we will

cross that Marco Polo Bridge incident when we get there. The double celebration of his enthronement would prove to be one of the only causes for celebration in Guangzong's short, chaotic reign. With his official abdication and retirement, Xiaozong Taihuang moved one of the only causes for celebration in Guangzong's short, chaotic reign. With his official abdication and retirement, Xiaozong Taihuang moved out of the imperial palace and into the nearby former residence of his father, the Chonghua Palace. There, he would seclude himself for the remaining five years of his life. At first, Guangzong performed his role as chief executive with all the diligence and conscientiousness that had marked the best of his father's period of rule. Yet in short order, the cracks began to show through. From Richard Davis, quote,

Beneath the facade of composure lay an intensely distressed personality, and it did not take long for his troubles to surface and affect the functioning of the court. End quote. Jadwin had been, like all but three of his Song forebears, a palace-bound prince. He had, in fact, never in his life left the confines of the palace walls, seeing the countryside he was about to now rule, nor interacted with its people, apart from the courtiers and eunuchs that doted on him day and night. Throughout his life, and for the span of his reign,

Zhao Dun, Guangzong, would be deeply, virtually entirely dependent on those court personalities and palace friends, rather than any practical experience of his own. In his early teens, he'd been betrothed to the daughter of an accomplished military figure named Li Dao, a girl one or two years older than him. They would later wed, and around Dun's 22nd birthday and Lady Li's 24th in 1168, the future Empress Li would give birth to their first son and the eventual heir to the throne, Zhao Kuo. Davis writes, quote, Gao Zong and his Empress Wu were probably responsible for the match,

but they lived to regret it. Even as a princess, Lady Li proved politically insensitive and selfishly indulgent, insufferably arrogant, and violently jealous. As if that wasn't enough, she had a vindictive streak a mile wide. She and her father-in-law got along terribly, as we'll soon see, to the point that at some point after the birth of her son and before her husband's coronation, Xiaozong threatened to depose her as an imperial princess altogether, an act almost unheard of toward a woman who had already succeeded in producing a male heir. Now even though he likely didn't mean it in truth and was instead using it as a threat to maintain some measure of leverage over his daughter-in-law's behavior, for this, Empress

Li would spend the remainder of Xiaozong's life doing her very best to make it a living hell. Davis writes, Xiao Zong's threat of deposition had incurred the undying enmity of his daughter-in-law, who proceeded to poison the relationship between father and son. Meanwhile, she drove her weak husband to virtual insanity. In his youth, and leading up to his enthronement at least, Emperor Guangzong was thought to have been the best and most robust choice for imperial heir. Yet now in command, that court assessment of him could scarcely have proved more wrong. It wasn't as though his ailments had come out of nowhere either. Davis notes that he'd been regularly medicated since childhood, and was recorded as

having a condition of the heart, though whether this refers to the physical organ or the metaphorical personality remains unclear. Certainly in terms of personality, he was virtually the opposite of his strong-willed and independently-minded monarch of a father during his youth. Naturally weak-willed and easily upset, his marriage with Empress Li would prove ruinous and quickly began unraveling the very fabric of his mind. Davis writes of one such incident, quote, Toward the close of 1191, Guangzong was reportedly washing his hands in the palace and noticed the delicate hands of a palace lady. He commented casually on their attractiveness. Presently,

while sitting down to a meal, he opened a container of food and found the two hands inside, a reminder from his jealous wife that she would not tolerate infidelity. Consorts and concubines, typically used by emperors as distractions from and means of coping with other family problems, had a striking tendency to die early, often, and violently within Empress Li's palace, such that by the end of the year, Guangzong had resigned himself to total isolation and thereafter avoided all other women. This, unsurprisingly, worsened his already mounting mental conditions, which was further compounded when he turned to his only other outlet of stress

relief, heavy drinking. By 1192, he'd become a virtual recluse, refusing to undertake normal imperial responsibilities and rarely deigning to hold court. Empress Li appeared to hold Guangzong in her absolute thrall, and had used that control into manipulating her husband into turning against his own father. Born largely out of his earlier threats to depose her from her station over her behavior, and then Xiaozong's refusal to name her son, Prince Zhao Kuo, as the imperial heir, again almost certainly done out of spite towards the Empress rather than any real desire or intention to deny his grandson the throne. Still, it was a threat that the Empress found unforgivable, and she, along with a likewise vengeful eunuch palace friend of Guangzong, who had been earlier banished by the retired Emperor,

only to be recalled by his son, began poisoning the weak Emperor's mind against his father. At the beginning of his reign, Guangzong had visited his father within his Chonghua palace six times per month. Yet under Empress Li and the eunuch Chen Yuan's influence, that rapidly diminished to four, then just one, and then was downgraded to a mere official visit, and then further reduced to only a few times per year. All of this in spite of the fact that Guangzong lived only a few buildings away. This filial impiety became so pronounced that condemnations of such improper behavior were expressed openly in court. And when the capital was hit by strong winds and snows in

the spring of 1191, officials began remonstrating that heaven was making its displeasure known at Guangzong's impropriety toward his father. Imperial diarists recorded of an ascendancy of the yin over the yang, that of eunuchs and petty women over the imperial will, would prove disastrous for the realm and for the dynasty if not quickly restored to its proper balance. Yet Guangzong would not hear of it, and nothing changed. The emperor continued to indulge his self-destructive appetites for feasting and drink, and both Chen Yuan and Empress Li continued to direct his every misguided action. Toward the end of the following year, 1192, the empress enraged the imperial court by arranging for three generations of her own ancestors to be posthumously enfeefed as princes.

This had happened several times across Chinese history up to this point, and the ministers did not fail to pointedly and bitterly draw direct comparisons between the actions of Empress Li now and those of female boogeymen of the Confucians from ages past, such as Empress Liu of Han and Wu Zetian of the Tang. By 1193, the rift between Guangzong and his father had widened into an unbridgeable chasm. In spite of his ministers begging, cajoling, and demanding that the sovereign make amends with Xiaozong, Guangzong only deigned to do so four times that year, with a fifth visit cancelled at the last minute by his empress, apparently fearing that the two might reach some kind of amends. Faced with this prospect, Guangzong's chancellor and head of state, Liu Cheng, felt that he could not do his job and offered his resignation in protest of the emperor's unfilial behavior, only for Guangzong's chancellor and head of state, Liu Cheng, felt that he could not do his job and offered his resignation in protest of the emperor's unfilial behavior, only for Guangzong to refuse his resignation. At last, having reached the end of his rope with his latest cancellation by the

empress, Liu Cheng absconded with the horse and fled the capital entirely, leaving behind a message that he would not return until the emperor promised to visit his father. The stalemate would go on for 140 days, until Guangzong at last relented and paid his father two visits, once just before and the other just after the new lunar year of 1194. Though this did secure the return of Chancellor Liu, it would be the last meeting between Xiaozong and Guangzong while both yet lived. That spring, Xiaozong took ill with what would prove to be a mortal sickness. As the retired emperor's health slipped further and further, Guangzong's ministers once again repeatedly begged the emperor to stop this callous and foolish behavior, with one in particular repeatedly kowtowing so many times, wrapping his

head on the ground before the emperor, that by the time he was no longer able to continue, blood covered the tiles. This won the emperor's attention, but no change of heart. Quote, The rift between the two emperors had irreparably widened, seemingly as a result of Guangzong's sensitivity to his father's meddling and exacerbated by court officials, eunuchs, and family members who exploited the rift for personal gain. End quote. Not even death would thaw Guangzong's frozen heart toward his estranged father. Upon his death on June 28, 1194, Xiaozong had not seen his son for half a year. Moreover,

Guangzong adamantly refused to perform the funeral rites for the deceased emperor, an act considered absolutely beyond the pale of acceptability by virtually everyone around him. He remained, however, unmoved, and in the end it would fall to his son, Prince Zhao Kou, and Xiao Zong's mother, the Empress Dowager Wu, to preside over the wake in the emperor's conspicuous and unforgivable absence. Davis writes, quote, Previously, officials had hoped that Guangzong would somehow overcome the evil influences surrounding him and regain his senses. His shockingly unfeelable response to his father's death proved that this hope was in vain. Court officials felt that Guangzong had gone completely insane and was

unfit to govern. They began to seriously entertain the need for Guangzong to abdicate. This was, of course, a very tricky issue, and one that would have to be done very delicately and in great secrecy. Otherwise, everyone involved could well find their heads quickly impaled on spikes outside the palace gates. Deposing an emperor is no mean feat, even one that everyone agrees was as hopelessly far-gong as Guangzong. Yet, at the very least, Xiaozong's death had at last removed his stubborn and spiteful refusal to accept his grandson, Zhao Ko, as the designated heir to the throne, meaning that when they overthrew him, if they could, there was far less possibility of opening up a dangerous power vacuum that could result in a civil war between rival claimants. It would require coordination of both the outer court

and its many ministers, as well as that of the inner court, that is, the imperial family itself and their personal attendants. This was exceptionally difficult to pull off because, by design, the two courts were almost entirely cut off from one another. The women of the inner court, such as the Empress Dowager Wu, who was a reluctant eventual backer of the plan, and whose seal would be needed to carry this off, was inaccessible to all men not of the imperial family, who still had their manhood attached to their bodies. As a precaution, for centuries, only other women and eunuchs were allowed into the presence of the imperial women, which made communication with them by the non-constraited members of the outer court rather difficult, bordering on impossible. Only through enlisting

the services of one such eunuch and having him act as a go-between to deliver messages between the two courts did the Empress Dowager at last assent to the plan and affix her imperial seal to documents that named Prince Zhao Kuo as the new emperor in 1194. Simultaneously, they made public the emperor's own personal correspondences in which he'd expressed a willingness to abdicate if necessary, thereby cutting off any potential charges of the ministers of the imperial clan exceeding their authority or acting against the throne. With the entire apparatus of the imperial government arrayed against him in this matter, Guangzong found that he had been carried out to perfection, a bloodless overthrow and replacement of a monarch that everyone agreed was completely intolerable. Davis writes, Even greater consolation derived from

the retirement of Empress Li, whose crude antics had created endless embarrassment. It was a well-executed and well-deserved victory brought about by a near-flawless working together of two halves of the imperial government that most often worked in opposition to one another. But such harmony would prove short-lived. And so next time, we will get to the reign of Guangzong's successor, Emperor Ningzong, as well as take a look at the lands and peoples on the borders of the Song to check in and see how those Jurchen and Tanguts are doing up north. Thanks for listening. 400 years ago, a trio of tiny kingdoms were perched on some damp islands off the coast of

Europe. Within three short centuries, these islands would become the centre of an empire which ruled a quarter of the globe and on which the sun never set. I'm Samuel Hume, a historian of the British Empire, and my podcast Pax Britannica follows the people and events that built that empire into a global superpower. Learn the history of the British Empire by listening to Pax Britannica everywhere you find your podcasts, or go to pod.link slash pax.