The History of China - #37 - E. Han 4: Things Fall Apart

Episode Date: August 31, 2014

Corruption and plutocracy run rampant throughout Han, leading to a religious uprising called the Yellow Turban Rebellion. It's swiftly put down, but the problems are only beginning as we enter the end-phase of the Han and the opening act of the Three Kingdoms Period. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You're listening to an Airwave Media Podcast. Hello, and welcome to the History of China. Episode 35, Things Fall Apart. Last time, we left off in the middle of Emperor Huan's fraught reign, who had only just saved himself from the autocratic violence of his uncle with the help of five of his loyal court eunuchs. In turn, the victorious and re-empowered Huan had rewarded his eunuchs with vast powers. Today, we launch into the far-reaching ramifications of this outcome,

and we'll watch as a religious fervor launches one of the most serious challenges yet faced by the already crumbling Eastern Han Dynasty. This so-called Yellow Turban Rebellion is an important milestone in chronicling the disintegration of the Han Empire, not because it will end up being successful in its own right, but because of its place in literature. Though, as we have already begun to see, and will elaborate further, Han's eventual death will be one of a thousand cuts, far more than a singular massive blow. The Taoist Yellow Turban Rebellion and the subsequent unrest that spanned the period of 184 to 205 AD has traditionally been marked as the real beginning of the end, because it acted to massively accelerate Han's slow withering. Nowhere is this more obvious

than the most famous dramatic novel concerning the era, San Guo Yan Yi, or in English, The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, which uses the Yellow Turban Rebellion as its opening event. The 14th century fictionalized telling is also quite famous, or as some might say, infamous, for its incredible character density. If you think all the characters in A Song of Ice and Fire is rough enough to keep track of, consider this. The Romance of the Three Kingdoms contains in its 120 chapters and 800,000 words almost a thousand major characters, most of whom are historical, although a fair few are fictional

conceits. The romance is itself based on the 3rd century historical chronicle known as 三国志, or The Records of the Three Kingdoms, from which it pulls and fictionalizes the majority of the era's details. The records form a continuous chain of historical works, from the Shiji, to the books of Han and later Han, and up through the Three Kingdoms period. Feeling overwhelmed yet? Never fear, the final test will not make you list all of the characters.

I'll be doing my level best to keep things at a manageable level, and as we begin to wade into this tumultuous period, I'm going to try to lay out the major players of the characters. I'll be doing my level best to keep things at a manageable level, and as we begin to wade into this tumultuous period, I'm going to try to lay out the major players of the era and try not to get too bogged down in minutia. Still, in my usual fashion, I'll be mentioning names when I deem them relevant, but trying to keep you all on board by making sure to use more titles and memorable affectations rather than lists of Chinese surnames and given names. I promise, I'll try to keep things as clear and clutter-free as this era permits me. So, you with me? Wonderful. Let's get to it. We pick up our thread just where we left it. Emperor Huan has rewarded his eunuch allies with marches, titles, honors, the whole shebang, and said in pretty much all but the flattest of terms

that he's not planning to lift even a finger to stop them from wringing every last penny out of the populace under them. And so they did, becoming massively wealthy on predatory taxation, bribery, and corruption. In a song lamenting the position of the people under the rule of the eunuch marquise, it decried, 卓 can reverse heaven's decision. 朱 sits by himself without match.

朱 is a lying wolf. 唐's power is as prevalent as the falling rain. In 159, Huan once again demonstrated his unwillingness to act against his benefactors when a county magistrate petitioned him to curb the eunuch's powers. The emperor became personally offended that the petition had dared to include the phrase and ordered the arrest of the magistrate, who was, against the repeated urgings of both court officials and some of the more fair-minded eunuchs, promptly executed.

In 161, Juan furthered the decline of his administration by offering up official government posts, albeit minor ones at this point, for sale to the highest bidder. This practice, as we'll see, will be taken to its ruinous extreme by Juan's successor. Though Emperor Juan had indeed turned a blind eye to his eunuch's misdeeds, though don't tell him I said that, others in the administration clearly took note. Chief among them were the Confucian officials. You remember them, those seemingly incorruptible founts of truth, justice, and the way of Master Kong? Well, in light of the unbearable corruption now tolerated by their emperor, the Confucians organized and began actively pushing to drive the eunuchs out of power.

They were supported by many of the students at the capital city's university, which was the official school of Confucian thought and what any aspiring imperial official had to graduate through in order to secure a post. They revered their senior Confucians as heroes for bravely resisting the domination of the self-serving eunuch lords and rallied to their cause. Between 159 and 156, the two factions existed in a state of tense, pressurized balance. At times, the Confucians would be successful in their efforts to drive eunuchs from power with accusations of wrongdoing, but at other times, themselves losing their positions when the eunuchs were better able to convince Emperor Huan.

But the tensions would inevitably come to a head in 166, in an event tellingly called the First Disaster of Partisan Prohibition. It was the university students who supported the Confucian officials who would be branded dangren, or partisans, by the eunuch marquise in a propaganda smear campaign to discredit them in the eyes of the populace. I mean, they're not looking out for the empire or your well-being. They're just in it for themselves. The disaster would be set off, strangely enough, by a fortune teller with a grudge to settle. His name was Zhang Cheng, and he predicted that the emperor was on the verge of issuing a general pardon,

that is to say, an empire-wide forgiveness for any and all crimes. So, naturally, he thought the time was right to get away with a little cold-blooded revenge killing, and so ordered his son to carry out the murder. The governor of the capital swiftly swooped in to arrest the brazen murderers, but shortly thereafter, a general pardon was indeed issued. The governor, however, was understandably enraged at this clear affront to the very idea of justice, and instead of releasing the fortune-teller and his son, executed the both of them, in spite of the pardon. This act spurred the eunuch lords to rail against the provincial governor's actions as being an act of criticism against the imperial throne

and government, rather than of justice being carried out. They managed to bend the ear of Emperor Huan, who, once suitably worked up into a froth over this perceived act of defiance against his own decree, ordered the provincial governor arrested. And when some 200 partisan university students assembled to protest the injustice of the action, they too were hauled off to prison, interrogation, and torture. The intermittent arrests of more university students would continue through the year, until several officials at last convinced the emperor to cease his persecution of the students and release them. But as part of the punishment, they were to be permanently stripped of all rights as imperial citizens and banished from the capital, Luoyang. So this wasn't a great time for the arrestees, but it hardly counts as a disaster, right? Well, hold on a second, because there's a reason it's called the First Disaster,

and is really just a prelude to the far deadlier Second. In early 168, Emperor Huan died without an heir at the, at this point, ripe old age of 36. His empress, Dou Miao, became the empress dowager with his passing, and was tasked, along with her father and the Confucian scholar Chen Fan, with determining who should become the next Han emperor. The trio would finally select the 11 or 12-year-old Marquis of Jieduting, Liu Hong, to succeed Han as Emperor Ling, and Empress Dou served as his regent. But later that same year, the eunuch marquise, having heard of a plan to have them assassinated, stormed the imperial palace, seized the Empress Dowager's seal, and used it to order Chen Fan

arrested and executed, and forced the Empress Dowager's father to suicide after a short campaign of resistance outside the capital. Empress Dou, though still technically the regent, was forced to cede virtually all of her actual authority to the cabal of eunuchs. In late 169, it was the eunuchs who would initiate the second disaster of partisan prohibition when they convinced young Emperor Ling of the partisans' dangerous nature, and he ordered many of the students arrested and executed. Thus, without the modering influence of the Confucians to guard against the eunuch's machinations, Ling fell ever further under their sway,

ultimately resulting in the deaths of his brother, wife, and thousands of others. But it wasn't until 178 that Ling really got the ball rolling toward full-on rebellion. He managed this by expanding the policy of selling minor offices, which you'll remember had been initiated by Huan, to include pretty much any office in the empire. And in the move you literally could not design to be more corruption-inducing. He even allowed those who could not outright afford the massive payment to purchase an office to instead have what was effectively a line of credit with the emperor. He allowed them to buy the office and then pay

it off in installments using enormous tax burdens, extortion, and racketeering against the populace. The by now endemic governmental corruption at all levels placed crushing pressure on the citizenry of the empire, who began to look for a figure to ease their burdens and see order restored. That moment would seem to arrive in 183, as a scrawled message began appearing on walls across the empire, reading, quote, The blue heaven has perished, and the yellow sky will soon rise. The cycle of what would ultimately become known as the Yellow Turban Rebellion began quite modestly. In Shandong, three brothers, Zhang Jue, Zhang Bao, and Zhang Liang, began preaching a new

form of Taoist philosophy, which would eventually blossom into a full-on religious sect. The Zhang brothers, acclaimed healers of the poor who would often work for no pay, founded the belief of Taiping Dao, meaning the Way of eternal peace, which specifically venerated Huang Lao, a kind of amalgamation of the divine yellow emperor and the founder of Taoist thought, Lao Tzu. Of the three Zhang brothers, the eldest, Jue, came to the fore of the sect, and came to call himself Great Teacher. He used confession of sins and faith healing to supposedly cure the ailments

of those who sought him out, and often asked only that his patients spread the word of his teachings to others as payment. Which is kind of the second century equivalent of a viral marketing campaign, just without the likes. Zhang Jue and his brothers preached the principles of equal rights for all, equal land distribution, and an imminent and apocalyptic change in world order. They told their followers that in the upcoming year of Jiazi, meaning the completion of the six-decade cycle of yearly changes, remember, yin water horse year and yang fire oxen year, etc., but this time something unprecedented would occur at the beginning of the new cycle.

The sky itself would turn yellow. At this sign from heaven, the Han dynasty would end forever, and a new era of government would begin. To display their adherence to this set of beliefs, followers would commonly begin to wear yellow scarves or turbans around their heads, a symbol of the upcoming time of the yellow sky, thus giving them their historical name. Nearly all of the yellow turbans' religious practices were focused on the community and communal aspects of society, including collective trances and fasts. Critically, their sermons and teachings were freely available to all. Women, and even those deemed by larger society to be barbarous or un-Chinese, were welcomed within the flock.

In fact, several leaders of the Xiongnu clans were known to have given their support to the Yellow Turban sect. And it's possible that some of the Zhang brothers' beliefs may have arisen from the shamanism common in the Northern Horsemen. Unfortunately, time has once again taken its toll on our informational resources, and much of the philosophy of the way of eternal peace has been lost or destroyed, with only scraps of information and inferences to guide us for much of it. The unabashed graft of the Han government had strained the social structure near the brink of revolt.

And add to that famines in the north which forced huge swaths of the empire's population to southward migration, where the landed elite were able to ruthlessly exploit the glut of laborers. So it should come as no surprise that it would take at this point only one tiny push to set the whole line of dominoes in motion to fall. And as if on cue, the Yellow River, once more, stepped in. But instead of a little push, its floodwaters shoved the empire way past the red line and into full revolt. And it wasn't just the landless migrant populace that rose against the just ridiculously corrupt government either. Even landowners, who had long been burdened with unreasonable taxation to help pay for development and maintenance of fortifications

and the expansion of the Silk Road, not to mention lining the pockets of the government officialdom, saw the writing on the wall and joined in the mayhem. As early as 170, armed bands had begun roving the countryside, eventually forming into private armies and setting the stage for direct confrontation with the central government in Luoyang. And let's be clear, Emperor Ling was doing himself no favors. He had never had any real interest in governance, and spent his days and nights boozing and chasing tail.

Ruling in his name were the Ten Attendants, a council of the most powerful eunuchs in the empire, whose leader, Emperor Ling, purportedly regarded as his foster father. In the minds of many, the natural disasters were simply the final nail in the coffin of Ling's reign. He had obviously lost the mandate of heaven. It's right about here that Zhang Zhe's viral marketing campaign really began to pay off. Because there had been droves of angry, hungry, armed people roaming the empire for some time, and his message of liberty, equality, and fraternity

had managed to percolate through many of their ranks, and understandably, strike quite a chord. In fact, it struck so much of a chord that in the second month of 184, it all started, way ahead of schedule. Well before Zhang Zui's empire-wide call to arms was to be announced, well before the era of the supposed Yellow Sky, their plot was betrayed and supporters in Luoyang arrested and executed. In a groundswell response, tens of thousands of men rose in rebellion all across the empire, in spite of a lack of any coordination or predetermined call to do so. Government offices were ransacked and destroyed, and the imperial government was forced into an immediate and unexpected defensive position against the onslaught. As the unorganized chaos began coalescing into a more organized form, three major theaters became evident. The regions just north of the Yellow River in the Wei Prefecture, commanded directly

by Zhang Jue, the Guangyue and Zhuo Prefectures in and around present-day Beijing, then called the You province, and finally the rebellion in Yingquan, Lunan, and Nanyang prefectures surrounding the capital Luoyang itself. This last theater had been counting on agents within the capital to assist them, but as I just said, they'd been almost all found out and executed just prior to the uprising. Nevertheless, in spite of that massive loss to their ranks, they'd been almost all found out and executed just prior to the uprising. Nevertheless, in spite of that massive loss to their ranks, the capital rebellion would prove to be extremely dangerous. Over the course of the first two months of the rebellion,

the government of Luoyang was still preoccupied with trying to root out and destroy the rebellious elements within the city. As such, it wasn't until the third month that they finally managed to field a force against the Yellow Turbans. One imperial army was sent east to deal with Zhang Jue's forces, while the other two armies were fielded against the ongoing rebellion which threatened Luoyang itself. The Yellow Turbans scored a string of early successes, and in the third month of 184, they managed to defeat and kill the Grand Administrator of Nanyang. This was followed up the next month by a crushing victory of the rebels over the Imperial Army sent to Yingchuan, and the Grand Administrator of Runan was likewise defeated.

The tide would begin to turn, though, in the middle of that year, beginning with the destruction of the Yellow Turban Army in Runan in the 6th month of 184. Shortly thereafter, a new Grand Administrator of Nanyang defeated and killed the local rebel commander and forced his army to take refuge in the captured prefectural capital, Wan City. To the north, along the great northern plain of China, the rebel forces were destroyed in the field, their fortresses besieged and captured one after the other, and the three Zhang brothers killed in battle. But it was around Wan City that would remain the core area of fighting for almost the entire year, as the embattled and cornered rebel defenders of Wan managed to stave off the repeated waves of imperial attacks to retake the provincial capital, until they at last broke

through in the 11th month of the Chinese year, which was roughly January of 185. Once inside, they proceeded to massacre the yellow turban rebels within. Those that managed to escape were pursued relentlessly by the imperial forces, although quickly their threat level was deemed so little that it was prefectural and county-level forces doing the mop-up work, rather than the imperial army itself. By mid-February of 185, an official proclamation of celebration, declaring that the era name had been officially changed to Zhongping, meaning pacification achieved, was announced.

But much like the Mission Accomplished banner of early 21st century infamy, the so-called Era of Pacification Achieved would last for a mere two months, before once again the Yellow Turban Rebellion reorganized and flared up again, this time having moved westward out of Shandong and into the Taihang Mountains on the western border of Hebei, before spreading to Shanxi, Liaoning, and throughout Hebei. By 188, it had once again reached the capital region, prompting yet another crushing imperial response. This time, the Han armies were led by a brilliant commander named Cao Cao,

the newly appointed colonel in charge of force distribution, the fourth of eight commanders of the newly appointed colonel in charge of force distribution, the fourth of eight commanders of the newly established Army of the Western Garden. Colonel Cao once again crushed the imperial, Colonel Cao once again crushed the rebellion, this time for good. So great, right? This is a glorious victory for the Han dynasty, which had twice moved with impressive speed to wipe out the dangerous religious uprising with merciless efficiency. But there was a cost. Oh, there's always a cost. And this time it was one the struggling imperial government was unprepared to pay. Wide swathes of the empire had been effectively severed from direct imperial

administration, their magistrates killed, and their government offices destroyed in the turmoil. The vicious combat that had raged across the Empire had rendered yet more innocents homeless and destitute, and even their basic economies in utter ruin. The rebellion had been destroyed, but social unrest remained as high as ever, and bandits still prowled throughout the Empire, preying on the disaffected populace with near impunity. Perhaps, given a long enough period of time to rest and recover from the devastating war, the Han, in spite of its widespread corruption, might have recovered and rebuilt the affected areas, and prosperity and a lasting peace could have once again been achieved.

Perhaps. But that much-needed breathing room would not be given to the struggling dynasty. By the time Emperor Ling died in 189 at age 32 or 33, having taken ill and never recovered, large segments of both the imperial military and its prefectures had become self-governing in all but name. Ling had two surviving sons, Liu Bian from Empress He and Liu Xie from Consort Wang. As Ling approached death, however, lots arose and factions sprang up around the two

potential heirs to the throne. The eunuchs backed the younger but preferred Prince Xie and planned to kill the Empress's brother, who was the chief supporter of the elder Prince Bian's claim to the throne. The plot, however, was discovered, and 13-year-old Liu Bian was preemptorily declared the new Emperor of Han. As Emperor, Liu Bian was preemptorily declared the new Emperor of Han. As emperor, Liu Bian is known by several names. Most common is simply the Prince or King of Hongnong, rather than a true imperial title,

which should tell you something about how long his reign is about to be and what kind of influence he's going to have. The other common name for him is Emperor Xiao, an epithet literally meaning Emperor Small. In autumn of 189, with Emperor Small sitting on the throne, his mother, the Empress Dowager, was advised that she should order the capital's powerful eunuchs all killed, or risk them once again attempting to wrest power from her and her family. But Empress Dowager He rejected the proposition, on the grounds that if all the eunuchs were dead, then she would have to regularly interact with normal men,

that is to say, non-eunuchs. A thoroughly disgusting and offensive thought for an empress. But the empress's brother was not so easily dissuaded, and secretly issued orders for several generals outside the capital to begin rebellions of theiraded, and secretly issued orders for several generals outside the capital to begin rebellions of their own and demand that the eunuchs be executed, thereby, the hope was, forcing the hesitant Empress Dowager to grant the request. Fatefully, one of the generals who received the order to rebel was Dong Zhuo, the commander of the battle-hardened Liang province army. It would prove to be He Jin's greatest mistake in including General Dong in his missive, since he seemed to have forgotten, or perhaps somehow never been informed,

that Dong Zhuo had a rather infamous record of disobeying direct orders, and being particularly merciless. General Dong mobilized his army for Luoyang, and ahead of its approach, Empress He was forced to order the eunuch marquise to flee back to their marches. But the eunuchs had other plans, having learned that the Empress's brother was behind these rebellious generals and planned to exterminate them. They would ambush He Jin and kill him, before taking Empress He, the young Emperor Xiao, and Prince Xie hostage as General Dong's forces entered the capital and surrounded the imperial palace. The Empress managed to escape, but after two days, the eunuchs, in truly dire straits, abandoned ship, taking the emperor and his

brother and fleeing north to the Yellow River outside of Luoyang. There, with their enemy force closing in on all three sides and no other cards to play, they at last released the emperor and his brother and jumped into the wild waters of the Yellow River to their deaths. Emperor Xiao and Prince Xie made their way back towards the capital, escorted by two government officials, when they were intercepted by General Dong Zhuo. The young emperor was rather dumbstruck by the appearance of the fearsome general, and spoke incoherently. But Prince Xie was unfazed and described the events they had just gone through

and the fates of the eunuchs who had taken them captive. General Dong was impressed by the younger prince, an affinity that would soon prove fatal for the elder of the two brothers Liu. Once back in the capital, General Dong wasted no time in asserting his iron will on the government and its populace, declaring himself chancellor and using his fearsome Liang army to intimidate any who might think of standing against him. But Dong was aware that there was widespread opposition to his ascension to power within the city, as well as among the warlords of the east, and that even his formidable Liang army might not be enough to quell the populace should an uprising occur.

So he came up with an ingenious plan. He ordered his subcommanders to take their troops and secretly exit the city under cover of darkness, and then enter again the next morning through the front gate. Unaware of the deception, Dong's enemies now believed that he had effectively doubled the size of his army, rendering it a truly insurmountable force. Even the commanders of the palace guards, Yuan Shao and Cao Cao, realized that they were no longer able to effectively command their own men, since they all had been intimidated into disobeying even direct orders. Thus, they fled the capital, along with anyone who wished to follow them, and left Dong Zhuo in absolute command. In the records of the Three Kingdoms, he is recorded as having essentially granted himself permission to wear a sword while

inside the imperial court, and not remove his shoes, permissions not granted since the time of the first Han emperor, Gao Zun. Supposedly he ordered his army to kill every male inhabitant of Luoyang and loot their homes of valuables, under the pretext of rooting out rebel elements against the emperor. Soon thereafter, the general commanded the empress dowager to depose Emperor Xiao, and she had no choice but to accede. In his place, Liu Xie was enthroned as Emperor Xian, but this ascension was in name only. Histories tell of Dong Zhuo's domination of the capital being so complete that he even

slept with the palace maids in the Emperor's bed. General Dong then had the Empress Dowager poisoned, and several months later, the once-again Prince Liu Bian was forced to meet the same end when a number of local officials, led by the former commanders of the palace guards Yuan Shao and Cao Cao, had amassed a force against the military dictatorship of Dong Zhuo in the early spring of 190. Though General Dong's Liang army was formidable enough to keep Commanders Yuan and Cao from advancing on Luoyang directly, at least for the time being, Dong was still concerned that their collective strength might be enough to force him from the capital, since

after all, his army was only half as strong as his enemies believed. And so he decided that he could better defend the ancient capital, Chang'an, against them. Thus, on the 9th of April, he ordered the imperial seat moved once again to Chang'an and Luoyang set aflame, leaving much of the ancient and holy city a fire-gutted ruin. Prior to abandoning the city entirely, though, he ordered his men to dig up the tombs of the ancient Han emperors within the imperial graveyard and strip their corpses of any treasures and valuables buried with them. All of this as the coalition army made their approach.

In the same graveyard, General Dong prepared an ambush for the oncoming enemy force, but was unable to break the coalition's lines and was ultimately routed all the way to Chang'an. Though he'd been dealt a defeat, the anti-Dong coalition was hobbled by its own internal factional strife, and proved unable to press whatever advantage their victory might have earned them. And so, once behind the massive city walls of Chang'an, Dongzhou was able to re-stabilize his hold from the new capital. He declared himself the Grand Master of Han, a position that had been vacant for nearly two centuries since its last holder Wang Meng gave it up for emperor. For the following two years, he would make Chang'an his personal fortress and horrendous playground, building a massive castle for himself, melting down priceless

artifacts to use in recasting his coinage. And the resulting flood of the market with coins caused rampant inflation all the while. And of course, he would hold lavish feasts. But these weren't your typical feasts, because those attending were invited, nay, compelled, to witness what he deemed the evening's entertainment, that is, the savage torture and execution of traitors and enemies. It was all done with surgical precision to ensure that the victim remained alive and conscious right to the end. First, their tongue would be removed so that they could not cry out, then their limbs and eyes removed one by one. It was all capped off by them being thrown, still conscious if possible, into a large cauldron of boiling oil.

The resulting literal human meatball would then be removed and rolled across the banquet hall for all to observe. Dongzhou is said to have quite enjoyed the performances, and continued with his meal as usual while observing the hideous spectacle, whereas most of his guests found their appetites somewhat lacking from the display. Dong may have been brutal and savage, but he was no idiot. He was, of course, fully aware of the, oh, let's call it provocative nature of his actions, and the large amount of hatred he had earned from both his military rivals and the populace at large. His Liang army, and the large amount of hatred he had earned from both his military rivals and the

populace at large. His Liang army, on the other hand, had come to practically worship the man who had brought them such power and wealth. But in order to ensure his continued physical safety, he appointed his top soldier and adopted son, Liu Bu, to be his personal bodyguard. This would end up being a fateful decision, because Liu had been having an affair with one of his adopted father's chambermaids, a breach serious enough that he feared for his own life were the pair caught. Add to this the fact that Dong Zhuo had made a habit of hurling spears at Liu in the heat of his frequent tantrums, which Liu was easily able to dodge, but still not cool, Dad.

So it probably didn't take too much convincing when, in 192, he was approached by the interior minister and talked into ending Dong Zhou's mad reign. On the morning of May 22nd, 192, Dong was greeted at the palace by Liu Bu and a dozen of his most trusted men, led by cavalry captain Li Si. Captain Li stepped forward and thrust his knife into Dong Zhou's chest. In shock and disbelief, Dong cried out for his son and bodyguard to save him, to which Lu simply replied, this is an imperial order, before himself delivering the coup d grace. The emperor sends his regards indeed. Et tu, Lu?

Dong's body was left in the streets of Chang'an for three days, under penalty of death for anyone who tried to remove the corpse. Supposedly, although take it with a grain of salt, the guards tasked with standing vigil over his body placed a candle wick in his navel and lit it, allowing Dong's substantial belly fat to act as a fuel source, which burned for days. And in the usual fashion, his entire clan was rounded up and exterminated, including his 90-year-old mother. So, wrapping up, here's where we stand. Everything, and I mean everything, is in shambles. Now without a central enemy to unite against, the coalition that had sprung up to oppose Dongzhou will almost immediately splinter

off into mutually warring factions across the entire empire. The details of which, while fascinating, ultimately don't really push the narrative forward. Many of them are just little historical eddies that whirl and clash in vengeance, grudges, and paybacks against old slights. So let's go with the big picture. Overall, here's the direction we're moving. Imperial authority in the person of Emperor Xian remains intact for the moment, but only by a thread and at the most nominal of levels. More than a little bit like the king piece in a chess game. Philosophically, he's still important, but for all practical

purposes he's just a well-dressed pawn. Everyone wants to pay lip service to the throne, but nobody really wants to be ruled by it. And physically possessing the emperor will justify the actions of whoever holds him, since they can then write off anything as defending the emperor and his dynasty, while anyone not in possession of the emperor will be operating under the de facto status of a rebel, which obviously is not ideal for propaganda purposes. They've really yet to coalesce quite yet, but next time, the really obvious solution will begin to percolate through the minds of the still-forming three major factions of the era. And that is, if having an emperor

legitimizes your cause, why, then why not just make our own emperor, right? Not to give too much away in the teaser for next time, but it is not for nothing that we call the onrushing civil war the Three Kingdoms Period. Thank you for listening. This episode of the History of China is brought to you by, as usual, you. It's your donations that keep us in the black and pay for our server space and better recording equipment. To those of you who've already given, my gratitude is boundless and please feel free to ignore this message.

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