The History of China - #48 - 16K 1: The Disorder Of The Eight Princes

Episode Date: November 29, 2014

Emperor Wu goes on an 8-year, goat-powered orgy through 5000 concubines, leaving the empire in the hands of his mentally disabled son, and the Imperial princes and empress will fight it out over who gets to control him. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Hello, and welcome to the History of China. Episode 46, The Disorder of the Eight Princes When last we left off our narrative, the Three Kingdoms era of strife and catastrophic civil war had been drawn to a rapid, unexpected conclusion when in 280, the court of the Jin Emperor had steamrolled the defenses of Sun Wu along the Yangtze River. The war ended with the total surrender of Wu's Emperor, Sun Hao, and the political reunification under the Jin Dynasty of the entirety of China, headed by the servant-turned-usurper Sima clan. As of 280, the current leader of both the Sima clan and the Jin court at Luoyang was Sima Yan, who as the victorious

Emperor Wu of Jin, seemed to all the world poised to be the next Gaozhu of Han, by which of course I mean the founder of a long-lived, highly successful imperial dynasty. But as we will see today, that would not ultimately be the case. Though militarily without equal, the Jin assumed power with two major quicksand pits surrounding them. The first, and what we'll be covering today, was the outcome of Wu's overreaction to the perceived failings of the Taowei court system, namely the disempowerment of the imperial princes that had led to their eventual usurpation. Now, resulting conflict between the newly re-empowered princes is, as we will soon see, going to be bad enough for the Jin Dynasty.

But it gets worse from here, and as we will cover next time, it will be the other little whoopsie daisy, and something admittedly that Emperor Wu had little control over, that would deliver the final blow to the newly reunified empire. I'm talking about the large-scale settlement of non-Chinese so-called barbarians within their borders. And while the former would sap the newborn gene's strength, it would ultimately be the latter that spelled its doom in the north. But before we launch into the goings-on, I'd like to take a moment to direct those of you who may not yet have seen it to the map that I found and posted on thehistoryofchina.wordpress.com. The map, constructed by user Fornadan of the Paradox Interactive Forums, shows both the

full political breakdown of the late Han Dynasty at both the prefectural and provincial levels, but also the population of each region based on the census data of 290 as well as the population density. He even accounted for the changes in the coastline. It's totally amazing, and remains useful as we move into the Jin period, since many of the same political divisions remain unchanged between the two dynasties. So anyway, as we detailed in episode 44, Sima Yan had noticed, and heck, predicated his entire rise to power, on the fact that the Cao dynasty had virtually castrated its imperial princes of their once-autonomous power. And to be sure, they certainly had their reasons. As you may recall, following the death of Cao Cao in 220, his successor, Cao Pi, had found himself about a hair's breadth away

from his cousins, uncles, and brothers, all declaring against him in the ensuing power vacuum. That potential catastrophe had only been avoided by the fact that none of the potential claimants had wanted to be the first to cross over that line in the sand. And as such, what could have been a major succession crisis slash civil war petered out before it even really began. Taupi, though, understandably terrified by the notion of such a Mexican standoff repeating itself in the future, had spent his reign gradually stripping his family members of

their independent military commands and titular ability to autonomously conduct their own affairs within their principalities. Now this had seemed all well and good at the time, but the problem with such a declawed imperial family was that there had been no powerful prince or princes to turn to for support when the Tao emperors began their slow spiral into decline and ultimately usurpation at the hands of the Sima clan. As such, as the reins of direct authority had slipped from their respective grasps, there was no one around able to give them a leg up. The Tao emperors had been on their own, and as such proved all too easy to ultimately drive from the throne entirely. So, yeah, whoops. Now as emperor, Wu of Jin was no fool, and had taken careful stock of his predecessor's fall from grace,

and resolved very early in his reign to not make the same mistake. If the imperial princes lacking autonomy had spelled the doom of the Cao dynasty, well, then he was going to go pedal to the metal in the opposite direction. And yeah, you probably see where this is going. Too little of one leads to too much of the same, and everything gets worse. But we'll have to let that particular problem stew for a little bit, because these things do need time to percolate through the system. For the moment, let's turn instead to the issue of succession. Unlike so many others, Emperor Wu

actually did get around to nominating his successor early on in his reign, tapping his eldest surviving son, the then seven-year-old Sima Zong, to be the crown prince in 267, since Confucian tradition of course dictated that there could be no other proper choice. Now this would have been all fine, except for one key detail. The now crown prince Zhang was by many accounts mentally disabled. Now when exactly this became apparent to his parents and the court officials is not entirely clear, but there are accounts of the young prince asking in all apparent seriousness, quote, why do frogs croak?

Is it because they want to, or because the government ordered them to? End quote. And that certainly made the situation abundantly clear. This was an heir who could, yes, read and write, but was virtually unable to make decisions or think for himself. That said, his father seems to have done a noteworthy job of convincing himself that nothing was wrong with his designated heir for the remainder of his life. He repeatedly resisted calls from his court for the invalid prince to

be replaced by someone who didn't need to ask why frogs croak, and even removed those who seemed to threaten Prince Zhong's position from his court and order them back to their respective provinces. In the end, though, it seems to have been a combination of having the wolf somewhat pulled over his eyes by his eventual daughter-in-law, who sought to keep her grasp on the imperial throne, along with the fact that Wu was impressed by the capabilities of his grandson by his heir, Sima Yu, along with a good dose of just good old fashioned willful ignorance that ultimately kept the crown prince Zhong from being replaced. So let's get to that eventual daughter-in-law, who is rather infamous in Chinese history for reasons that will soon become quite clear. In 272, Wu selected his now 12-year-old heir's wife, the daughter of the wealthy and powerful

noble Jia Chong, the 14-year-old Jia Nanfeng. This selection was really surprising in its time, and indeed, only the year before, Emperor Wu had railed against the girl and her family, instead wanting to choose the progeny of their rival, Wei family, to wed his son. He wrote, quote, Duke Wei's daughter is appropriate, and five reasons why Duke Jia's daughter is inappropriate. The Weis are known for their male progeny, and Lady Wei is mild-tempered, beautiful, tall, and fair. The Jias lack male progeny, and Lady Jia is jealous, short, ugly, and dark-skinned." Gee, Emperor Wu, way to see the inner beauty in people. Through the Byzantine whirlpools of court and familial politics, however, even such a brusque refusal was ultimately overcome.

And it would be the Lady Jia Nanfeng, not Lady Wei, who would have the dubious honor of wedding the half-wit crowned prince. And the newly enthroned crowned princess Jia wasted little time in basically proving her father-in-law's trepidation absolutely right. She was widely known for her fearsome jealousy, and used the unequal intellectual relationship between her and her younger husband to quickly establish not only dominance, but something approaching total awe in the crowned prince. He both loved and feared her, a situation that would ensure that he remained firmly under her thumb for the rest of their lives together.

What's more, though, Emperor Wu's first reason for not initially favoring the now-princess Jia would bear out. She would ultimately produce four daughters, but no sons, for the crowned prince over the course of their marriage, with his only blood heir a product of one of his other consorts. Now I can make no comment as to her height, skin color, or state of beauty, but geez, it actually begins to sound like the emperor might have been onto something in initially dismissing her. Hmm, I wonder if that'll come around to bite the imperial court in its backside. It wouldn't really be until peace came to China with the capitulation of Sun Wu in 280, however,

that the Jin court would really begin to show the dangerous cracks that external conflict always seems to have a way of painting over. With peace came the need to reorganize the political and military layout of the newly reunified empire. To that end, Emperor Wu ordered his provincial governors to cede their military authority and become what they had been before the strife of the Three Kingdoms, that is, purely civilian administrators rather than what had amounted to vassalized petty lords. Taking this demobilization one step further, Emperor Wu next decommissioned the regional militias since, after all, the war was over and it was time for once again civil government to take control of the newly pacified lands. But it is here where Emperor Wu made the

fatal misstep that so many of his ancient and even not-so-ancient predecessors to the imperial throne had blundered into. He decided, in effect, that he'd done enough, and it was time for him to enjoy the hard-earned spoils of victory, namely wine, luxury, and, of course, women. With the surrender of the former Eastern Wu emperor, Sun Hao, his palace in Nanjing had fallen into Emperor Wu's domain, and with it the supposedly 5,000 concubines therein, whom Wu, of course, took for himself. With this dizzying influx of girls, girls, girls, Wu hardly knew where to begin his feast of earthly pleasures.

Stories tell of him resolving his indecision by riding around his palace grounds on a cart drawn by two goats, and wheresoever the goats stopped to feed, that is the mistress he would come calling on. Such favor was competitively sought out by many of the women, who often left out salt licks and bamboo shoots to attract the imperial goats, and therefore the emperor, to their quarters. With so very many salt licks to taste, the emperor quickly devolved into debauchery and hedonism, abandoning his duties to the state and to court.

Into this vacuum stepped the empress's father, Yang Jun, and his two brothers, Yang Ji and Yang Yao. And heaven only knows what they all thought of this state of affairs with their son-in-law's extended goat-fueled orgy. But regardless, it would be the Empress's clan who would wield effective state power for the remainder of Wu's reign, while he was afield chasing his 5,000 wild bamboo shoots. And as much as this would all make for a wonderful late-night Cinemax series, we're going to go ahead and fast forward through the eight years of wild sexual escapades Emperor Wu of Jin undertook. Instead, we will once again hit play in 289, when all that craziness

finally got the better of the aging monarch. At age 54, Wu caught ill and began to spiral into a worse and worse condition. Realizing that there wasn't much of a chance of recovering to spread his wild oats once again, Wu appeared to have finally realized that the air he'd spent dutifully turning a blind eye to this entire time was about to inherit the entire empire. He'd spent a goodly portion of his life convincing himself that Prince Zhao was fine, just fine. And with a significant push, it should be said, from the prince's wife, Jia Nanfeng, to maintain the illusion of the crown prince's not being a complete idiot. Nevertheless, with him now 30 years old and likely still questioning why frogs croaked,

the dying Emperor Wu couldn't deny the painfully obvious any longer. He had named an imbecile to the throne of Jin. And at this point, there was only one reasonable course of action. But this course had proved itself time and again to be a dangerous and even suicidal proposition to an imperial dynasty. Nevertheless, there was nothing else to be done. Emperor Wu was forced to name a regent to his 30-year-old heir. To the regency, there were two obvious choices. The first being the man already effectually in charge of the imperial government, Wu's father-in-law, Yang Jun. The other potential candidate was Sima Liang, Emperor Wu's uncle, the fourth son of the late great Sima Yi, and the current prince of Runan. Prince Liang,

as one of the elder statesmen of the imperial clan, was easily the most well-respected of all of the Sima princes. As such, Yang Jun became fearful that the prince, rather than himself, would be named regent. And in an attempt to stave off this potential outcome, Minister Yang ordered the prince of Runan dispatched to the fortress of Shu Chang, along with several other imperial princes who might dampen his odds on getting the regency. But when even that failed and on his deathbed Emperor Wu named in his will that both Yang and Prince Liang would share the regency, well, Minister Yang was forced to take drastic measures. In secret, he absconded with the emperor's will and replaced it with a forgery, naming himself the sole regent to the imperial throne.

On the 17th of May, 290, the first emperor of Jin passed away from his illness, and the crown prince, Zhao, was enthroned as Hui of Jin. Now, since Emperor Hui was utterly at the whim of whomsoever controlled him, a rather complex labyrinth of political and military struggle is about to spring up over just who that puppet master will be. Often, this is known as the War of Eight Princes, but that is not exactly accurate. What is coming is indeed an armed struggle to control the Emperor and therefore the Empire, and there are indeed eight of the Sima princes involved.

But these princes did not function as some singular block, nor attempt to seize power at the same time. In fact, they were long stretches of relative calm, only punctuated by short bursts of bloody combat. So rather than terming it a war, it is perhaps more accurate to simply take the more literal translation from Chinese and call it the Disorder of the Eight Princes instead. That said, let's set the stage.

The earliest players are those whom we've just discussed. Emperor Hui's mother, the Empress Dowager Yang, along with her brother and current Seoul Regent Yang Jun. The father-daughter duo had solidified their power-sharing arrangement by issuing a proclamation that all further imperial edicts would have to be co-signed by the Empress Dowager in order to have the force of law. And very intentionally left out of this power block, and much to her chagrin, was the Empress Jia Nanfeng,

who hadn't spent all this time manipulating her simpleton husband just to be shut out of power, thank you very much. So Empress Jia got busy, enlisting a court eunuch, of course, and two disgruntled generals in her plot against the Yangs. She also wrote to Prince Sima Liang, he who had been meant to share the regency, asking him for his support. But the Prince of Runan declined the invitation. Instead, Mempershah was forced to turn to the Emperor's brother,

Prince Wei of Chu, to aid in her coup plot. Though Prince Wei was at the time stationed in command of Jing province, he was scheduled to return to the capital shortly, and he agreed to help the Empress overthrow Regent Yang upon his return. Prince Wei led his personal army back to the capital, and once his force was inside the city walls, Empress Jia had her husband issue an edict against Regent Yang, accusing him of crimes against the throne and issuing a warrant for his removal from office. But wait, didn't the Empress Dowager have to co-sign the proclamation? Theoretically, yes. But since that particular edict had only just gone into effect, it was still relatively untested.

Suffice it to say, there was enough of a question mark over the whole system to give legal cover to the conspirators. Because, hey, the Emperor told me to do it. What, am I going to say no? Taken by surprise, the Empress Dowager and Regence Young found themselves trapped in the Imperial Palace. In a desperate bid to get reinforcements, the Empress Dowager had orders to assist Yang Jun's defense of the palace affixed to arrows and shot out of the building into the city. But it was to no avail. Napoleon Bonaparte rose from obscurity to become the most powerful and significant figure in modern history. Over 200 years after his death, people are still debating his legacy. He was a man of contradictions, a tyrant and a reformer, a liberator and an oppressor, a revolutionary and a reactionary.

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been associated with a so-called traitor by Empress Jia, the entire Yang clan was rounded up, and some 3,000 were put to death, men, women, and children. As for the Empress Dowager herself, she was stripped of her nobility by the vengeful Empress Jia and rendered a commoner, and ultimately locked away under house arrest without even her personal servants. In despair, she stopped eating or drinking and allowed herself to starve to death. But as has been so often the case for imperial vendettas, death was only the beginning. Fearing that the departed Empress Dowager's spirit would essentially rat out Empress Jia to the spirit of Emperor Wu, she sought to avoid such divine retribution by burying her foe face down and entombed with amulets and herbs designed to lock her spirit within.

With the coup d'etat a resounding, if appallingly resounding success, Empress Xia maintained Prince Wei as the military commander of the capital city and recalled her grand-uncle-in-law, Prince Liang of Runan, to take up his rightful place as regent, this time along the Duke of Lanling, who had long served as the imperial minister of justice. The duke-ho regents surveyed the mess that had been left of them, and then began to try to put these pieces back together again. And one of the first issues to take care of was the rabid dog the Empress had let into the city to do her dirty work, Prince Wei and his army.

They had been deeply disturbed by the reported cruelty Prince Wei had demonstrated in his overthrow of the Youngs, especially the extermination of their entire clan, and as such sought to strip him of his military command and remove him from the capital entirely. But the Empress wasn't about to dismiss her ace in the hole so easily, and ensured that he kept his post and the men under his command. In fact, having now tasted direct power for herself, the Empress began to wonder why she needed a regent at all, and began to view Prince Liang and the Duke of Lanling as relics to be swept away. In the summer of 291, she initiated her second coup in as many years, having her husband personally pen an edict to

Prince Wei, ordering the removal of the regents, Prince Liang and the Duke of Lanling, from their posts. Though both regents did not resist capture and submitted themselves voluntarily to Prince Wei's forces, the military commander demonstrated both his willingness to go against orders and his further brutality by ordering the pair killed, in spite of the imperial edict specifically spelling out that they would remain alive. Along with the regents, Prince Leong's heir and nine of the duke's sons and grandsons were put to the sword. It's at this junction that a real pivot point came for both the Prince of Chu and the Empress. Prince Wei came to the realization that there was no real impediment to him just

doing to the Empress's family what he'd just done to the regents, and then taking power for himself. But at right about the same time, Empress Zhao had recognized that if anyone found out she'd ordered the executions of the imperial regents, she was in deep trouble. And moreover, that the Prince of Wei was a dog that she could not control, and was liable to bite his master's hand if given the chance. As luck would have it, though, the prince hesitated to follow through on his advantage, thus giving the empress the space she needed to declare that Prince Wei had forged the imperial edict himself and that he was a traitor to the throne. At news of this, the prince's armies abandoned him, not wanting to be swept up in charges of treason themselves, and Sima Wei was

quickly captured and sentenced to death. At the execution ground, Prince Wei attempted to plea his case to the official charged with overseeing the killing. He pleaded, honestly, that he had not issued a false imperial edict and was acting under the legitimate orders of the emperor. Sadly, though the official knew this to be true, there was nothing to be done. Going against the empress at this point would have almost certainly have landed him a place right next to the doomed prince. As such, the execution was carried out. Now alone to dominate Emperor Hui, Empress Zhao wielded effectual paramount authority over Jin China. To consolidate her reign, she filled the imperial court with her cousins, nephews, and those few non-family members she trusted. And, surprising precisely nobody, soon devolved into a reign of capricious

violence, indulgent excess, and moral depravity. Though her advisors tried to rein her in, and not the least of her indiscretions was having affairs with numerous men and then later having each of them murdered to ensure their silence, because after all, it's fine if the emperor has 5,000 concubines, but completely beyond the pale if a woman does anything similar. Apart from her excesses, the remainder of the 290s was rather quiet in terms of political strife, and it was only on the eve of the 4th century that the third of our eight princes would bring the Jin government to yet another crisis point. As I had mentioned before, Empress Jia had not and would not ever produce a male heir. As such,

the crown prince, Sima Yu, was the eldest son of one of the emperor's many other consorts at around 20 years old. As a potential threat to her power, Empress Jia took action to depose the heir to the throne in 299, when the prince was at the imperial palace to petition Emperor Hui to name his young grandson an imperial prince. While there, the empress approached the crown prince, and the two of them engaged in a vigorous drinking session, until Prince Yu was absolutely smashed. Then, using

what sounds at least to me like possibly the world's dullest drinking game, Empress Zhao convinced the Crown Prince to copy down texts, and eventually worked in a section about killing the Emperor and Empress and seizing power for himself. The prince, in a drunken stupor, seemed not to have noticed the strange little passage and happily copied it down. Damning statement in hand, the empress presented what appeared to be an airtight case to the Accord officials, fingering the crown prince with conspiracy to murder his own father and usurp the throne. The charges stuck, but though she initially pushed to have him executed, after some pushback by other officials, she reluctantly agreed to merely strip him of his royal titles and reduce him to a commoner. Though given the scope of the allegations,

his own punishment was relatively lenient. Both his mother, Consort Xie, and his own favored consort would pay for this frame-up with their lives. Though he was now greatly disempowered, the former crown prince's role was not quite yet finished. In certain circles of the imperial court, a counter-plot was put into motion aimed at deposing Empress Jia and restoring the crown prince. And into this plot arrived Prince Lun of Zhao, the crown prince's great-granduncle, his tutor, and considered by Empress Jia to be a part of her inner circle of trusted confidants. In truth, though, Sima Lun was as eager as any to be rid of the demented Empress Jia,

but had been convinced by his top advisor to not assist in any direct overthrow. This was because, given his public reputation as a staunch ally of the princess, in all likelihood he'd be out of a job and quite possibly less ahead should the crown prince return to power and exact revenge on the empress's followers. Instead, the prince of Zhao required a different, more unorthodox plan to achieve his objective. Rather than try to depose the Empress with force, her opponents should give her just enough rope to hang herself. And given the vindictive nature of the Empress,

the former crown prince's life seemed the perfect bait. To that end, in the year 300, the Prince of Zhao confided in the Empress and convinced her to finish the job and arrange for the death of Sima Yu. And to be sure, it didn't seem to require much convincing, as Empress Zhao readily dispatched assassins to end the former crown prince. And with his death, the Prince of Zhao's noose had slipped around the Empress's neck fully.

Prince Lan then set his plan into action, producing an edict purportedly from the Emperor himself, though given Zhao's stranglehold on her husband, it was likely a purportedly from the emperor himself, though given Jia's stranglehold on her husband, it was likely a forgery. Technically genuine or not, the edict outed the empress as having ordered the illegal killing of the young former crowned prince. Empress Jia, hoisted by her own petard, was arrested and placed under house arrest, where, in an almost poetic echo of the fate she had inflicted on her predecessor and mother-in-law, she was ultimately forced to suicide later that year.

Sima Lun, Prince of Zhao, ascended to the regency, but wasn't content with playing second fiddle to Emperor Rain Man. He first proclaimed himself the Grand Vizier, and in early 301 declared Emperor Hui had ceded the throne to him. Hui was given the honorific title of Taishang Huang, or Retired Emperor, but tellingly, he was placed under house arrest, and his grandson and heir, Prince Zhang, put to death. Idiot emperor or not, and within the family or no,

overt usurpation was bound to rankle both public opinion, and far more importantly, the hackles of the other princes of the Sima clan. And indeed, in spite of a round of promotions from many officials, and sending emissaries and assistants to the autonomous principalities in an attempt to appease them, first Prince Zhong of Qi, and then followed by the princes of Chengdu and He Jian, which were the deposed Emperor Hui's cousin, brother, and second cousin once removed, respectively, and I will freely admit that I only figured out that last one with the help of Wolfram Alpha, the trio of princes commanded powerful militaries, and united were more than a match

for the forces of the usurper Sima Lun. In a campaign lasting two months and claiming potentially tens of thousands of lives on both sides, it became clear that Sima Lun's was a losing cause. At this realization, officials within the imperial palace likewise turned on Sima Lun, capturing him and delivering him to the victorious columns of the princes of Qi, Chengdu, and Hejian. Prince Lun was forced to commit suicide, and all of his sons and many of his supporters were likewise executed for their father's treachery. After only three months of usurpation, Emperor Hui was restored to the throne to once again contemplate why frogs croak and things like that, this time with the Prince of Qi as his

regent. But if you've been counting along so far, you'll already know that the disorder of the eight princes is not over yet, and at this point, as if it weren't all head-spinning enough already, now things get really complicated. So here's what I've decided to do. Obviously, all these guys have personal names, but it is tough keeping them straight, because they're all of the same clan. Names like Sima Lun, Sima Yong, Sima Ai, Sima Ying, Sima Yue, you get the idea. So to keep things as relatively clear as possible for both you and me, I'll be referring to them by their respective titles,

the Prince of Qi, the Prince of Changsha, etc. But that also gets rather cumbersome and repetitive. So if I start shorthanding it into just Qi, Changsha, and He Jian, just know that I mean the respective princes of those regions, not the regions themselves. Alright, so in 302, the Prince of He Jian declared against know that I mean the respective princes of those regions, not the regions themselves. Alright, so in 302, the prince of He Jian declared against the prince of Qi, raising his army in rebellion and marching on the capital, Luoyang. Though they had just made a common cause against the now dead prince Lun, the three erstwhile allies of necessity were far from

friendly with one another. In fact, the prince of Hejin sought to sow confusion in the defenders of Luoyang and weaken any resistance by allowing reports to be leaked that it was the Prince of Changsha, the Emperor's own brother, who was his informant in the capital. Incensed at the reports, Qi sent his troops to assassinate Changsha, but the plan failed when the prince fled to the imperial palace. Once within, he employed both his personal guard as well as the palace guard to stage a defense as the prince of Qi's military closed in. For three days, the two forces clashed in street

battles in and around the palace before, in a thoroughly unexpected turn of events, the prince of Qi was killed in battle. This outcome was both unforeseen and deeply unpleasant for the Prince of Hejian, who after all had initiated this whole conflict with the intent of entering the capital, killing Qi himself, and replacing the regent with his own favored choice, the Prince of Chengdu. Instead, now Changsha held the regency, and Hejian's whole kasa's belly was rendered moot. But that wasn't nearly enough to give pause to a man as ambitious as the Prince of He Jian. And I should pause for a moment here to note that the princes of Changsha and He Jian were in fact no less than half-brothers, and both brothers of Emperor Hui.

So this wasn't some third cousin twice removed or anything, this was close family. That said, after several attempts to arrange for the assassination of the Prince of Changsha, in the winter of 302, He Jian at last allied himself with the Princes of Chengdu and Donghai and declared against the sitting regent in Luoyang. Combined, the prince's armies numbered upward of 200,000 and possibly as many as 270,000 troops, an absolutely overwhelming force. In response, the regent, Prince of Changsha, was proclaimed the commander-in-chief of the imperial army and dispatched to defeat the rebellious prince's forces and, you know, save his own skin. The two opposing armies

met in battle, and though vastly outnumbered by the rebels, Changsha and the imperial armies managed to hold their own, killing tens of thousands of enemy soldiers, but were at last forced back to the capital due to logistical issues. Nevertheless, once inside, Changsha mounted a tenacious defense along the already almost impossibly fortified walls of Luoyang, and by late 304, had He Jian's armies preparing to break off their attack and retreat to Chang'an. But at this point, things went wonky. In spite of having almost driven the enemy off, the Prince of Donghai and the Imperial Minister of Works despaired and had convinced himself that there was no way Changsha could hope to win.

Convinced of their impending and inevitable defeat, in spite of what was actually going on outside the walls, Donghai kidnapped the Prince of Changsha and delivered him to the invaders, whose general condemned him to death. But before the sentence was carried out, the Prince of Changsha was able to write a letter to his brother the Emperor, for whom he had always felt deep respect and affection in spite of his mental incapacity. He wrote both to say goodbye, but also to warn him of the dangers that lurked all around him.

Quote, Your Majesty appointed me to deal with national affairs. I have been careful, honest, and filially pious. The gods know this to be true. But your other princes have done nothing but think of themselves. Your ministers have been taking bribes and hiding themselves away from the public in their ornate palaces. My own death is of no consequence, End quote. I fear not my fate, only that you may listen to their poisonous counsel at the peril of the nation. End quote.

Unfortunately, the prince of Changsha was not granted a clean death, but instead He Jian's general, in an act of extreme cruelty, had the prince burned alive, and his screams of pain purportedly caused even the enemy army to mourn his fate. Now the dual powers behind the throne, the princes of He Jian and Dong Hai, turn to deal with what seemed to be the only threat left to their permanent ascension, the heir to the throne and yet another brother of the emperor, the prince of Chengdu. To bolster their own forces, He Jian and Dong Hai got the bright idea to rearm and enlist several tribes of the now permanently settled barbarians, including

the Wu Huan and Xiong Nu, an act that will have dire ramifications for the Jin state that we'll discuss in depth next episode. But for now, at least, with the barbarian auxiliary's help, He Jian's forces easily defeated the heir's army in 305, and once again militarily occupied Luoyang. This time, he took possession of Emperor Hui, stripping Chengdu of his status as heir and moving the monarch back to the old capital, Chang'an. Though the Prince of Hejian seemed on the cusp of victory, it should hardly come as a surprise when, once again, betrayal struck. Only this time, it was against him. The prince of Donghai now declared against his

former conspirator and ally, announcing in spite of He Jian officially stripping him of his titles, that he was, quote, rescuing the emperor from his kidnappers and returning him to Luoyang, end quote. The armies of the princes of He Jian and Donghai, respectively, clashed in central Henan. Although He Jian was initially victorious, timely reinforcements from Donghai's cousin, the Prince of Fanyang, helped turn the tide. By 306, Donghai had conquered and sacked Chang'an, while the Prince of He Jian was forced to flee to the nearby Mount Tai Bai, which just so happens to be the tallest mountain in eastern China. Now the latest prince to dominate the imperial court, the prince of Donghai moved

Emperor Hui back to Luoyang. Though he was down, he was not yet out, and He Jian regrouped and counterattacked, quickly recapturing Chang'an. However, he found himself unable to advance much further, and the two sides were forced into a stalemate that would last until 307 with the mysterious death of Emperor Hui at age 48. It is suggested in some sources that the emperor might have been poisoned by his regent and supposed savior Dong Hai. Regardless, Hui would be succeeded by his youngest brother, crowned Prince Ci of Yuzhang, who would be enthroned later that year as Emperor Huai.

And to cap off the last of our eight princely strifes, it ought to be said that while en route to the capital to take part in the new monarch's accession ceremonies, the Prince of Hejian was ambushed and killed by those loyal to the Prince of Donghai. Well, we've covered a lot today, so I think it's best we leave off here.

A new emperor, a new episode. So next time, the new Emperor Huai will attempt to rein in this crazy familial bloodletting. But even bigger problems loom just over the horizon. Proving, as with Rome, that letting your enemies into your gates is almost never a good idea, the five resident barbarian tribes have been watching this little family feud with growing interest. And now having been offered a commission to once again take up arms and fight for one or more of the eight princes,

they'll quickly decide that working for the Jin Chinese doesn't sound nearly as fun as raping, burning, and pillaging them like their ancestors used to. Thank you for listening. Hey, everyone. Hope you enjoyed the show today. Please help us out by popping over to the iTunes Music Store and ranking The History of China. And if, in the spirit of the season, you feel like we've earned it,

please feel free to head over to thehistoryofchina.wordpress.com and click either of our donation links to PayPal or Patreon. Thanks again, and see you next time. The Civil War and Reconstruction was a pivotal era in American history. or Patreon. Thanks again, and see 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.