THE MING DYNASTY
Having expelled the Mongols, Choo assumed the style of Hongwou, and he
gave his dynasty the name of Ming, which signifies "bright." He then
rewarded his generals and officers with titles and pecuniary grants, and
in 1369, the first year of his reign after the capture of Pekin, he
erected a temple or hall in that city in honor of the generals who had
been slain, while vacant places were left for the statues of those
generals who still held command. But while he rewarded his army, Hongwou
very carefully avoided giving his government a military character, knowing
that the Chinese resent the superiority of military officials, and he
devoted his main efforts to placing the civil administration on its old
and national basis. In this he received the cordial support of the Chinese
themselves, who had been kept in the background by their late conquerors,
whose administration was essentially military. Hongwou also patronized
literature, and endowed the celebrated Hanlin College, which was neglected
after the death of Kublai. He at once provided a literary task of great
magnitude in the history of the Yuen dynasty, which was intrusted to a
commission of eighteen writers. But a still greater literary work was
accomplished in the codified Book of Laws, which is known as the Pandects
of Yunglo, and which not merely simplified the administration of the law,
but also gave the people some idea of the laws under which they lived. He
also passed a great measure of gratuitous national education, and, in
order to carry out this reform in a thoroughly successful manner, he
appointed all the masters himself. He also founded many public libraries,
and he wished to establish one in every town, but this was beyond the
extent of his power. Not content with providing for the minds of his
subjects, Hongwou did his utmost to supply the needs of the aged. He cut
down the court expenses and issued sumptuary laws, so that he might devote
the sums thus economized to the support of the aged and sick. His last
instructions to the new officials, on proceeding to their posts, were to
"take particular care of the aged and the orphan." Thus did he show that
the Chinese had found in him a ruler who would revive the ancient glories
of the kingdom.
The frugality and modesty of his court have already been referred to. The
later Mongols were fond of a lavish display, and expended large sums on
banquets and amusements. At Pekin one of their emperors had erected in the
grounds of the palace a lofty tower of porcelain, at enormous expense, and
had arranged an ingenious contrivance at its base for denoting the time.
Two statues sounded a bell and struck a drum at every hour. When Hongwou
saw this edifice, he exclaimed, "How is it possible for men to neglect the
most important affairs of life for the sole object of devoting their
attention to useless buildings? If the Mongols in place of amusing
themselves with these trifles had applied their energies to the task of
contenting the people, would they not have preserved the scepter in their
family?" He then ordered that this building should be razed to the ground.
Nor did this action stand alone. He reduced the size of the harem
maintained by all the Chinese as well as the Mongol rulers, and he
instituted a rigid economy in all matters of state ceremonial. Changtu,
the Xanadu of Coleridge, the famous summer palace of Kublai, had been
destroyed during the campaigns with the Mongols, and Hongwou
systematically discouraged any attempt to embellish the northern capital,
Pekin, which, under the Kin and Yuen dynasties, had become identified with
foreign rulers. Pekin, during the whole of the Ming dynasty, was only a
second-rate city, and all the attention of the Ming rulers was given to
the embellishment of Nankin, the truly national capital of China.
The expulsion of the Mongols beyond the Great Wall and the death of
Chunti, the last of the Yuen emperors, by no means ended the struggle
between the Chinese and their late northern conquerors. The whole of the
reign of Hongwou was taken up with a war for the supremacy of his
authority and the security of his frontiers, in which he, indeed, took
little personal part, but which was carried on under his directions by his
great generals, Suta and Fuyuta. The former of these generals was engaged
for nearly twenty years, from 1368 to 1385, in constant war with the
Mongols. His first campaign, fought when the Chinese were in the full
flush of success, resulted in the brilliant and almost bloodless conquest
of the province of Shansi. The neighboring province of Shensi, which is
separated from the other by the river Hoangho, was at the time held by a
semi-independent Mongol governor named Lissechi, who believed that he
could hold his ground against the Mings. The principal fact upon which
this hope was based was the breadth and assumed impassability of that
river. Lissechi believed that this natural advantage would enable him to
hold out indefinitely against the superior numbers of the Chinese armies.
But his hope was vain if not unreasonable. The Chinese crossed the Hoangho
on a bridge of junks, and Tsinyuen, which Lissechi had made his capital,
surrendered without a blow. Lissechi abandoned one fortress after another
on the approach of Suta. Expelled from Shensi he hoped to find shelter and
safety in the adjoining province of Kansuh, where he took up his residence
at Lintao. For a moment the advance of the Chinese army was arrested while
a great council of war was held to decide the further course of the
campaign. The majority of the council favored the suggestion that did not
involve immediate action, and wished Suta to abandon the pursuit of
Lissechi and complete the conquest of Shensi, where several fortresses
still held out. But Suta was of a more resolute temper, and resolved to
ignore the decision of the council and to pursue Lissechi to Lintao. The
vigor of Suta's decision was matched by the rapidity of his march. Before
Lissechi had made any arrangements to stand a siege he found himself
surrounded at Lintao by the Ming army. In this plight he was obliged to
throw himself on the mercy of the victor, who sent him to the capital,
where Hongwou granted him his life and a small pension.
The overthrow of Lissechi prepared the way for the more formidable
enterprise against Ninghia, where the Mongols had drawn their remaining
power to a head. Ninghia, the old capital of Tangut, is situated in the
north of Kansuh, on the western bank of the Hoangho, and the Great Wall
passes through it. Strongly fortified and admirably placed, the Mongols,
so long as they possessed this town with its gates through the Great Wall,
might hope to recover what they had lost, and to make a fresh bid for
power in Northern China. North and west of Ninghia stretched the desert,
but while it continued in their possession the Mongols remained on the
threshold of China and held open a door through which their kinsmen from
the Amour and Central Asia might yet re-enter to revive the feats of
Genghis and Bayan. Suta determined to gain this place as speedily as
possible. Midway between Lintao and Ninghia is the fortified town of
Kingyang, which was held by a strong Mongol garrison. Suta laid close
siege to this town, the governor of which had only time to send off a
pressing appeal for aid to Kuku Timour, the governor at Ninghia, before he
was shut in on all sides by the Ming army. Kuku Timour apparently did his
best to aid his compatriot, but his forces were not sufficient to oppose
those of Suta in the open field, and Kingyang was at last reduced to such
straits that the garrison is said to have been compelled to use the slain
as food. At last the place made an unconditional surrender, and the
commandant was executed, not on account of his stubborn defense, but
because at the beginning of the siege he had said he would surrender and
had not kept his word. After the fall of Kingyang the Chinese troops were
granted a well-earned rest, and Suta visited Nankin to describe the
campaign to Hongwou.
The departure of Suta emboldened Kuku Timour so far as to lead him to take
the field, and he hastened to attack the town of Lanchefoo, the capital of
Kansuh, where there was only a small garrison. Notwithstanding this the
place offered a stout resistance, but the Mongols gained a decisive
success over a body of troops sent to its relief. This force was
annihilated and its general taken prisoner. The Mongols thought to terrify
the garrison by parading this general, whose name should be preserved,
Yukwang, before the walls, but he baffled their purpose by shouting out,
"Be of good courage, Suta is coming to your rescue." Yukwang was cut to
pieces, but his timely and courageous exclamation, like that of D'Assas,
saved his countrymen. Soon after this incident Suta reached the scene of
action, and on his approach Kuku Timour broke up his camp and retired to
Ninghia. The Chinese commander then hastened to occupy the towns of
Souchow and Kia-yu-kwan, important as being the southern extremity of the
Great Wall, and as isolating Ninghia on the west. Their loss was so
serious that the Mongol chief felt compelled to risk a general engagement.
The battle was keenly contested, and at one moment it seemed as if success
was going to declare itself in favor of the Mongols. But Suta had sent a
large part of his force to attack the Mongol rear, and when this movement
was completely executed, he assailed the Mongol position at the head of
all his troops. The struggle soon became a massacre, and it is said that
as many as 80,000 Mongols were slain, while Kuku Timour, thinking Ninghia
no longer safe, fled northward to the Amour. The success of Suta was
heightened and rendered complete by the capture of a large number of the
ex-Mongol ruling family by Ly Wenchong, another of the principal generals
of Hongwou. Among the prisoners was the eldest grandson of Chunti, and
several of the ministers advised that he should be put to death. But
Hongwou instead conferred on him a minor title of nobility, and expressed
his policy in a speech equally creditable to his wisdom as a statesman and
his heart as a man:
"The last ruler of the Yuens took heed only of his pleasures. The great,
profiting by his indolence, thought of nothing save of how to enrich
themselves; the public treasures being exhausted by their malpractices, it
needed only a few years of dearth to reduce the people to distress, and
the excessive tyranny of those who governed them led to the forming of
parties which disturbed the empire even to its foundations. Touched by the
misfortunes with which I saw them oppressed, I took up arms, not so much
against the Yuens as against the rebels who were engaged in war with them.
It was over the same foe that I gained my first successes. And if the Yuen
prince had not departed from the rules of wise government in order to give
himself up to his pleasures, and had the magnates of his court performed
their duty, would all honorable men have taken up arms as they did and
declared against him? The misconduct of the race brought me a large number
of partisans who were convinced of the rectitude of my intentions, and it
was from their hands and not from those of the Yuens that I received the
empire. If Heaven had not favored me should I have succeeded in destroying
with such ease those who withdrew into the desert of Shamo? We read in the
Chiking that after the destruction of the Chang family there remained more
than ten thousand of their descendants who submitted themselves to the
Chow, because it was the will of Heaven. Cannot men respect its decrees?
Let them put in the public treasure-house all the spoil brought back from
Tartary, so that it may serve to alleviate the people's wants. And with
regard to Maitilipala (Chunti's grandson), although former ages supply
examples of similar sacrifice, did Wou Wang, I ask you, when exterminating
the Chang family, resort to this barbarous policy? The Yuen princes were
the masters of this empire for nearly one hundred years, and my
forefathers were their subjects, and even although it were the constant
practice to treat in this fashion the princes of a dynasty which has
ceased to reign, yet could I not induce myself to adopt it."
These noble sentiments, to which there is nothing contradictory in the
whole life of Hongwou, would alone place his reign high among the most
civilizing and humanly interesting epochs in Chinese history. To his
people he appeared as a real benefactor as well as a just prince. He was
ever studious of their interests, knowing that their happiness depended on
what might seem trivial matters, as well as in showy feats of arms and
high policy. He simplified the transit of salt, that essential article of
life, to provinces where its production was scanty, and when dearth fell
on the land he devoted all the resources of his treasury to its
mitigation. His thoughtfulness for his soldiers was shown by sending fur
coats to all the soldiers in garrison at Ninghia where the winter was
exceptionally severe. A final instance of his justice and consideration
may be cited in his ordering certain Mongol colonies established in
Southern China, to whom the climate proved uncongenial, to be sent back at
his expense to their northern homes, when his ministers exhorted him to
proceed to extremities against them and to root them out by fire and
sword.
The pacification of the northern borders was followed by the dispatch of
troops into the southern provinces of Szchuen and Yunnan, where officials
appointed by the Mongols still exercised authority. One of these had
incurred the wrath of Hongwou by assuming a royal style and proclaiming
himself King of Hia. He was soon convinced of the folly of taking a title
which he had not the power to maintain, and the conquest of Szchuen was so
easily effected that it would not call for mention if it were not rendered
interesting as providing Hongwou's other great general Fuyuta with the
first opportunity of displaying his skill as a commander. The self-created
King of Hia presented himself laden with chains at the Chinese camp and
begged the favor of his life. The conquest of Szchuen was little more than
completed when the attention of Hongwou was again directed to the
northwest frontier, where Kuku Timour was making one more effort to
recover the footing he had lost on the fringe of the Celestial Empire, and
for a time fortune favored his enterprise. Even when Suta arrived upon the
scene and took the command of the Chinese forces in person, the Mongols
more than held their own. Twice did Suta attack the strong position taken
up by the Mongol chief in the desert, and twice was his assault repulsed
with heavy loss. A detachment under one of his lieutenants was surprised
in the desert and annihilated. Supplies were difficult to obtain, and
discouraged by defeat and the scarcity of food the Chinese army was placed
in an extremely dangerous position. Out of this dilemma it was rescued by
the heroic Fuyuta, who, on the news of the Mongol recrudescence, had
marched northward at the head of the army with which he had conquered
Szchuen. He advanced boldly into the desert, operated on the flank and in
the rear of Kuku Timour, vanquished the Mongols in many engagements, and
so monopolized their attention that Suta was able to retire in safety and
without loss. The war terminated with the Chinese maintaining all their
posts on the frontier, and the retreat of the Mongols, who had suffered
too heavy a loss to feel elated at their repulse of Suta. At the same time
no solid peace had been obtained, and the Mongols continued to harass the
borders, and to exact blackmail from all who traversed the desert. When
Hongwou endeavored to attain a settlement by a stroke of policy his
efforts were not more successful. His kind reception of the Mongol Prince
Maitilipala has been referred to, and about the year 1374 he sent him back
to Mongolia, in the hope that he would prove a friendly neighbor on his
father's death. The gratitude of Maitilipala seems to have been
unaffected; but, although he was the legitimate heir, the Mongols refused
to recognize him as Khan on the death of his father. Gradually
tranquillity settled down on those borders. The Chinese officials were
content to leave the Mongols alone, and the Mongols abandoned their
customary raids into Chinese territory. The death of Kuku Timour was
followed by the abandonment of all ideas of reviving Mongol authority in
China. Not long after that event died the great general, Suta, of whom the
national historians give the following glowing description which merits
preservation: "Suta spoke little and was endowed with great penetration.
He was always on good terms with the generals acting with him, sharing the
good and bad fortune alike of his soldiers, of whom there was not one who,
touched by his kindness, would not have done his duty to the death. He was
not less pronounced in his modesty. He had conquered a capital, three
provinces, several hundred towns, and on the very day of his return to
court from these triumphs he went without show and without retinue to his
own house, received there some learned professors and discussed various
subjects with them. Throughout his life he was in the presence of the
emperor respectful, and so reserved that one might have doubted his
capacity to speak." Hongwou was in the habit of speaking thus in his
praise: "My orders received, he forthwith departed; his task accomplished,
he returned without pride and without boasting. He loves not women, he
does not amass wealth. A man of strict integrity, without the slightest
stain, as pure and clear as the sun and moon, there is none like my first
general Suta."
Hongwou had the satisfaction of restoring amicable relations with the King
of Corea, a state in which the Chinese have always taken naturally enough
a great interest from its proximity, as well as from an apprehension that
the Japanese might make use of it as a vantage ground for the invasion of
the continent. The King of Corea sent a formal embassy to Nankin, and when
he died his son asked for and received investiture in his authority with
the royal yellow robes at the hands of the Ming ruler. During this period
it will be convenient here to note that the ruling power in Corea passed
from the old royal family to the minister Li Chungwei, who was the
ancestor of the present king. The last military episode of the reign of
Hongwou was the conquest of Yunnan, which had been left over after the
recovery of Szchuen, in consequence of the fresh outbreak of the Mongols
in the north. This task was intrusted to Fuyuta, who at the head of an
army of 100,000 men, divided into two corps, invaded Yunnan. The prince of
that state offered the utmost resistance he could, but in the one great
battle of the war his army fighting bravely was overthrown, and he was
compelled to abandon his capital. The conquest of Yunnan completed the
pacification of the empire, and the authority of Hongwou was unchallenged
from the borders of Burmah to the Great Wall and the Corean frontier. The
population of the empire thus restored did not much exceed sixty millions.
The last ten years of the reign of Hongwou were passed in tranquillity,
marred by only one unpleasant incident, the mutiny of a portion of his
army under an ambitious general. The plot was discovered in good time, but
it is said that the emperor did not consider the exigencies of the case to
be met until he had executed twenty thousand of the mutineers.
In 1398 Hongwou was attacked with the illness which ended his life. He was
then in his seventy-first year, and had reigned more than thirty years
since his proclamation of the Ming dynasty at Nankin. The Emperor Keen
Lung, in his history of the Mings, states that Hongwou possessed most of
the virtues and few of the vices of mankind. He was brave, patient under
suffering, far-seeing, studious of his people's welfare, and generous and
forbearing toward his enemies. It is not surprising that he succeeded in
establishing the Ming dynasty on a firm and popular basis, and that his
family have been better beloved in China than any dynasty with the
possible exception of the Hans. In his will, which is a remarkable
document, he recites the principal events of his reign, how he had
"pacified the empire and restored its ancient splendor." With the view of
providing for the stability of his empire, he chose as his successor his
grandson Chuwen, because he had remarked in him much prudence, a gentle
disposition, good intelligence, and a readiness to accept advice. He also
selected him because he was the eldest son of his eldest son, and as his
other sons might be disposed to dispute their nephew's authority he
ordered them to remain at their posts, and not to come to the capital on
his death. They were also enjoined to show the new emperor all the respect
and docility owed by subjects to their sovereign. Through these timely
precautions Chuwen, who was only sixteen years of age, was proclaimed
emperor without any opposition, and took the title of Kien Wenti.
Hongwou had rightly divined that his sons might prove a thorn in the side
of his successor, and his policy of employing them in posts at a distance
from the capital was only half successful in attaining its object. If it
kept them at a distance it also strengthened their feeling of
independence, and enabled them to collect their forces without attracting
much attention. Wenti, as it is most convenient to call the new emperor,
felt obliged to send formal invitations to his uncles to attend the
obsequies of their father. Most of them had the tact to perceive that the
invitation was dictated by regard for decency, and not by a wish that it
should be accepted, and gave the simplest excuse for not attending the
funeral. But Ty, Prince of Yen, the most powerful and ambitious of them
all, declared that he accepted the emperor's invitation. This decision
raised quite a flutter of excitement, almost amounting to consternation,
at Nankin, where the Prince of Yen was regarded as a bitter and vindictive
enemy. The only way Wenti saw out of this dilemma was to send his uncle a
special intimation that his presence at the capital would not be
desirable. Before he had been many weeks on the throne Wenti was thus
brought into open conflict with the most powerful and ambitious of all his
relatives. He resolved, under the advice of his ministers, to treat all
his uncles as his enemies, and he sent his officers with armies at their
back to depose them, and bring them as prisoners to his court. Five of his
uncles were thus summarily dealt with, one committed suicide, and the
other four were degraded to the rank of the people. But the Prince of Yen
was too formidable to be tackled in this fashion. Taking warning from the
fate of his brothers, he collected all the troops he could, prepared to
defend his position against the emperor, and issued a proclamation stating
that it was lawful for subjects to revolt for the purpose of removing the
pernicious advisers of the sovereign. The last was, he announced, the
cause of his taking up arms, and he disclaimed any motive of ambitious
turbulence for raising his standard. He said, "I am endeavoring to avert
the ruin of my family, and to maintain the emperor on a throne which is
placed in jeopardy by the acts of traitors. My cause ought, therefore, to
be that of all those who keep the blood of the great Hong-wou, now falsely
aspersed, in affectionate remembrance." A large number of the inhabitants
of the northern provinces joined his side, and proclaimed him as "The
Prince." Wenti had recourse to arms to bring his uncle back to his
allegiance, and a civil war began, which was carried on, with exceptional
bitterness, during five years. The resources of the emperor, in men and
money, were the superior, but he did not seem able to turn them to good
account; and the prince's troops were generally victorious, and his power
gradually increased. In the year 1401 both sides concentrated all their
strength for deciding the contest by a single trial of arms. The two
armies numbered several hundred thousand men, and it is stated that the
imperial force alone mustered 600,000 strong. The battle--which was fought
at Techow in Shantung--considering the numbers engaged, it is not
surprising to learn, lasted several days, and its fortune alternated from
one side to the other. At last victory declared for the prince, and the
imperial army was driven in rout from the field with the loss of 100,000
men.
After this great victory the further progress of the prince was arrested
by a capable general named Chinyong, who succeeded in gaining one great
victory. If Wenti had known how to profit by this success he might have
turned the course of the struggle permanently in his own favor. But
instead of profiting by his good fortune, Wenti, believing that all danger
from the prince was at an end, resumed his old practices, and reinstated
two of the most obnoxious of his ministers, whom he had disgraced in a fit
of apprehension. Undoubtedly this step raised against him a fresh storm of
unpopularity, and at the same time brought many supporters to his uncle,
who, even after the serious disaster described, found himself stronger
than he had been before. The struggle must have shown little signs of a
decisive issue, for in 1402 the prince made a voluntary offer of peace,
with a view to putting an end to all strife and of giving the empire
peace; but Wenti could not make up his mind to forgive him. The success of
his generals in the earlier part of the struggle seemed to warrant the
belief that there was no reason in prudence for coming to terms with his
rebellious uncle, and that he would succeed in establishing his
indisputable supremacy. The prince seemed reduced to such straits that he
had to give his army the option of retreat. Addressing his soldiers he
said: "I know how to advance, but not to retreat"; but his army decided to
return to their homes in the north, when the extraordinary and unexpected
retreat of the greater part of the army of Wenti revived their courage and
induced them to follow their leader through one more encounter. Like
Frederick the Great, the Prince of Yen was never greater than in defeat.
He surprised the lately victorious army of Wenti, smashed it in pieces,
and captured Tingan, the emperor's best general. The occupation of Nankin
and the abdication of Wenti followed this victory in rapid succession.
Afraid to trust himself to the mercy of his relative, he fled, disguised
as a priest, to Yunnan, where he passed his life ignominiously for forty
years, and his identity was only discovered after that lapse of time by
his publishing, in his new character of a Buddhist priest, a poem reciting
and lamenting the misfortunes of Wenti. Then he was removed to Pekin,
where he died in honorable confinement. As a priest he seems to have been
more fortunate than as a ruler, and history contains no more striking
example of happiness being found in a private station when unattainable on
a throne.
After some hesitation the Prince of Yen allowed himself to be proclaimed
emperor, and as such he is best known as Yonglo, a name signifying
"Eternal Joy." Considering his many declarations that his only ambition
was to reform and not to destroy the administration of his nephew, his
first act obliterating the reign of Wenti from the records and
constituting himself the immediate successor of Hongwou was not calculated
to support his alleged indifference to power. He was scarcely seated on
the throne before he was involved in serious troubles on both his northern
and his southern frontiers. In Mongolia he attempted to assert a formal
supremacy over the khans through the person of an adventurer named
Kulitchi, but the agent was unable to fulfill his promises, and met with a
speedy overthrow. In Tonquin an ambitious minister named Likimao deposed
his master and established himself as ruler in his place. The emperor sent
an army to bring him to his senses, and it met with such rapid success
that the Chinese were encouraged to annex Tonquin and convert it into a
province of the empire. When Yonglo's plans failed on the steppe he was
drawn into a struggle with the Mongols, which necessitated annual
expeditions until he died. During the last of these he advanced as far as
the Kerulon, and on his return march he died in his camp at the age of
sixty-five. Although he bore arms so long against the head of the state
there is no doubt that he greatly consolidated the power of the Mings,
which he extended on one side to the Amour and on the other to the
Songcoi. It was during his reign that Tamerlane contemplated the
reconquest of China, and perhaps it was well for Yonglo that that great
commander died when he had traversed only a few stages of his march to the
Great Wall. One of his sons succeeded Yonglo as emperor, but he only
reigned under the style of Gintsong for a few months.
Then Suentsong, the son of Gintsong, occupied the throne, and during his
reign a vital question affecting the constitution of the civil service,
and through it the whole administration of the country, was brought
forward, and fortunately settled without recourse to blows, as was at one
time feared would be the case. Before his reign the public examinations
had been open to candidates from all parts of the empire, and it had
become noticeable that all the honors were being carried off by students
from the southern provinces, who were of quicker intelligence than those
of the north. It seemed as if in the course of a short time all the posts
would be held by them, and that the natives of the provinces north of the
Hoangho would be gradually driven out of the service. Naturally this
marked tendency led to much agitation in the north, and a very bitter
feeling was spreading when Suentsong and his minister took up the matter
and proceeded to apply a sound practical remedy. After a commission of
inquiry had certified to the reality of the evil, Suentsong decreed that
all competitors for literary honors should be restricted to their native
districts, and that for the purpose of the competitive examinations China
should be divided into three separate divisions, one for the north,
another for the center, and the third for the south. The firmness shown by
the Emperor Suentsong in this matter was equally conspicuous in his
dealings with an uncle, who showed some inclination to revolt. He took the
field in person, and before the country was generally aware of the revolt,
Suentsong was conducting his relative to a state prison. The rest of
Suentsong's reign was peaceful and prosperous, and he left the crown to
his son, Yngtsong, a child eight years old.
During his minority the governing authority was exercised by his
grandmother, the Empress Changchi, the mother of the Emperor Suentsong. At
first it seemed as if there would be a struggle for power between her and
the eunuch Wangchin, who had gained the affections of the young emperor;
but after she had denounced him before the court and called for his
execution, from which fate he was only rescued by the tears and
supplications of the young sovereign, the feud was composed by Wangchin
gaining such an ascendency over the empress that she made him her
associate in the regency. Unfortunately Wangchin did not prove a wise or
able administrator. He thought more of the sweets of office than of the
duties of his lofty station. He appointed his relations and creatures to
the highest civil and military posts without regard to their
qualifications or ability. To his arrogance was directly due the
commencement of a disastrous war with Yesien, the most powerful of the
Mongol chiefs of the day. When that prince sent the usual presents to the
Chinese capital, and made the customary request for a Chinese princess as
wife, Wangchin appropriated the gifts for himself and sent back a haughty
refusal to Yesien's petition, although it was both customary and rarely
refused. Such a reception was tantamount to a declaration of war, and
Yesien, who had already been tempted by the apparent weakness of the
Chinese frontier to resume the raids which were so popular with the
nomadic tribes of the desert, gathered his fighting men together and
invaded China. Alarmed by the storm he had raised, Wangchin still
endeavored to meet it, and summoning all the garrisons in the north to his
aid, he placed himself at the head of an army computed to number half a
million of men. In the hope of inspiring his force with confidence he took
the boy-emperor, Yngtsong, with him, but his own incompetence nullified
the value of numbers, and rendered the presence of the emperor the cause
of additional ignominy instead of the inspiration of invincible
confidence. The vast and unwieldy Chinese army took up a false position at
a place named Toumon, and it is affirmed that the position was so bad that
Yesien feared that it must cover a ruse. He accordingly sent some of his
officers to propose an armistice, but really to inspect the Chinese lines.
They returned to say that there was no concealment, and that if an attack
were made at once the Chinese army lay at his mercy. Yesien delayed not a
moment in delivering his attack, and it was completely successful. The
very numbers of the Chinese, in a confined position, added to their
discomfiture, and after a few hours' fighting the battle became a massacre
and a rout. Wangchin, the cause of all this ruin, was killed by Fanchong,
the commander of the imperial guards, and the youthful ruler, Yngtsong,
was taken prisoner. There has rarely been a more disastrous day in the
long annals of the Chinese empire than the rout at Toumon.
Then Yesien returned to his camp on the Toula, taking his prisoner with
him, and announcing that he would only restore him for a ransom of 100
taels of gold, 200 taels of silver, and 200 pieces of the finest silk. For
some unknown reason the Empress Changchi did not feel disposed to pay this
comparatively low ransom, and instead of reclaiming Yngtsong from his
conqueror she placed his brother, Kingti, on the throne. The struggle with
the Mongols under Yesien continued, but his attention was distracted from
China by his desire to become the great Khan of the Mongols, a title still
held by his brother-in-law, Thotho Timour, of the House of Genghis.
Yesien, suddenly releasing of his own accord Yngtsong--who returned to
Pekin--hastened to the Kerulon country, where he overthrew and
assassinated Thotho Timour, and was in turn himself slain by another
chieftain. While the Mongol was thus pursuing his own ambition, and
reaching the violent death which forms so common a feature in the history
of his family, the unfortunate Yngtsong returned to China, where, on the
refusal of his brother Kingti to resign the throne, he sank quietly into
private life. Kingti died seven years after his brother's return, and
then, failing a better or nearer prince, Yngtsong was brought from his
confinement and restored to the throne. He reigned eight years after his
restoration, but he never possessed any real power, his authority being
wielded by unscrupulous ministers, who stained his reign by the execution
of Yukien, the most honest and capable general of the period. If his reign
was not remarkable for political or military vigor, some useful reforms
appear to have been instituted. Among others may be named the formation of
state farms on waste or confiscated lands, the establishment of military
schools for teaching archery and horsemanship, and the completion of some
useful and elaborate educational works, of which a geography of China, in
ninety volumes, is the most famous.
Yngtsong died in the year 1465, and was succeeded by his son, Hientsong,
who began his reign with acts of filial devotion that attracted the
sympathy of his subjects. He also rendered posthumous honors to the ill-
used general, Yukien, and established his fame as a national benefactor.
During the twenty-eight years that he occupied the throne he was engaged
in a number of petty wars, none of which requires specific mention. The
only unpopular measure associated with his name was the creation of a
Grand Council of Eunuchs, to which was referred all questions of capital
punishment, and this body soon acquired a power which made it resemble the
tyrannical and irresponsible British Star Chamber. After five years this
institution became so unpopular and was so deeply execrated by the nation
that Hientsong, however reluctantly, had to abolish his own creation, and
acquiesce in the execution of some of its most active members.
During Hientsong's reign a systematic attempt was made to work the gold
mines reputed to exist in Central China, but although half a million men
were employed upon them it is stated that the find did not exceed thirty
ounces. More useful work was accomplished in the building of a canal from
Pekin to the Peiho, which thus enabled grain junks to reach the northern
capital by the Euho and Shaho canals from the Yangtsekiang. Another useful
public work was the repairing of the Great Wall, effected along a
considerable portion of its extent, by the efforts of 50,000 soldiers,
which gave the Chinese a sense of increased security. In connection with
this measure of defense, it may be stated that the Chinese advanced into
Central Asia and occupied the town of Hami, which then and since has
served them as a useful watch-tower in the direction of the west. The
death of Hientsong occurred in 1487, at a moment when the success and
prosperity of the country under the Mings may be described as having
reached its height.
During the reign of his son and successor, Hiaotsong, matters progressed
peacefully, for, although there was some fighting for the possession of
Hami, which was coveted by several of the desert chiefs, but which
remained during the whole of this reign subject to China, the empire was
not involved in any great war. An insurrection of the black aborigines of
the island of Hainan was put down without any very serious difficulty.
These events do not throw any very clear light on the character and
personality of Hiaotsong, who died in 1505 at the early age of thirty-six;
but his care for his people, and his desire to alleviate the misfortunes
that might befall his subjects, was shown by his ordering every district
composed of ten villages to send in annually to a State granary, a
specified quantity of grain, until 100,000 bushels had been stored in
every such building throughout the country. The idea was an excellent one;
but it is to be feared that a large portion of this grain was diverted to
the use of the peculating officials, whence arose the phrase, "The emperor
is full of pity, but the Court of Finance is like the never-dying worm
which devours the richest crops." To Hiaotsong succeeded his son,
Woutsong, during whose reign many misfortunes fell upon the land. The
emperor's uncles had designs on his authority, but these fell through and
came to naught, rather through Woutsong's good fortune than the excellence
of his arrangements. In Szchuen a peasant war threatened to assume the
dimensions of a rebellion, and in Pechihli bands of mounted robbers, or
Hiangmas, raided the open country. He succeeded in suppressing these
revolts, but his indifference to the disturbed state of his realm was
shown by his passing most of his time in hunting expeditions beyond the
Great Wall. His successors were to reap the result of this neglect of
business for the pursuit of pleasure; and when he died in 1519, without
leaving an heir, the outlook was beginning to look serious for the Ming
dynasty. One event, and perhaps the most important of Woutsong's reign,
calls for special mention, and that is the arrival at Canton of the first
native of Europe to reach China by sea. Of course it will be recollected
that Marco Polo and others reached the Mongol court by land, although the
Venetian sailed from China on his embassy to southern India. In 1511,
Raphael Perestralo sailed from Malacca to China, and in 1517 the
Portuguese officer, Don Fernand Perez D'Andrade, arrived in the Canton
River with a squadron, and was favorably received by the mandarins.
D'Andrade visited Pekin, where he resided for some time as embassador. The
commencement of intercourse between Europeans and China was thus effected
most auspiciously; and it might have continued so but that a second
Portuguese fleet appeared in Chinese waters, and committed there numerous
outrages and acts of piracy. Upon this D'Andrade was arrested by order of
Woutsong, and after undergoing imprisonment, was executed by his successor
in 1523. It was a bad beginning for a connection which, after nearly four
hundred years, is neither as stable nor as general as the strivers after
perfection could desire.
The death of Woutsong without children, or any recognized heir, threatened
to involve the realm in serious dangers; but the occasion was so critical
that the members of the Ming family braced themselves to it, and under the
auspices of the Empress Changchi, the widow of the late ruler, a secret
council was held, when the grandson of the Emperor Hientsong, a youth of
fourteen, was placed on the throne under the name of Chitsong. It is said
that his mother gave him good advice on being raised from a private
station to the lofty eminence of emperor, and that she told him that he
was about to accept a heavy burden; but experience showed that he was
unequal to it. Still, his shortcomings were preferable to a disputed
succession. The earlier years of his reign were marked by some successes
over the Tartars, and he received tribute from chiefs who had never paid
it before. But Chitsong had little taste for the serious work of
administration. He showed himself superstitious in matters of religion,
and he cultivated poetry, and may even have persuaded himself that he was
a poet. But he did not pay any heed to the advice of those among his
ministers who urged him to take a serious view of his position, and to act
in a manner worthy of his dignity. It is clear that his influence on the
lot of his people, and even on the course of his country's history, was
small, and such reigns as his inspire the regret expressed at there being
no history of the Chinese people; but such a history is impossible.
It might be more instructive to trace the growth of thought among the
masses, or to indicate the progress of civil and political freedom; yet,
not only do the materials not exist for such a task, but those we possess
all tend to show that there has been no growth to describe, no progress to
be indicated, during these comparatively recent centuries. It is the
peculiar and distinguishing characteristic of Chinese history that the
people and their institutions have remained practically unchanged and the
same from a very early period. Even the introduction of a foreign element
has not tended to disturb the established order of things. The supreme
ruler possesses the same attributes and discharges the same functions; the
governing classes are chosen in the same manner; the people are bound in
the same state of servitude, and enjoy the same practical liberty; all is
now as it was. Neither under the Tangs nor the Sungs, under the Yuens nor
the Mings, was there any change in national character or in political
institutions to be noted or chronicled. The history of the empire has
always been the fortunes of the dynasty, which has depended, in the first
place, on the passive content of the subjects, and, in the second, on the
success or failure of its external and internal wars. This condition of
things may be disappointing to those who pride themselves on tracing the
origin of a constitution and the growth of civil rights, and also would
have a history of China a history of the Chinese people; although the fact
is undoubted that there is no history of the Chinese people apart from
that of their country to be recorded. The national institutions and
character were formed, and had attained in all essentials their present
state, more than two thousand years ago, or before the destruction of all
trustworthy materials for the task by the burning of the ancient
literature and chronicles of China. Without them we must fain content
ourselves with the history of the country and the empire.
Chitsong was engaged in three serious operations beyond his frontier, one
with a Tartar chief named Yenta, another with the Japanese, and the third
in Cochin China. Yenta was of Mongol extraction, and enjoyed supreme power
on the borders of Shansi. His brother was chief of the Ordus tribe, which
dwells within the Chinese frontier. Changtu, the old residence of Kublai,
was one of his camps, and it was said that he could bring 100,000 horsemen
into the field. The success of his raids carried alarm through the
province of Shansi, and during one of them he laid siege to the capital,
Taiyuen. Then the emperor placed a reward on his head and offered an
official post to the person who would rid him of his enemy by
assassination. The offer failed to bring forward either a murderer or a
patriot, and Yenta's hostility was increased by the personal nature of
this attack, and perhaps by the apprehension of a sinister fate. He
invaded China on a larger scale than ever, and carried his ravages to the
southern extremity of Shansi, and returned laden with the spoil of forty
districts, and bearing with him 200,000 prisoners to a northern captivity.
After this success Yenta seems to have rested on his laurels, although he
by no means gave up his raids, which, however, assumed more and more a
local character. The Chinese annalists state that never was the frontier
more disturbed, and even the establishment of horse fairs for the benefit
of the Mongols failed to keep them quiet. In Cochin China the emperor
gained some gratifying if not very important successes, and asserted his
right as suzerain over several disobedient princes. But a more serious and
less satisfactory question had to be settled on the side of Japan.
The Japanese had never forgiven the formidable and unprovoked invasion of
their country by Kublai Khan. The Japanese are by nature a military
nation, and the Chinese writers themselves describe them as "intrepid,
inured to fatigue, despising life, and knowing well how to face death;
although inferior in number a hundred of them would blush to flee before a
thousand foreigners, and if they did they would not dare to return to
their country. Sentiments such as these, which are instilled into them
from their earliest childhood, render them terrible in battle." Emboldened
by their success over the formidable Mongols the Japanese treated the
Chinese with contempt, and fitted out piratical expeditions from time to
time with the object of preying on the commerce and coasting towns of
China. To guard against the descents of these enterprising islanders the
Chinese had erected towers of defense along the coast, and had called out
a militia which was more or less inefficient. On the main they did not so
much as attempt to make a stand against their neighbors, whose war junks
exercised undisputed authority on the Eastern Sea. While this strife
continued a trade also sprang up between the two peoples, who share in an
equal degree the commercial instinct; but as the Chinese government only
admitted Japanese goods when brought by the embassador, who was sent every
ten years from Japan, this trade could only be carried on by smuggling. A
regular system was adopted to secure the greatest success and profit. The
Japanese landed their goods on some island off the coast, whence the
Chinese removed them at a safe and convenient moment to the mainland. The
average value of the cargo of one of the small junks which carried on this
trade is said to have been $20,000, so that it may be inferred that the
profits were considerable. But the national antipathies would not be
repressed by the profitable character of this trade, and the refusal of a
Chinese merchant to give a Japanese the goods for which he had paid lit
the embers of a war which went on for half a century, and which materially
weakened the Ming power. During the last years of Chitsong's long reign of
forty-five years this trouble showed signs of getting worse, although the
Japanese confined their efforts to irregular and unexpected attacks on
places on the coast, and did not attempt to wage a regular war. In the
midst of these troubles, and when it was hoped that the exhortation of his
ministers would produce some effect, Chitsong died, leaving behind him a
will or public proclamation to be issued after his death, and which reads
like a long confession of fault. Mea culpa, exclaimed this Eastern ruler
at the misfortunes of his people and the calamities of his realm, but he
could not propound a remedy for them.
His third son succeeded him as the Emperor Moutsong, and the character and
capacity of this prince gave promise that his reign would be satisfactory
if not glorious. Unfortunately for his family, and perhaps for his
country, the public expectations were dispelled in his case by an early
death. The six years during which he reigned were rendered remarkable by
the conclusion of a stable peace with the Tartar Yenta, who accepted the
title of a Prince of the Empire. Moutsong when he found that he was dying
grew apprehensive lest the youth of his son might not stir up dissension
and provoke that internal strife which had so often proved the bane of the
empire and involved the wreck of many of its dynasties. He exhorted his
ministers to stand by his son who was only a boy, to give him the best
advice in their power, and to render him worthy of the throne. That the
apprehensions of Moutsong were not without reason was clearly shown by the
mishaps and calamities which occurred during the long reign of his son and
successor Wanleh. With the death of Moutsong the period ends when it was
possible to state that the majesty of the Mings remained undimmed, and
that this truly national dynasty wielded with power and full authority the
imperial mandate. When they had driven out the Mongol the Mings seem to
have settled down into an ordinary and intensely national line of rulers.
The successors of Hongwou did nothing great or noteworthy, but the Chinese
acquiesced in their rule, and even showed that they possessed for it a
special regard and affection.