Soulstealers: The Chinese Sorcery Scare of 1768 (34 page)

Confidential reporting was also sabotaged by collusion in the field.
Hungli was frustrated to find that his province chiefs were getting
together to smooth out differences in their evaluations of the subordinates they had in common, which deprived him of independent
views. This practice came to light when he was comparing two confidential reports on personnel: one from a governor-general and
another from that official's subordinate, a governor. "`The k'ao-yu they
have entered for their subordinates are largely the same. We then
went back and compared the memorials they had submitted last time,
and there was absolutely no difference there, either. It was astonishing." These confidential memorials, he wrote, were vital reference
material for appointments. "We keep them all in the palace to consult
from time to time and We do not allow court officials to know their
contents." Accordingly each provincial official "ought to report his
own views. Not only is it unnecessary for officials to consolidate their
views to demonstrate unanimity, it is actually better that they do not
do so, so that We may refer to both in making Our judgments." If
province chiefs got together to present a unified view, "what is the
use of memorializing confidentially ?1149

Hungli's goal, evidently not attained to his satisfaction, was to
deroutinize the bureaucratic evaluation system by collecting secret
intelligence through another channel. The trouble was that his agents, in both channels, were the same. Apparently nobody retained
much confidence in the confidentiality of the palace memorial system.
That system was not, as it turned out, sufficient to pry open the
provincial bureaucracy's grip on personnel evaluation.

Hungli's Rejection of New Routines

One solution that did not commend itself to Hungli was making the
recommendation process even more routinized and precise. A censor
charged that promotion recommendations from governors were full
of "empty words," stock phrases such as "intelligent and able, conscientious and effective," vacuous cliches with little relevance to how
the official actually had performed. The censor favored concrete
accounts of official performance, in the form of a list of what a man
had actually done. If the appointee did not live up to his billing, his
recommender would be held accountable.50

Not unreasonable on the face of it, Hungli responded. But what
would constitute "concrete accomplishments"? Those the censor had
suggested, such as "founding schools, enforcing the pao-chia system
[in which households were registered in decimal groups and made
responsible for actions of their neighbors]"-these, too, were mere
"empty words." After all, if pao-chia were ever really enforced, "how
come local authorities cannot promptly catch bandits and escaped
criminals?" Looking deeper into the matter, the admirable principle
"government by men, not by laws" could not be realized by "setting
up procedures that will simply generate conventional documents."
Hungli ruled out any solution that involved further routinization,
particularly generating more paperwork that could serve to ritualize
or formalize government. But if the monarch ruled out more effective routines, what was the answer? Apparently it was the direct
injection of imperial power.

The Imperial Audience System

The Ch'ing inherited the venerable system by which all regular officials were "escorted to audience" (tai-ling yin-chien) before being
assigned to a post (in addition to the triennial audiences that all high'
officials were expected to request). The "escorting" was done, for
civil appointments, by the Board of Civil Office; and for military, by
the Board of War. The daily accounts of audiences in the official Court Diaries (ch'i-chii-chu) record throngs of officials passing through
the audience chamber. Though one might suppose that such meetings were nothing but mass prostrations and perfunctory benedictions, it is astonishing to discover the detail with which the monarch
interviewed each man. And he really expected the prostrate candidate to speak up.51

Here was the autocrat using his personal insight without the benefit
of a standard phrasebook. Our evidence for this process consists of
sketches, from the vermilion brush itself, of officials who came to
imperial audience, written on the candidate's vitae (sometimes called
yin-chien-tan or Iii-Ii-tan). Hungli's father had evidently considered
himself a keen judge of character.52 From l:iim, even a short interview
evoked a shrewd character sketch, proof of the sage's capacity to
judge men. Though Hungli's comments were briefer and blander,
they had enormous power to propel or derail a man's career. The
monarch's face-to-face impressions naturally overrode the routine
judgments of the governor on the scene. Hence the career of an
official with good marks from the field could be ruined by a bad
audience. One hapless provincial judge brought to audience from
Chekiang impressed Hungli as crude and boorish, "ignorant of
proper ceremonies." When asked what he had to report about Chekiang affairs, he produced from his sleeve a poster he had prepared
to overawe the commoners with graphic displays of the "five punishments." This struck Hungli as indelicate, and he fired off a query to
the man's superior. The reply was that the judge had committed no
administrative offenses and, although he lacked refinement, his integrity was quite sound, and he was "up to the job of Chekiang provincial
judge." Hungli nevertheless had him fired the following year.51

Although Hungli's sixty-year reign must have produced thousands
of these documents, only nineteen (from various years) have been
recovered.54 It is instructive to compare these vermilion comments
with the stilted k'ao-yu that were generated by the routine evaluation
system.

Li Shan: The man seems a decent sort, can be appointed. But his
capacities are really only up to the post of circuit-intendant. (1747)

Ch'u Yung-chung: The man may actually make something of himself.
Circuit-intendant seems about right. (1751)

Chou Yuan-li: A keen and capable talent. 07!i8)

K'ung Chi-tung: Not up to his earlier record. He seems a fellow who is
looking for a life of ease. (1758)

Yao Li-te: Durable, will make something of himself. (1761)

Chao-lin: Seems to have a conscience. He can be appointed. But could
he be a bit short on talent? (i 761 )

T'an Shan-chung: Stuart, seems likely to make something of himself. He
may be a bit insubstantial. (1762)

Yang Ch'ung-ying: Seems appointable. But he may be too clever by half.
Conscientious. (1762)

Ma Sheng-chiao: Durable. Can appoint him. In the future, he'll make
something of himself. (1762)

Shan Liang: Seems appointable. (1764)

Wu Chao-chi: A bright person. Even if We don't promote him [now],
he'll still have opportunities to show his cleverness. Then We'll see.
(1764)

Ti Yung-ch'ih: Seems intelligent. (1764)

Liang Chao-pang: He seems about right for this post. But he is not a
great talent. (1766)

O Lu-li: Decent, conscientious. Seems durable. (1768)

Li Yuan: Appropriate, but not for a post that's too demanding. Seems
all right. Appoint him. (177o)

Ku Hsueh-ch'ao: Unavoidably of the Soochow clique. Not a very great
talent. (1773)

Te-er-ping-a: Can appoint him. (1780)

Chang T'ing-kuei: All right. (1781)

Shen jung-hsu: Well, all right. (1783)

Extracted from these comments, here are the evaluative phrases:

Positive characteristics

Decent (chung-hou)

Has gumption, can make something of himself (yu ch'u-hsi)

Keen and able (ching-kan neng-shih)

Durable (chieh-shih)

Has conscience (yu liang-hsin)

Smart (ming-pai)

Intelligent (ts'ung-ming)

Dutiful (pen fen)

Negative characteristics

Lazy (t'u an-i)

Short on talent (tuan yii ts'ai)

Insubstantial (po)

Not a great talent (fti to-ch'i)

Hungli is, of course, making judgments on the basis of face-to-face
encounters, perhaps colored by prejudices (the characteristic distrust
of Kiangnan literati, for example) or previous impressions (most of
these men he has met in previous audiences). He is, then, judging
character (as best he can discern it-credit him with some modesty
for using the word "seems," ssu, frequently) rather than judging
performance. The list of character traits most appealing to him is
headed by the phrase (common in spoken Chinese today) yu ch'u-hsi,
which I have rendered "has gumption," or (if referring to the future)
"will make something of himself." There may be an implied distinction between a man who relies on his own talents and one who clings
to the patronage of others. Certainly it distinguishes the leader from
the mere careerist who hews narrowly to the safe track.

Other phrases indicate that Hungli admired the virtues of solidity:
"durable" (chieh-shih) suggests perseverence, hardiness of spirit, the
kind of man who can hold his own in a troublesome post. "Decent"
(chung-hou) and "dutiful" (pen fen) are close to virtues marked in the
bureaucratic evaluations. For Hungli they probably distinguish a solid
character from the trickster who will exploit public office to his own
advantage. The opposite of these solid virtues is "insubstantial" (po),
the mark of the lightweight whose surface abilities are not rooted
firmly in character. Intelligence (ming-pai, ts'ung-ming) is a virtue of
which just the right amount is wanted. Hungli is put off by the fellow
who is "too clever by half," who uses his wits as a substitute for more
substantial virtues.

The man whom Hungli failed to find, among this fragmentary
sample at least, was the "great talent," the rare candidate who is
destined for a top ministerial post. He often used the term with a
negative to derogate a man who was clearly not an outstanding talent.
Such quality is always more obvious in its absence than in its presence,
and "not a great talent" is a fair comment on a man whose most
evident trait is lack of genius. Even Chou Yuan-11, who was only a
prefect at the time of this audience but who was to rise two decades
later to the post of board president, was no "great talent," at least
not at the audience I have just cited.

The monarch was concerned with character and talent as, indeed,
were the formulaic entries of the routine system. Yet there are
striking differences in the way the audience notes portray the ideal
official. That image includes qualities of toughness, genuineness, and
energy-colored equally by courage and ambition-that we call "gumption." This is the mark of the proud, hard-driving achiever: a
leader, not a rule-ridden functionary. Caution and diligence, the
marks of the reliable paper-shuffler, are not what Hungli sought for
membership in the "club" of higher provincial and capital officials.

The Upper-Level System: "Political Appointments"

The principle of "the higher the post, the less routine the appointment" must be common to all bureaucratic systems. "Political appointments," as we know them, offer the chief executive the chance to
install personal friends, or at any rate persons who share his views,
in positions of power. Hungli plainly regarded the personnel in
higher provincial and capital positions as too important for routine
handling. He rejected a proposal to bring provincial treasurers and
judges under the Grand Accounting, because he knew that punishing
malfeasance in such sensitive posts could not wait for the routine
triennial review." Although governors-general and governors, along
with the upper crust of capital officials, were, in practice, exempt
from the triennial evaluations, they had nevertheless been obliged to
offer "self-evaluations" (tzu-ch'en) instead. Hungli simply tired of
reading these prolix and probably formulaic documents, and in 1752
he abolished them.5' He would, he announced, personally reward
and punish officials on that level whenever he wanted. "The evaluation and selection of high officials] will be daily borne in Our own
breast," and hence for them the triennial rhythm of evaluation was
pointless.57

Yet bearing such weighty material in his breast was not quite reassuring enough, and six years later he seemed to edge back toward
formalism. Although the self-evaluation only produced "an endless
procession of documents, with no value for practical government,"
no evaluation at all would make high officials complacent. Now the
Board of Civil Office was to prepare, at the time of the Capital
Investigation, one register for capital officials of rank three and up,
and one for governors-general and governors, furnished with
updated vitae for the emperor's reference. He was, however, hardly
relaxing his direct control over these political appointments, but
rather serving notice to his political appointees that he was not about
to let their careers settle into comfortable ruts-to become routinized
by default.

Even though We already have a thorough knowledge of whether they
are worthy or not, there may yet be those who advance and retire
together, seeking emoluments and behaving like horses loath to leave
their stables [that is, are routine careerists]. If such men avoid major
gaffes and continue to fill their posts adequately without being regularly
evaluated, then when they have hovered around for a long time their
official performance cannot but be harmed.

The selection and evaluation of political appointments, both as a
formal system and as practical politics, operated by a set of rules that
was distinct from the routine system. Although the Board of Civil
Office was involved in the process to some extent, the monarch's
autocratic power cut across. its routine procedures at every step. The
higher the official, the less routine the procedures for his appointment and discipline, and the more direct the impact of the autocrat's
personal power. Although this is only what one might expect, we
need to know more exactly how this personal power was expressed.58