The Everlasting Empire (16 page)

Second, the imperial system appears to have been quite manageable in the long term. Throughout millennia, the dragon throne was occupied by megalomaniacs and minors, by generals and peasant rebels, by nomadic warriors and refined literati, by elderly, infantile, and mentally or physically impaired monarchs, and even in one case (that of Wu Zetian, r. 684–705) by a woman.
⁶⁸
That none of these, whatever temporary disruption they caused, inflicted lasting damage on the imperial enterprise is truly remarkable. It seems that despite its ostensible awkwardness, the Chinese variant of “checks and balances”—namely, distinguishing between the institutional and the individual power of the monarch—was well adapted to changing circumstances and could withstand most woeful crises, including (in the case of the Northern Qi dynasty, 550–577) a chain of mentally unstable monarchs,
⁶⁹
without collapsing and disintegrating, and at times even without significantly impairing the normal life of the empire’s subjects. This is an undeniable achievement, unparalleled in other ruler-centered polities.

Finally, the imposing figure of the emperor should also be considered as the most essential part of China’s political identity. Many administrative aspects of the imperial polity, and even the ethnic and cultural composition of the ruling elite, changed over time, but the chain of monarchs, who were invariably presumed to be omnipotent leaders and had to be revered beyond anything in the mundane and supramundane realms, remained the single identifiable “Chinese” political feature throughout the millennia. Not incidentally, adoption of the imperial title was the most

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essential aspect of the “Sinicization” of China’s conquerors; the native elite could compromise about anything else, but not about this most sacred symbol. It may not be excessive to say that the preservation of the monarchic order served no less than the preservation of the written language as a preeminent factor behind China’s remarkable cultural—and not only political—longevity. “From the earliest generations, multiple states were extinguished in All-under-Heaven, but the Way of the ruler did not decline: this is because it benefits All-under-Heaven”: the
Liishi chunqiu
asseveration that serves as an epigraph to this chapter may also serve as the motto of Chinese imperial history.

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CHAPTER 3
The Literati

The heart of the ancient benevolent men … was neither to be
delighted in things nor to feel sorry for themselves. At the
loftiness of [imperial] temples and halls, they worried for their
people, in the remoteness of rivers and lakes they worried for
their ruler. Hence entering [the court], they worried; and
leaving it, also worried: so when did they enjoy? It must be
said: they were the first to worry the worries of All-under-
Heaven, and the last to enjoy its joys. Oh! Without these
persons, where could I find my place?

—
Fan Zbongyan

THE EPIGRAPH, taken from the “Inscription of the Yueyang Tower” by Fan Zhongyan (989–1052 CE), contains arguably the most famous lines by this leading man of letters of the Northern Song dynasty (960–1126).
¹
Fan, one of the pivotal figures of the Northern Song intellectual revival, succinctly summarized certain basic features of the Chinese literati’s selfimage. Being dedicated to one’s lofty ideals to the point of self-denial, being public-spirited and politically involved (worrying about the people and about the ruler), and having a sense of collective identity, a notion reflected in Fan’s desire to “find his place” among his admirable predecessors—all these were normative characteristics of Chinese intellectuals. These proud men, the architects and guardians of the Chinese empire, are the focus of this chapter.

The stratum to which Fan Zhongyan belonged—
shi
in Chinese—was the major player in China’s sociopolitical life. Defining the term
shi
is notoriously difficult: hence while it is usually translated into English as “literati,” “scholar-officials,” “gentlemen,” in certain contexts it can be rendered also as “knights,” “officers,” “aristocrats,” and the like. This semantic richness is not surprising given the fact that during approximately two and a half millennia the term
shi
was the most common designation of acting and aspiring elite members, and that during this period the composition of the elite and its nature underwent considerable changes. Yet these variations notwithstanding, we can speak of the
shi
as a welldefined group, primarily because of their distinct self-awareness and strong group identity. The
shi
were the core of China’s educated elite, and it is justifiable, at least for heuristic convenience, to dub them “intellectu

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als,” especially in light of a considerable semantic overlap between the Western term “intellectual” and the Chinese
shi
.
¹

The major peculiarity of Chinese intellectuals was their simultaneous hegemony in both cultural and political spheres. In neither realm was their position exclusive: through much of the imperial period Buddhist and Daoist monks possessed considerable cultural prestige, while politically speaking, the
shi
were only one segment of the ruling elite, and had to compete for power with military officers, the emperor’s relatives, alien tribal leaders, and sometimes even eunuchs. Yet throughout most of the imperial millennia, the
shi
in their capacity as “scholar-officials” preserved their dominance in both intellectual and political realms, which turned them into an exceptionally powerful group. Their moral and intellectual prestige allowed them at times to defy the emperor and to counterbalance his whims, while their political power, in turn, further bolstered their moral and intellectual authority. They were furthermore a self-aware stratum whose distinctive consciousness was decisively elitist: the
shi
viewed themselves as moral guides of society, rulers and commoners alike. In addition, as the epigraph suggests, Chinese intellectuals developed a strong sense of mission: serving the ruler and the people was viewed not just as fulfilling individual career aspirations but as the route to moral self-realization. This combination of prestige, pride, and commitment to public service became the hallmark of
shi
identity throughout the imperial period.

In this chapter, I focus primarily on the upper segment of the
shi
stratum, which comprised most of the officials and leading thinkers, the men who actively sought careers in government and hoped to “order the generation.” A broader lower segment of the
shi
encompassed the core of local elites, who shared the educational background and lifestyle conventions of the leading literati of their age; they will be the focus of the next chapter. I adopt this division primarily for the sake of heuristic clarity: in practice, the dividing line between the two segments was not always clear, and was not necessarily determined by one’s examination degree or official rank. Rather, the distinction was more closely related to one’s horizons and ambitions: those literati with whom I am dealing in this chapter were primarily those committed, in Fan Zhongyan’s words, “to the ruler and to the people”: those who transcended the parochial boundaries of their localities and aimed at “saving the world.” Their activities determined the political and intellectual dynamics at the empire’s core.

My discussion focuses on the intellectuals’ voluntary attachment to the ruler’s service as their single most significant choice. I shall try to elucidate both the advantages of this choice and its price. Having opted for a political career, leading intellectuals had to accept their position as the emperor’s servitors, which was at odds with their self-proclaimed moral

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superiority over the throne; and the resultant tension between their roles as the leaders and the led generated persistent frustration and manifold tragedies. Yet bitterness aside, the voluntary attachment of the intellectuals to the throne had also greatly empowered the educated elite as a whole. For two-odd millennia, members of this stratum navigated the empire through many storms and challenges, contributing decisively toward the preservation of the imperial political structure, and of its cultural foundations, against all odds.
³

THE RISE OF THE SHI

The ascendancy of the
shi
, and the parallel transformation of the ruling elite from aristocratic to predominantly meritocratic, was the most consequential social development of the Warring States period. During the preceding Springs-and-Autumns period, the Chinese world was ruled by a hereditary aristocracy: a culturally and socially cohesive stratum, the members of which monopolized all high positions in the courts of regional states, and dominated the political, economic, military, and intellectual life of their polities. At that period, the
shi
were the lowest segment of the hereditary aristocracy, mostly minor siblings of powerful lineages, who made their living primarily as the aristocrats’ retainers. Yet by the fifth century BCE, as aristocratic lineages were decimated in bloody internecine struggles,
shi
moved to fill in the void at the top of the ruling apparatus. Many rulers found it expedient to promote
shi
, who, lacking independent military and economic power, could not directly threaten their lords, while their administrative and military skills were often greater than those of hereditary nobles. By the fourth century BCE, the aristocrats were submerged within a new, broader,
shi-based
elite, and the term
shi
became thenceforth a common designation for acting and aspiring elite members.
⁴

I shall leave aside the sociopolitical implications of the ascendancy of the
shi
and focus instead on its ideological consequences, specifically on the formation of
shi
self-consciousness and of their distinctive identity. This identity was decisively shaped by Confucius, the first known ideologically active member of the
shi
stratum, whose contribution to the evolving self-image of this group turned him into the most respected intellectual in China’s history. Confucius redefined elite status as stemming chiefly from one’s behavior rather than from one’s pedigree. In particular, he reinterpreted the term “superior man” (
junzi
), which theretofore had been applied exclusively to high-ranking nobles, to refer primarily to one’s moral qualities; thus morally upright
shi
merited designation as “superior men” and inclusion in the elite. Thenceforth
shi
was no longer a hereditary but an ethical category.
⁵

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The behavioral mode for the
shi
shaped by Confucius and his followers was patterned in many respects after that of hereditary aristocrats of the Springs-and-Autumns period, but there is one crucial difference. The
shi
were self-made men, for whom self-cultivation and learning were essential for both acquiring and perpetuating their elite status. This emphasis on individual merits remained a hallmark of the
shi
throughout history; even in the later periods, when this group’s status was de facto defined by pedigree (especially in the third-ninth centuries CE), it was still conceived of as pertaining to behavioral patterns and to education rather than merely to birth. Back in the Warring States period, when social mobility was exceptionally high, the notion that merit should enable an individual to transcend social barriers became a common ideological conviction of competing thinkers. Many
shi
of that age prided themselves on their supposedly lowly background, claiming that they owed their status exclusively to personal abilities. Identifying themselves as “plainclothed” (
bu yi
: literally, those who wear coarse linen rather than fine and expensive silk), these
shi
presented themselves as economically closer to the commoners than to high-ranking officials. This self-presentation, like anecdotes about erstwhile poverty and miserable conditions of eminent
shi
, should not be taken too literally; but it does indicate that potential openness to newcomers from the lower strata became part of the group’s ethos from the Warring States period on.
⁶

This openness to advancement from below did not mean, however, that the
shi
adopted an egalitarian outlook. To the contrary, they were immensely proud of their hard-won elite status and assumed a clear elitist stance. From Confucius on, the distinction between “superior men” and uncultivated commoners, the “petty men,” became essential to the
shi
self-image. The distinction had social connotations, but it was primarily ethical. Confucius defines a petty man as selfish, narrow-minded, profit-seeking, servile, and unable to yield. A superior man, in distinction, is guided by dutifulness and righteousness; he aspires high but knows how to yield; he is steadfast and resolute, selfless and public-minded; he is benevolent, perspicacious, courageous, loyal, and filial.
⁷
Members of the elite frequently abused their rivals by categorizing them as “petty men”: imposters who had attained high status unjustifiably, and who should be carefully distinguished from the true, morally upright
shi
. Selfidentification as “superior men” became one of the perennial characteristics of
shi
identity.

Of the manifold positive attributes appropriated by the
shi
as they molded their identity, public-mindedness and commitment to the universal good appear to be singularly significant. Confucius and his followers actively promulgated the vision of a superior man who cultivates himself with the ultimate goal of “bringing peace to the hundred clans [all the