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Despite the fall of the Bei Song, the majority of scholar-officials refused to identify themselves with the conquerors. The same was generally true at the grassroots level, among numerous roving bands of former volunteer militias, army units that had disintegrated, and bandits who had arisen during the disorder. As time went on, both civilians and soldiers turned toward the pretender to the throne, Gaozong. He was the only son of the former emperor Huizong who had been absent from Kaifeng and thus spared captivity.
As the founder of the Nan Song, Gaozong devoted his long reign (1127–62) to the arduous task of putting the pieces together. He rediscovered the lost arts of his ancestors: recruiting bureaucrats, securing fiscal resources, and extending centralized control. Because he started with no more than a few thousand troops, he had to place a much greater reliance on sophisticated politics, which he often artfully disguised. By praising the old, established ways of his predecessors, he pleased the conservatives who remained opposed to the reform system. In reality, he modified the system he had inherited where it had obviously failed and pragmatically retained the parts that were working. He honored the scholar-officials who had refused to serve under the puppet rulers, but he was also glad to have those who had compromised their integrity in so serving. Although he denounced the notorious favorites who had misled his father, he used the excuse of being broad-minded in picking many of their former subordinates for key positions, especially those experienced in raising tax revenue. A new network of officials called the fiscal superintendent generals was set up in each region, but they reported directly to court. Urban taxes were increased; they were easier to collect than rural revenues, and prosperous cities did not suffer much from the imposition. The high priority placed on fiscal matters, though not publicized as in the previous reform period in order to avoid a bad image, persisted throughout the Nan Song, which was a long era of heavy taxation.
Some officials, anxious to recover the central plains, wished to have the capital located in Nanjing, or farther up the Yangtze in central China. Gaozong discreetly declined such advice because these locations were militarily exposed. Instead, he chose Hang (present-day Hangzhou), renaming it Lin’an (“Temporary Safety”), as it occupied a more defensible location. It was popularly referred to as the place of imperial headquarters (Xingzai), later known to Marco Polo as Quinsai. Economically, it had the advantage of being at the corner of the lower Yangtze delta, the wealthy core of the new empire.
The Nan Song, through continuous development, eventually became wealthier than the Bei Song had been. Though its capital was near the sea—the only such instance among the Chinese empires—and international trade increased, the country was not sea-oriented. Gaozong maintained a defensive posture against periodic Juchen incursions from the north and meanwhile proceeded to restore imperial authority in the hinterland as far west as the strategic Sichuan and in parts of Shaanxi to its immediate north.
No less important was the need for adequate military forces. Neither conscription nor recruitment would suffice. Because his position was militarily weak but financially strong, Gaozong adopted the zhao’an policy, which offered peace to the various roving bands. The government granted them legitimate status as regular troops, and it overlooked their minor abuses in local matters. Thus, the size of imperial forces swelled, and the problem of internal security was largely settled. The court then turned its attention to the control of these armies, which was inseparable from the issue of war or peace with the Juchen.
Gaozong did not want to prolong the war; he valued most the security of his realm. A few minor victories did not convince him that he could hope to recover northern China. Rather, he saw war as a heavy drain on available resources, with the risk of eventual defeat. Nor did he feel comfortable with the leading generals, on whom he would have to rely in case the war went on. He had to get around the critics at court, however, who found the Juchen peace terms humiliating and unacceptable: in addition to an enormous yearly tribute, the Juchen demanded that the Nan Song formally admit, with due ceremonials, its inferior status as a vassal state. The shrewd emperor found an impeccable excuse for accepting the terms by claiming filial piety: he sought the return of his mother from captivity. To this no Confucian could openly object. Significantly, Gaozong refrained from asking the release of former emperor Qinzong, as such a move would have called into question the legitimacy of his succession.
A dramatic crisis occurred in 1141. On the eve of concluding peace negotiations, Gaozong decided to strip the three leading generals of their commands. The generals, summoned to the capital on the pretext of rewarding their merits, were promoted to military commissioners, while their units were reorganized into separate entities directly under imperial control. Two of the generals reconciled themselves to the nominal honors and sizable pensions, but the third, Yue Fei, openly criticized the peace negotiations. He was put to death on a trumped-up charge of high treason. He later became the subject of a great legend, in which he was seen as a symbol of patriotism. At the time, however, his elimination signified full internal and external security for the court.
Relations with the Juchen
In spite of Gaozong’s personal inclination, his artful guiding hand, and the success of his efforts to consolidate the empire, the impulse remained strong among many idealistic Confucians to attempt to recover the central plains. Even when silenced, they were potentially critical of court policies. Gaozong eventually decided to abdicate, leaving the matter to his adopted heir, but he retained control from behind the throne. The new emperor, Xiaozong (reigned 1163–89), sympathetic to the idealists, appointed several of them to court positions and command posts. Information about a Juchen palace coup and alleged unrest in the Juchen empire, particularly in the parts recently occupied, led to a decision to resume the war. An initial Song attack was repulsed with such heavy losses that even regrouping took some time to accomplish. Sporadic fighting went on for nearly two years in the Huai valley, reflecting a military stalemate. The outcome, in 1165, was a significant change in the new peace formula: the vassal state designation was dropped, and the Nan Song attained a nearly equal footing with the Juchen, although it had to defer to the latter empire as the senior one.
After the death of Gaozong in 1187, Xiaozong followed the precedent of abdicating. The international peace was kept during the brief reign of his son, Guangzong (reigned 1190–94), but it was broken again in 1205, during the reign of his grandson, Ningzong (reigned 1195–1224). The 40-year span of continuous peace dimmed the memory of difficulties in waging war. A new generation, nurtured by a flourishing Confucian education, tended to underestimate enemy strength and to think once more about recovering the central plains. The Nan Song again initiated a northward campaign, and again it met with defeat. The event left no doubt that the Juchen empire’s hold over northern China was far beyond the military capability of the southern empire alone. It was also obvious that the Chinese population in northern China consisted of new generations brought up under alien domination and accustomed to it.
The Juchen not only retained their military edge over the Nan Song but also revived their ambition of southward expansion. An offer was made to the governor of Sichuan, who decided to turn against the Song court in faraway Lin’an and to become king of a vassal state allied with the Juchen. The civilian officials around him, however, took quick action and ended his separatist rebellion. Though a passing danger, it highlighted the fact that the Nan Song consolidation was not entirely secure; peace was preferred.
The court’s relations with the bureaucracy
Gaozong set the style for all subsequent Nan Song emperors. The first two emperors in the Bei Song, both strong militarists, had towered above the relatively modest bureaucracy they had created; most of their successors had found little difficulty in maintaining a balance in the bureaucracy. The circumstances under which the Nan Song came into being, however, were quite different. Gaozong faced tough competition in building up a loyal bureaucracy, first with the two puppet rulers in the north and then from the dual administration the Juchen empire had set up. He became keenly aware that a cautious handling of bureaucrats was essential. Later the attempted rebellion in Sichuan taught his successors the same lesson.
Gaozong was an attentive student of history who consciously emulated the restoration by the Dong (Eastern) Han (25–220 ce) and defined his style as the “gentle approach.” This meant using bureaucratic tactics to deal with the bureaucrats themselves. The gentle approach proved helpful in maintaining a balance at court and thus in protecting councillors and imperial favorites from the criticism of “opinion-officials.” Absolutism had grown since the middle of the Bei Song; the emperors had delegated much more power than before to a few ranking councillors. Similarly, imperial favorites—e.g., eunuchs, other personal attendants of the emperor, and relatives of the consorts—gained influence.
The opinion-officials by virtue of their rank or conviction wished to speak against those who abused power and influence; as a result of the factionalism that had plagued the late Bei Song, their effectiveness had declined and never recovered. But as long as absolutism was qualified by Confucian values and the monarch cherished a Confucian image, he had to learn to deal with some adverse opinions, and he often resorted to sophisticated delaying tactics. Skilled at bureaucratic manipulation, the Nan Song emperors listened to criticism with ostensible grace, responded appreciatively, and made it known that they had done so, but they did not take concrete action. Sometimes an emperor would either order an investigation or express a general agreement with the criticism, thereby preventing the critics from making an issue of it by repeated remonstrances. On other occasions the emperors would listen to the critics and commend them for their courage, but, to avoid stirring up a storm, the court would explicitly forbid the circulating of private copies of the criticisms among other scholar-officials. More subtly, the court would sometimes announce an official version of such criticism, leaving out the most damaging part. Likewise, rectifying edicts that followed the acceptance of criticism often had little substance. Reconciliation at court was another technique: an emperor would deliberately, if not evasively, attribute criticism to probable misunderstanding, assemble the parties in dispute, ask them to compose their differences, caution those under attack to mend their ways, and suggest to the critics that their opinions, though valid, should be modified. The handling of severe critics who refused to change their stand required different tactics. Seemingly accepting their adverse opinion, the court might reward them by promotion to a higher position, whose functions did not include the rendering of further advice. Rarely did the court demote or punish opinion-officials, especially those with prestige; sometimes it would not even permit them to resign or to ask for a transfer. Any such move tended to damage the court’s valuable Confucian image. On sensitive issues the emperors were likely to invoke their absolutist power, but this was usually handled gently, by quietly advising the opinion-officials to refrain from commenting on the issues again.
Under this bureaucratized manipulation by the court, the institution of opinion-officials degenerated. Often the emperors appointed their own friends to such posts, but just as often, when the emperors hinted that they were displeased with certain ministers, the opinion-officials dutifully responded with unfavorable evidence, thus furnishing the court with grounds for dismissals. Such imperial manipulations served manifold purposes: safeguarding absolutist power and its delegation to various individuals, disguising absolutism, and keeping the bureaucracy in balance.
