I'm CJ Weiss, and I'm not here to give you a history lesson. Instead, I'll spin a tale exploring humanity's saga through pairs of individuals connected by the ends and beginnings of their lives. Each season, I'll start the first episode with a person born around the turn of the 1st century, covering their story and the influences that shaped them from the year of their birth to the year of their death. Each subsequent episode picks up right where the last one ended, with the birth of our next feature figure. Through this structure, we'll travel the globe and progress through time until near present day. To discover how we are all linked by history. Welcome to the first episode. I'll try to keep this short because I think we both want me to get to the good stuff. It's just that starting out selecting the first figure of the first season is tricky. They must be influential enough to offer a compelling story and properly introduce the podcast. But I also don't want to cover someone who's the topic of a dozen episodes elsewhere. While, say, Jesus of Nazareth certainly fits the bill of influential early in the first century, his story has been told a number of times, so I'd find it difficult to establish a unique narrative. I also want to set the stage for a progression through history that will focus on famous people from time to time, but largely cover individuals you don't know, but should. Around the turn of the first century, the most obvious settings are Rome and China. I settled on China's Wang Mang due to him almost single-handedly destroying one of the country's greatest dynasties,but also because of his story's open-ended nature. This man valued honor and humility over everything, including the lives of his own family, and practically embodied Confucian virtues to a mythical degree. Then opportunity came knocking, an opportunity he may have created, and he sees dictatorial power in a masterful fashion. Were his honorable deeds an act the whole time?You'll have to decide yourself. Along with Wang Mang, I'll include a subplot about his daughter, a woman with enough titles to make a Game of Thrones character blush, but with a name lost to time. Her story is comparatively minor, but it's worthy of a Shakespearean tragedy and serves to illuminate gender roles in Confucian China around the turn of the first millennium. Her most noteworthy title is Empress Ping, so I'll refer to her as Future Empress Ping until we reach that part of the story. And so, we begin. Wang Mang enters the world in approximately 45 BC. The noble Wang family, the surname comes first here, holds a position of authority and respect in imperial China. But they really come into their own when Wang Jinjun, Wang Mang's aunt, rises to the rank of empress following her husband's ascent to emperor. While she's not the ruler, Confucian women must support their husbands, and husbands trust them to do so earnestly. Thus, they tend to wield significant indirect power, and like many royal marriages of many civilizations, she disperses that power across her family via lands and titles. Wang Mang's father dies young, though, and never receives the land-owning title of Marquis like that of his seven brothers. Wang Mang then grows up without a direct inheritance. Don't feel bad for him, though. The Empress moves him and his mom to the imperial palace, giving him a chance to grow up with the movers and shakers of the empire. He takes a quick liking to imperial schooling, and his supportive mom shows consistent pride in her son's efforts. If all of that's not enough, he's still a noble, eating a wide assortment of meats compared to the peasant's grain heavy diet and wears mostly silk and fur compared to their hemp and sometimes cod and. Like other Chinese children of the time, he also likely played games such as Go, which is still played by 50 million people today, and a rudimentary form of soccer, which I'm bringing up specifically because I want to fit it in for a later event. Suffice to say, Wang Mang is living the dream as a kid in a stable imperial China. School educates the boy with Confucian morals and a penchant for scholarship, an education he takes seriously. He's an A+ student throughout his formative years, maturing into the living embodiment of Confucianism by his early teenage years, which meant a respect for hierarchy, honor, and hard work. Meritocracy, a system that rewards government posts to those deserving based on merit, was alive and well in the Western Han dynasty. This era that spanned the first couple centuries BC, its name used to separate it from the Eastern Han that would follow for two centuries, interrupted by, well, you'll see. While you were still better off being lucky than good in ancient China, i.e. born to a wealthy family, many officials truly earned their place in government. Included in this meritocracy was knowledge of Confucian classical texts, creating this self-perpetuating system that described the deserving as Confucian and Confucians as deserving. That meant the more you acted in compliance with these virtues, the more that everyone of note respected you and your station would rise. So, for the ambitious Wang Mang, his lack of inheritance perhaps worked to his benefit. He builds the foundation of this sterling reputation that will pay dividends down the road. As a teenager, one of his uncles grows seriously ill, so he dutifully attends his every personal need. Day and night, Wang Mang waits on his beck and call. Honor, love, and respect are certainly motivators, but it's a nice bonus that his uncle is commander of the armed forces. When the uncle recovers, he gives a glowing recommendation to Jiang Jun, and she immediately sets to rewarding her nephew's devotion. However, her husband had passed away a few years ago. She's now known as Empress Dowager Wong, a dowager because she's the widow of a nobleman. While losing the title of reigning empress is a blow for some, she still wields almost as much influence during her late husband's reign, both because of an apathetic ruler and her own clout. Her recommendations swiftly lead to promotions that make Wang Mong a sub commander of the Imperial Guards. He takes nothing for granted throughout his 20s, excelling in his new role while tirelessly expanding his presence in the realm. He's gracious, says all the right things to impress the Imperial court, donates chunks of cash to scholarship, again a Confucian virtue, and hands out gifts to his fellow nobles. He continues to build his image as this paragon of morality, and anyone who's anyone takes a liking to the young man. Unlike most of his colleagues, he also only ever marries one woman. And this is where we see the first breakdown in how Wong Mong represents himself and who he actually is. This man had bonkers levels of affairs. We don't know how many, but he wasn't slipping into other women by mistake, and he committed adultery almost as often as a poor college student eats Taco Bell. Concubines, women married to a nobleman but not the primary wife, were all good back in this era, so extramarital affairs gained him nothing versus marrying concubines, except it made him look all that much more honorable. His efforts pay off when just before his 30th birthday, another of his uncles petitions the emperor, asking that he be allowed to parcel out some of his land to his nephew. The emperor at the time is like, sure, what do I care?And signs off on the request. Wong Mong humbly accepts his new title as Marquis. He goes home, takes in the sight of his new land and subjects, and probably celebrates by growing his family a little bit more. He'll have four sons and a daughter when all is said and done. We don't know when his sons are born, but based on their future actions, I'd guess Wong Mong and his wife are on kid three or four at this point. Inevitably, duty calls and he returns to the capital, fulfilling his new duties as his rank and prestige continues to grow. Ambition fuels his work ethic, and in several years, fate will reward his efforts and patience. Around 10 BC, yet another of Wang Mong's uncles falls ill. Turns out commander of the armed forces is practically hereditary, as he's the current office holder. A bit more on the role. While the army is great and all, the post is actually a political powerhouse, like equal to the prime minister. So it's an even bigger deal than you think. A debate ensues for who should succeed Wang Meng's uncle, and the frontrunner is Chunyu Zhang, a man who starts out as good friends with the emperor. Wang Meng sees an opportunity and uses his connections to dig up some dirt on Chunyu. Turns out the man's been receiving gifts from the emperor's ex-wife, who isn't hurting but wants the grand life back. Since Chunyu and the emperor are tight, she turns to him to help her reclaim her former glory. Either his empress or at least a consort as sort of a middle ground between primary wife and concubine. Chunyu says, Yeah, keep sending those gifts my way, and promises to help her claim his spousal title just below the rank of proper empress. Thing is, he's playing her with no plans to help. The paper trail, though, leads to him all the same, and Wang Mong relays his findings to the emperor, who expels his ex-buddy Chunyu from the court, casting him back to his lands. On his way out, Chunyu donates his horse and carriage to his cousin as a last-ditch effort to demonstrate his honorable nature. That cousin petitions the emperor to allow Chunyu to stay. But the emperor knows there's this feud between Chunyu and the father of his cousin, so he rightfully questions the sincerity of the petition. One thing leads to another. That cousin's arrested, his dad says, You've dishonored us, and forces him to commit suicide, which then makes the emperor even more suspiciousand Chunyu's life ends in an execution. With that, the impeccable Wang Mang, at the age of 37, rises to a position of power a smidge below that of emperor. That same year, 8 BC, his wife also gives birth to his daughter, future Empress Ping. A significant reason we don't know her real name is again found in Confucian thought, now five centuries old at this point. While these ideals respect hierarchy, honor, and pursuit of knowledge for males, they differ significantly for females. Women were tasked with dedicating themselves to the support of their family, primarily the males in their lives, the father, husband, and sons. All of this meant that men took center stage while women acted as the crew, playing an important role that nobody thinks about until they're not there. One thing you should take away from this is that we do know the real name of Wong Mong's aunt, Jang Jun. The Empress Dowager mattered. Making it in the history books is hard enough, but her doing so as a woman is a testament to her continued influence during her life, regardless of who sits on the throne. In fact, I'd argue she wields more power than any woman ever will over the entire existence of the Great Western Empire of Rome. Interestingly, she lived at the same time as both women who could challenge her for that title, Cleopatra and Livia Drusilla, who was Augustus Caesar's wife. It seems like this is a good era for powerful women to shine. Anyway, to highlight the typical role of Chinese women at this time, I'll refer to a book started a decade before Ping's birth called The Biographies of Exemplary Women. This text intended to provide women a moral education through biographical accounts. In one example, two daughters of an emperor marry a farmer and help him with everything, including working in the fields. Their husband's family makes frequent attempts on his life, and he survives in part due to his own strength, but also from his wife's invaluable support. He's later promoted to general and eventually becomes emperor, all made possible because of his wife's intelligence, perception, and, of course, their chastity. Future Empress Ping would later find herself included in these biographies, but we'll get there. In the year that Future Empress Ping turns one, things are good. Her father has worked his way up high into government and is universally respected. She's a noblewoman, which is great even if girls don't get much of an education. She's set up to have a nice life with a much shorter Wikipedia page than she ends up with. It's the same year, one year after Wang Mang's big promotion, that the emperor dies. This leads to a series of events that will upend future Empress Ping's life. Peter Baelish in Game of Thrones said chaos is a ladder, and it's here that Wong Mong wraps his fists tight around a rung at eye level and he is ready to climb. He didn't poison this particular emperor, but I bet he took notes. The childless emperor had named his nephew heir, and the succession to the newly titled Emperor Eye goes smoothly. The Wang family is all over the imperial court by now, largely thanks to Jang Jun, and that doesn't change with the ascent of the throne's latest owner. Emperor Ai takes over the position at age 18, so not a child, but still suggestible, especially from his grandma, AKA Princess Dowager Fu of Dingtao, but who I'm going to call Grandma Fu to quickly distinguish her. She's had her eyes on the prize for decades now. You see, Grandma Fu can hold a grudge, and she was a concubine of the emperor two back. That emperor's wife was none other than Jing Jun, now Grand Empress Dowager Wang, grand because she's like grandmother royalty to the current throne holder. Grandma Fu starts scheming once her grandson inherits the throne. Grandma Empress Dowager Wang tries to curtail this, limiting visits between Emperor Ai and his mom and grandma to one day out of every ten. Grandma Fu takes a moment, breathes, says no, no, no to that, and starts to visit him daily. With each visit, she increasingly pushes for an empress dowager title rather than the prince's dowager title given to concubines. She also requests that her relatives receive titles that place them on roughly equal footing with the Wang family. Jan Jun has a choice here. Either sternly draw a line or embrace Confucian teachings that instruct her to do what's best for the emperor. She decides to make his life easy and gives the okay to posthumously change some titles that result in Grandma Fu getting everything she wants. To further ease tensions between the two families, the Grand Empress Dowager even orders Wang Mong to resign his lofty post and transfer power to them. The nephew, who has to keep up his pristine image, submits his resignation, but Emperor Ai rejects it. Wang Mong remains the commander of the armed forces and, I have to imagine, is pretty happy about it. It may not even strike him as much of a surprise. At some point in the last several minutes, you might have thought, wait, what's this Grand Empress dowager doing?How does she still wield so much power?And why is she giving in to the demands of this upstart dowager? Remember in the Confucian thought prevalent at the time, women were there to support the men in their lives. Depending on the strength and age of the emperor, that can lead to a lot of trust that leads to a lot of influence. Influence is power, and Wang Jianjun held it in spades. She's the widow of a respected emperor, and she's been active in the courts for decades. As for why she pushes for Grandma Fu's demands, it's possible she genuinely wanted the emperor, and by extension, China, to prosper, and thus deemed it best to minimize conflict between the royal families. But she might have also shrewdly recognized the difficulties in controlling the relationship between a grandson and grandmother and decided to let Grandma Fu hang herself on her own ambition. The proverbial snowball that starts the avalanche actually begins when the honorable and proper Confucian Wang Meng takes a stand against this mockery of his supposed values. Resigning his post is one thing. There are certain lines, though, that people shouldn't cross. When Grandma Fu is to be seated near his aunt, Wang Mang throws a fit. He can't comprehend such a blatant disregard for hierarchy. The fallout results in him again resigning his post and Emperor Ai accepting it this time. But Wang Mang is still plenty respected, so Emperor Ai says, hey, you're still welcome here. Stick around the capital, why don't you? And Mr. Wang, eh, yeah, he accepts. Grandma Fu, taking this victory to heart, sets her sights on a former romantic rival of hers a year later. In 6 B.C., she sends an investigator to find evidence of witchcraft. This leads to the tortures and deaths of 17 relatives of this poor woman, all the while producing absolutely no evidence of said witchcraft. When the rival learns the investigations originate from Emperor I's powerful grandmother, she commits suicide to spare her family further tragedies. The year after that, when future Empress Ping turns three, Grandma Fu receives another title upgrade. So, she decides it's time to act on a multi-year grudge she's held against Wang Mong for that absolute disrespect shown over table seating arrangements. She demands the Emperor strip him of his nobility and demote him to a mere commoner. Emperor Ai says, That's crazy, but if it makes you happy, I'll send him away from the capital, back to his lands. Good enough for Grandma Fu. Emperor Eye, however, is starting to look like a fool. He's overly punitive to anyone questioning his mom and grandma's new titles and seems to promote and demote officials on whims. It's a testament to Wong Mong's standing that he doesn't face worse punishments. He might have also started wondering what the world would look like if he were in charge. Over the next few years, Wong Mong continues to elevate his reputation and think two steps ahead. He limits his associations to prevent false accusations of plotting rebellions, keeping his distance from any potential troublemakers or perceived regal threats. When one of his four sons kills a household servant, he's perhaps put in a bind. But given that nobility can usually sweep such unseemly incidents under the rug, for Wang Mong it presents an opportunity. He orders his son to commit suicide, and the legendary nature of the man grows. This dude was living his best Confucian life away from the imperial courts, and there is no doubt that it molded his daughter, future Empress Ping. During her formative years, she watches her father live a life in abject pursuit of the moral code that pervades Chinese society at the time. And as I said, that code is different for women. She would learn to value the importance of the relationships to the men in her life, and those values place the husband ahead of the father. She's 6, so we're not quite to where that's relevant, but it's closer than you'd hope. Back at the Imperial courts, Grandma Fu dies in two BC. She had alienated herself from much of the nobility, and little love outside of her family is lost in her passing. If not for her grandson sitting on the throne, her death may have arrived even sooner. As it stood, her ambitions hadn't hurt her as much as it did the reputation of Emperor Ai and those closely associated with him. That same year, commoners and government officials alike clamor for Wang Mang's return. Commoners, like farmers, were actually well respected in the Western Han dynasty, more than you'd expect of a monarchy from this time, so their wishes meant something. Not that it meant they had money, but hey, it was something. Wang Mang's representation of meritocratic ideals leads to a perceived kinship between him and commoners compared to other nobles. That said, he's popular with nobles too, benefiting from his living in or around the palace for most of his life's first four decades. One year later, as if Emperor Ai hadn't alienated himself enough from his court, he makes his biggest blunder yet, a blunder actually three years in the making. Over this time, he's continually promoted one particular man over and over, up from a commoner and through the ranks until finally this man attains Wang Mang's former position of commander of the armed forces of the empire. This man didn't reach this rank through talent and efforts, though. Not that anyone but a noble likely could have. Instead, he happened to be the very likely lover of the emperor, a relationship that spawned a Chinese idiom about love, passion of the cut sleeve, or cut sleeve for short. When in bed together one morning, Emperor I's lover rested his head on the sleeve of his robe. Rather than wake him, the Emperor cut his sleeve to quietly exit from bed. What a gesture. This man knew romance, but statecraft?Not so much. It's important to note that their romantic relationship wasn't a big deal. As long as the Emperor kept the overt structure of husband-wife at the forefront, he was good to go. Across the globe, Rome had a similar-ish outlook on same-sex relationships, though it required parties of two different social statuses, so nobody lost face. Anyway, the relationship itself was all good here. The issue arose from the emperor promoting a nobody with no qualifications to one of the empire's three highest ministerial posts, and the imperial court was justified in their ire. The new commander barely spares a glance for his duties, instead just staying at Emperor I's side like nothing's changed. Dissenters especially didn't like their punishments, which ranged from demotions to imprisonment, for their attempts to dissuade the Emperor from giving his lover so much power. With the young commander's new title also came gains for his family, but they were not meant to last. Half a year after this wild promotion in 1 BC, the Emperor suddenly dies at the age of 24, apparently due to a mysterious chronic illness that is also the chief suspect for him not producing an heir. Could totally be the case, but circumstantial evidence points to foul play. Hear me out. First, we have no clue to the nature of Emperor I's illness. It's easy to imagine a world where his inept ability to govern caught up with him. He's antagonized most of his court by now, and with his grandmother out of the picture, has few allies. North of China, the Xiangnu steppe nomads in modern-day Mongolia pose an ever-present threat. Though these nomads are relatively weak now due to losses between 50 to 100 years ago, they're never a group China ignores. Strong leadership in the government and military is needed to curtail these foes, and few trust Ai to do the job. Meanwhile, the Wang family acts like model leaders in their various posts. Wang Mang also happens to be itching for more formal power again. Without an obvious heir to the throne, it's easy to imagine he saw a great time to steady that chaos ladder of his. Again, all circumstantial, there's no evidence that Emperor Ai was poisoned, but the convenient timing of his death for Wang Mang is suspect and like much of unrecorded history. We can't say for sure. Either way, Grand Empress Dowager Wang Jangjun is the first to act following the Emperor's death. The Emperor apparently named his lover as the heir on his deathbed, and allowing the succession would almost certainly throw the realm into chaos, given that he lacked any education or talent for rule. So, as soon as word of the Emperor's passing came, she marches over to the Imperial Palace and nabs the Imperial Seal, which is his crafted piece of pure jade meant to symbolize purity and inner beauty. When Zhang Jun starts issuing orders to keep power out of the former lover's hand, the presumptive heir can't muster a rebuttal. His tale ends with a demotion, eventually followed by he and his wife sadly committing suicide. I say sadly, because despite all of this nonsense, this dude likely didn't care about his promotions, had no interest in power, and Emperor Ai put a target the size of a nation on his back. To keep things in order, the Grand Emperor's dowager promotes Wang Mong back up to commander of the armed forces, the strongest position in an empire without an emperor. It's here, amid the chaos, that he is mere feet from the top of the ladder. And it's here we must question the possibility for absolute power corrupted Wang Mong or if what follows is the culmination of a plan decades in the making. All accounts at this point paint Wang Mong as a saint. He's done no wrongs within his society and sacrificed much for the good of the empire. But people don't change overnight. What if he happily played bit parts until the opportunity for a leading role arose?What if he facilitated the events that led to this moment?What if the righteous nephew whispered into?onseers the necessary acts to quote save the Empire. We don't know the answers, but whether power corrupted him or showcased a political master class must factor into whether or not we believe Emperor I was actually poisoned. Either way, this is a major tipping point from an innocent or subtle manipulator to an outright grab for power. This tipping point also puts us at a great place to take a short break, so I'll be right back with the second-half of the story. The second-half begins now. Wang Mong with the support of his aunt, works together to expel from government the relatives of Grandma Fu and Emperor Ai's lover. They then summon the Grand Empress Dowager's final surviving grandson to the palace and proclaim him Emperor Ping, naming Wang Mong his regent. The new emperor is 8, and guess who's conveniently close in age?Wang Mong's daughter, Future Empress Ping. Acutely aware of this, he flatters his aunt with honeyed words while ramping up purges behind her back. Years of effort results in the removal of his potential enemies from seats of power, with allies talking him up into this reverent, almost mythical figure. Word around the empire is that this is a man who is the embodiment of righteousness and Confucian values, a man who walked away when it would have fractured the empire years ago. A man who values honor over his son's own life. He's the rare nobleman with one wife and not a single concubine. A man who has nothing but the best interests of the Han Empire at heart. And perception becomes reality. It gets to the point where a new duchy is created just for him, something that's never happened in the 200 year history of the Han Empire. I don't mean that a duchy had never been created. I mean the title never existed. Not everyone is blind to the writing on the wall, though. Wang Mang's own son, not that he has a great relationship with him, conspires with Emperor Ping's uncles against him. Their plan is simple, egregiously so. They'd send someone to toss a bottle of blood on Wang Mang's door and convince him that this omen portends a disaster if they don't transfer his regency to the emperor's uncles. As if that would have persuaded him anyway. The savvy Wong Mong discovers the plot, though, executes them all, except his son, who is forced to commit suicide. Two down, two to go for those keeping score, and uses the opportunity to clean house of anyone left who might stand against him via demotions, exiles and executions. He revives an ancient ceremony that basically tells the country I'm the boss now. When the time comes to find a spouse for Emperor Ping, he subverts the Grand Empress Dowager's proclamation that the Wang clan should be excluded and arranges a mass of petitioners who clamor for his daughter. Future Empress Ping! Future Empress Ping! they demand, or something like that. And what Wang Mong wants, Wang Mong gets. In 4 AD, Future Empress Ping becomes Empress Ping at 11 years old. She doesn't see all of the steps her father is taking to cement his power. Her lot is to support her husband, and she does this to the best of her ability for the rest of her life. Meanwhile, the emperor starts to resent Wang Mang's execution of his uncles, along with barring his own mother from visiting him. The later act stands in stark contrast to how Wang Mang's aunt handled Emperor Ai, quickly conceding to requests that the young man should be able to regularly see his mother and grandmother. When we're looking at the morally superior way to handle things, I think it's fair to say she's a better litmus test. While the emperor's resentment doesn't lead to any specific action, Wang Mang sees his hold on the boy waning. He poisons him, this time with historical evidence, and while the boy's life hangs in the balance, Wang Mang writes a petition to the gods, asking them to spare the emperor's life by taking his. The petition never sees the light of day, but it's one of those acts that demonstrates he's covering his bases. In the unlikely event the boy survived, he'd have this on hand as a semblance of proof of his innocence. This was a common thing back in this era across the globe. Usually nothing comes of it besides political posturing. But side story. About 40 years from now, a Roman emperor named Caligula will force a bunch of senators to kill themselves who made such proclamations after he recovered from a serious illness. As for Wang Meng, the intent of his act was to prove that a man writing such a letter couldn't have been behind the poisoning. Yeah, right. This emperor, though, succumbs to the poison, leaving Empress Ping a widow at age 13. She'll spend the rest of her life in silent support of the former Han dynasty. Yes, I said former. It's all about to come crashing down. She sequesters herself and avoids imperial gatherings, often claiming illness. This persists into adolescence, a time when her dad tries to make everything right for murdering her husband by setting her up with the son of one of his top officials. The son shows up at her doorstep, dressed to the nines, but the act so greatly offends her that she straight up stops receiving guests. Records make little note of her from here on out. It's fair to assume a status quo develops. The poor woman living the rest of her short life out as a widow, isolated from the world. She embraced Confucian ideals, supporting her child husband as a child herself, and in return was not only stripped of her purpose, but of the father from her childhood. The man who had extolled Confucian virtues now spurned them for power, making a mockery of all she held dear. It's no wonder she abandons the outside world. And it's this tale of devotion to her late husband, one where she refuses to remarry, that makes it into the biographies of exemplary women that I mentioned earlier. Back to the fateful day of her husband's murder, the throne is left without an obvious heir. Nobody alive can trace their lineage back to the Grand Empress Dowager Wang's deceased husband. The court then looks at relatives to the emperor before him, meaning 5 emperors back. Wang Mang wants to crown a child who he can control, so he contrives over a reason that disallows all adults from contention. To demonstrate to anyone not paying attention who actually leads the realm now, he falsifies his heritage to proclaim himself a descendant of the Yellow Emperor, a godly figure from 2000 years ago. He also forces his aunt to issue an edict that proclaims him acting emperor. Up to this point, I do question Jang Jun's involvement. By all accounts, Wang Mang paid special attention to his aunt to keep him in her good graces until he consolidated power. He designed a false narrative of his Regency, complete with showing her around the capital to demonstrate how great everything was. Records portray her as this unwitting tool and her nephew's ascent to the throne. Through lies and deceit, he manipulates her into giving him everything he needs. But this was a woman who ends up living 83 years, saw multiple emperors rise and fall, and knew how to play the imperial court. While it's easy for people's love of relatives to blind them to the truth, this woman was no sweet summer child. There's certainly more evidence that paints her as an unwitting party here than not, but rarely is the truth so binary. I think she knew some of Wong Mong's plans, but he balanced revealing details with hiding them in order to maintain her trust. After all, his actions mostly benefited her, too, in terms of political power. Either way, there's a clear rift from this point on, although she never acts directly against him and he treats her well. Just in case, though, he begins issuing orders on her behalf to curtail her ability to thwart his plans, as she's the only internal stopgap left against him seizing the throne. In 6 AD, Wang Meng, now emperor for all intents and purposes, selects a one-year-old baby to, quote, rule. Several rebellions by various nobles and officials follow the obvious usurpation of the throne over the next three years. One such rebellion ends with Wang Bong flooding the leader's house. I laughed at this at first because that seemed like an underwhelming punishment, but flooding a house takes effort and likely served as an over-the-top demonstration of his power. The failed rebellions merely embolden Wang Mang. He takes the final step and proclaims himself the first ruler of a new empire, the Xin Dynasty, seemingly ending the Han. He asks his aunt for the imperial seal, but Zhang Jun, enraged by his request, throws it on the ground, chipping it. Wang Mang orders the perfect jade seal repaired with gold, an act that, if this were a novel studied in a literature class, we talk about as symbolic. The man who espoused the purity of morality was dead, replaced by an authoritarian figure of self-righteousness. With all serious opposition dismantled, Wang Mang wishes to show his gratitude to Aunt Zhengjun for all she's done, inadvertently or not. He offers to abolish her Grand Empress Dowager title to grant her one more unique and prestigious. Offended, she rejects the notion, and he instead simply adds another title, The Illustrious Mother, signifying her as a co-founder of his dynasty. For the next several years, he'll continue to send her gifts and invite her to parties. Regretting her part with what's transpired, she fades to a passive role in government and orders her ladies to observe the Han calendar and wear Han uniforms. Despite his attempts to ingratiate himself to her, she gradually sees him less and less. That's OK, because he has more pressing matters, like running the country. Unfortunately for him and, well, China, usurping the throne and actually ruling it required different talents. This dude rose to power, woke up one sunny morning, greeted the world with a nice big stretch and shouted to the heavens, time to F my empire up. He doused the land distribution system back 1,000 years, pissing off nobles and commoners alike, with only corrupt officials winning. He theoretically intended a proto-communist redistribution of lands between the elite and poor, but Wang Mong botches the execution. Government officials lack any oversight, so bribes blow freely and sometimes redistribute public lands away from the commoners. This stems partially from good old-fashioned greed, but Wang Mang also abolishes his official salaries until he could figure out the perfect system to pay them. It turns out people like to get paid for their work, whether illicitly or not. He also relies on eunuchs to screen reports for him, who decide what to deliver to him based on personal whims and probably fear of his responses. His overriding goal with all of these decisions is to return China to the good old days of 1000 years ago, because everything was better back in the day. He's changing geographical names just because that's how they were and nobody has any idea what's where anymore. Then he thinks, you know, I've got fresh ideas to throw into the mix, too. He introduces China's first income tax in a state monopoly on liquor and weapons, which again he may have intended to help commoners with by controlling wealth disparity. Except he also creates the sloth tax, requiring all citizens to pay a bare taxable minimum or pay fines. This leads to retirees leaving their quaint home in the mountains to move back in with their kids to avoid taxation. These initiatives lead to nobles, merchants and commoners alike all asking WTF mate. It even gets to the point where you have to wonder if he simply grew too attached to the chaos is a latter thing because his rule goes off the rails in 10 AD. He broadens China's simple, intuitive currency system into one using 28 types of coins ranging from gold to tortoise shells. He recalls all the Han coinage, creating a gold shortage felt as far as Rome, counterfeits run rampant, and nobody can identify real money. Through a series of four reforms, Wang Meng eventually reduces this to two coins, but the people aren't having it. They reject the Xin Dynasty's bizarro world currency and create a black market for money. Yes, a black market for money. This man then tries to abolish slavery, maybe for noble reasons, but probably because it weakens nobles who could oppose him. After all, he went so far as to penalize slave owners with, wait for it, slavery. Oh, and remember that sloth tax?Yeah, people have been enslaving themselves to pay for it, further undermining his own initiatives. Then there's the Xiongnu, those step nomads in modern-day Mongolia. I brought them up earlier because even though they've played a minimal role these past six decades, what follows makes it clear they're very much on China's mind. There's this seal that the Han Empire gave to the leader of the Xiongnu a while back that basically marks them as a semi-independent tributary. But Wang Mang is like, hey, the Xian are in charge now. You need a new seal. It just says the Xian rule now instead of the Han. No big deal. But in the not so fine print of what's probably a bronze seal no longer than a single page, Wang Mang has changed the wording so that it says the Xiangnu are vassals now, not just tributaries. The nomadic leader doesn't read this until the next day cause the diplomats probably got him drunk and to be fair, he probably didn't expect the emperor to start the relationship with a lazy deception. When he reads the seal, he's pissedThe diplomats, though, say no backsies. God smited the old seal, so we can't help you. Sorry. The Xiongnu chieftain says hell no, starts building defensive structures and sweet-talking kingdoms to the west, and act expressly forbidden by China. Wang Mang then pulls a similar stunt with tribes to the southwest and forces a ruler swaparoo with the western kingdoms that the Xiongnu were talking to. All of this chaos leads to increased border conflicts and raids. China doesn't lose any territory, but it costs them financially and sets people on edge. Wang Jangjun's health begins to deteriorate around this time. As a last-ditch effort to show his love for his aunt in only the way he can, Wang Mang destroys the temple of her deceased husband's resting place in order to make room for a more extravagant, magnificent tomb for her. I don't know what he was expecting desecrating the resting place of not only her beloved spouse, but the last great emperor of the Western Han dynasty to which she was still loyal. She curses his name and refuses to see him until her dying breath less than a year later. Wang Mang takes a break from ruining China to bury his aunt alongside her husband, then dons mourning clothes for her for three years. He makes frequent visits to her tomb, making animal sacrifices to appease her soul. I obviously don't know how well her soul received these gifts, but if further degradation in the empire is any sign, then the answer is not well. By 17 AD, all of Wang Mang's missteps have started taking their toll, amplified by the effects of a flood six years ago from China's second longest river, the Yellow River. People are starving, their homes are gone, and the stable economy of China is in a tailspin. Rebellions spring up across the country, with local successes inciting further rebellions elsewhere. Wong Mong sends messengers to these rebels, offering pardons if they disband. Their response is clear. Disaster and economic reforms made it impossible to earn a living legally. Wong Mong drills his fingers into his ears, says nya nya nya, and fires any messengers who tell him this, and instead chooses to listen to liars who say the rebels are just evil troublemakers. He doesn't do much to actually stamp out this evil, though. This response is mirrored elsewhere in his political mandates. It's his way or the highway. Damn everyone else. Now, we can't know the true intent of Wang Meng's decrees, whether they stem from authoritarian bids to secure power, or if he truly believed that only he, and he alone, knew the right path for China. The truth probably lies somewhere in the middle. Maybe everyone telling him you're the best for four decades before his rule all went to his head. It can be hard to think you're ever wrong when you've been right for so long, but his sheer arrogance is the prime culprit in his own downfall. He doesn't listen to anyone unless it fits his narrative. As more revolts crop up and overall dissatisfaction rises, one thing he remains good at is sniffing out direct threats to his rule. 11 years into his dynasty in 20 AD, he orders yet another of his two remaining sons to commit suicide. You see, Wang Mang had an affair with this woman, as he does, and his son also had an affair with her. The son and her get to talking about killing daddy not so dearest and taking his place. Wang Mang susses out the plot, brings his son before him, and orders him to commit suicide by poison. But the son. And a final act of defiance uses a sword instead. Way to show him. Wang Meng's fourth and final son also dies this same year, probably to yet another father-enforced suicide, 'cause why stop at three?But there aren't any details. Two years after that, Wang Meng finally starts taking these rebellions seriously. They've been rising up and spreading around the country for five years at this point. He sends an army to quell a few of the big ones. Things are going pretty well until he forces the army to fight past their breaking point, resulting in a total breakdown due to fatigue. They lose momentum in regrouping, and though a plague outbreak does set the rebels back some, it just delays the inevitable. A year later, many disparate rebel groups come together in an alliance that declares the Han Empire reborn. They start to capture territories rather than raid them, eventually culminating in the final meaningful battle of the Xian Empire, the Battle of Kunyang. On one side, we have the rebels, equipped with what they raided or what meager equipment disaffected nobles could provide. The Xin Dynasty's army, by contrast, had the full complement of military technology at the time. This included sabers for cavalry, crossbows, and armor made of rawhide, leather, or steel, depending on the soldier's rank. The most well-known historian to chronicle this era, who would come several decades later, estimated the rebels at the Battle of Kunyang numbered 10 to 20,000 and the Xian Empire 430,000. A contemporary of his, though, put the Xian Empire at 30,000, which is likely low but still closer to the truth. The larger number likely approximates the nation's entire army rather than the army brought to this battle. Either way, the Xian army comes in heavy favorites and loses due to two reasons. One, the Xian general severely underestimates his opponent. While this general is laying siege to the town of Kunyang, one of the rebel leaders brings a force of a few thousand men to meet him. The Xian general counters this by splintering off 10,000 troops, expecting to run over this newcomer. But the small engagement benefits the savvy rebel leader who outmaneuvers and slays the general. Worse for the Xian army, they've been given orders to wait for the general's return. Confusion following his demise leads to havoc when the besieged rebels sally forth. While the Xians still hold the numerical edge, they lack leadership and panic at the two-pronged assault. As bad as that was, a second catastrophe quashes the Xian dynasty's final hopes, one of the natural variety. Legends say that a meteorite from the heavens struck the larger army. More likely, a bad thunderstorm sows chaos, flooding the nearby river and driving them from their position into one far more precarious. Whatever the truth, three months later, the rebels march on the capital. Those inside the walls quickly turn on their Lord and storm the palace. Former Empress Ping, at age 30, commits suicide like her brothers, jumping into a fire. No doubt she feared the angry mob, but it's fair to wonder if after 17 years of mourning her child husband, after watching the Empire crumble around her, that she felt responsible for all that transpired and thus deserved her fate. If true, that's an even sadder tale to her end. She embraced society's values, yet was punished at every turn for doing so. A swarm of rioters and soldiers eventually reach Emperor Wong, who is preparing a final stand to save both his honor and kingdom. Yeah, no, he's indulging in a harem of women. The mob murders the 67 year old emperor, who is so hated that a fight to claim credit for his death leads to dozens of soldiers killing each other. After that, they dice his body into pieces and hang his head on the city wall. Then another mob takes that down and plays pseudo-soccer with it before officials finally store it in a court vault that, two centuries later, would burn down. Remember when I said Wang Mong probably played a rudimentary form of soccer as a kid?In this podcast, everything comes full circle, though perhaps not always so morbidly. Oh, and that rebel leader who outsmarted the Xin general at the Battle of Kunyang? Two years later, he would restore the Han dynasty as its emperor. an empire history would come to call the Eastern Han Dynasty. You can't make this stuff up. And well, while there's not much good to say about Wang Meng after he took power, we might not know about it even if there were. The primary source for what we know about his rule was only able to compile his records with the blessing of the Han emperors a few decades after this time period. Surely, they would want to paint this upstart as inept, a reminder that veering from the glory of the Han is dangerous. Don't get me wrong, this historian was legit. He sacrificed a lot for the history he did record, and it's clear Wang Mang didn't have a clue how to rule, with initiatives that attempted to drag his empire back to a mythical era of glory. But some parts, like the 430,000 troops losing to 10,000, certainly feels like an exaggeration. All of this is to say we can't remove bias from history and why I'll occasionally add my own hypotheticals to these stories, though I'll make sure to note them. There's always more to the story than we can ever know, and I feel it's both healthy and fun to discuss these possibilities. From this, you might wonder if Wang Mang's rule was so twisted for propaganda's sake, why not also add that Emperor Ai was poisoned?Why is there no record of it?Well, to defend my earlier supposition, there's a clear delineation between Wang Mang, the man, and Wang Mang, the ruler. One is honorable, one is despotic. One demonstrates adherence to Confucian virtues. One shows the absence, and these impart their own lessons. These values spread West, though not as far as another product of China, silk. We know that by the time of Wang Mang's death, this unique material has been available in Rome to wealthy citizens for a century. So, as geography and trade links China and Rome, so will this podcast. Next episode, I'll focus not on a ruler, but a soldier turned scholar. Pliny the Elder, who ultimately met his demise in the volcanic eruption of Pompeii. As always, his story will begin as this one ends, with the death of one historical figure coinciding with the birth of another, this time in 23 AD. Talk to you then, and thanks for listening to Linked by History. Oh, and for any future show notes, I'll put them here at the end instead of the beginning so we can always get straight into an episode. If you like this episode and want to hear more, the best thing you can do is rate the podcast wherever you're listening to it. Then follow me to listen to future episodes. With your help, we'll turn history from a series of forgettable names, dates, and events into memorable stories that tell the saga of humanity on a truly personal level.