Chapter 519: Model After the Present King

"Your Majesty, Confucians are scholars, but not all scholars are Confucians. Confucianism is one of the Hundred Schools, but the Hundred Schools do not all recite Confucius and study Confucianism. Because a few Confucians slandered and spoke recklessly, you would implicate all schools of thought under heaven, completely ban private learning, and burn the words of the Hundred Schools — does this not risk implicating the innocent like the fish in the moat when the city gate catches fire?"

Upon hearing these words, Li Si's eyes narrowed. He had originally aimed his sword at Wang Wan, but who would have thought that while old Wang Wan still stood there dumbfounded, it was Heifu, always so amiable and cordial with him, who stepped forward first.

"This young whelp, after pretending at the golden mean for so long, finally can't hold back and wants to make his voice heard?"

Watching Heifu speak so confidently and eloquently, a faint smile crept onto the old Chancellor's lips.

Li Si's dramatic step forward today, throwing out the shocking proposal to "burn the books," was by no means a spur-of-the-moment impulse, but something he had been brewing for a long time.

Qin, ruled by the Legalists, had swept across the realm, which should have brought the century-long struggle between Confucianism and Legalism to an end. But the First Emperor was a pragmatist above all, and did not completely discard Confucianism; instead, he recruited many literary Confucian scholars to Xianyang as Erudites.

The arena of the Confucian-Legalist struggle shifted from the common people to the imperial court. Although the Legalists completely trounced the Confucians every time, this group had Wang Wan as their patron, so they always emerged unscathed, and the next time they would resume their empty, high-flown debates.

This covert and overt struggle reached a fever pitch during the Feng and Shan sacrifices at Mount Tai. Li Si merely employed a small stratagem, and Wang Wan and the Confucian Erudites returned utterly defeated, which also completely exhausted the Emperor's patience with them.

Li Si knew: his chance to thoroughly crush this group had come!

Reflecting on his decades-long official career, the greatest threat to Li Si was neither Wang Wan, nor Ye Teng, but Han Fei, who came from the same school.

Toward Li Si, the First Emperor merely regarded him as a tool to unify the realm and exalt imperial authority alone; promotions and co-optation were all for this purpose. But toward Han Fei, it was genuine admiration from the heart. He even sighed, "If I could meet this man and travel with him, I would die without regret," as if every word Han Fei wrote was penned specifically for the First Emperor.

A fear of being edged out and replaced by Han Fei welled up within him. Li Si exploited the fatal flaw in Han Fei's memorials — his strong advocacy for preserving Han — and joined forces with Yao Jia. At the moment when the First Emperor's suspicion was at its peak, he first had Yao Jia slander him, saying that Han Fei was a prince of Han, loyal to Han, and would never help Qin destroy Han. A talent of such magnitude under heaven, if allowed to return to Han, would likely become a great threat to Qin — better to execute him!

Li Si then, with perfect timing, praised Han Fei, extolling him to the skies as if he were Guan Zhong or Shang Yang reborn — that if he left Qin, Qin would weaken, just as when Shang Yang left Wei in years past. In the end, this made the First Emperor resolve: since he could not have him, he would kill him!

By the time the First Emperor regretted it, Li Si had already raced on horseback to Yunyang, poisoned Han Fei to death, and was tearfully gathering up his corpse.

Eliminate evil completely — this had always been Chancellor Li's personal principle, and this time was no exception.

Of course, he would not expose his selfish motives so blatantly. In the Emperor's eyes, Li Si's proposal was meant to realize the Emperor's own ideals!

In the past, there were two men at court who always held a special place in the Emperor's heart. One was the meticulous Zhao Gao, who could always earn the Emperor's trust, served for years as his guard, and was even qualified to handle the imperial seal. The second was Li Si himself.

But Li Si's level was clearly a notch above Zhao Gao's. He did not speculate on the Emperor's minor preferences but focused entirely on the grand trend. Whatever the First Emperor intended to do next, he could always propose it in advance. Abolishing feudalism and establishing commanderies, standardizing cart axles and writing — in every case, Li Si placed the pieces where the Emperor's gaze was about to fall, respectfully inviting His Majesty to make the move!

Who would not favor such a minister? It reached the point of "for internal matters undecided, ask Zhao Gao; for external matters undecided, ask Li Si."

The only matter where Li Si fell behind was the westward expansion. He had assumed the Emperor intended to conquer Lingnan, and arranged for his son Li You to be stationed in Changsha Commandery, but it was all a futile effort — instead, Meng Tian, Li Xin, and Heifu, three sons, gained renown.

Especially Heifu! Although he carefully avoided accumulating too many battle merits, letting Li Xin bask in the limelight, Li Si knew that Heifu was the true instigator behind it all.

There was now one more person who held a special place in the Emperor's heart.

Moreover, Heifu's formidable strength lay in his ability to often lure the Emperor away from his original intentions, diverting his attention elsewhere. Li Si did not know that this dark fellow had cheats, which was why he hit the jackpot every time; he assumed Heifu possessed extraordinary ability. His wariness of Heifu deepened day by day as Heifu's status grew more exalted.

But in this matter, Li Si had originally thought that Heifu had been away from court too long and too far to have any involvement. He never expected that he would still meddle.

Li Si glanced at Ye Teng, the Commandant of Justice, standing not far behind him, and thought to himself:

"Was this at Ye Teng's behest? Does the Commandant of Justice wish to show that his views differ somewhat from mine, eager to establish his own political stance so as to contend for the future position of Left Chancellor, or even Right Chancellor, and thus instigated his son-in-law to step forward?"

Whatever the reason, Li Si resolved that today he would teach this young man a good lesson, and in passing, stamp out Ye Teng's petty schemes. Let Heifu know that the old ginger is still the spiciest; the westward expansion was mere coincidence, and the Emperor's mind is far more complex than you imagine!

The Feng and Shan incident had confirmed for Li Si that the First Emperor's next focus would be on unifying the hearts and minds of the realm, and on public discourse. His proposal to burn the books was precisely to cater to the Emperor.

At this moment, Heifu had finished speaking. Li Si shook his head and said: "The Governor of Jiaodong's words merely take the perspective of a single public lawsuit, arguing that only the implicated Confucians and scholars need be punished, and the rest need not be pursued. That is far too shortsighted and still does not consider the matter from the perspective of state affairs. Do you know why Lord Shang, in his day, wanted to burn the Songs and Documents?"

Heifu cupped his hands: "I have heard it was to clarify the laws and decrees..."

"Indeed! Burning the Songs and Documents was to clarify the laws and decrees!"

Li Si's voice grew louder: "Knights violate prohibitions by force, Confucians disrupt laws with letters — both are intolerable under the statutes and ordinances. Violating prohibitions by force is easy to understand, but how does disrupting laws with letters cause chaos? It relies on their doctrine of 'modeling after the Former Kings'!"

This term made Heifu pause. Zhang Cang had once told him that "modeling after the Former Kings" was a common assertion of the Hundred Schools, fond of invoking antiquity, even to the point of revivalism.

The Confucians need not even be mentioned; regardless of faction, they all believed that the Three Dynasties were the best golden age, that the present is inferior to the past, and the later inferior to the earlier. All that later generations need do is imitate, restore, and perpetuate the ruling model of the high ancient Three Dynasties as much as possible, ultimately achieving "self-restraint and the restoration of ritual."

Disciples of Confucius and Mencius never spoke without invoking Yao and Shun, never inquired without discussing benevolence and righteousness. Ask them how to enrich the state and strengthen the army, and they reply, "Disciples of Confucius do not speak of the affairs of Dukes Huan and Wen." Ask them how to unify the realm, and they reply, "One who dislikes killing can unify the realm." The words, though pleasant-sounding and morally correct, had they any practical significance for the seven warring states facing imminent survival or destruction, with enemy troops at the city gates?

The Daoists of the Lao-Zhuang school, though they looked unfavorably upon the Confucians, likewise believed that returning to the era of small states with sparse populations, where "cocks crow and dogs bark are heard, but the people reach old age and death without visiting one another," was the best...

After denouncing the various schools' stubborn adherence to "modeling after the Former Kings," Li Si said: "Now, when the various scholars use the past to criticize the present, it is this doctrine causing mischief. It is like weeding a field: if you do not kill the roots but only pluck the leaves, before long, weeds will again grow thick in the field, while the seedlings and grains will all wither and weaken! Therefore, we must pursue their evil to the end, burning the Hundred Schools that model after the Former Kings, along with the Songs, Documents, and other texts that advocate revivalism, so that no one dares to use the past to criticize the present again!"

In Li Si's view, most of the Hundred Schools were "modeling after the Former Kings." Considered from the perspective of state affairs, those scholars of the Hundred Schools, and the books they wrote, were all guilty! Even if some schools indeed had no attachment to modeling after the Former Kings, they were like weeds in a field — what farmer would crouch down to examine their species? It is usually better to kill wrongly than to let go; one hoe-stroke down, all are eradicated, and no pity is felt!

Only by eliminating these schools that model after the Former Kings can the Legalist advocacy of "modeling after the Later Kings" and "modeling after the Present King" truly prevail!

In the Legalist view, as times change, the way of governance also constantly changes. There is no consistent, unchanging way of the Former Kings that persists for a hundred generations. Even the deeds of those so-called Former Kings were fabricated and imagined by Confucians. In an era where the whole world contends by force and strength, the ruler should aim to enrich the state and strengthen the army, implement strict laws and harsh punishments, and use the two handles of reward and punishment to mobilize the strength of the entire populace.

In later parlance, this would be "keeping pace with the times"!

Thus, in the Legalist view, as time progresses, the finest era is always the present, the "Present King" — that is, the realm under the rule of the First Emperor of Qin!

"What shall not be removed are books on medicine, pharmacy, divination, agriculture, and arboriculture. If one wishes to study laws and decrees, take the officials as teachers. In this way, public discourse can be unified."

These words, Li Si directed at the arbiter.

The First Emperor nodded slightly. What was the public discourse he desired? Was it that the present is inferior to the past, that Qin merely continues the enterprise of the Three Dynasties? No, no! The meaning the Emperor expressed in the stone inscriptions at the Feng and Shan sacrifices atop Mount Tai was very clear:

"Before Qin unified the realm, it was a dark, benighted, chaotic, and disorderly time. From now on, the realm enters a brand-new, radiant, and bright new phase!"

In short, do not model after the Former Kings, but model after the Present King!

This happened to coincide perfectly with Li Si's, and the Legalist school's, political orientation! Thus, Li Si's advocacy of banning the Songs, Documents, and the Hundred Schools made the First Emperor, whose thinking had undergone a significant shift after the Feng and Shan sacrifices, somewhat tempted.

Afterward, Li Si began to discuss the issue of the historical records of the Six States.

"The common people are not yet gathered in unity; their hearts yearn for their former states — all because of the lingering influence of the historical affairs of the Six States."

He began to list recent incidents. Weren't the entertainers and scholars arrested in Linzi often discussing the affairs of Duke Huan of Qi, Yan Ying, and Tian Dan in the taverns and streets? Hearing these things daily, the common people might yearn for the life of the past, and the specter of restoring the states would forever hover over the Six States.

Moreover, the historical records of the Six States often contained vicious slanders against Qin. The people of Chu called the Qin people "Qin barbarians," and the feudal lords east of the Pass also said Qin "shared the customs of the Rong and Di," as if they were blood-drinking, hair-eating aliens — and indeed, quite a few people of the Six States still believed this to this day.

In Li Si's view, this matter was easy to handle. First, burn the plundered historical records of the Six States, then completely burn the privately hidden histories among the people, and strictly forbid any discussion of the historical affairs of the Six States. In this way, after one or two generations, who would still remember Yan Ying or Tian Dan?

To destroy a state, first destroy its history! Li Si's solution was simple and brutal. The names of certain people must be erased from the historical record, erased from the people's memory. The books containing their records had best disappear silently, disappear forever.

In the end, only Qin would remain, only the present! Only the great First Emperor!

"Burn their histories, and the hearts of the people will be unified!"

After expounding the ideas he had pondered for so long, Li Si looked at Heifu, who had rashly stepped forward:

"Junior Chief of Works, do you still maintain that the various scholars are guiltless, that the books must not be burned, and the words of the Hundred Schools must not be banned?"

Heifu suddenly became meek and submissive: "The Chancellor's considerations are indeed far-reaching... Unifying public discourse and the hearts of the people is truly of utmost importance, and is precisely what the court most needs to do right now."

But then he raised his head, glanced at the First Emperor, whose inner scales had already gradually tipped toward Li Si, and his smile remained: "However, your servant has a method that, without needing to ban the private learning of the Hundred Schools or burn all the books, can achieve the effect of unifying public discourse and the hearts of the people that the Chancellor speaks of!"

PS: The system lagged — it still hadn't loaded after twenty minutes. To save time, this chapter is a bit messy. I might revise it tomorrow. Please don't roast me too hard.

(End of chapter)