How China's emperors selected their civil servants

Senior civil servants in the United Kingdom (and possibly elsewhere) are often referred to as Mandarins, and Mandarin is the most widely-spoken dialect of Chinese. Is there a connection? There certainly is!

The Qin emperors of China, who ruled from 221 BC to 206 BC, were the first to establish a civil service to enable the emperors to administer their territories. Subsequent Chinese dynasties refined the process of selecting the people who would take up positions in the civil service, and by the time that the Song dynasty was in power (AD 960-1279) a system of competitive examinations was well established. The Song emperors refined the process to make sure that successful candidates were selected without fear or favour and entirely on merit.

A candidate would begin by taking a local test which would qualify them for progressing to the second stage in the provincial capital. Only those who cleared this hurdle would be allowed to travel to the imperial capital to sit the final exam, after which the best candidates would be awarded the “Jinshi” that signified their admission to the civil service. Only about one in a hundred candidates would get all the way through, and there was a three-year wait before one was able to try again, which many people did.

The Song emperors instituted a marking system according to which three examiners would mark each paper independently and the name of the candidate would not be made known to the markers, thus ensuring that nobody could win the Jinshi through favouritism or corruption. 

A later development, under the Ming emperors who ruled from 1368 to 1644, was to make the candidates write an essay of limited length that was split into eight sections, each with a specific function. 

The Song tradition of competitive examination was so successful in getting the best people into high office that it was still in use up to the end of imperial China in 1912. That was why it was copied by western governments, including that of the United Kingdom.

However, the subject of the examinations was very different when the system was taken up by Europeans. Chinese civil servants had to be extremely well versed in the philosophy of Confucius, who flourished in the 5^th century BC, and his later interpreters.

© John Welford

The bizarre origin of the Tour de France

The Tour de France is surely the World’s best-known and most celebrated cycle race. It takes 23 days to stage, with the competitors, who come from many countries, completing a series of grueling stages that take them all round France and usually across borders to visit neighbouring countries en route. 

Most people are not aware that the race began as a competition between two daily sporting newspapers, and was linked to the notorious Dreyfus case and the death of one of France’s most famous writers.

Alfred Dreyfus was a captain in the French army who was tried and convicted of spying for Germany in 1894. The problem was that Dreyfus was completely innocent. The evidence against him was weak in the extreme, but he was not only a native of Alsace – which was then part of Germany – but he was also Jewish. It did not take much for an anti-Semitic and anti-German military court to find Dreyfus guilty and pack him off to the penal colony of Devil’s Island.

Many people in France were far from satisfied that justice had been done, and one of these was the writer Emile Zola, who in 1898 wrote a piece that condemned the French establishment over the Dreyfus case. This was splashed across the front page of L’Aurore newspaper under the heading “J`Accuse” (I accuse). 

This made Zola extremely unpopular with the anti-Dreyfus faction in France, and Zola was forced to flee to London until the situation calmed down.

Zola was still a marked man in the eyes of some extreme anti-Semites, and his support for Dreyfus – who in 1899 had been allowed to return to France but without a full pardon – was not forgotten. 

In 1902 Emile Zola died as the result of what appeared to be a tragic accident, when he and his wife were overcome by carbon monoxide fumes after lighting a fire in their Paris apartment. It was not until 1928 that it emerged that their chimney had been blocked deliberately by a right-wing fanatic and that Zola’s death (his wife survived) had been murder.

However, this was far from clear at the time, especially as tests carried out the day after Zola’s death showed that there was nothing wrong with the chimney. Of course there wasn’t – the killer had by then removed the obstruction.

The fact that there was still a huge amount of controversy in France about the whole Dreyfus affair led to accusations flying in all directions. In particular, two sporting daily newspapers, Le Velo and L’Auto, took opposite sides on the question of whether Emile Zola’s death was related to the Dreyfus case. The arguments went on right through the winter of 1902-3, but eventually tempers died down and the two newspapers decided to settle their differences in a way that might have been expected of publications devoted mainly to sport – a bicycle race!

And so the first Tour de France took place in July 1903 and it has been run ever since, apart from during the two World Wars. The event soon caught the attention of the French public and sales of L’Auto (the original main sponsor) went through the roof.

A particular feature of the Tour de France is the wearing of coloured jerseys by certain competitors. A yellow jersey is worn by the overall leader. The colour is no accident, being a recognition of the fact that L’Auto was printed on yellow paper. In the early days the rider with the lowest standing wore a green jersey, although from 1953 this became a mark of pride rather than shame, because it is worn by the leader of the various sprint stages on the Tour. Green was the colour of paper used by Le Velo!

© John Welford

The seven kingdoms of old England

If you have ever wondered about the names of the English counties Essex and Sussex, not to mention the region of Wessex as beloved by the novelist Thomas Hardy, you might be interested to know that they are not as “sexy” as might be imagined. They were all ruled by their own kings many centuries ago, and the names are relics of those times.

The seven kingdoms were established by the Germanic tribes that moved into what is now England as the Roman Empire faded away and left a power vacuum. In 410 AD the last Roman troops departed and left the “Romano-British” to fend for themselves. 

One account states that in about 450 a chieftain named Vortigern invited two brothers named Hengist and Horsa to bring an army to Britain to defend the British against the Picts who were invading from the far north. However, once this threat had been seen off the invited mercenaries decided not to go home but to settle in what became the Kingdom of Kent in the south-east corner of Britain.

Not long after, settlers from Saxony (modern Germany) arrived on the south coast and spread across a wide area, eventually creating the kingdoms of the East Saxons (Essex) South Saxons (Sussex) and West Saxons (Wessex). 

Other settlers, who are generally referred to as Angles, arrived in what is now Norfolk and Suffolk, leading to the founding of the Kingdom of East Anglia. Despite their relative unimportance in the overall history of the country, it was the Angles who would eventually give their name to the whole country south of Scotland and east of Wales, namely England.

The last kingdoms to be established were those of Mercia (the Midlands) and Northumbria (north of the River Humber).

The seven kingdoms that emerged in the 5^th to 7^th centuries are generally known as the Heptarchy. They would remain in place for about 200 years until Danish invaders put an end to the eastern kingdoms and were only kept from taking over the whole of England by the obduracy of Wessex.

During the period of the Heptarchy the kings spent much of their time warring against each other. Their aim was not so much to absorb each others’ territory as to establish themselves as ‘senior king’. The king who achieved temporary domination was known as the Bretwalda which translated as ‘ruler of Britain’ but it did not signify anything other than that the holder was more powerful than the other kings and could make demands on them. The title was not hereditary, and any other king might become Bretwalda when the holder died or was defeated in battle.

During the period of the Heptarchy only Essex failed to produce a Bretwalda at some time or another. The only Bretwalda of the 8^th century who came close to being ruler of all England in any meaningful sense was Offa of Mercia (757-96), who used the title ‘King of the English’ but was never completely dominant.

The last Bretwalda was Egbert of Wessex (802-39), who can be titled the first true ‘King of the English’, in that he united Wessex and Kent (Sussex, Essex and East Anglia had already been absorbed by their neighbours) and then conquered Mercia and received the formal submission of Northumbria. However, he could not hold on to his gains for long and Mercia again became independent.

The end of the Heptarchy came with the Danish invasions of the 9^th century that left Wessex, led by Egbert’s grandson Alfred, as the sole bastion of the English in resisting the onslaught.

© John Welford

Crossbow pages

In medieval times it was common for aristocrats to employ boys as young as seven in their households. These were often the sons of other nobles, and the practice of passing one’s son on to a neighbouring lord would be a means of establishing friendly relationships or maybe of discharging a debt. 

The boys would work as “pages”, doing menial jobs within the household, but would also be treated well and be given education and military training, including being taught to ride a horse. 

One aspect of the military training would be learning to use weapons, but there would be limits on what weapons boys could use, given that lances and longbows were large weapons that required considerable physical force to operate them. However, one weapon that a young boy could use was the crossbow. 

Crossbows were operated by winding the “string” back with a handle, which needed far less physical effort than that involved in firing a longbow. Boy pages were therefore expected to be able to use a crossbow should an aristocrat’s castle come under siege. A child could thus be an effective killer without having to engage in hand-to-hand combat with an enemy. 

Boy pages would also be expected to accompany their lord into battle, their main duties being to dress and arm their employer. Even if they did not use a crossbow in the field, they could assist the archers by winding the crossbows between shots. 

Medieval military etiquette decreed that boy pages could not be targeted during a battle. This convention was ignored by the French side during the Bartle of Agincourt in 1415, a circumstance that so annoyed King Henry V that he absolved himself from another aspect of the military code and proceeded to slit the throats of his prisoners.

© John Welford

The Children's Crusade, 1212

Many stories have been told about the Children's Crusade of 1212, and it is not easy to distinguish fact from myth, but it does appear that there was such an event and it did not end well.

The Crusades were a series of attempts to wrest the “holy places” of Palestine back from Muslim rule. The First Crusade was sanctioned by Pope Urban II in 1095 and the final official Crusade – the Ninth – took place in 1271-2. There were also several unauthorized attempts to achieve the same (or a similar) end, and the Children's Crusade was one of these.

A young French shepherd boy, Stephen of Cloyes, had the idea that Jesus had called him to lead a peaceful crusade that merely sought to convert Muslims to Christianity. Stephen was apparently able to perform miracles – or what other people might regard as such – and he gathered a sizable following as a result.

As many as 30,000 adults and children from across Europe rallied to the cause and headed south to the Mediterranean Sea. Stephen had claimed that Jesus had promised that the sea would part like the Red Sea in the book of Exodus, thus giving them safe passage to the Holy Land. However, not surprisingly, this did not happen.

Many of the Crusaders gave up at this stage and turned back, but some were more determined and looked for other means of progressing in their quest. They were therefore easy prey for slave traders who were only too happy to give them free passage aboard their ships, which promptly headed for the slave markets of Tunisia. Some of the ships were lost at sea, with the loss of their human cargoes.

The whole affair was therefore a dismal failure, as was always likely to be the case.

© John Welford

The sinking of Vice-Admiral Tryon

Vice-Admiral Sir George Tryon died on 22^nd June 1893, at sea in the eastern Mediterranean. As he acknowledged shortly before going under, it was entirely his own fault.

Born in January 1832 into a wealthy Northamptonshire family who owned a country estate, George Tryon was educated at Eton and entered the Navy at the age of 16. His promotion through the ranks was rapid, although much of his experience was away from the sea. He became a Vice-Admiral (following a failed bid to enter Parliament and a post that gave him responsibility for coastguard buildings) in 1889.

As a Vice-Admiral during peacetime, his main responsibility was to direct “naval manoeuvres”, which in layman’s terms means “war games”. It was during one such operation in 1893 that disaster struck.

Tryon had a reputation for keeping his captains on their toes by issuing orders at the last minute and seeing how responsive they were. His aim, as he saw it, was to encourage initiative and quick thinking. It was unfortunate that these were qualities that he did not always demonstrate himself.

On the day in question, Vice-Admiral Tryon was aboard his flagship HMS Victoria at the head of a double column of eight battleships and three light cruisers. They were steaming in two rows about 1,200 yards apart.

Tryon gave orders that the two rows were to turn inwards towards each other in a complete 180 degree manoeuvre, after which they would steam in the opposite direction before turning at 90 degrees and coming to anchor.

There was one huge problem with this idea, which was that the turning circle of a battleship was at least 800 yards. This was pointed out to the Vice-Admiral by some of his officers, and he agreed to increase the distance between the columns to 1,600 yards, which would just be sufficient if the ships continued at their current speed.

However, not long after the new formation had been adopted, Sir George went back to Plan A. Just for good measure, he ordered the ships to increase their speed. It would now be impossible for the manoeuvre to be made safely. All the senior officers knew this, with the sole exception of Vice-Admiral Sir George Tryon.

He then raised a signal flag to order the ships to make the 180 degree turns. Rear-Admiral Albert Hastings Markham, who was in charge of HMS Camperdown at the head of the opposite column, had serious doubts about the order – which he knew to be unsafe – and he hesitated to obey it. Sir George sent a tetchy signal that was visible to all the other captains, to the effect of “what are you waiting for?”

So the turn was made. Knowing Vice-Admiral Tryon’s reputation for pulling rabbits out of hats, it might have been the case that everyone was expecting another order to come that would have saved the situation. But that was not the case.

HMS Camperdown hit HMS Victoria and tore a large hole below the waterline, causing Sir George’s flagship to sink in 13 minutes. Fortunately, none of the other ships in the column had followed the order as quickly as the two at the front and there were no other collisions.

Vice-Admiral Tryon went to the bottom along with 358 members of his crew. One of the 357 survivors was John Jellicoe, an officer who would later become Admiral of the Fleet and take charge at the Battle of Jutland in 1916.

So why did the disaster happen? There was an enquiry, at which various explanations were put forward. One was that Sir George made a simple arithmetical mistake. Another was that the intention had been for the columns to cross each other as they turned, with one ship passing behind its opposite number. 

However, what was going on in Vice-Admiral Tryon’s head will never be known.

© John Welford

The assassination of King Carlos of Portugal

The Kingdom of Portugal began in 1139 when Afonso I (“The Conqueror”) declared himself King. It ended in 1910 when the last monarch, Manuel II, was chased into exile and Portugal became a republic. During that time only one King was assassinated, that being Carlos, who was the last King but one.

Carlos came to the throne in 1889, at the age of 26, and proceeded to demonstrate his unsuitability for the role by maintaining a profligate lifestyle at the time of a severe economic downturn. As the crisis got worse and republican agitation grew, Carlos appointed Joao Franco as Prime Minister, which meant virtual dictator. The popular perception was that Franco was siphoning off money from the treasury to fund Carlos’s personal spending at the same time as causing great distress to the people with his attempts to get the economy back on track.

Eventually, government oppression coupled with hatred of King Carlos led to open revolt and the deaths of Carlos and his son Luis Filipe. They were gunned down on 1^st February 1908 as they rode in an open carriage through Lisbon. Their two assassins, who were immediately killed by Carlos’s bodyguards, may have been members of the Carbonaria, a republican secret society.

Carlos’s 18-year-old second son, Manuel, was also in the carriage but only suffered a minor injury. He was declared King but only reigned for two years before a second Carbonaria revolt, in October 1910, ended the monarchy for all time. Manuel spent the rest of his life in England, where he died in 1932.

© John Welford