“What is this Tsungli Yamen?” Emperor Hsien Feng asked. “I have never heard of the title.”
“A national bureau of foreign affairs.”
“Ah, the foreign problem. Why don’t you go ahead, if you think you need it.”
“I can’t.”
“Who’s stopping you?”
“Su Shun, the court, the senior clansmen. I face strong opposition. People say that our ancestors never had it, so why should we.”
“Everyone is waiting for our father’s spirit to perform a miracle.” The Emperor frowned.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Meanwhile, many more foreigners are coming. Our best bet is to put in place some restrictions in order to gradually gain control over the situation. Perhaps we will even be able to drive them out one day. But first we must deal with them according to rules that we both agree on. The foreigners call such rules ‘law,’ roughly equivalent to what we call ‘principle.’ The Tsungli Yamen will be in charge of making the laws.”
“What do you want from me, then?” Emperor Hsien Feng asked in a less than enthusiastic tone.
“I will get started if you grant me an operational fund. My people need to learn foreign languages. And of course I have to hire foreigners to be the teachers. The foreigners—”
“I can’t stand the word ‘foreigners’!” the Emperor interrupted. “I resent acknowledging the invaders. All I know is that they come to China to impose their ways on me.”
“There is something in it for China, Your Majesty. Open trade will help develop our economy.”
Emperor Hsien Feng raised his hand to silence Prince Kung. “I won’t offer gifts when my face is shamed.”
“I understand and agree with you, my brother,” Prince Kung said with gentleness. “But you have no idea what humiliations I have endured. Pressure comes at me from both sides, foreign and domestic. I have been called ‘the devil’s ass-kisser’ by my own officers and clerks.”
“You deserve it.”
“Well, it is easy to close our eyes, but will reality go away?” Prince Kung paused, then decided to finish what he had set out to say. “The truth is, we are under attack and have no defenses. I worry that our court’s ignorant arrogance will cost us the dynasty.”
“I am tired,” Hsien Feng said after a moment of silence.
Prince Kung rang the servants, who brought in a flat-backed rattan chair.
With assistance Emperor Hsien Feng sat on the chair. Pale-faced and sleepy-eyed, he said, “My thoughts are flying away like butterflies. Make me think no more, please.”
“Do I have your permission to open the Tsungli Yamen, then? Will you see the funds issued?”
“I hope that is all you are asking.” Hsien Feng closed his eyes.
Prince Kung shook his head and a bitter smile crossed his face. The room was quiet. Through the windows I saw maids chasing children as they hopped over stones in a pond.
“I need an official decree, Your Majesty.” Prince Kung sounded almost like he was begging. “Brother, we can’t afford to wait any longer.”
“Fine.” Eyes still closed, Hsien Feng turned his face toward the wall.
“In your decree the Tsungli Yamen must be given true power.”
“All right, but in return you must promise,” Emperor Hsien Feng said, pushing himself to sit up, “that whoever gets paid must perform or he will lose his head.”
Prince Kung looked relieved. “I can assure you that the quality of my people will be second to none. But things are more complicated. The most serious obstacle my officers face is the court. I get no respect from this quarter. They secretly cheered when local villagers harassed foreign ambassadors and murdered missionaries. I can’t tell you how dangerous such behavior is. It can ignite a war. The senior clansmen are politically sightless.”
“Enlighten the court, then,” said Emperor Hsien Feng, opening his eyes. He looked truly tired.
“I have tried, Your Majesty. I called meetings and no clansmen showed up. I even sent my father-in-law to personally invite them, hoping that his age would bring respect. But it didn’t work. I got letters calling me names and telling me to hang myself. I’d like to ask you to attend the next meeting if that would be possible. I want the court to know that I have your full support.”
The Emperor made no answer. He was falling asleep.
With a sigh, Prince Kung sat back. He looked defeated.
The sun had hit the roof beams and the room felt warm.
The smell of jasmine from the plants in the corners was sweet. Gradually the sunlight changed the shapes of the plants’ shadows on the floor.
Emperor Hsien Feng began to snore. Prince Kung rubbed his hands and looked around the room. Servants came and removed our teacups. They brought small plates with fresh loquats.
I had no appetite. Prince Kung didn’t touch the fruit either. We stared at the sleeping Emperor. Slowly our eyes met and I decided to make use of the time.
“I was wondering, sixth brother,” I began, “if you could kindly tell me about the murder of foreign missionaries. I’m having a hard time believing it.”
“I wished that His Majesty had the desire to learn about this,” Prince Kung said. “You know the saying, ‘A long icicle doesn’t form with one night of snow’—well, the roots of the incidents can be traced to the reign of Emperor Kang Hsi. During that time, when Grand Empress Hsiao Chuang reached the autumn of her life, she became friends with a German missionary named Johann Adam Schall von Bell. It was he who converted Her Majesty to Catholicism.”
“How could that be possible? I mean, the conversion of Her Majesty?”
“Not overnight, of course. Schall von Bell was a scholar, a scientist and a priest. He was an attractive man and was introduced to the Grand Empress by the court scientist, Hsu Kuang-chi. Schall had been teaching under Hsu at the Imperial Hanlin Academy.”
“I know about Hsu. Wasn’t he the one who correctly predicted the eclipse.”
“Yes.” Prince Kung smiled. “That was Hsu, but he didn’t do it alone. Father Schall was his teacher and partner. The Emperor appointed him to reform the lunar calendar. When Schall succeeded, the Emperor appointed him as his military consultant. Schall helped manufacture the weapons that led to the suppression of a major peasant uprising.”
“How did the Grand Empress get to know Schall?”
“Well, Schall predicted that her son Prince Shih Chung would ascend to the throne, since the boy had survived smallpox while the Emperor’s other children hadn’t. Of course no one at the time understood what smallpox was, and no one believed Schall. A few years later, Shih Chung’s brother Shih Tsu died of smallpox. Her Majesty now believed that Schall had a special connection with the universe, and she asked to be converted to his religion. She became a fervent believer and welcomed the foreign missionaries.”
“Did the trouble start when the missionaries built churches?” I asked.
“Yes, when they chose sites the locals considered to have the best feng shui. Villagers believed that the shadows cast by churches onto their ancestral graveyards would disturb the dead. The Catholics also denigrated Chinese religions, which offended the local people.”
“Why wouldn’t the foreigners be more understanding?”
“They insisted that their god was the only god.”
“Our people would never accept this.”
“True.” Prince Kung nodded. “Fights started between the new converts and those who held on to their old beliefs. People of dubious reputation, even criminals, joined the Catholics. Many committed crimes in the name of their god.”
“I’m sure that would lead to violence.”
“Indeed. When the missionaries attempted to defend the criminals, the locals gathered by the thousands. They burned down the churches and murdred the missionaries.”
“Is that why the treaties made clear that China would be fined heavily if it failed to control uprisings?”
“The fines are bankrupting us.”
There wa
s a silence, and Prince Kung turned to look at the Emperor, who was breathing deeply.
“Why don’t we tell the missionaries to leave?” I asked, wishing that I could help myself not to. “Tell them to come back when things are more stable here?”
“His Majesty did. He even gave them the date.”
“What was the response?”
“Threats of war.”
“Why do the foreigners force their ways on us? As Manchus, we don’t force our views on the Chinese. We don’t tell them to stop binding their women’s feet.”
Prince Kung gave a sarcastic laugh. “Can a beggar demand respect?” He turned to look at me as if expecting an answer.
The room began to feel cold. I watched our teacups being refilled.
“The Son of Heaven has been kicked around,” I said. “China has been kicked around. Everyone is too ashamed to admit it!”
Prince Kung gestured for me to keep my voice down.
In his sleep Hsien Feng’s cheeks flushed. He must be running a fever again. His breathing was now labored, as if not enough air was entering his lungs.
“Your brother believes in pa kua—the eight diagrams—and feng shui,” I told Prince Kung. “He believes he is protected by the gods.”
Kung took a sip of his tea. “Everyone believes what he wants to be-lieve. But reality is like a rock from the bottom of a manure pit. It stinks!”
“How did the Westerners become so powerful?” I asked. “What should we learn about them?”
“Why do you want to bother?” He smiled. He must be thinking that this was no subject for a woman to discuss.
I told Prince Kung that Emperor Hsien Feng was interested in learning. And that I could be helpful.
A look of recognition passed between us. It seemed to make sense to him. “This is no small topic. But you might begin by reading my letters to His Majesty. We must escape the trap of self-deception and …” He raised his eyes and suddenly went quiet.
It was through Prince Kung that I learned of the third important man, the general of the Northern Army and the viceroy of Anhwei province. His name was Tseng Kuo-fan.
I had first heard the name from Emperor Hsien Feng. Tseng Kuo-fan was said to be a level-headed, dogged Chinese in his fifties. He had risen from a poor peasant family and had been appointed in 1852 to command the army in his native Hunan. He was known for his thorough methods of drilling his men. He had successfully suppressed the Taiping strongholds on the Yangtze River, which earned him praise from the anxious and impatient capital. He continued to harden his men, who came to be known as the Hunan Braves. They were the most efficient fighting force in the empire.
It was due to Prince Kung’s encouragement that the Emperor granted General Tseng a private audience.
“Orchid,” Emperor Hsien Feng called as he put on his dragon robe. “Come with me this morning and let me know your impression of Tseng Kuo-fan.” I followed my husband to the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing.
The general rose from his knees and greeted His Majesty. I noticed that he was too nervous to raise his eyes. This was not uncommon during a first Imperial audience. It happened more often among those of Chinese origin. Humble to a fault, they could not believe their ruler was receiving them.
In truth, it was not the Chinese but the Manchus who lacked confidence. Our ancestors may have conquered the mainland by force two centuries before, but we had never mastered the art of ruling. We arrived without the fundamentals, such as Confucian philosophy, which unified the nation through morality and spirituality, and without a system that effectively centralized power. We also lacked a language that allowed the Emperor to communicate with his people, 80 percent of whom were Chinese.
Wisely, our ancestors had adopted Chinese ways. In my view, this was probably unavoidable. The culture was so gracious and broad that it both accepted and served us. Confucian fundamentals continued to dominate the nation. For myself, my first language was Chinese, my eating habits Chinese, my rough schooling Chinese, and my favorite form of entertainment Peking operas!
I had come to realize that the Manchu sense of superiority had betrayed us. Today’s Manchus were as rotten as termite-infested wood. Manchu men were generally spoiled. They no longer knew how to win battles on horseback. Most had become their own enemies. Beneath their proud exterior, they were lazy and insecure. They created difficulties for my husband whenever he wished to promote someone of true talent who happened to be Chinese.
Sadly, they remained the dominant political force. Their opinions influenced Emperor Hsien Feng. Tseng Kuo-fan was the best general in the empire, yet His Majesty was afraid to promote him. This was typical. Any high-ranking Chinese could easily find himself cut off at a moment’s notice. There was never an explanation.
Prince Kung had repeatedly advised the Emperor to rid his administration of discrimination. Kung’s point was that until His Majesty could demonstrate true justice, he would receive no true loyalty. Tseng Kuo-fan illustrated the point. The renowned general didn’t believe that he was here to be honored. The man broke down when Emperor Hsien Feng attempted a light-hearted joke: “Is ‘Head-Chopper Tseng’ your name?”
Tseng Kuo-fan knocked his forehead on the floor and trembled violently.
I tried not to giggle when I heard Tseng’s jewelry clanking.
The Emperor was charmed. “Why don’t you answer my question?”
“I should be punished and die ten thousand times before I soil Your Majesty’s ears with this name,” the man replied.
“No, I wasn’t upset.” Emperor Hsien Feng smiled. “Rise, please. I like the name Head-Chopper Tseng. Would you explain how you got it?”
Drawing a deep breath, the man replied, “Your Majesty, the name was first created by my enemies, and then my men adopted it.”
“Your men must be very proud to serve under you.”
“Yes, indeed, they are.”
“You have honored me, Tseng Kuo-fan. I wish I had more head-choppers as generals!”
When Emperor Hsien Feng invited Tseng to join him for lunch, the man was moved to tears. He said that he could now die and greet his ancestors with pride, because he had brought them great honor.
After a little liquor, General Tseng became relaxed. When I was introduced as the Emperor’s favorite concubine, Tseng fell to his knees and bowed to me. I was very pleased. Many years later, after the death of my husband, when Tseng Kuo-fan and I were both old, I asked him what he had thought of me when we first met. He flattered me and said that he had been stunned by my beauty and unable to think. He asked if I recalled his drinking down a bowl of dirty water—the one used to wash our fingers during the meal.
I was glad that Emperor Hsien Feng cared to present me to his high-ranking friends. In their eyes I was still just a concubine, albeit a favored one; nevertheless, the exposure was crucial to my political development and maturity. Personally knowing someone like Tseng Kuo-fan would serve me well in the future.
As I listened to the conversation between Emperor Hsien Feng and the general, I was reminded of the sweetest days of my childhood when my father told me stories of China’s past.
“You yourself are a scholar,” Hsien Feng said to Tseng. “I have heard that you prefer to hire officers who are literate.”
“Your Majesty, I believe that anyone who has been taught Confucius’s teachings has a better understanding of loyalty and justice.”
“I have also heard that you don’t recruit former soldiers. Why?”
“Well, in my experience I find that professional soldiers have bad habits. Their first thought when a battle starts is to save their own skin. They desert their posts shamelessly.”
“How do you recruit quality soldiers?”
“I spend taels on recruiting peasants from poor areas and remote mountains. These people have purer characters. I train them myself. I try to cultivate a sense of brotherhood.”
“I have heard that many of them are from Hunan.”
“Yes. I am Hunanese mys
elf. It is easy for them to identify with me and with each other. We speak the same dialect. It is like a big family.”
“And you are the father, of course.”
Tseng Kuo-fan smiled, proud and embarrassed at the same time.
Emperor Hsien Feng nodded. “It has been reported to me that you have equipped your army with superior weapons—better than the Imperial Army’s. Is that true?”
Tseng Kuo-fan got up from his seat and lifted his robe and got down on his knees. “That is true. However, it is important that Your Majesty see that I am part of your Imperial Army. I can’t be seen otherwise.” He bowed and remained on the floor to emphasize his point.
“Rise, please,” Emperor Hsien Feng said. “Let me rephrase my words so there will be no misunderstanding. What I mean is that the Imperial Army, especially those divisions run by Manchu warlords, have become a pot of maggots. They feed on the dynasty’s blood and contribute nothing. That is why I am spending more time learning about you.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Tseng Kuo-fan got up and returned to his seat. “I believe it is important to equip the soldiers’ minds, too.”
“How do you mean?”
“The peasants are not trained to fight before they become soldiers. Like most people, they can’t stand the sight of blood. Punishment won’t change this behavior, but there are other ways. I can’t let my men get used to defeat.”
“I understand. I am used to defeat myself,” the Emperor said with a sarcastic smile.
Both Tseng Kuo-fan and I couldn’t be sure whether His Majesty was mocking or revealing his true feelings. Tseng’s chopsticks froze before his open mouth.
“I bear the unbearable shame,” Emperor Hsien Feng said, as if explaining. “The difference is that I can’t desert.”
The general was affected by the Son of Heaven’s sadness. He again got down on his knees. “I swear with my life to bring back your honor, Your Majesty. My army is ready to die for the Ch’ing Dynasty.”
Emperor Hsien Feng got up from his chair and helped Tseng Kuofan to his feet. “How great is the force under your command?”