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CHINA
BY
DEMETRIUS CHARLES BOULGER
WITH A SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER OF RECENT EVENTS
BY MAYO W. HAZELTINE
I DEDICATE THIS SHORT
HISTORY OF CHINA
TO
SIR HALLIDAY MACARTNEY, K.C.M.G.
AS A SLIGHT TRIBUTE OF PERSONAL RESPECT AND ADMIRATION FOR ONE WHO
HAS MAINTAINED THE RIGHT OF CHINA TO BE TREATED BY THE
GOVERNMENTS OF EUROPE WITH THE DIGNITY AND
CONSIDERATION THAT BECOME A
GREAT EMPIRE.
IF TO LORD MACARTNEY WE OWE THE FIRST SUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO OBTAIN
AUDIENCE OF THE EMPEROR OF CHINA ON THE SAME CONDITIONS
AS THOSE ON WHICH FOREIGN AMBASSADORS
ARE RECEIVED AT EUROPEAN COURTS, TO
SIR HALLIDAY MACARTNEY
A SCION OF THE SAME FAMILY
CHINA
OWES MUCH OF THE SUCCESS THAT HAS ATTENDED HER DIPLOMACY
IN FOREIGN COUNTRIES
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. THE EARLY AGES
II. THE FIRST NATIONAL DYNASTY
III. A LONG PERIOD OF DISUNION
IV. THE SUNGS AND THE KINS
V. THE MONGOL CONQUEST OF CHINA
VI. KUBLAI AND THE MONGOL DYNASTY
VII. THE MING DYNASTY
VIII. THE DECLINE OF THE MINGS
IX. THE MANCHU CONQUEST OF CHINA
X. THE FIRST MANCHU RULER
XI. THE EMPEROR KANGHI
XII. A SHORT REIGN AND THE BEGINNING OF A LONG ONE
XIII. KEEN LUNG'S WARS AND CONQUESTS
XIV. THE COMMENCEMENT OF EUROPEAN INTERCOURSE
XV. THE DECLINE OF THE MANCHUS
XVI. THE EMPEROR TAOUKWANG
XVII. THE FIRST FOREIGN WAR
XVIII. TAOUKWANG AND HIS SUCCESSOR
XIX. THE SECOND FOREIGN WAR
XX. THE TAEPING REBELLION
XXI. THE REGENCY
XXII. THE REIGN OF KWANGSU
THE WAR WITH JAPAN AND SUBSEQUENT EVENTS
THE FUTURE OF CHINA
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
_Frontispiece_--The Emperor Receiving the Diplomatic Corps
Hong Kong
Canton--The Flower Pagoda
Kang, the Reformer
PREFACE
As China has now fairly taken her place in the family of nations, it is
unnecessary to elaborate an argument in support of even the humblest
attempt to elucidate her history. It is a subject to which we can no
longer remain indifferent, because circumstances are bringing every day
more clearly into view the important part China must play in the changes
that have become imminent in Asia, and that will affect the security of
our position and empire in that continent. A good understanding with China
should be the first article of our Eastern policy, for not only in Central
Asia, but also in Indo-China, where French ambition threatens to create a
fresh Egypt, her interests coincide with ours and furnish the sound basis
of a fruitful alliance.
This book, which I may be pardoned for saying is not an abridgment of my
original work, but entirely rewritten and rearranged with the view of
giving prominence to the modern history of the Chinese Empire, may appeal,
although they generally treat Asiatic subjects with regrettable
indifference, to that wider circle of English readers on whose opinion and
efforts the development of our political and commercial relations with the
greatest of Oriental States will mainly depend.
D. C. BOULGER, April 28, 1893.
CHAPTER I
THE EARLY AGES
The Chinese are unquestionably the oldest nation in the world, and their
history goes back to a period to which no prudent historian will attempt
to give a precise date. They speak the language and observe the same
social and political customs that they did several thousand years before
the Christian era, and they are the only living representatives to-day of
a people and government which were contemporary with the Egyptians, the
Assyrians, and the Jews. So far as our knowledge enables us to speak, the
Chinese of the present age are in all essential points identical with
those of the time of Confucius, and there is no reason to doubt that
before his time the Chinese national character had been thoroughly formed
in its present mold. The limits of the empire have varied from time to
time under circumstances of triumph or disunion, but the Middle Kingdom,
or China Proper, of the eighteen provinces has always possessed more or
less of its existing proportions. Another striking and peculiar feature
about China is the small amount of influence that the rest of the world
has exercised upon it. In fact, it is only during the present century that
that influence can be said to have existed at all. Up to that point China
had pursued a course of her own, carrying on her own struggles within a
definite limit, and completely indifferent to, and ignorant of, the
ceaseless competition and contests of mankind outside her orbit, which
make up the history of the rest of the Old World. The long struggles for
supremacy in Western Asia between Assyrian, Babylonian and Persian, the
triumphs of the Greek, followed by the absorption of what remained of the
Macedonian conquests in the Empire of Rome, even the appearance of Islam
and the Mohammedan conquerors, who changed the face of Southern Asia from
the Ganges to the Levant, and long threatened to overrun Europe, had no
significance for the people of China, and reacted as little on their
destiny as if they had happened in another planet. Whatever advantages the
Chinese may have derived from this isolation, it has entailed the penalty
that the early history of their country is devoid of interest for the lest
of the world, and it is only when the long independent courses of China
and Europe are brought into proximity by the Mongol conquests, the efforts
of the medieval travelers, the development of commerce, and the wars
carried on for the purpose of obtaining a secure position for foreigners
in China--four distinct phases covering the last seven centuries--that any
confidence can be felt in successfully attracting notice to the affairs of
China. Yet, as a curiosity in human existence, the earlier history of that
country may justly receive some notice. Even though the details are not
recited, the recollection of the antiquity of China's institutions must be
ever present with the student, as affording an indispensable clew to the
character of the Chinese people and the composition of their government.
The first Chinese are supposed to have been a nomad tribe in the province
of Shensi, which lies in the northwest of China, and among them at last
appeared a ruler, Fohi, whose name at least has been preserved. His deeds
and his person are mythical, but he is credited with having given his
country its first regular institutions. One of his successors was Hwangti
(which means Heavenly Emperor), who was the first to employ the imperial
style of Emperor, the earlier rulers having been content with the inferior
title of Wang, or prince. He adopted the convenient decimal division in
his administration as well as his coinage. His dominions were divided into
ten provinces, each of these into ten departments, these again into ten
districts, each of which held ten towns. He regulated the calendar,
originating the Chinese cycle of sixty years, and he encouraged commerce.
He seems to have been a wise prince and to have been the first of the
great emperors. His grandson, who was also emperor, continued his good
work and earned the reputation of being "the restorer or even founder of
true astronomy."
But the most famous of Hwangti's successors was his great-grandson Yao who
is still one of the most revered of all Chinese rulers. He was "diligent,
enlightened, polished and prudent," and if his words reflected his actions
he must have been most solicitous of the welfare of his people. He is
specially remarkable for his anxiety to discover the best man to succeed
him in the government, and during the last twenty-eight years of his reign
he associated the minister Chun with him for that purpose. On his death he
left the crown to him, and Chun, after some hesitation, accepted the
charge; but he in turn hastened to secure the co-operation of another
minister named Yu in the work of administration, just as he had been
associated with Yao. The period covered by the rule of this triumvirate is
considered one of the most brilliant and perfect in Chinese history, and
it bears a resemblance to the age of the Antonines. These rulers seem to
have passed their leisure from practical work in framing moral axioms, and
in carrying out a model scheme of government based on the purest ethics.
They considered that "a prince intrusted with the charge of a State has a
heavy task. The happiness of his subjects absolutely depends upon him. To
provide for everything is his duty; his ministers are only put in office
to assist him," and also that "a prince who wishes to fulfill his
obligations, and to long preserve his people in the ways of peace, ought
to watch without ceasing that the laws are observed with exactitude." They
were stanch upholders of temperance, and they banished the unlucky
discoverer of the fact that an intoxicating drink could be obtained from
rice. They also held fast to the theory that all government must be based
on the popular will. In fact, the reigns of Yao, Chun and Yu are the ideal
period of Chinese history, when all questions were decided by moral right
and justice, and even now Chinese philosophers are said to test their
maxims of morality by the degree of agreement they may have with the
conduct of those rulers.
With them passed away the practice of letting the most capable and
experienced minister rule the State. Such an impartial and reasonable mode
of selecting the head of a community can never be perpetuated. The rulers
themselves may see its advantages and may endeavor as honestly as these
three Chinese princes to carry out the arrangement, but the day must come
when the family of the able ruler will assert its rights to the
succession, and take advantage of its opportunities from its close
connection with the government to carry out its ends. The Emperor Yu, true
to the practice of his predecessors, nominated the president of the
council as his successor, but his son Tiki seized the throne, and became
the founder of the first Chinese dynasty, which was called the Hia, from
the name of the province first ruled by his father. This event is supposed
to have taken place in the year 2197 B.C., and the Hia dynasty, of which
there were seventeen emperors, ruled down to the year 1776 B.C. These Hia
princes present no features of interest, and the last of them, named Kia,
was deposed by one of his principal nobles, Ching Tang, Prince of Chang.
This prince was the founder of the second dynasty, known as Chang, which
held possession of the throne for 654 years, or down to 1122 B.C. With the
exception of the founder, who seems to have been an able man, this dynasty
of twenty-eight emperors did nothing very noteworthy. The public morality
deteriorated very much under this family, and it is said that when one of
the emperors wanted an honest man as minister he could only find one in
the person of a common laborer. At last, in the twelfth century before our
era, the enormities of the Chang rulers reached a climax in the person of
Chousin, who was deposed by a popular rising headed by Wou Wang, Prince of
Chow.
This successful soldier, whose name signifies the Warrior King, founded
the third Chinese dynasty of Chow, which governed the empire for the long
space of 867 years down to 266 B.C. During that protracted period there
were necessarily good and bad emperors, and the Chow dynasty was rendered
specially illustrious by the appearance of the great social and religious
reformers, Laoutse, Confucius and Mencius, during the existence of its
power. The founder of the dynasty instituted the necessary reforms to
prove that he was a national benefactor, and one of his successors, known
as the Magnificent King, extended the authority of his family over some of
the States of Turkestan. But, on the whole, the rulers of the Chow dynasty
were not particularly distinguished, and one of them in the eighth century
B.C. was weak enough to resign a portion of his sovereign rights to a
powerful vassal, Siangkong, the Prince of Tsin, in consideration of his
undertaking the defense of the frontier against the Tartars. At this
period the authority of the central government passed under a cloud. The
emperor's prerogative became the shadow of a name, and the last three
centuries of the rule of this family would not call for notice but for the
genius of Laoutse and Confucius, who were both great moral teachers and
religious reformers.
Laoutse, the founder of Taouism, was the first in point of time, and in
some respects he was the greatest of these reformers. He found his
countrymen sunk in a low state of moral indifference and religious
infidelity which corresponded with the corruption of the times and the
disunion in the kingdom. He at once set himself to work with energy and
devotion to repair the evils of his day, and to raise before his
countrymen a higher ideal of duty. He has been called the Chinese
Pythagoras, the most erudite of sinologues have pronounced his text
obscure, and the mysterious Taouism which he founded holds the smallest or
the least assignable part in what passes for the religion of the Chinese.
As a philosopher and minister Laoutse will always attract attention and
excite speculation, but as a practical reformer and politician he was far
surpassed by his younger and less theoretical contemporary Confucius.
Confucius was an official in the service of one of the great princes who
divided the governing power of China among themselves during the whole of
the seventh century before our era, which beheld the appearance of both of
these religious teachers and leaders. He was a trained administrator with
long experience when he urged upon his prince the necessity of reform, and
advocated a policy of union throughout the States. His exhortations were
in vain, and so far ill-timed that he was obliged to resign the service of
one prince after another. In his day the authority of the Chow emperor had
been reduced to the lowest point. Each prince was unto himself the supreme
authority. Yet one cardinal point of the policy of Confucius was
submission to the emperor, as implicit obedience to the head of the State
throughout the country as was paid to the father of every Chinese
household. Although he failed to find a prince after his own heart, his
example and precepts were not thrown away, for in a later generation his
reforms were executed, and down to the present day the best points in
Chinese government are based on his recommendations. If "no intelligent
monarch arose" in his time, the greatest emperors have since sought to
conform with his usages and to rule after the ideal of the great
philosopher. His name and his teachings were perpetuated by a band of
devoted disciples, and the book which contained the moral and
philosophical axioms of Confucius passed into the classic literature of
the country and stood in the place of a Bible for the Chinese. The list of
the great Chinese reformers is completed by the name of Mencius, who,
coming two centuries later, carried on with better opportunities the
reforming work of Confucius, and left behind him in his Sheking the most
popular book of Chinese poetry and a crowning tribute to the great Master.
From teachers we must again pass to the chronicle of kings, although few
of the later Chow emperors deserve their names to be rescued from
oblivion. One emperor suffered a severe defeat while attempting to
establish his authority over the troublesome tribes beyond the frontier;
of another it was written that "his good qualities merited a happier day,"
and the general character of the age may be inferred from its being
designated by the native chroniclers "The warlike period." At last, after
what seemed an interminable old age, marked by weakness and vice, the Chow
dynasty came to an end in the person of Nan Wang, who, although he reigned
for nearly sixty years, was deposed in ignominious fashion by one of his
great vassals, and reduced to a humble position. His conqueror became the
founder of the fourth Chinese dynasty.
During the period of internal strife which marked the last four centuries
of the Chow dynasty, one family had steadily waxed stronger and stronger
among the princes of China: the princes of Tsin, by a combination of
prudence and daring, gradually made themselves supreme among their
fellows. It was said of one of them that "like a wolf or a tiger he wished
to draw all the other princes into his claws, so that he might devour
them." Several of the later Tsin princes, and particularly one named Chow
Siang Wang, showed great capacity, and carried out a systematic policy for
their own aggrandizement. When Nan Wang was approaching the end of his
career, the Tsin princes had obtained everything of the supreme power
short of the name and the right to wear the imperial yellow robes. Ching
Wang, or, to give him his later name as emperor, Tsin Chi Hwangti, was the
reputed great-grandson of Chow Siang Wang, and under him the fame and
power of the Tsins reached their culminating point. This prince also
proved himself one of the greatest rulers who ever sat on the Dragon
throne of China.
The country had been so long distracted by internal strife, and the
authority of the emperor had been reduced to such a shadow, that peace was
welcomed under any ruler, and the hope was indulged that the Tsin princes,
who had succeeded in making themselves the most powerful feudatories of
the empire, might be able to restore to the central government something
of its ancient power and splendor. Nor was the expectation unreasonable or
ungratified. The Tsins had fairly earned by their ability the confidence
of the Chinese nation, and their principal representative showed no
diminution of energy on attaining the throne, and exhibited in a higher
post, and on a wider field, the martial and statesmanlike qualities his
ancestors had displayed when building up the fabric of their power as
princes of the empire. Their supremacy was not acquiesced in by the other
great feudatories without a struggle, and more than one campaign was
fought before all rivals were removed from their path, and their authority
passed unchallenged as occupants of the Imperial office.
It was in the middle of this final struggle, and when the result might
still be held doubtful, that Tsin Chi Hwangti began his eventful reign.
When he began to rule he was only thirteen years of age, but he quickly
showed that he possessed the instinct of a statesman, and the courage of a
born commander of armies. On the one hand he sowed dissension between the
most formidable of his opponents, and brought about by a stratagem the
disgrace of the ablest general in their service, and on the other he
increased his army in numbers and efficiency, until it became
unquestionably the most formidable fighting force in China. While he
endeavored thus to attain internal peace, he was also studious in
providing for the general security of the empire, and with this object he
began the construction of a fortified wall across the northern frontier to
serve as a defense against the troublesome Hiongnou tribes, who are
identified with the Huns of Attila. This wall, which he began in the first
years of his reign, was finished before his death, and still exists as the
Great Wall of China, which has been considered one of the wonders of the
world. He was careful in his many wars with the tribes of Mongolia not to
allow himself to be drawn far from his own border, and at the close of a
campaign he always withdrew his troops behind the Great Wall. Toward
Central Asia he was more enterprising, and one of his best generals,
Moungtien, crossed what is now the Gobi Desert, and made Hami the frontier
fortress of the empire.
In his civil administration Hwangti was aided by the minister Lisseh, who
seems to have been a man of rare ability, and to have entered heartily
into all his master's schemes for uniting the empire. While Hwangti sat on
the throne with a naked sword in his hand, as the emblem of his authority,
dispensing justice, arranging the details of his many campaigns, and
superintending the innumerable affairs of his government, his minister was
equally active in reorganizing the administration and in supporting his
sovereign in his bitter struggle with the literary classes who advocated
archaic principles, and whose animosity to the ruler was inflamed by the
contempt, not unmixed with ferocity, with which he treated them. The
empire was divided into thirty-six provinces, and he impressed upon the
governors the importance of improving communications within their
jurisdiction. Not content with this general precept, he issued a special
decree ordering that "roads shall be made in all directions throughout the
empire," and the origin of the main routes in China may be found with as
much certainty in his reign as that of the roads of Europe in the days of
Imperial Rome. When advised to assign some portion of his power to his
relatives and high officials in the provinces he refused to repeat the
blunders of his predecessors, and laid down the permanent truth that "good
government is impossible under a multiplicity of masters." He centralized
the power in his own hands, and he drew up an organization for the civil
service of the State which virtually exists at the present day. The two
salient features in that organization are the indisputable supremacy of
the emperor and the non-employment of the officials in their native
provinces, and the experience of two thousand years has proved their
practical value.
When he conquered his internal enemies he resolved to complete the
pacification of his country by effecting a general disarmament, and he
ordered that all weapons should be sent in to his capital at Hienyang.
This "skillful disarming of the provinces added daily to the wealth and
prosperity of the capital," which he proceeded to embellish. He built one
palace within the walls, and the Hall of Audience was ornamented with
twelve statues, each of which weighed twelve thousand pounds. But his
principal residence named the Palace of Delight, was without the walls,
and there he laid out magnificent gardens, and added building to building.
In one of the courts of this latter palace, it is said he could have drawn
up 10,000 soldiers. This eye to military requirements in even the building
of his residence showed the temper of his mind, and, in his efforts to
form a regular army, he had recourse to "those classes in the community
who were without any fixed profession, and who were possessed of
exceptional physical strength." He was thus the earliest possessor in
China of what might be called a regular standing army. With this force he
succeeded in establishing his power on a firm basis, and he may have hoped
also to insure permanence for his dynasty; but, alas! for the fallacy of
human expectations, the structure he erected fell with him.
Great as an administrator, and successful as a soldier, Hwangti was
unfortunate in one struggle that he provoked. At an early period of his
career, when success seemed uncertain, he found that his bitterest
opponents were men of letters, and that the literary class as a body was
hostile to his interests and person. Instead of ignoring this opposition
or seeking to overcome it by the same agency, Hwangti expressed his hatred
and contempt, not only of the literary class, but of literature itself,
and resorted to extreme measures of coercion. The writers took up the gage
of battle thrown down by the emperor, and Hwangti became the object of the
wit and abuse of every literate who could use a pencil. His birth was
aspersed. It was said that he was not a Tsin at all, that his origin was
of the humblest, and that he was a substituted child foisted on the last
of the Tsin princes. These personal attacks were accompanied by
unfavorable criticism of all his measures, and by censure where he felt
that he deserved praise. It would have been more prudent if he had shown
greater indifference and patience, for although he had the satisfaction of
triumphing by brute force over those who jeered at him, the triumph was
accomplished by an act of Vandalism, with which his name will be quite as
closely associated in history as any of the wise measures or great works
that he carried out. His vanquished opponents left behind them a legacy of
hostility and revenge of the whole literary class of China, which has
found expression in all the national histories.
The struggle, which had been in progress for some years, reached its
culminating point in the year 213 B.C., when a Grand Council of the empire
was summoned at Hienyang. At this council were present not only the
emperor's chief military and civil officers from the different provinces,
but also the large literary class, composed of aspirants to office and the
members of the academies and College of Censors. The opposing forces in
China were thus drawn up face to face, and it would have been surprising
if a collision had not occurred. On the one side were the supporters of
the man who had made China again an empire, believers in his person and
sharers in his glory; on the other were those who had no admiration for
this ruler, who detested his works, proclaimed his successes dangerous
innovations, and questioned his right to bear the royal name. The purpose
of the emperor may be detected when he called upon speakers in this
assembly of his friends and foes to express their opinions of his
administration, and when a member of his household rose to extol his work
and to declare that he had "surpassed the very greatest of his
predecessors." This courtier-like declaration, which would have been
excusable even if it had had a less basis of truth than it unquestionably
possessed in the case of Hwangti, was received with murmurs and marks of
dissent by the literati. One of them rose and denounced the speaker as "a
vile flatterer," and proceeded to expatiate on the superior merit of
several of the earlier rulers. Not content with this unseasonable eulogy,
he advocated the restoration of the empire to its old form of
principalities, and the consequent undoing of all that Hwangti had
accomplished. Hwangti interrupted this speaker and called upon his
favorite minister Lisseh to reply to him and explain his policy. Lisseh
began by stating what has often been said since, and in other countries,
that "men of letters are, as a rule, very little acquainted with what
concerns the government of a country, not that government of pure
speculation which is nothing more than a phantom, vanishing the nearer we
approached to it, but the practical government which consists in keeping
men within the sphere of their proper duties." He then proceeded to
denounce the literary class as being hostile to the State, and to
recommend the destruction of their works, declaring that "now is the time
or never to close the mouths of these secret enemies and to place a curb
on their audacity." The emperor at once from his throne ratified the
policy and ordered that no time should be lost in executing the necessary
measures. All books were proscribed, and orders were issued to burn every
work except those relating to medicine, agriculture, and such science as
then existed. The destruction of the national literature was carried out
with terrible completeness, and such works as were preserved are not free
from the suspicion of being garbled or incomplete versions of their
original text. The burning of the books was accompanied by the execution
of five hundred of the literati, and by the banishment of many thousands.
By this sweeping measure, to which no parallel is to be found in the
history of other countries, Hwangti silenced during the last few years of
his life the criticisms of his chief enemies, but in revenge his memory
has had to bear for two thousand years the sully of an inexcusable act of
tyranny and narrow-mindedness. The price will be pronounced too heavy for
what was a momentary gratification.
The reign of Hwangti was not prolonged many years after the burning of the
books. In 210 B.C. he was seized with a serious illness, to which he
succumbed, partly because he took no precautions, and partly, no doubt,
through the incompetence of his physicians. His funeral was magnificent,
and, like the Huns, his grave was dug in the bed of a river, and with him
were buried his wives and his treasure. This great ruler left behind him
an example of vigor such as is seldom found in the list of Chinese kings
of effete physique and apathetic life. He is the only Chinese emperor of
whom it is said that his favorite exercise was walking, and his vigor was
apparent in every department of State. On one occasion when he placed a
large army of, it is said, 600,000 men at the disposal of one of his
generals, the commander expressed some fear as to how this huge force was
to be fed. Hwangti at once replied, "Leave it to me. I will provide for
everything. There shall be want rather in my palace than in your camp." He
does not seem to have been a great general himself, but he knew how to
select the best commanders, and he was also so quick in discovering the
merits of the generals opposed to him, that some of his most notable
victories were obtained by his skill in detaching them from their service
or by ruining their reputation by some intrigue more astute than
honorable. Yet, all deductions made, Tsin Chi Hwangti stands forth as a
great ruler and remarkable man.
The Tsin dynasty only survived its founder a few years. Hwangti's son
Eulchi became emperor, but he reigned no more than three years. He was
foolish enough to get rid of the general Moungtien, who might have been
the buttress of his throne; and the minister Lisseh was poisoned, either
with or without his connivance. Eulchi himself shared the same fate, and
his successor, Ing Wang, reigned only six weeks, committing suicide after
losing a battle, and with him the Tsin dynasty came to an end. Its chief,
nay its only claim to distinction, arises from its having produced the
great ruler Hwangti, and its destiny was Napoleonic in its brilliance and
evanescence.
Looking back at the long period which connects the mythical age with what
may be considered the distinctly historical epoch of the Tsins, we find
that by the close of the third century before the Christian era China
possessed settled institutions, the most remarkable portion of its still
existing literature, and mighty rulers. It is hardly open to doubt that
the Chinese annalist finds in these remote ages as much interest and
instruction as we should in the record of more recent times, and proof of
this may be discovered in the fact that the history of the first four
dynasties, which we must dismiss in these few pages, occupies as much
space in the national history as the chronicle of events from Tsin Chi
Hwangti to the end of the Ming dynasty in 1644, at which date the official
history of China stops, because the history of the Manchu dynasty, which
has occupied the throne ever since, will only be given to the world after
it has ceased to rule. We must not be surprised at this discursiveness,
because the teachings of human experience are as clearly marked in those
early times as they have been since, and Chinese historians aim as much at
establishing moral and philosophical truths as at giving a complete record
of events. The consequences of human folly and incompetence are as patent
and conspicuous in those days as they are now. The ruling power is lost by
one family and transferred to another because the prince neglects his
business, gives himself over to the indulgence of pleasure, or fails to
see the signs of the times. Cowardice and corruption receive their due and
inevitable punishment. The founders of the dynasties are all brave and
successful warriors, who are superior to the cant of a hypercivilized
state of society, which covers declining vigor and marks the first phase
of effeteness, and who see that as long as there are human passions they
may be molded by genius to make the many serve the few and to build up an
autocracy. Nor are the lessons to be learned from history applicable only
to individuals. The faults of an emperor are felt in every household of
the community, and injure the State. Indifference and obtuseness at the
capital entailed weakness on the frontier and in the provincial capitals.
The barbarians grew defiant and aggressive, and defeated the imperial
forces. The provincial governors asserted their independence, and founded
ruling families. The empire became attenuated by external attack and
internal division. But, to use tho phrase of the Chinese historians,
"after long abiding disunion, union revived." The strong and capable man
always appears in one form or another, and the Chinese people, impressed
with a belief in both the divine mission of their emperor and also in the
value of union, welcome with acclaim the advent of the prince who will
restore their favorite and ideal system of one-man government. The time is
still hidden in a far-distant and undiscoverable future when it will be
otherwise, and when the Chinese will be drawn away from their consistent
and ancient practice to pursue the ignis fatuus of European politics that
seeks to combine human equality with good practical government and
national security. The Chinese have another and more attainable ideal, nor
is there any likelihood of their changing it. The fall of dynasties may,
needs must, continue in the ordinary course of nature, but in China it
will not pave the way to a republic. The imperial authority will rise
triumphant after every struggle above the storm.
CHAPTER II
THE FIRST NATIONAL DYNASTY
As the Chinese are still proud to call themselves the sons of Han, it will
be understood that the period covered by the Han rulers must be an
important epoch in their history, and in more than one respect they were
the first national dynasty, When the successors of Tsin Chi Hwangti proved
unable to keep the throne, the victorious general who profited by their
discomfiture was named Liu Pang. He had been a trusted official of the
Emperor Hwangti, but on finding that his descendants could not bear the
burden of government, he resolved to take his own measures, and he lost no
time in collecting troops and in making a bid for popularity by
endeavoring to save all the books that had not been burned. His career
bears some resemblance to that of Macbeth, for a soothsayer meeting him on
the road predicted, "by the expression of his features, that he was
destined to become emperor." He began his struggle for the throne by
defeating another general named Pawang, who was also disposed to make a
bid for supreme power. After this success Liu Pang was proclaimed emperor
as Kao Hwangti, meaning Lofty and August Emperor, which has been shortened
into Kaotsou. He named his dynasty the Han, after the small state in which
he was born.
Kaotsou began his reign by a public proclamation in favor of peace, and
deploring the evils which follow in the train of war. He called upon his
subjects to aid his efforts for their welfare by assisting in the
execution of many works of public utility, among which roads and bridges
occupied the foremost place. He removed his capital from Loyang in Honan
to Singanfoo in Shensi, and as Singan was difficult of access in those
days, he constructed a great highroad from the center of China to this
somewhat remote spot on the western frontier. This road still exists, and
has been described by several travelers in our time. It was constructed by
the labor of one hundred thousand men through the most difficult country,
crossing great mountain chains and broad rivers. The Chinese engineers
employed on the making of this road, which has excited the admiration of
all who have traversed it, first discovered and carried into execution the
suspension bridge, which in Europe is quite a modern invention. One of
these "flying bridges," as the Chinese called them, is one hundred and
fifty yards across a valley five hundred feet below, and is still in use.
At regular intervals along this road Kaotsou constructed rest-houses for
travelers, and postal-stations for his couriers. No Chinese ruler has done
anything more useful or remarkable than this admirable road from Loyang to
Singanfoo. He embellished his new capital with many fine buildings, among
which was a large palace, the grandeur of which was intended to correspond
with the extent of his power.
The reign of Kaotsou was, however, far from being one of uncheckered
prosperity. Among his own subjects his popularity was great because he
promoted commerce and improved the administration of justice. He also
encouraged literature, and was the first ruler to recognize the claims of
Confucius, at whose tomb he performed an elaborate ceremony. He thus
acquired a reputation which induced the King of Nanhai--a state composed
of the southern provinces of China, with its capital at or near the modern
Canton--to tender his allegiance. But he was destined to receive many
slights and injuries at the hands of a foreign enemy, who at this time
began a course of active aggression that entailed serious consequences for
both China and Europe.
Reference has been made to the Hiongnou or Hun tribes, against whom Tsin
Hwangti built the Great Wall. In the interval between the death of that
ruler and the consolidation of the power of Kaotsou, a remarkable chief
named Meha, or Meta, had established his supremacy among the disunited
clans of the Mongolian Desert, and had succeeded in combining for purposes
of war the whole fighting force of what had been a disjointed and
barbarous confederacy. The Chinese rulers had succeeded in keeping back
this threatening torrent from overflowing the fertile plains of their
country, as much by sowing dissension among these clans and by bribing one
chief to fight another, as by superior arms. But Meha's success rendered
this system of defense no longer possible, and the desert chieftain,
realizing the opportunity of spoil and conquest, determined to make his
position secure by invading China. If the enterprise had failed, there
would have been an end to the paramounce of Meha, but his rapid success
convinced the Huns that their proper and most profitable policy was to
carry on implacable war with their weak and wealthy neighbors. Meha's
success was so great that in a single campaign he recovered all the
districts taken from the Tartars by the general Moungtien. He turned the
western angle of the Great Wall, and brought down his frontier to the
river Hoangho. His light cavalry raided past the Chinese capital into the
province of Szchuen, and returned laden with the spoil of countless
cities. These successes were crowned by a signal victory over the emperor
in person. Kaotsou was drawn into an ambuscade in which his troops had no
chance with their more active adversaries, and, to save himself from
capture, Kaotsou had no alternative but to take refuge in the town of
Pingching, where he was closely beleaguered. It was impossible to defend
the town for any length of time, and the capture of Kaotsou seemed
inevitable, when recourse was had to a stratagem. The most beautiful
Chinese maiden was sent as a present to propitiate the conqueror, and
Meha, either mollified by the compliment, or deeming that nothing was to
be gained by driving the Chinese to desperation, acquiesced in a
convention which, while it sealed the ignominious defeat of the Chinese,
rescued their sovereign from his predicament.
This disaster, and his narrow personal escape, seem to have unnerved
Kaotsou, for when the Huns resumed their incursions in the very year
following the Pingching convention, he took no steps to oppose them, and
contented himself with denouncing in his palace Meha as "a wicked and
faithless man, who had risen to power by the murder of his father, and one
with whom oaths and treaties carried no weight." Notwithstanding this
opinion, Kaotsou proceeded to negotiate with Meha as an equal, and gave
this barbarian prince his own daughter in marriage as the price of his
abstaining from further attacks on the empire. Never, wrote a historian,
"was so great a shame inflicted on the Middle Kingdom, which then lost its
dignity and honor." Meha observed this peace during the life of Kaotsou,
who found that his reputation was much diminished by his coming to terms
with his uncivilized opponent, but although several of his generals
rebelled, until it was said that "the very name of revolt inspired Kaotsou
with apprehension," he succeeded in overcoming them all without serious
difficulty. His troubles probably shortened his life, for he died when he
was only fifty-three, leaving the crown to his son, Hoeiti, and
injunctions to his widow, Liuchi, as to the conduct of the administration.
The brief reign of Hoeiti is only remarkable for the rigor and terrible
acts of his mother, the Empress Liuchi, who is the first woman mentioned
in Chinese history as taking a supreme part in public affairs. Another of
Kaotsou's widows aspired to the throne for her son, and the chief
direction for herself. Liuchi nipped their plotting in the bud by
poisoning both of them. She marked out those who differed from her, or who
resented her taking the most prominent part in public ceremonies, as her
enemies, to be removed from her path by any means. At a banquet she
endeavored to poison one of the greatest princes of the empire, but her
plot was detected and baffled by her son. It is perhaps not surprising
that Hoeiti did not live long after this episode, and then Liuchi ruled in
her own name, and without filling up the vacancy on the throne, until the
public dissatisfaction warned her that she was going too far. She then
adopted a supposititious child as her grandson and governed as regent in
his name. The mother of this youth seems to have made inconvenient demands
on the empress, who promptly put her out of the way, and when the son
showed a disposition to resent this action, she caused him to be poisoned.
She again ruled without a puppet emperor, hoping to retain power by
placing her relatives in the principal offices; but the dissatisfaction
had now reached an acute point, and threatened to destroy her. It may be
doubted whether she would have surmounted these difficulties and dangers,
when death suddenly cut short her adventurous career. The popular legend
is that this Chinese Lucretia Borgia died of fright at seeing the
apparitions of her many victims, and there can be no doubt that her crimes
did not conduce to make woman government more popular in China.
It says much for the excellence of Kaotsou's work, and for the hold the
Han family had obtained on the Chinese people, that when it became
necessary to select an emperor after the death of Liuchi the choice should
have fallen unanimously on the Prince of Tai, who was the illegitimate son
of Kaotsou. On mounting the throne, he took the name of Wenti. He began
his reign by remitting taxes and by appointing able and honest governors
and judges. He ordered that all old men should be provided with corn, meat
and wine, besides silk and cotton for their garments. At the suggestion of
his ministers, who were alive to the dangers of a disputed succession, he
proclaimed his eldest son heir to the throne. He purified the
administration of justice by declaring that prince and peasant must be
equally subject to the law; he abolished the too common punishment of
mutilation, and had the satisfaction of seeing crime reduced to such low
proportions in the empire that the jails contained only four hundred
prisoners. Wenti was a strong advocate of peace, which was, indeed,
necessary to China, as it had not recovered from the effects of the last
Hun invasion. He succeeded by diplomacy in inducing the Prince at Canton,
who had shown a disposition to assert his independence, to recognize his
authority, and thus averted a civil war. In his relations with the Huns,
among whom the authority of Meha had passed to his son, Lao Chang, he
strove to preserve the peace, giving that chief one of his daughters in
marriage, and showing moderation in face of much provocation. When war was
forced upon him by their raids he did everything he could to mitigate its
terrors, but the ill success of his troops in their encounters with the
Tartars broke his confidence, and he died prematurely after a reign of
twenty-three years, which was remarkable as witnessing the consolidation
of the Hans. The good work of Wenti was continued during the peaceful
reign of sixteen years of his son Kingti.
The next emperor was Vouti, a younger son of Kingti, and one of his
earliest conquests was to add the difficult and inaccessible province of
Fuhkien to the empire. He also endeavored to propitiate the Huns by giving
their chief one of the princesses of his family as a wife, but the opinion
was gaining ground that it would be better to engage in a war for the
overthrow of the national enemy than to purchase a hollow peace. Wang Kua,
a general who had commanded on the frontier, and who knew the Hun mode of
warfare, represented that success would be certain, and at last gained the
emperor's ear. Vouti decided on war, and raised a large army for the
purpose. But the result was not auspicious. Wang Kua failed to bring the
Huns to an engagement, and the campaign which was to produce such great
results ended ingloriously. The unlucky general who had promised so much
anticipated his master's displeasure by committing suicide. Unfortunately
for himself, his idea of engaging in a mortal struggle with the Tartars
gained ground, and became in time the fixed policy of China.
Notwithstanding this check, the authority of Vouti continued to expand. He
annexed Szchuen, a province exceeding in size and population most European
states, and he received from the ruler of Manchuria a formal tender of
submission. In the last years of his reign the irrepressible Hun question
again came up for discussion, and the episode of the flight of the Yuchi
from Kansuh affords a break in the monotony of the struggle, and is the
first instance of that western movement which brought the tribes of the
Gobi Desert into Europe. The Yuchi are believed to have been allied with
the Jats of India, and there is little or no doubt that the Sacae, or
Scythians, were their descendants. They occupied a strip of territory in
Kansuh from Shachow to Lanchefoo, and after suffering much at the hands of
the Huns under Meha, they resolved to seek a fresh home in the unknown
regions of Western Asia. The Emperor Vouti wished to bring them back, and
he sent an envoy named Chang Keen to induce them to return. That officer
discovered them in the Oxus region, but all his arguments failed to
incline them to leave a quarter in which they had recovered power and
prosperity. Powerless against the Huns, they had more than held their own
against the Parthians and the Greek kingdom of Bactria. They retained
their predominant position in what is now Bokhara and Balkh, until they
were gathered up by the Huns in their western march, and hurled, in
conjunction with them, on the borders of the Roman Empire. Meantime, the
war with the Huns themselves entered upon a new phase. A general named Wei
Tsing obtained a signal victory over them, capturing 15,000 prisoners and
the spoil of the Tartar camp. This success restored long-lost confidence
to the Chinese troops, and it was followed by several other victories. One
Chinese expedition, composed entirely of cavalry, marched through the Hun
country to Soponomo on the Tian Shan, carrying everything before it and
returning laden with spoil, including some of the golden images of the Hun
religion. Encouraged by these successes, Vouti at last took the field in
person, and sent a formal summons to the Tartar king to make his
submission to China. His reply was to imprison the bearer of the message,
and to defy the emperor to do his worst. This boldness had the effect of
deterring the emperor from his enterprise. He employed his troops in
conquering Yunnan and Leaoutung instead of in waging another war with the
Huns. But he had only postponed, not abandoned, his intention of
overthrowing, once and for all, this most troublesome and formidable
national enemy. He raised an enormous force for the campaign, which might
have proved successful but for the mistake of intrusting the command to an
incompetent general. In an ill-advised moment, he gave his brother-in-law,
Li Kwangli, the supreme direction of the war. His incompetence entailed a
succession of disasters, and the only redeeming point amid them was that
Li Kwangli was taken prisoner and rendered incapable of further mischief.
Liling, the grandson of this general, was intrusted with a fresh army to
retrieve the fortunes of the war; but, although successful at first, he
was outmaneuvered, and reduced to the unpleasant pass of surrendering to
the enemy. Both Li Kwangli and Liling adapted themselves to circumstances,
and took service under the Tartar chief. As this conduct obtained the
approval of the historian Ssematsien, it is clear that our views of such a
proceeding would not be in harmony with the opinion in China of that day.
The long war which Vouti waged with the Huns for half a century, and which
was certainly carried on in a more honorable and successful manner than
any previous portion of that historic struggle, closed with discomfiture
and defeat, which dashed to the ground the emperor's hopes of a complete
triumph over the most formidable national enemy.
After a reign of fifty-four years, which must be pronounced glorious,
Vouti died, amid greater troubles and anxieties than any that had beset
him during his long reign. He was unquestionably a great ruler. He added
several provinces to his empire, and the success he met with over the Huns
was far from being inconsiderable. He was a Nimrod among the Chinese, and
his principal enjoyment was to chase the wildest animals without any
attendants. Like many other Chinese princes, Vouti was prone to believe in
the possibility of prolonging human life, or, as the Chinese put it, in
the draught of immortality. In connection with this weakness an anecdote
is preserved that will bear telling. A magician offered the emperor a
glass containing the pretended elixir of eternal life, and Vouti was about
to drink it when a courtier snatched it from his hand and drained the
goblet. The enraged monarch ordered him to prepare for instant death, but
the ready courtier at once replied, "How can I be executed, since I have
drunk the draught of immortality?" To so convincing an argument no reply
was possible, and Vouti lived to a considerable age without the aid of
magicians or quack medicines. Of him also it may be said that he added to
the stability of the Han dynasty, and he left the throne to Chaoti, the
youngest of his sons, a child of eight, for whom he appointed his two most
experienced ministers to act as governors. As these ministers were true to
their duty, the interregnum did not affect the fortunes of the State
adversely, and several claimants to the throne paid for their ambition
with their lives. The reign of Chaoti was prosperous and successful, but,
unfortunately, he died at the early age of thirty-one, and without leaving
an heir.
After some hesitation, Chaoti's uncle Liucho was proclaimed emperor, but
he proved to be a boor with low tastes, whose sole idea of power was the
license to indulge in coarse amusements. The chief minister, Ho Kwang,
took upon himself the responsibility of deposing him, and also of placing
on the throne Siuenti, who was the great-grandson, or, according to
another account, the grandson, of Vouti. The choice was a fortunate one,
and "Ho Kwang gave all his care to perfecting the new emperor in the
science of government." As a knowledge of his connection with the Imperial
family had been carefully kept from him, Siuenti was brought from a very
humble sphere to direct the destinies of the Chinese, and his greater
energy and more practical disposition were probably due to his not having
been bred in the enervating atmosphere of a palace. He, too, was brought
at an early stage of his career face to face with the Tartar question, and
he had what may be pronounced a unique experience in his wars with them.
He sent several armies under commanders of reputation to wage war on them,
and the generals duly returned, reporting decisive and easily obtained
victories. The truth soon leaked out. The victories were quite imaginary.
The generals had never ventured to face the Tartars, and they were given
no option by their enraged and disappointed master but to poison
themselves. Other generals were appointed, and the Tartars were induced to
sue for peace, partly from fear of the Chinese, and partly because they
were disunited among themselves. Such was the reputation of Siuenti for
justice that several of the Tartar chiefs carried their grievances to the
foot of his throne, and his army became known as "the troops of justice."
It is said that all the tribes and countries of Central Asia as far west
as the Caspian sent him tribute, and to celebrate the event he built a
kilin or pavilion, in which he placed statues of all the generals who had
contributed toward his triumph. Only one incident marred the tranquillity
of Siuenti's reign. The great statesman, Ho Kwang, had sunk quietly into
private life as soon as he found the emperor capable of governing for
himself; but his wife Hohien was more ambitious and less satisfied with
her position, although she had effected a marriage between her daughter
and Siuenti. This lady was only one of the queens of the ruler, and not
the empress. Hohien, to further her ends, determined to poison the
empress, and succeeded only too well. Her guilt would have been divulged
by the doctor she employed, but that Ho Kwang, by an exercise of his
authority, prevented the application of torture to him when thrown into
prison. This narrow escape from detection did not keep Hohien from crime.
She had the satisfaction of seeing her daughter proclaimed empress, but
her gratification was diminished by the son of the murdered Hiuchi being
selected as heir to the throne. Hohien resolved to poison this prince, but
her design was discovered, and she and all the members of her family were
ordered to take poison. The minister, Ho Kwang, had taken no part in these
plots, which, however, injured his reputation, and his statue in the
Imperial pavilion was left without a name.
Siuenti did not long survive these events, and Yuenti, the son of Hiuchi,
became emperor. His reign of sixteen years presents no features of
interest beyond the signal overthrow of the Tartar chief, Chichi, whose
head was sent by the victorious general to be hung on the walls of Singan.
Yuenti was succeeded by his son Chingti, who reigned twenty-six years, and
who gained the reputation of a Chinese Vitellius. His nephew Gaiti, who
was the next emperor, showed himself an able and well-intentioned prince,
but his reign of six years was too brief to allow of any permanent work
being accomplished. One measure of his was not without its influence on
the fate of his successors. He had disgraced and dismissed from the
service an official named Wang Mang, who had attained great power and
influence under Chingti. The ambition of this individual proved fatal to
the dynasty. On Gaiti's death he emerged from his retirement, and, in
conjunction with that prince's mother, seized the government. They placed
a child, grandson of Yuenti, on the throne, and gave him the name of
Pingti, or the Peaceful Emperor, but he never governed. Before Pingti was
fourteen, Wang Mang resolved to get rid of him, and he gave him the
poisoned cup with his own hands. This was not the only, or perhaps the
worst, crime that Wang Mang perpetrated to gain the throne. Pressed for
money to pay his troops, he committed the sacrilege of stripping the
graves of the princes of the Han family of the jewels deposited in them.
One more puppet prince was placed on the throne, but he was soon got rid
of, and Wang Mang proclaimed himself emperor. He also decreed that the Han
dynasty was extinct, and that his family should be known as the Sin.
Wang Mang the usurper was certainly a capable administrator, but in
seizing the throne he had attempted a task to which he was unequal. As
long as he was minister or regent, respect and regard for the Han family
prevented many from revolting against his tyranny, but when he seized the
throne he became the mark of popular indignation and official jealousy.
The Huns resumed their incursions, and, curiously enough, put forward a
proclamation demanding the restoration of the Hans. Internal enemies
sprang up on every side, and Wang Mang's attempt to terrify them by
severity and wholesale executions only aggravated the situation. It became
clear that the struggle was to be one to the death, but this fact did not
assist Wang Mang, who saw his resources gradually reduced and his enemies
more confident as the contest continued. After twelve years' fighting,
Wang Mang was besieged at Singan. The city was soon carried by storm, and
Wang Mang retired to the palace to put an end to his existence. But his
heart failed him, and he was cut down by the foe. His last exclamation and
the dirge of his short-lived dynasty, which is denied a place in Chinese
history, was, "If Heaven had given me courage, what could the family of
the Hans have done?"
The eldest of the surviving Han princes, Liu Hiuen, was placed on the
throne, and the capital was removed from Singan to Loyang, or Honan.
Nothing could have been more popular among the Chinese people than the
restoration of the Hans. It is said that the old men cried for joy when
they saw the banner of the Hans again waving over the palace and in the
field. But Liu Hiuen was not a good ruler, and there might have been
reason to regret the change if he had not wisely left the conduct of
affairs to his able cousin, Liu Sieou. At last the army declared that Liu
Sieou should be emperor, and when Liu Hiuen attempted to form a faction of
his own he was murdered by Fanchong, the leader of a confederacy known as
the Crimson Eyebrows, on whose co-operation he counted. The Crimson
Eyebrows were so called from the distinguishing mark which they had
adopted when first organized as a protest against the tyranny of Wang
Mang. At first they were patriots, but they soon became brigands. After
murdering the emperor, Fanchong, their leader, threw off all disguise, and
seizing Singan, gave it over to his followers to plunder. Liu Sieou, on
becoming emperor, took the style of Kwang Vouti, and his first task was to
overthrow the Crimson Eyebrows, who had become a public enemy. He
intrusted the command of the army he raised for this purpose to Fongy, who
justified his reputation as the most skillful Chinese general of his day
by gaining several victories over a more numerous adversary. Within two
years Kwang Vouti had the satisfaction of breaking up the formidable
faction known as the Crimson Eyebrows, and of holding its leader Fanchong
as a prisoner in his capital.
Kwang Vouti was engaged for many more years in subduing the numerous
potentates who had repudiated the imperial authority. His efforts were
invariably crowned with success, but he acquired so great a distaste for
war that it is said when his son asked him to explain how an army was set
in battle array he refused to reply. But the love of peace will not avert
war when a State has turbulent or ambitious neighbors who are resolved to
appeal to arms, and so Kwang Vouti was engaged in almost constant
hostilities to the end of his days. Chingtse, the Queen of Kaochi, which
may be identified with the modern Annam, defied the Chinese, and defeated
the first army sent to bring her to reason. This reverse necessitated a
still greater effort on the part of the Chinese ruler to bring his
neighbor to her senses. The occupant of the Dragon throne could not sit
down tamely under a defeat inflicted by a woman, and an experienced
general named Mayuen was sent to punish the Queen of Kaochi. The Boadicea
of Annam made a valiant defense, but she was overthrown, and glad to
purchase peace by making the humblest submission. The same general more
than held his own on the northern and northwest frontiers. When Kwang
Vouti died, in A.D. 57, after a brilliant reign of thirty-three years, he
had firmly established the Han dynasty, and he left behind him the
reputation of being both a brave and a just prince.
His son and successor, Mingti, was not unworthy of his father. His acts
were characterized by wisdom and clemency, and the country enjoyed a large
measure of peace through the policy of Mingti and his father. A general
named Panchow, who was perhaps the greatest military commander China ever
produced, began his long and remarkable career in this reign, and, without
the semblance of an effort, kept the Huns in order, and maintained the
imperial authority over them. Among other great and important works,
Mingti constructed a dike, thirty miles long, for the relief of the
Hoangho, and the French missionary and writer, Du Halde, states that so
long as this was kept in repair there were no floods. The most remarkable
event of Mingti's reign was undoubtedly the official introduction of
Buddhism into China. Some knowledge of the great Indian religion and of
the teacher Sakya Muni seems to have reached China through either Tibet,
or, more probably, Burma, but it was not until Mingti, in consequence of a
dream, sent envoys to India to study Buddhism, that its doctrine became
known in China. Under the direct patronage of the emperor it made rapid
progress, and although never unreservedly popular, it has held its ground
ever since its introduction in the first century of our era, and is now
inextricably intertwined with the religion of the Chinese state and
people. Mingti died after a successful reign of eighteen years in 75 A.D.
His son, Changti, with the aid of his mother, Machi, the daughter of the
general Mayuen, enjoyed a peaceful reign of thirteen years, and died at an
early age lamented by his sorrowing people.
After Changti came his son, Hoti, who was only ten at the time of his
accession, and who reigned for seventeen years. He was a virtuous and
well-intentioned prince, who instituted many internal reforms, and during
his reign a new writing paper was invented, which is supposed to have been
identical with the papyrus of Egypt. But the reign of Hoti is rendered
illustrious by the remarkable military achievements of Panchow. The
success of that general in his operations with the Huns has already been
referred to, and he at last formed a deliberate plan for driving them away
from the Chinese frontier. Although he enjoyed the confidence of his
successive sovereigns, the imperial sanction was long withheld from this
vast scheme, but during the life of Changti he began to put in operation
measures for the realization of this project that were only matured under
Hoti. He raised and trained a special army for frontier war. He enlisted
tribes who had never served the emperor before, and who were specially
qualified for desert warfare. He formed an alliance with the Sienpi tribes
of Manchuria, who were probably the ancestors of the present Manchus, and
thus arranged for a flank attack on the Huns. This systematic attack was
crowned with success. The pressure brought against them compelled the
Hiongnou to give way, and as they were ousted from their possessions, to
seek fresh homes further west. In this they were, no doubt, stimulated by
the example of their old opponents, the Yuchi, but Panchow's energy
supplied a still more convincing argument. He pursued them wherever they
went, across the Gobi Desert and beyond the Tian Shan range, taking up a
strong position at modern Kuldja and Kashgar, sending his expeditions on
to the Pamir, and preparing to complete his triumph by the invasion of the
countries of the Oxus and Jaxartes. When Hoti was still a youth, he
completed this programme by overrunning the region as far as the Caspian,
which was probably at that time connected with the Aral, and it may be
supposed that Khiva marked the limit of the Chinese general's triumphant
progress. It is affirmed with more or less show of truth that he came into
contact with the Roman empire or the great Thsin, as the Chinese called
it, and that he wished to establish commercial relations with it. But
however uncertain this may be, there can be no doubt that he inflicted a
most material injury on Rome, for before his legions fled the Huns, who,
less than four centuries later, debased the majesty of the imperial city,
and whose leader, Attila, may have been a descendant of that Meha at whose
hands the Chinese suffered so severely.
After this brilliant and memorable war, Panchow returned to China, where
he died at the great age of eighty. With him disappeared the good fortune
of the Han dynasty, and misfortunes fell rapidly on the family that had
governed China so long and so well. Hoti's infant son lived only a few
months, and then his brother, Ganti, became emperor. The real power rested
in the hands of the widow of Hoti, who was elevated to the post of regent.
Ganti was succeeded in A.D. 124 by his son, Chunti, in whose time several
rebellions occurred, threatening the extinction of the dynasty. Several
children were then elevated to the throne, and at last an ambitious noble
named Leangki, whose sister was one of the empresses, acquired the supreme
direction of affairs. He gave a great deal of trouble, but at last,
finding that his ambitious schemes did not prosper, he took poison, thus
anticipating a decree passed for his execution. Hwanti, the emperor who
had the courage to punish this powerful noble, was the last able ruler of
the Hans. His reign was, on the whole, a brilliant one, and the Sienpi
tribes, who had taken the place of the Hiongnou, were, after one arduous
campaign, defeated in a pitched battle. The Chinese were on the verge of
defeat when their general, Twan Kang, rushed to the front, exclaiming:
"Recall to your minds how often before you have beaten these same
opponents, and teach them again to-day that in you they have their
masters."
After Hwanti's death the decline of the Hans was rapid. They produced no
other ruler worthy of the throne. In the palace the eunuchs, always
numerous at the Chinese court, obtained the upper hand, and appointed
their own creatures to the great governing posts. Fortunately this
dissension at the capital was not attended by weakness on the frontier,
and the Sienpi were again defeated. The battle is chiefly memorable
because the Sienpi endeavored to frighten the Chinese general by
threatening to kill his mother, who was a prisoner in their hands, if he
attacked. Not deterred by this menace, Chow Pow attacked the enemy, and
gained a decisive victory, but at the cost of his mother's life, which so
affected him that he died of grief shortly afterward. After some time
dissensions rose in the Han family, and two half-brothers claimed the
throne. Pienti became emperor by the skillful support of his uncle,
General Hotsin, while his rival, Hienti, enjoyed the support of the
eunuchs. A deadly feud ensued between the two parties, which was
aggravated by the murder of Hotsin, who rashly entered the palace without
an escort. His soldiers avenged his death, carrying the palace by storm
and putting ten thousand eunuchs to the sword. After this the last
emperors possessed only the name of emperor. The practical authority was
disputed among several generals, of whom Tsow Tsow was the most
distinguished and successful; and he and his son Tsowpi founded a dynasty,
of which more will be heard hereafter. In A.D. 220 Hienti, the last Han
ruler, retired into private life, thus bringing to an end the famous Han
dynasty, which had governed China for four hundred and fifty years.
Among the families that have reigned in China none has obtained as high a
place in popular esteem as the Hans. They rendered excellent work in
consolidating the empire and in carrying out what may be called the
imperial mission of China. Yunnan and Leaoutung were made provinces for
the first time. Cochin China became a vassal state. The writ of the
emperor ran as far as the Pamir. The wealth and trade of the country
increased with the progress of its armies. Some of the greatest public
works, in the shape of roads, bridges, canals, and aqueducts, were
constructed during this period, and still remain to testify to the glory
of the Hans. As has been seen, the Hans produced several great rulers.
Their fame was not the creation of one man alone, and as a consequence the
dynasty enjoyed a lengthened existence equaled by few of its predecessors
or successors. No ruling family was ever more popular with the Chinese
than this, and it managed to retain the throne when less favored rulers
would have expiated their mistakes and shortcomings by the loss of the
empire. With the strong support of the people, the Hans overcame
innumerable difficulties, and even the natural process of decay; and when
they made their final exit from history it was in a graceful manner, and
without the execration of the masses. That this feeling retains its force
is shown in the pride with which the Chinese still proclaim themselves to
be the sons of Han.
CHAPTER III
A LONG PERIOD OF DISUNION
The ignominious failure of the usurper Wang Mang to found a dynasty was
too recent to encourage any one to take upon himself the heavy charge of
administering the whole of the Han empire, and so the state was split up
into three principalities, and the period is known from this fact as the
Sankoue. One prince, a member of the late ruling family, held possession
of Szchuen, which was called the principality of Chow. The southern
provinces were governed by a general named Sunkiuen, and called Ou. The
central and northern provinces, containing the greatest population and
resources, formed the principality of Wei, subject to Tsowpi, the son of
Tsow Tsow. A struggle for supremacy very soon began between these princes,
and the balance of success gradually declared itself in favor of Wei. It
would serve no useful purpose to enumerate the battles which marked this
struggle, yet one deed of heroism deserves mention, the defense of
Sinching by Changte, an officer of the Prince of Wei. The strength of the
place was insignificant, and, after a siege of ninety days, several
breaches had been made in the walls. In this strait Changte sent a message
to the besieging general that he would surrender on the hundredth day if a
cessation of hostilities were granted, "as it was a law among the princes
of Wei that the governor of a place which held out for a hundred days and
then surrendered, with no prospect of relief visible, should not be
considered as guilty." The respite was short and it was granted. But the
disappointment of the besieger, already counting on success, was great
when a few days later he saw that the breaches had been repaired, that
fresh defenses had been improvised, and that Sinching was in better
condition than ever to withstand a siege. On sending to inquire the
meaning of these preparations, Changte gave the following reply: "I am
preparing my tomb and to bury myself in the ruins of Sinching." Of such
gallantry and resource the internecine strife of the Sankoue period
presents few instances, but the progress of the struggle steadily pointed
in the direction of the triumph of Wei.
The Chow dynasty of the Later Hans was the first to succumb to the princes
of Wei, and the combined resources of the two states were then directed
against the southern principality of Ou. The supreme authority in Wei had
before this passed from the family of Tsowpi to his best general,
Ssemachow, who had the satisfaction of beginning his reign with the
overthrow of the Chow dynasty. If he had earned out the wishes of his own
commander, Tengai, by attacking Ou at once, and in the flush of his
triumph over Chow, he might have completed his work at a stroke, for as
Tengai wrote, "An army which has the reputation of victory flies from one
success to another." But Ssemachow preferred a slower and surer mode of
action, with the result that the conquest of Ou was put off for twenty
years. Ssemachow died in A.D. 265, and his son Ssemachu founded the new
dynasty of the Later Tsins under the name of Vouti, or the warrior prince.
The main object with Vouti was to add the Ou principality to his
dominions, and the descendants of Sunkiuen thought it best to bend before
the storm. They sent humble embassies to Loyang, expressing their loyalty
and submission, but at the same time they made strenuous preparations to
defend their independence. This double policy precipitated the collision
it was intended to avert. Vouti paid more heed to the acts than the
promises of his neighbor, and he ordered the invasion of his territory
from two sides. He placed a large fleet of war junks on the Yangtsekiang
to attack his opponent on the Tunting Lake. The campaign that ensued was
decided before it began. The success of Vouti was morally certain from the
beginning, and after his army had suffered several reverses Sunhow threw
up the struggle and surrendered to his opponent. Thus was China again
reunited for a short time under the dynasty of the Later Tsins. Having
accomplished his main task, Vouti gave himself up to the pursuit of
pleasure, and impaired the reputation he had gained among his somewhat
severe fellow-countrymen by entertaining a theatrical company of five
thousand female comedians, and by allowing himself to be driven in a car
drawn by sheep through the palace grounds. Vouti lived about ten years
after the unity of the empire was restored, and his son, Ssemachong, or
Hweiti, became emperor on his death in A.D. 290. One of the great works of
his reign was the bridging of the Hoangho at Mongtsin, at a point much
lower down its course than is bridged at the present time.
The reign of Hweiti was marred by the ambitious vindictiveness of his
wife, Kiachi, who murdered the principal minister and imprisoned the widow
of the Emperor Vouti. The only good service she rendered the state was to
discern in one of the palace eunuchs named Mongkwan a great general, and
his achievements bear a strong resemblance to those of Narses, who was the
only other great commander of that unfortunate class mentioned in history.
Wherever Mongkwan commanded in person victory attended his efforts, but
the defeats of the other generals of the Tsins neutralized his success. At
this moment there was a recrudescence of Tartar activity which proved more
fatal to the Chinese ruler than his many domestic enemies. Some of the
Hiongnou tribes had retired in an easterly direction toward Manchuria when
Panchow drove the main body westward, and among them, at the time of which
we are speaking, a family named Lin had gained the foremost place. They
possessed all the advantages of Chinese education, and had married several
times into the Han family. Seeing the weakness of Hweiti these Lin chiefs
took the title of Kings of Han, and wished to pose as the liberators of
the country. Hweiti bent before the storm, and would have made an
ignominious surrender but that death saved him the trouble.
His brother and successor, Hwaiti, fared somewhat better at first, but
notwithstanding some flashes of success the Lin Tartars marched further
and further into the country, capturing cities, defeating the best
officers of the Tsins, and threatening the capital. In A.D. 310 Linsong,
the Han chief, invaded China in force and with the full intention of
ending the war at a blow. He succeeded in capturing Loyang, and carrying
off Hwaiti as his prisoner. The capital was pillaged and the Prince Royal
executed. Hwaiti is considered the first Chinese emperor to have fallen
into the hands of a foreign conqueror. Two years after his capture, Hwaiti
was compelled to wait on his conqueror at a public banquet, and when it
was over he was led out to execution. This foul murder illustrates the
character of the new race and men who aspired to rule over China. The
Tartar successes did not end here, for a few years later they made a fresh
raid into China, capturing Hwaiti's brother and successor, Mingti, who was
executed, twelve months after his capture, at Pingyang, the capital of the
Tartar Hans.
After these reverses the enfeebled Tsin rulers removed their capital to
Nankin, but this step alone would not have sufficed to prolong their
existence had not the Lin princes themselves suffered from the evils of
disunion and been compelled to remove their capital from Pingyang to
Singan. Here they changed their name from Han to Chow, but the work of
disintegration once begun proceeded rapidly, and in the course of a few
years the Lin power crumbled completely away. Released from their most
pressing danger by the fall of this family, the Tsin dynasty took a new
lease of life, but it was unable to derive any permanent advantage from
this fact. The last emperors of this family were weak and incompetent
princes, whose names need not be given outside a chronological table.
There would be nothing to say about them but that a humble individual
named Linyu, who owed everything to himself, found in the weakness of the
government and the confusion in the country the opportunity of
distinction. He proved himself a good soldier and able leader against the
successors of the Lin family on one side, and a formidable pirate named
Sunghen on the other. Dissatisfied with his position, Linyu murdered one
emperor and placed another on the throne, and in two years he compelled
his puppet, the last of the Later Tsins, to make a formal abdication in
his favor. For a considerable portion of their rule they governed the
whole of China, and it is absolutely true to say that they were the least
worthy family ever intrusted with so great a charge. Of the fifteen
emperors who ruled for one hundred and fifty-five years there is not more
than the founder whose name calls for preservation on his own merits.
Although Linyu's success was complete as far as it went, his dynasty, to
which he gave the name of Song, never possessed exclusive power among the
Chinese. It was only one administration among many others, and during his
brief reign of three years he could do nothing toward extending his power
over his neighbors, although he may have established his own the more
firmly by poisoning the miserable Tsin emperor whom he deposed. His son
and successor, Chowti, was deposed and murdered after a brief reign of one
year. His brother Wenti succeeded him, and he was soon drawn into a
struggle for power, if not existence, with his northern neighbor the King
of Wei, who was one of the most powerful potentates in the empire. The
principal and immediate bone of contention between them was the great
province of Honan, which had been overrun by the Wei ruler, but which
Wenti was resolved to recover. As the Hoangho divides this province into
two parts, it was extremely difficult for the Wei ruler to defend the
portion south of it, and when Wenti sent him his declaration of war, he
replied, "Even if your master succeeds in seizing this province I shall
know how to retake it as soon as the waters of the Hoangho are frozen."
Wenti succeeded in recovering Honan, but after a protracted campaign,
during which the Wei troops crossed the river on the ice, his armies were
again expelled from it, and the exhausted combatants found themselves at
the close of the struggle in almost the same position they had held at the
commencement. For a time both rulers devoted their attention to peaceful
matters, although Topatao, king of Wei, varied them by a persecution of
the Buddhists, and then the latter concentrated all his forces with the
view of overwhelming the Song emperor. When success seemed certain,
victory was denied him, and the Wei forces suffered severely during their
retreat to their own territory. This check to his triumphant career
injured his reputation and encouraged his enemies. A short time after this
campaign, Topatao was murdered by some discontented officers.
Nor was the Song ruler, Wenti, any more fortunate, as he was murdered by
his son. The parricide was killed in turn by a brother who became the
Emperor Vouti. This ruler was fond of the chase and a great eater, but, on
the whole, he did no harm. The next two emperors were cruel and
bloodthirsty princes, and during their reigns the executioner was
constantly employed. Two more princes, who were, however, not members of
the Song family, but only adopted by the last ruler of that house,
occupied the throne, but this weakness and unpopularity--for the Chinese,
unlike the people of India, scout the idea of adoption and believe only in
the rights of birth--administered the finishing stroke to the Songs, who
now give place to the Tsi dynasty, which was founded by a general named
Siaotaoching, who took the imperial name of Kaoti. The change did not
bring any improvement in the conditions of China, and it was publicly said
that the Tsi family had attained its pride of place not by merit, but by
force. The Tsi dynasty, after a brief and ignominious career, came to an
end in the person of a youthful prince named Hoti. After his deposition,
in A.D. 502, his successful enemies ironically sent him in prison a
present of gold. He exclaimed, "What need have I of gold after my death? a
few glasses of wine would be more valuable." They complied with his wish,
and while he was drunk they strangled him with his own silken girdle.
After the Tsi came the Leang dynasty, another of those insignificant and
unworthy families which occupy the stage of Chinese history during this
long period of disunion. The new Emperor Vouti was soon brought into
collision with the state of Wei, which during these years had regained all
its power, and had felt strong enough to transfer its capital from the
northern city of Pingching to Honan, while the Leang capital remained at
Nankin. The progress of this contest was marked by the consistent success
of Wei, and the prince of that kingdom seems to have been as superior in
the capacity of his generals as in the resources of his state. One
incident will be sufficient to show the devotion which he was able to
inspire in his officers. During the absence of its governor, Vouti
attempted to capture the town of Ginching, and he would certainly have
succeeded in his object had not Mongchi, the wife of that officer,
anticipating by many centuries the conduct of the Countess of Montfort and
of the Countess of Derby, thrown herself into the breach, harangued the
small garrison, and inspired it with her own indomitable spirit. Vouti was
compelled to make an ignominious retreat from before Ginching, and his
troops became so disheartened that they refused to engage the enemy,
notwithstanding their taunts and their marching round the imperial camp
with the head of a dead person decked out in a widow's cap and singing a
doggerel ballad to the effect that none of Vouti's generals was to be
feared. In the next campaign Vouti was able to restore his declining
fortunes by the timely discovery of a skillful general in the person of
Weijoui, who, taking advantage of the division of the Wei army into two
parts by a river, gained a decisive victory over each of them in turn. If
Vouti had listened to his general's advice, and followed up this success,
he might have achieved great and permanent results, but instead he
preferred to rest content with his laurels, with the result that the Wei
prince recovered his military power and confidence. The natural
consequences of this was that the two neighbors once more resorted to a
trial of strength, and, notwithstanding the valiant and successful defense
of a fortress by another lady named Liuchi, the fortune of war declared in
the main for Vouti. This may be considered one of the most remarkable
periods for the display of female capacity in China, as the great state of
Wei was governed by a queen named Houchi; but the general condition of the
country does not support an argument in favor of female government.
The tenure of power by Houchi was summarily cut short by the revolt of the
Wei commander-in-chief, Erchu Jong, who got rid of his mistress by tying
her up in a sack and throwing her into the Hoangho. He then collected two
thousand of her chief advisers in a plain outside the capital, and there
ordered his cavalry to cut them down. Erchu Jong then formed an ambitious
project for reuniting the empire, proclaiming to his followers his
intention in this speech: "Wait a little while, and we shall assemble all
the braves from out our western borders. We will then go and bring to
reason the six departments of the north, and the following year we will
cross the great Kiang, and place in chains Siaoyen, who calls himself
emperor." This scheme was nipped in the bud by the assassination of Erchu
Jong. Although the death of its great general signified much loss to the
Wei state, the Emperor Vouti experienced bitter disappointment and a rude
awakening when he attempted to turn the event to his own advantage. His
army was defeated in every battle, his authority was reduced to a shadow,
and a mutinous officer completed in his palace the overthrow begun by his
hereditary enemy. Vouti was now eighty years of age, and ill able to stand
so rude a shock. On being deposed he exclaimed: "It was I who raised my
family, and it was I who have destroyed it. I have no reason to complain";
and he died a few days later, from, it is said, a pain in his throat which
his jailers refused to alleviate with some honey. On the whole, Vouti was
a creditable ruler, although the Chinese annalists blame him for his
superstition and denounce his partiality for Buddhism.
Vouti's prediction that his family was destroyed proved correct. He was
succeeded in turn by three members of his family, but all of these died a
violent death. A general named Chinpasien founded a fresh dynasty known as
the Chin, but he died before he had enjoyed power many years. At this
period also disappeared the Wei state, which was dissolved by the death of
Erchu Jong, and now merged itself into that of Chow. The growth of this
new power proved very rapid, and speedily extinguished that of the
unfortunate Chins. The Chow ruler took the name of Kaotsou Wenti, and
ruled over a great portion of China. He changed the name of his dynasty to
the Soui, which, although it did not hold possession of the throne for
long, vindicated its claim to supremacy by successful wars and admirable
public works. This prince showed himself a very capable administrator, and
his acts were marked by rare generosity and breadth of view. His son and
successor, Yangti, although he reached the throne by the murder of a
brother, proved himself an intelligent ruler and a benefactor of his
people. He transferred his capital from Nankin to Honan, which he resolved
to make the most magnificent city in the world. It is declared that he
employed two million men in embellishing it, and that he caused fifty
thousand merchants to take up their residence there. But of all his works
none will compare with the great system of canals which he constructed,
and in connection with which his name will live forever in history.
Although he reigned no more than thirteen years, he completed nearly five
thousand miles of canals. Some of these, such as the Grand Canal, from the
Hoangho to the Yangtsekiang, are splendid specimens of human labor, and
could be made as useful today as they were when first constructed. The
canal named is forty yards wide and is lined with solid stone. The banks
are bordered with elms and willows. These works were constructed by a
general corvee or levy en masse, each family being required to provide one
able-bodied man, and the whole of the army was also employed on this
public undertaking. It is in connection with it that Yangti's name will be
preserved, as his wars, especially one with Corea, were not successful,
and an ignominious end was put to his existence by a fanatic. His son and
successor was also murdered, when the Soui dynasty came to an end, and
with it the magnificent and costly palace erected at Loyang, which was
denounced as only calculated "to soften the heart of a prince and to
foment his cupidity."
There now ensues a break in the long period of disunion which had
prevailed in China, and for a time the supreme authority of the emperor
recovered the general respect and vigor which by right belonged to it. The
deposer of the Souis was Liyuen, who some years before had been given the
title of Prince of Tang. In the year A.D. 617 he proclaimed himself
emperor under the style of Kaotsou, and he began his reign in an
auspicious manner by proclaiming an amnesty and by stating his "desire to
found his empire only on justice and humanity." While he devoted his
attention to the reorganization of the administration at Singan, which he
chose for his capital, his second son, Lichimin, was intrusted with the
command of the army in the field, to which was assigned the task of
subjecting all the provinces. Lichimin proved himself a great commander,
and his success was both rapid and unqualified. He was equally victorious
over Chinese rebels and foreign enemies. His energy and skill were not
more conspicuous than his courage. At the head of his chosen regiment of
cuirassiers, carrying black tiger skins, he was to be found in the front
of every battle, and victory was due as often to his personal intrepidity
as to his tactical skill. Within a few years the task of Lichimin was
brought to a glorious completion, and on his return to Singan he was able
to assure his father that the empire was pacified in a sense that had not
been true for many centuries. His entry into Singan at the head of his
victorious troops reminds the reader of a Roman triumph. Surrounded by his
chosen bodyguard, and followed by forty thousand cavalry, Lichimin,
wearing a breastplate of gold and accompanied by the most important of his
captives, rode through the streets to make public offering of thanks for
victory achieved, at the Temple of his ancestors. His success was enhanced
by his moderation, for he granted his prisoners their lives, and his
reputation was not dimmed by any acts of cruelty or bloodshed.
The magnitude of Lichimin's success and his consequent popularity aroused
the envy and hostility of his elder brother, who aspired to the throne.
The intrigues against him were so far successful that he fell into
disgrace with the emperor, and for a time withdrew from the court. But his
brother was not content with anything short of taking his life, and formed
a conspiracy with his other brothers and some prominent officials to
murder him. The plot was discovered, and recoiled upon its authors, who
were promptly arrested and executed. Then Lichimin was formally proclaimed
heir to the throne; but the event sinks into comparative insignificance
beside the abdication of the throne by Kaotsou in the same year. The real
cause of this step was probably not disconnected with the plot against
Lichimin, but the official statement was that Kaotsou felt the weight of
years, and that he wished to enjoy rest and the absence of responsibility
during his last days. Kaotsou must be classed among the capable rulers of
China, but his fame has been overshadowed by and merged in the greater
splendor of his son. He survived his abdication nine years, dying in A.D.
635 at the age of seventy-one.
On ascending the throne, Lichimin took the name of Taitsong, and he is one
of the few Chinese rulers to whom the epithet of Great may be given
without fear of its being challenged. The noble task to which he at once
set himself was to prove that the Chinese were one people, that the
interests of all the provinces, as of all classes of the community, were
the same, and that the pressing need of the hour was to revive the spirit
of national unity and patriotism. Before he became ruler in his own name
he had accomplished something toward this end by the successful campaigns
he had conducted to insure the recognition of his father's authority. But
Taitsong saw that much more remained to be done, and the best way to do it
seemed to him to be the prosecution of what might be called a national war
against those enemies beyond the northern frontier, who were always
troublesome, and who had occasionally founded governments within the
limits of China like the Topa family of Wei. In order to achieve any great
or lasting success in this enterprise, Taitsong saw that it was essential
that he should possess a large and well-trained standing army, on which he
could rely for efficient service beyond the frontier as well as in China
itself. Before his time Chinese armies had been little better than a rude
militia, and the military knowledge of the officers could only be
described as contemptible. The soldiers were, for the most part, peasants,
who knew nothing of discipline, and into whose hands weapons were put for
the first time on the eve of a war. They were not of a martial
temperament, and they went unwillingly to a campaign; and against such
active opponents as the Tartars they would only engage when superiority of
numbers promised success. They were easily seized with a panic, and the
celerity and dash of Chinese troops only became perceptible when their
backs were turned to the foe. So evident had these faults become that more
than one emperor had endeavored to recruit from among the Tartar tribes,
and to oppose the national enemy with troops not less brave or active than
themselves. But the employment of mercenaries is always only a half
remedy, and not free from the risk of aggravating the evil it is intended
to cure. But Taitsong did not attempt any such palliation; he went to the
root of the question, and determined to have a trained and efficient army
of his own. He raised a standing army of nine hundred thousand men, which
he divided into three equal classes of regiments, one containing one
thousand two hundred men, another one thousand, and the third eight
hundred. The total number of regiments was eight hundred and ninety-five,
of which six hundred and thirty-four were recruited for home service and
two hundred and sixty-one for foreign. By this plan he obtained the
assured services of more than a quarter of a million of trained troops for
operations beyond the frontier. Taitsong also improved the weapons and
armament of his soldiers. He lengthened the pike and supplied a stronger
bow. Many of his troops wore armor; and he relied on the co-operation of
his cavalry, a branch of military power which has generally been much
neglected in China. He took special pains to train a large body of
officers, and he instituted a Tribunal of War, to which the supreme
direction of military matters was intrusted. As these measures greatly
shocked the civil mandarins, who regarded the emperor's taking part in
reviews and the physical exercises of the soldiers as "an impropriety," it
will be allowed that Taitsong showed great moral courage and surmounted
some peculiar difficulties in carrying out his scheme for forming a
regular army. He overcame all obstacles, and gathered under his banner an
army formidable by reason of its efficiency and equipment, as well as for
its numerical strength.
Having acquired what he deemed the means to settle it, Taitsong resolved
to grapple boldly with the ever-recurring danger from the Tartars, Under
different names, but ever with the same object, the tribes of the vast
region from Corea to Koko Nor had been a trouble to the Chinese
agriculturist and government from time immemorial. Their sole ambition and
object in life had been to harry the lands of the Chinese, and to bear
back to their camps the spoils of cities. The Huns had disappeared, but in
their place had sprung up the great power of the Toukinei or Turks, who
were probably the ancestors of the Ottomans. With these turbulent
neighbors, and with others of different race but of the same disposition
on the southern frontier, Taitsong was engaged in a bitter and arduous
struggle during the whole of his life; and there can be little or no doubt
that he owed his success to the care he bestowed on his army. The Great
Wall of Tsin Hwangti had been one barrier in the path of these enemies,
but, held by a weak and cowardly garrison, it had proved inadequate for
its purpose. Taitsong supplied another and a better defense in a
consistent and energetic policy, and in the provision of a formidable and
confident army.
The necessity for this military reform was clearly shown by the experience
of his first campaign with these implacable enemies, when, in the year of
his accession and before his organization had been completed, a horde of
these barbarians broke into the empire and carried all before them, almost
to the gates of the capital. On this occasion Taitsong resorted to
diplomacy and remonstrance. He rode almost unattended to the Tartar camp,
and reproached their chiefs with their breach of faith, reminding them
that on his sending one of his sisters to be the bride of their chief they
had sworn by a solemn oath to keep the peace. He asked: "Are these
proceedings worthy, I will not say of princes, but of men possessing the
least spark of honor? If they forget the benefits they have received from
me, at the least they ought to be mindful of their oaths. I had sworn a
peace with them; they are now violating it, and by that they place the
justice of the question on my side." The Chinese chroniclers declare that
the Tartars were so impressed by Taitsong's majestic air and remonstrances
that they agreed to retire, and fresh vows of friendship and peace were
sworn over the body of a white horse at a convention concluded on the
Pienkiao bridge across the Weichoui River. The only safe deduction from
this figurative narrative is that there was a Tartar incursion, and that
the Chinese army did not drive back the invaders. Their retreat was
probably purchased, but it was the first and last occasion on which
Taitsong stooped to such a measure.
The peace of Pienkiao was soon broken. The tribes again drew their forces
to a head for the purpose of invading China, but before their plans were
complete Taitsong anticipated them by marching into their territory at the
head of a large army. Taken by surprise, the Tartars offered but a feeble
resistance. Several of their khans surrendered, and at a general assembly
Taitsong proclaimed his intention to govern them as Khan of their khans,
or by the title of Tien Khan, which means Celestial Ruler. This was the
first occasion on which a Chinese ruler formally took over the task of
governing the nomad tribes and of treating their chiefs as his
lieutenants. Down to the present day the Chinese emperor continues to
govern the Mongol and other nomadic tribes under this very title, which
the Russians have rendered as Bogdo Khan. The success of this policy was
complete, for not only did it give tranquillity to the Chinese borders,
but it greatly extended Chinese authority. Kashgaria was then, for the
first time, formed into a province under the name of Lonugsi, and
Lichitsi, one of the emperor's best generals, was appointed Warden of the
Western Marches. Some of the most influential of Taitsong's advisers
disapproved of this advanced policy, and attempted to thwart it, but in
vain. Carried out with the vigor and consistency of Taitsong there cannot
be two opinions about its wisdom and efficacy.
During this reign the relations between China and two of its neighbors,
Tibet and Corea, were greatly developed, and the increased intercourse was
largely brought about by the instrumentality of war. The first envoys from
Tibet, or, as it was then called, Toufan or Toupo, are reported to have
reached the Chinese capital in the year 634. At that time the people of
Tibet were rude and unlettered, and their chiefs were little better than
savages. Buddhism had not taken that firm hold on the popular mind which
it at present possesses, and the power of the lamas had not arisen in what
is now the most priest-ridden country in the world. A chief, named the
Sanpou--which means the brave lord--had, about the time of which we are
speaking, made himself supreme throughout the country, and it was said
that he had crossed the Himalaya and carried his victorious arms into
Central India. Curiosity, or the desire to wed a Chinese princess, and
thus to be placed on what may be termed a favored footing, induced the
Sanpou to send his embassy to Singan; but although the envoys returned
laden with presents, Taitsong declined to trust a princess of his family
in a strange country and among an unknown people. The Sanpou chose to
interpret this refusal as an insult to his dignity, and he declared war
with China. But success did not attend his enterprise, for he was defeated
in the only battle of the war, and glad to purchase peace by paying five
thousand ounces of gold and acknowledging himself a Chinese vassal. The
Sanpou also agreed to accept Chinese education, and as his reward Taitsong
gave him one of his daughters as a wife. It is stated that one of his
first reforms was to abolish the national practice of painting the face,
and he also built a walled city to proclaim his glory as the son-in-law of
the Emperor of China. During Taitsong's life there was no further trouble
on the side of Tibet.
Taitsong was not so fortunate in his relations with Corea, where a
stubborn people and an inaccessible country imposed a bar to his ambition.
Attempts had been made at earlier periods to bring Corea under the
influence of the Chinese ruler, and to treat it as a tributary state. A
certain measure of success had occasionaly attended these attempts, but on
the whole Corea had preserved its independence. When Taitsong in the
plenitude of his power called upon the King of Corea to pay tribute, and
to return to his subordinate position, he received a defiant reply, and
the Coreans began to encroach on Sinlo, a small state which threw itself
on the protection of China. The name of Corea at this time was Kaoli, and
the supreme direction of affairs at this period was held by a noble named
Chuen Gaisoowun, who had murdered his own sovereign. Taitsong, irritated
by his defiance, sent a large army to the frontier, and when Gaisoowun,
alarmed by the storm he had raised, made a humble submission and sent the
proper tribute, the emperor gave expression to his displeasure and
disapproval of the regicide's acts by rejecting his gifts and announcing
his resolve to prosecute the war. It is never prudent to drive an opponent
to desperation, and Gaisoowun, who might have been a good neighbor if
Taitsong had accepted his offer, proved a bitter and determined
antagonist. The first campaign was marked by the expected success of the
Chinese army. The Coreans were defeated in several battles, several
important towns were captured, but Taitsong had to admit that these
successes were purchased at the heavy loss of twenty-five thousand of his
best troops. The second campaign resolved itself into the siege and
defense of Anshu, an important town near the Yaloo River. Gaisoowun raised
an enormous force with the view of effecting its relief, and he attempted
to overwhelm the Chinese by superior numbers. But the better discipline
and tactics of the Chinese turned the day, and the Corean army was driven
in rout from the field. But this signal success did not entail the
surrender of Anshu, which was gallantly defended. The scarcity of supplies
and the approach of winter compelled the Chinese emperor to raise the
siege after he had remained before the place for several months, and it is
stated that as the Chinese broke up their camp the commandant appeared on
the walls and wished them "a pleasant journey." After this rebuff Taitsong
did not renew his attempt to annex Corea, although to the end of his life
he refused to hold any relations with Gaisoowun.
During the first portion of his reign Taitsong was greatly helped by the
labors of his wife, the Empress Changsun-chi, who was a woman of rare
goodness and ability, and set a shining example to the whole of her court.
She said many wise things, among which the most quotable was that "the
practice of virtue conferred honor upon men, especially on princes, and
not the splendor of their appointments." She was a patron of letters, and
an Imperial Library and College in the capital owed their origin to her.
She was probably the best and most trustworthy adviser the emperor had,
and after her death the energy and good fortune of Taitsong seemed to
decline. She no doubt contributed to the remarkable treatise on the art of
government, called the "Golden Mirror," which bears the name of Taitsong
as its author. Taitsong was an ardent admirer of Confucius, whom he
exalted to the skies as the great sage of the world, declaring
emphatically that "Confucius was for the Chinese what the water is for the
fishes." The Chinese annalists tell many stories of Taitsong's personal
courage. He was a great hunter, and in the pursuit of big game he
necessarily had some narrow escapes, special mention being made of his
slaying single-handed a savage boar. Another instance was his struggle
with a Tartar attendant who attempted to murder him, and whom he killed in
the encounter. He had a still narrower escape at the hands of his eldest
son, who formed a plot to assassinate him which very nearly succeeded. The
excessive anxiety of Prince Lichingkien to reach the crown cost him the
succession, for on the discovery of his plot he was deposed from the
position of heir-apparent and disappeared from the scene.
After a reign of twenty-three years, during which he accomplished a great
deal more than other rulers had done in twice the time, Taitsong died in
A.D. 649, leaving the undisturbed possession of the throne to his son,
known as the Emperor Kaotsong. There need be no hesitation in calling
Taitsong one of the greatest rulers who ever sat on the Dragon Throne, and
his death was received with extraordinary demonstrations of grief by the
people he had ruled so well. Several of his generals wished to commit
suicide on his bier, the representatives of the tributary nations at his
capital cut off their hair or sprinkled his grave with their blood, and
throughout the length and breadth of the land there was mourning and
lamentation for a prince who had realized the ideal character of a Chinese
emperor. Nor does his claim to admiration and respect seem less after the
lapse of so many centuries. His figure still stands out boldly as one of
the ablest and most humane of all Chinese rulers. He not only reunited
China, but he proved that union was for his country the only sure basis of
prosperity and power.
Under Kaotsong the power of the Tangs showed for thirty years no
diminution, and he triumphed in directions where his father had only
pointed the way to victory. He began his reign with a somewhat risky act
by marrying one of his father's widows, who then became the Empress Won.
She was perhaps the most remarkable woman in the whole range of Chinese
history, acquiring such an ascendency over her husband that she
practically ruled the state, and retained this power after his death. In
order to succeed in so exceptional a task she had to show no excessive
delicacy or scrupulousness, and she began by getting rid of the other
wives, including the lawful empress of Kaotsong, in a summary fashion. It
is stated that she cast them into a vase filled with wine, having
previously cut off their hands and feet to prevent their extricating
themselves. But on the whole her influence was exerted to promote the
great schemes of her husband.
The Tibetan question was revived by the warlike proclivities of the new
Sanpou, who, notwithstanding his blood relationship with the Chinese
emperor, sought to extend his dominion at his expense toward the north and
the east. A desultory war ensued, in which the Chinese got the worst of
it, and Kaotsong admitted that Tibet remained "a thorn in his side for
years." A satisfactory termination was given to the struggle by the early
death of the Sanpou, whose warlike character had been the main cause of
the dispute. Strangely enough the arms of Kaotsong were more triumphant in
the direction of Corea, where his father had failed. From A.D. 658 to 670
China was engaged in a bitter war on land and sea with the Coreans and
their allies, the Japanese, who thus intervened for the first time in the
affairs of the continent. Owing to the energy of the Empress Wou victory
rested with the Chinese, and the Japanese navy of four hundred junks was
completely destroyed. The kingdom of Sinlo was made a Chinese province,
and for sixty years the Coreans paid tribute and caused no trouble. In
Central Asia also the Chinese power was maintained intact, and the extent
of China's authority and reputation may be inferred from the King of
Persia begging the emperor's governor in Kashgar to come to his aid
against the Arabs, who were then in the act of overrunning Western Asia in
the name of the Prophet. Kaotsong could not send aid to such a distance
from his borders, but he granted shelter to several Persian princes, and
on receiving an embassy from the Arabs, he impressed upon them the wisdom
and magnanimity of being lenient to the conquered. Kaotsong died in 683,
and the Empress Wou retained power until the year 704, when, at the age of
eighty, she was compelled to abdicate. Her independent rule was marked by
as much vigor and success as during the life of Kaotsong. She vanquished
the Tibetans and a new Tartar race known as the Khitans, who appeared on
the northern borders of Shensi. She placed her son in confinement and wore
the robes assigned for an emperor. The extent of her power may be inferred
from her venturing to shock Chinese sentiment by offering the annual
imperial sacrifice to heaven, and by her erecting temples to her
ancestors. Yet it was not until she was broken down by age and illness
that any of her foes were bold enough to encounter her. She survived her
deposition one year, and her banished son Chongtsong was restored to the
throne.
Chongtsong did not reign long, being poisoned by his wife, who did not
reap the advantage of her crime. Several emperors succeeded without doing
anything to attract notice, and then Mingti brought both his own family
and the Chinese empire to the verge of ruin. Like other rulers, he began
well, quoting the maxims of the "Golden Mirror" and proclaiming Confucius
King of Literature. But defeats at the hands of the Khitans and Tibetans
imbittered his life and diminished his authority. A soldier of fortune
named Ganlochan revolted and met with a rapid and unexpected success owing
to "the people being unaccustomed, from the long peace, to the use of
arms." He subdued all the northern provinces, established his capital at
Loyang, and compelled Mingti to seek safety in Szchuen, when he abdicated
in favor of his son. The misfortunes of Mingti, whose most memorable act
was the founding of the celebrated Hanlin College and the institution of
the "Pekin Gazette," the oldest periodical in the world, both of which
exist at the present day, foretold the disruption of the empire at no
remote date. His son and successor Soutsong did something to retrieve the
fortunes of his family, and he recovered Singan from Ganlochan. The empire
was then divided between the two rivals, and war continued unceasingly
between them. The successful defense of Taiyuen, where artillery is said
to have been used for the first time, A.D. 757, by a lieutenant of the
Emperor Soutsong, consolidated his power, which was further increased by
the murder of Ganlochan shortly afterward. The struggle continued with
varying fortune between the northern and southern powers during the rest
of the reign of Soutsong, and also during that of his successor, Taitsong
the Second. This ruler showed himself unworthy of his name, abandoning his
capital with great pusillanimity when a small Tibetan army advanced upon
it. The census returns threw an expressive light on the condition of the
empire during this period. Under Mingti the population was given at fifty-
two million; in the time of the second Taitsong it had sunk to seventeen
million. A great general named Kwo Tsey, who had driven back the Tibetan
invaders, enabled Tetsong, the son and successor of Taitsong, to make a
good start in the government of his dominion, which was sadly reduced in
extent and prosperity. This great statesman induced Tetsong to issue an
edict reproving the superstitions of the times, and the prevalent fashion
of drawing auguries from dreams and accidents. The edict ran thus: "Peace
and the general contentment of the people, the abundance of the harvest,
skill and wisdom shown in the administration, these are prognostics which
I hear of with pleasure; but 'extraordinary clouds,' 'rare animals,'
'plants before unknown,' 'monsters,' and other astonishing productions of
nature, what good can any of these do men as auguries of the future? I
forbid such things to be brought to my notice." The early death of Kwo
Tsey deprived the youthful ruler of his best adviser and the mainstay of
his power. He was a man of magnificent capacity and devotion to duty, and
when it was suggested to him that he should not be content with any but
the supreme place, he proudly replied that he was "a general of the
Tangs." It seems from the inscription on the stone found at Singan that he
was a patron of the Nestorian Christians, and his character and career
have suggested a comparison with Belisarius.
Tetsong lived twenty-four years after the death of his champion, and these
years can only be characterized as unfortunate. The great governors
claimed and exacted the privilege that their dignities should be made
hereditary, and this surrender of the imperial prerogative entailed the
usual deterioration of the central power which preceded a change of
dynasty. Unpopularity was incurred by the imposition of taxes on the
principal articles of production and consumption, such as tea, and, worst
symptom of all, the eunuchs again became supreme in the palace. Although
the dynasty survived for another century, it was clear that its knell was
sounded before Tetsong died. Under his grandson Hientsong the mischief
that had been done became more clearly apparent. Although he enjoyed some
military successes, his reign on the whole was unfortunate, and he was
poisoned by the chief of the eunuchs. His son and successor, Moutsong,
from his indifference may be suspected of having been privy to the
occurrence. At any rate, he only enjoyed power for a few years before he
was got rid of in the same summary fashion. Several other nonentities came
to the throne, until at last one ruler named Wentsong, whose intentions at
least were stronger than those of his predecessors, attempted to grapple
with the eunuchs and formed a plot for their extermination. His courage
failed him and the plot miscarried. The eunuchs exacted a terrible revenge
on their opponents, of whom they killed nearly three thousand, and
Wentsong passed the last year of his life as a miserable puppet in their
hands. He was not allowed even to name his successor. The eunuchs ignored
his two sons, and placed his brother Voutsong on the throne.
The evils of the day became specially revealed during the reign of Ytsong,
who was scarcely seated on the throne before his troops suffered several
defeats at the hands of a rebel prince in Yunnan, who completely wrested
that province from the empire. He was as pronounced a patron of Buddhism
as some of his predecessors had been oppressors, and he sent, at enormous
expense, to India a mission to procure a bone of Buddha's body, and on its
arrival he received the relic on bended knees before his whole court. His
extravagance of living landed the Chinese government in fresh
difficulties, and he brought the exchequer to the verge of bankruptcy. Nor
was he a humane ruler. On one occasion he executed twenty doctors because
they were unable to cure a favorite daughter of his. His son Hitsong came
to the throne when he was a mere boy, and at once experienced the depth of
misfortune to which his family had sunk. He was driven out of his capital
by a rebel named Hwang Chao, and if he had not found an unexpected ally in
the Turk chief Likeyong, there would then have been an end to the Tang
dynasty. This chief of the Chato immigrants--a race supposed to be the
ancestors of the Mohammedan Tungani of more recent times--at the head of
forty thousand men of his own race, who, from the color of their uniform,
were named "The Black Crows," marched against Hwang Chao, and signally
defeated him. The condition of the country at this time is painted in
deplorable colors. The emperor did not possess a palace, and all the great
towns of Central China were in ruins. Likeyong took in the situation at a
glance, when he said, "The ruin of the Tangs is not far distant."
Likeyong, who was created Prince of Tsin, did his best to support the
emperor, but his power was inadequate for coping with another general
named Chuwen, prince of Leang, in whose hands the emperor became a mere
puppet. At the safe moment Chuwen murdered his sovereign, and added to
this crime a massacre of all the Tang princes upon whom he could lay his
hands. Chao Siuenti, the last of the Tangs, abdicated, and a few months
later Chuwen, to make assurance doubly sure, assassinated him. Thus
disappeared, after two hundred and eighty-nine years and after giving
twenty rulers to the state, the great Tang dynasty which had restored the
unity and the fame of China. It forms a separate chapter in the long
period of disunion from the fall of the Hans to the rise of the Sungs.
After the Tangs came five ephemeral and insignificant dynasties, with the
fate of which we need not long detain the reader. In less than sixty years
they all vanished from the page of history. The struggle for power between
Chuwen, the founder of the so-called Later Leang dynasty, and Likeyong was
successfully continued by the latter's son, Litsunhiu, who proved himself
a good soldier. He won a decisive victory at Houlieoupi, and extinguished
the Leang dynasty by the capture of its capital and of Chuwen's son, who
committed suicide. Litsunhiu ruled for a short time as emperor of the
Later Leangs, but he was killed during a mutiny of his turbulent soldiers.
This dynasty had a very brief existence; the last ruler of the line,
finding the game was up, retired with his family to a tower in his palace,
which he set on fire, and perished, with his wives and children, in the
flames. Then came the Later Tsins, who only held their authority on the
sufferance of the powerful Khitan king, who reigned over Leaoutung and
Manchuria. The fourth and fifth of these dynasties, named the Later Hans
and Chows, ran their course in less than ten years; and when the last of
these petty rulers was deposed by his prime minister a termination was at
last reached to the long period of internal division and weakness which
prevailed for more than seven hundred and fifty years. The student reaches
at this point firmer ground in the history of China as an empire, and his
interest in the subject must assume a more definite form on coming to the
beginning of that period of united government and settled authority which
has been established for nearly one thousand years, during which no more
than four separate families have held possession of the throne.
CHAPTER IV
THE SUNGS AND THE KINS
One fact will have been noticed during the latter portion of the period
that has now closed, and that is the increasing interest and participation
in Chinese affairs of the races neighboring to, but still outside, the
empire. A large number of the successful generals, and several of the
princely families which attained independence, were of Tartar or Turk
origin; but the founder of the new dynasty, which restored the unity of
the empire, was of pure Chinese race, although a native of the most
northern province of the country. Chow Kwang Yu was born in Pechihli, at
the small town of Yeoutou, on the site of which now stands the modern
capital of Pekin. His family had provided the governor of this place for
several generations, and Chow himself had seen a good deal of military
service during the wars of the period. He is described as a man of
powerful physique and majestic appearance, to whose courage and presence
of mind the result of more than one great battle was due, and who had
become in consequence the idol of the soldiery. The ingenuity of later
historians, rather than the credulity of his contemporaries, may have
discovered the signs and portents which indicated that he was the chosen
of Heaven; but his army had a simple and convincing method of deciding the
destiny of the empire. Like the legionaries of Rome, they exclaimed, "The
empire is without a master, and we wish to give it one. Who is more worthy
of it than our general?" Thus did Chow Kwang Yu become the Emperor Taitsou
and the founder of the Sung dynasty.
Taitsou began his reign by proclaiming a general amnesty, and he sent the
proclamation of his pardon into provinces where he had not a shred of
authority. The step was a politic one, for it informed the Chinese people
that they again had an emperor. At the same time he ordered that the gates
and doors of his palace should always be left open, so that the humblest
of his subjects might have access to him at any time. His own words were
that "his house should resemble his heart, which was open to all his
subjects." He also devoted his attention to the improvement of his army,
and particularly to the training of his officers, who were called upon to
pass an examination in professional subjects as well as physical
exercises. A French writer said, forty years ago, that "The laws of
military promotion in the states of Europe are far from being as rational
and equitable as those introduced by this Chinese ruler." His solicitude
for the welfare of his soldiers was evinced during a campaign when the
winter was exceedingly severe. He took off his own fur coat, and sent it
to the general in command, with a letter stating that he was sorry that he
had not one to send to every soldier in the camp. A soldier himself, he
knew how to win a soldier's heart, and the affection and devotion of his
army never wavered nor declined. He had many opportunities of testing it.
His first war was with the Prince of Han, aided by the King of Leaoutung,
whom he speedily vanquished, and whose capacity for aggression was much
curtailed by the loss of the frontier fortress of Loochow. His next
contest was with an old comrade-in-arms named Li Chougsin, whom he had
treated very well, but who was seized with a foolish desire to be greater
than his ability or power warranted. The struggle was brief, and Li
Chougsin felt he had no alternative save to commit suicide.
The tranquillity gained by these successes enabled Taitsou to institute a
great reform in the civil administration of the empire, and one which
struck at the root of the evil arising from the excessive power and
irresponsibility of the provincial governors. Up to this date the
governors had possessed the power of life and death without reference to
the capital. It had enabled them to become tyrants, and had simplified
their path to complete independence. Taitsou resolved to deprive them of
this prerogative and to retain it in his own hands, for, he said, "As life
is the dearest thing men possess, should it be placed at the disposal of
an official who is often unjust or wicked?" This radical reform greatly
strengthened the emperor's position, and weakened that of the provincial
viceroys; and Taitsou thus inaugurated a rule which has prevailed in China
down to the present day, where the life of no citizen can be taken without
the express authority and order of the emperor. Taitsou then devoted his
attention to the subjugation of those governors who had either disregarded
his administration or given it a grudging obedience. The first to feel the
weight of his hand was the viceroy of Honan; but his measures were so well
taken, and the military force he employed so overwhelming, that he
succeeded in dispossessing him and in appointing his own lieutenant
without the loss of a single man. The governor of Szchuen, believing his
power to be greater than it was, or trusting to the remoteness of his
province, publicly defied Taitsou, and prepared to invade his dominions.
The emperor was too quick for him, and before his army was in the field
sixty thousand imperial troops had crossed the frontier and had occupied
the province. By these triumphs Taitsou acquired possession of some of the
richest provinces and forty millions of Chinese subjects.
Having composed these internal troubles with enemies of Chinese race,
Taitsou resumed his military operations against his old opponents in
Leaoutung. Both sides had been making preparations for a renewal of the
struggle, and the fortress of Taiyuen, which had been specially equipped
to withstand a long siege, was the object of the emperor's first attack.
The place was valiantly defended by a brave governor and a large garrison,
and although Taitsou defeated two armies sent to relieve it, he was
compelled to give up the hope of capturing Taiyuen on this occasion. Some
consolation for this repulse was afforded by the capture of Canton and the
districts dependent on that city. He next proceeded against the governor
of Kiangnan, the dual province of Anhui and Kiangsu, who had taken the
title of Prince of Tang, and striven to propitiate the emperor at the same
time that he retained his own independence. The two things were, however,
incompatible. Taitsou refused to receive the envoys of the Prince of Tang,
and he ordered him to attend in person at the capital. With this the Tang
prince would not comply, and an army was at once sent to invade and
conquer Kiangnan. The campaign lasted one year, by which time the Tang
power was shattered, and his territory resumed its old form as a province
of China. With this considerable success Taitsou's career may be said to
have terminated, for although he succeeded in detaching the Leaoutung
ruler from the side of the Prince of Han, and was hastening at the head of
his forces to crush his old enemy at Taiyuen, death cut short his career
in a manner closely resembling that of Edward the First of England.
Taitsou died in his camp, in the midst of his soldiers; and, acting on the
advice of his mother, given on her death-bed a few years before, "that he
should leave the throne to a relation of mature age," he appointed his
brother his successor, and as his last exhortation to him said, "Bear
yourself as becomes a brave prince, and govern well." Many pages might be
filled with the recitation of Taitsou's great deeds and wise sayings; but
his work in uniting China and in giving the larger part of his country
tranquillity speaks for itself. His character as a ruler may be gathered
from the following selection, taken from among his many speeches: "Do you
think," he said, "that it is so easy for a sovereign to perform his
duties? He does nothing that is without consequence. This morning the
thought occurs to me that yesterday I decided a case in a wrong manner,
and this memory robs me of all my joy."
The new emperor took the style of Taitsong, and during his reign of
twenty-three years the Sung dynasty may be fairly considered to have grown
consolidated. One of his first measures was to restore the privileges of
the descendant of Confucius, which included a hereditary title and
exemption from taxation, and which are enjoyed to the present day. After
three years' deliberation Taitsong determined to renew his brother's
enterprise against Taiyuen, and as he had not assured the neutrality of
the King of Leaoutung, his task was the more difficult. On the advance of
the Chinese army, that ruler sent to demand the reason of the attack on
his friend the Prince of Han, to which the only reply Taitsong gave was as
follows: "The country of the Hans was one of the provinces of the empire,
and the prince having refused to obey my orders I am determined to punish
him. If your prince stands aside, and does not meddle in this quarrel, I
am willing to continue to live at peace with him; if he does not care to
do this we will fight him." On this the Leaou king declared war, but his
troops were repulsed by the covering army sent forward by Taitsong, while
he prosecuted the siege of Taiyuen in person. The fortress was well
defended, but its doom was never in doubt. Taitsong, moved by a feeling of
humanity, offered the Prince of Han generous terms before delivering an
assault which was, practically speaking, certain to succeed, and he had
the good sense to accept them. The subjugation of Han completed the
pacification of the empire and the triumph of Taitsong; but when that
ruler thought to add to this success the speedy overthrow of the Khitan
power in Leaoutung he was destined to a rude awakening. His action was
certainly precipitate, and marked by overconfidence, for the army of
Leaoutung was composed of soldiers of a warlike race accustomed to
victory. He advanced against it as if it were an army which would fly at
the sight of his standard, but instead of this he discovered that it was
superior to his own forces on the banks of the Kaoleang River, where he
suffered a serious defeat. Taitsong was fortunate enough to retain his
conquests over the southern Han states and to find in his new subjects in
that quarter faithful and valiant soldiers. The success of the Leaou army
was also largely due to the tactical skill of its general, Yeliu Hiuco,
who took a prominent part in the history of this period. When Taitsong
endeavored, some years later, to recover what he had lost by the aid of
the Coreans, who, however, neglected to fulfill their part of the
contract, he only invited fresh misfortunes. Yeliu Hiuco defeated his army
in several pitched battles with immense loss; on one occasion it was said
that the corpses of the slain checked the course of a river. The capture
of Yangyeh, the old Han defender of Taiyuen, who died of his wounds,
completed the triumph of the Leaou general, for it was said, "If Yangyeh
cannot resist the Tartars they must be invincible." Taitsong's reign
closed under the cloud of these reverses; but, on the whole, it was
successful and creditable, marking an improvement in the condition of the
country and the people, and the triumph of the Sungs over at least one of
their natural enemies.
His son and successor, Chintsong, must be pronounced fortunate in that the
first year of his reign witnessed the death of Yeliu Hiuco. The direct
consequence of his death was that the Chinese were, for the first time,
successful in their campaign against the Leaous. But this satisfactory
state of things did not long continue, and the Leaous became so aggressive
and successful that there was almost a panic among the Chinese, and the
removal of the capital to a place of greater security was suggested. The
firm counsel and the courageous demeanor of the minister Kaochun prevented
this course being adopted. He figuratively described the evil consequences
of retreat by saying, "Your majesty can, without serious consequences,
advance a foot further than is absolutely necessary, but you cannot
retire, even to the extent of an inch, without doing yourself much harm."
Chintsong, fortunately for himself and his state, adopted this course; and
the Tartars thought it best to come to terms, especially as the Chinese
emperor was willing to pay annually an allowance in silk and money as the
reward of their respecting his frontier. The arrangement could not have
been a bad one, as it gave the empire eighteen years of peace, The
country, no doubt, increased greatly in prosperity during this period; but
the reputation of Chintsong steadily declined. He seems to have been
naturally superstitious, and he gave himself up to fortune tellers and
soothsayers during the last years of his reign; and when he died, in A.D.
1022, he had impaired the position and power of the imperial office. Yet,
so far as can be judged, the people were contented, and the population
rose to over one hundred million.
Chintsong was succeeded by his sixth son, Jintsong, a boy of thirteen, for
whom the government was carried on by his mother, a woman of capacity and
good sense. She took off objectionable taxes on tea and salt--prime
necessaries of life in China--and she instituted surer measures against
the spiritualists and magicians who had flourished under her husband and
acquired many administrative offices under his patronage. After ruling for
ten peaceful years she died and Jintsong assumed the personal direction of
affairs. During the tranquillity that had now prevailed for more than a
generation a new power had arisen on the Chinese frontier in the
principality of Tangut or Hia. This state occupied the modern province of
Kansuh, with some of the adjacent districts of Koko Nor and the Gobi
Desert. Chao Yuen, the prince of this territory, was an ambitious warrior,
who had drawn round his standard a force of one hundred and fifty thousand
fighting men. With this he waged successful war upon the Tibetans, and
began a course of encroachments on Chinese territory which was not to be
distinguished from open hostility. Chao Yuen was not content with the
appellation of prince, and "because he came of a family several of whose
members had in times past borne the imperial dignity," he adopted the
title of emperor. Having taken this step, Chao Yuen wrote to Jintsong
expressing "the hope that there would be a constant and solid peace
between the two empires." The reply of the Chinese ruler to this insult,
as he termed it, was to declare war and to offer a reward for the head of
Chao Yuen.
It was soon made evident that Chao Yuen possessed the military power to
support an imperial dignity. He defeated the emperor's army in two pitched
battles at Sanchuen and Yang Moulong, and many years elapsed before the
Sung rulers can be held to have recovered from the loss of their best
armies. The Khitans of Leaoutung took advantage of these misfortunes to
encroach, and as Jintsong had no army with which to oppose them, they
captured ten cities with little or no resistance. The Chinese government
was compelled to purchase them back by increasing the annual allowance it
paid of gold and silk. A similar policy was resorted to in the case of
Chao Yuen, who consented to a peace on receiving every year one hundred
thousand pieces of silk and thirty thousand pounds of tea. Not content
with this payment, Chao Yuen subsequently exacted the right to build
fortresses along the Chinese frontier. Soon after this Chao Yuen was
murdered by one of his sons, whose betrothed he had taken from him. If
Jintsong was not fortunate in his wars he did much to promote education
and to encourage literature. He restored the colleges founded by the
Tangs, he built a school or academy in every town, he directed the public
examinations to be held impartially and frequently, and he gave special
prizes as a reward for elocution. Some of the greatest historians China
has produced lived in his reign, and wrote their works under his
patronage; of these Szemakwang was the most famous. His history of the
Tangs is a masterpiece, and his "Garden of Szemakwang" an idyll. He was
remarkable for his sound judgment as well as the elegance of his style,
and during the short time he held the post of prime minister his
administration was marked by ability and good sense. The character of
Jintsong was, it will be seen, not without its good points, which gained
for him the affection of his subjects despite his bad fortune against the
national enemies, and his reign of thirty years was, generally speaking,
prosperous and satisfactory. After the brief reign of his nephew,
Yngtsong, that prince's son, Chintsong the Second, became emperor.
The career of Wanganchi, an eccentric and socialistic statesman, who
wished to pose as a great national reformer, and who long possessed the
ear and favor of his sovereign, lends an interest to the reign of the
second Chintsong. Wanganchi did not possess the confidence or the
admiration of his brother officials, and subsequent writers have generally
termed him an impostor and a charlatan. But he may only have been a
misguided enthusiast when he declared that "the State should take the
entire management of commerce, industry, and agriculture into its own
hands, with the view of succoring the working classes, and preventing
their being ground to the dust by the rich." The advocacy of such a scheme
is calculated to earn popularity, as few of those who are to benefit by it
stop to examine its feasibility, and Wanganchi might have been remembered
as an enlightened thinker and enthusiastic advocate of the rights of the
masses if he had not been called upon to carry out his theories. But the
proof of experience, like the touch of Ithuriel's spear, revealed the
practical value of his suggestions, and dissolved the attractive vision
raised by his perfervid eloquence and elevated enthusiasm. His honesty of
purpose cannot, however, be disputed. On being appointed to the post of
chief minister he took in hand the application of his own project. He
exempted the poor from all taxation. He allotted lands, and he supplied
the cultivators with seeds and implements. He also appointed local boards
to superintend the efforts of the agricultural classes, and to give them
assistance and advice. But this paternal government, this system of making
the state do what the individual ought to do for himself, did not work as
it was expected. Those who counted on the agricultural laborer working
with as much intelligence and energy for himself as he had done under the
direction of a master were doomed to disappointment. Want of skill, the
fitfulness of the small holder, aggravated perhaps by national calamities,
drought, flood, and pestilence, being felt more severely by laborers than
by capitalists, led to a gradual shrinkage in the area of cultivated land,
and at last to the suffering of the classes who were to specially benefit
from the scheme of Wanganchi. The failure of his scheme, which, to use his
own words, aimed at preventing there being any poor or over-rich persons
in the state, entailed his disgrace and fall from power. But his work and
his name have continued to excite interest and speculation among his
countrymen down to the present day. His memory has been aspersed by the
writers of China, who have generally denounced him as a free-thinker and a
nihilist, and although, twenty years after his death, a tablet bearing his
name was placed in the Hall of Confucius as the greatest Chinese thinker
since Mencius, it was removed after a brief period, and since then both
the name and the works of Wanganchi have been consigned to an oblivion
from which only the curiosity of European writers has rescued them.
Chintsong's reign was peaceful, but he seems to have only avoided war by
yielding to all the demands of the Tartars, who encroached on the frontier
and seized several Chinese cities. His son Chetsong was only ten when he
became emperor, and the administration was carried on by his mother, the
Empress Tefei, another of the capable women of Chinese history. Her early
death left Chetsong to rule as he listed, and his first acts of
independent authority were not of happy augury for the future. He had not
been on the throne many months before he divorced his principal wife
without any apparent justification, and when remonstrated with he merely
replied that he was imitating several of his predecessors. The censor's
retort was, "You would do better to imitate their virtues, and not their
faults." Chetsong did not have any long opportunity of doing either, for
he died of grief at the loss of his favorite son, and it is recorded that,
as "he did not expect to die so soon," he omitted the precaution of
selecting an heir. Fortunately the mischief of a disputed successor was
avoided by the unanimous selection of his brother Hoeitsong as the new
emperor. He proved himself a vain and superstitious ruler, placing his
main faith in fortune tellers, and expecting his subjects to yield
implicit obedience to his opinions as "the master of the law and the
prince of doctrine." Among other fallacies, Hoeitsong cherished the belief
that he was a great soldier, and he aspired to rank as the conqueror of
the old successful enemy of China, the Khitans of Leaoutung. He had no
army worthy of the name, and the southern Chinese who formed the mass of
his subjects were averse to war, yet his personal vanity impelled him to
rush into hostilities which promised to be the more serious because a new
and formidable power had arisen on the northern frontier.
The Niuche or Chorcha Tartars, who had assumed a distinct name and place
in the vicinity of the modern Kalgan, about the year 1000 A.D., had become
subservient to the great Khitan chief Apaoki, and their seven hordes had
remained faithful allies of his family and kingdom for many years after
his death. But some of the clan had preferred independence to the
maintenance of friendly relations with their greatest neighbor, and they
had withdrawn northward into Manchuria. For some unknown reason the Niuche
became dissatisfied with their Khitan allies, and about the year 1100 A.D.
they had all drawn their forces together as an independent confederacy
under the leadership of a great chief named Akouta. The Niuche could only
hope to establish their independence by offering a successful resistance
to the King of Leaoutung, who naturally resented the defection of a tribe
which had been his humble dependents. They succeeded in this task beyond
all expectation, as Akouta inflicted a succession of defeats on the
hitherto invincible army of Leaoutung. Then the Niuche conqueror resolved
to pose as one of the arbiters of the empire's destiny, and to found a
dynasty of his own. He collected his troops, and he addressed them in a
speech reciting their deeds and his pretensions. "The Khitans," he said,
"had in the earlier days of their success taken the name of Pintiei,
meaning the iron of Pinchow, but although that iron may be excellent, it
is liable to rust and can be eaten away. There is nothing save gold which
is unchangeable and which does not destroy itself. Moreover, the family of
Wangyen, with which I am connected through the chief Hanpou, had always a
great fancy for glittering colors such as that of gold, and I am now
resolved to take this name as that of my imperial family. I therefore give
it the name of Kin, which signifies gold." This speech was made in the
year 1115, and it was the historical introduction of the Kin dynasty,
which so long rivaled the Sung, and which, although it attained only a
brief lease of power on the occasion referred to, was remarkable as being
the first appearance of the ancestors of the present reigning Manchus.
Like other conquerors who had appeared in the same quarter, the Kins, as
we must now call them, owed their rise to their military qualifications
and to their high spirit. Their tactics, although of a simpler kind, were
as superior to those of the Leaous as the latter's were to the Chinese.
Their army consisted exclusively of cavalry, and victory was generally
obtained by its furious attacks delivered from several sides
simultaneously. The following description, taken from Mailla's translation
of the Chinese official history, gives the best account of their army and
mode of fighting:
"At first the Niuche had only cavalry. For their sole distinction they
made use of a small piece of braid on which they marked certain signs, and
they attached this to both man and horse. Their companies were usually
composed of only fifty men each, twenty of whom, clothed in strong
cuirasses, and armed with swords and short pikes, were placed in the
front, and behind those came the remaining thirty in less weighty armor,
and with bows and arrows or javelins for weapons. When they encountered an
enemy, two men from each company advanced as scouts, and then arranging
their troops so as to attack from four sides, they approached the foe at a
gentle trot until within a hundred yards of his line. Thereupon charging
at full speed, they discharged their arrows and javelins, again retiring
with the same celerity. This maneuver they repeated several times until
they threw the ranks into confusion, when they fell upon them with sword
and pike so impetuously that they generally gained the victory."
The novelty, as well as the impetuosity, of their attack supplied the want
of numbers and of weapons, and when the Khitans raised what seemed an
overwhelming force to crush the new power that ventured to play the rival
to theirs in Northern China, Akouta, confident in himself and in his
people, was not dismayed, and accepted the offer of battle. In two
sanguinary battles he vanquished the Khitan armies, and threatened with
early extinction the once famous dynasty of Leaoutung. When the Sung
emperor heard of the defeats of his old opponents, he at once rushed to
the conclusion that the appearance of this new power on the flank of
Leaoutung must redound to his advantage, and, although warned by the King
of Corea that "the Kins were worse than wolves and tigers," he sent an
embassy to Akouta proposing a joint alliance against the Khitans. The
negotiations were not at first successful. Akouta concluded a truce with
Leaoutung, but took offense at the style of the emperor's letter. The
peace was soon broken by either the Kins or the Khitans, and Hoeitsong
consented to address Akouta as the Great Emperor of the Kins. Then Akouta
engaged to attack Leaoutung from the north, while the Chinese assailed it
on the south, and a war began which promised a speedy termination. But the
tardiness and inefficiency of the Chinese army prolonged the struggle, and
covered the reputation of Hoeitsong and his troops with ignominy. It was
compelled to beat a hasty and disastrous retreat, and the peasants of
Leaoutung sang ballads about its cowardice and insufficiency.
But if it fared badly with the Chinese, the armies of Akouta continued to
be victorious, and the Khitans fled not less precipitately before him than
the Chinese did before them. Their best generals were unable to make the
least stand against the Kin forces. Their capital was occupied by the
conqueror, and the last descendant of the great Apaoki fled westward to
seek an asylum with the Prince of Hia or Tangut. He does not appear to
have received the protection he claimed, for after a brief stay at the
court of Hia, he made his way to the desert, where, after undergoing
incredible hardships, he fell into the hands of his Kin pursuers. With his
death soon afterward the Khitan dynasty came to an end, after enjoying its
power for two hundred years, but some members of this race escaped across
the Gobi Desert, and founded the brief-lived dynasty of the Kara Khitay in
Turkestan. Akouta died shortly before the final overthrow of the Leaoutung
power, and his brother Oukimai ruled in his place.
The ill-success of Hoeitsong's army in its joint campaign against
Leaoutung cost the emperor his share in the spoil. The Kins retained the
whole of the conquered territory, and the Sung prince was the worse off,
because he had a more powerful and aggressive neighbor. The ease of their
conquest, and the evident weakness of the Chinese, raised the confidence
of the Kins to such a high point that they declared that the Sungs must
surrender to them the whole of the territory north of the Hoangho, and
they prepared to secure what they demanded by force of arms. The Chinese
would neither acquiesce in the transfer of this region to the Kins nor
take steps to defend it. They were driven out of that portion of the
empire like sheep, and they even failed to make any stand at the passage
of the Hoangho, where the Kin general declared that "there could not be a
man left in China, for if two thousand men had defended the passage of
this river we should never have succeeded in crossing it." Hoeitsong
quitted his capital Kaifong to seek shelter at Nankin, where he hoped to
enjoy greater safety, and shortly afterward he abdicated in favor of his
son Kintsong. The siege of Kaifong which followed ended in a convention
binding the Chinese to pay the Kins an enormous sum--ten millions of small
gold nuggets, twenty millions of small silver nuggets, and ten million
pieces of silk; but the Tartar soldiers soon realized that there was no
likelihood of their ever receiving this fabulous spoil, and in their
indignation they seized both Hoeitsong and Kintsong, as well as any other
members of the royal family on whom they could lay their hands, and
carried them off to Tartary, where both the unfortunate Sung princes died
as prisoners of the Kins.
Although the Kins wished to sweep the Sungs from the throne, and their
general Walipou went so far as to proclaim the emperor of a new dynasty,
whose name is forgotten, another of the sons of Hoeitsong, Prince Kang
Wang, had no difficulty in establishing his own power and in preserving
the Sung dynasty. He even succeeded in imparting a new vigor to it, for on
the advice of his mother, who pointed out to him that "for nearly two
hundred years the nation appears to have forgotten the art of war," he
devoted all his attention to the improvement of his army and the
organization of his military resources. Prince Kang Wang, on becoming
emperor, took the name of Kaotsong, and finally removed the southern
capital to Nankin. He was also driven by his financial necessities to
largely increase the issue of paper money, which had been introduced under
the Tangs. As both the Kins and the Mongols had recourse to the same
expedient, it is not surprising that the Sungs should also have adopted
the simplest mode of compensating for a depleted treasury. Considering the
unexpected difficulties with which he had to cope, and the low ebb to
which the fortunes of China had fallen, much might be forgiven to
Kaotsong, who found a courageous counselor in the Empress Mongchi, who is
reported to have addressed him as follows: "Although the whole of your
august family has been led captive into the countries of the north, none
the less does China, which knows your wisdom and fine qualities, preserve
toward the Sungs the same affection, fidelity, and zeal as in the past.
She hopes and expects that you will prove for her what Kwang Vouti was for
the Hans." If Kaotsong did not attain the height of this success, he at
least showed himself a far more capable prince than any of his immediate
predecessors.
The successful employment of cavalry by the Kins naturally led the Chinese
to think of employing the same arm against them, although the inhabitants
of the eighteen provinces have never been good horsemen. Kaotsong also
devoted his attention especially to the formation of a corps of
charioteers. The chariots, four-wheeled, carried twenty-four combatants,
and these vehicles drawn up in battle array not only presented a very
formidable appearance, but afforded a very material shelter for the rest
of the army. Kaotsong seems to have been better in imagining reforms than
in the task of carrying them out. After he had originated much good work
he allowed it to languish for want of definite support, and he quarreled
with and disgraced the minister chiefly responsible for these reforms. A
short time after this the Kins again advanced southward, but thanks to the
improvement effected in the Chinese army, and to the skill and valor of
Tsongtse, one of Kaotsong's lieutenants, they did not succeed in gaining
any material advantage. Their efforts to capture Kaifong failed, and their
general Niyamoho, recognizing the improvement in the Chinese army, was
content to withdraw his army with such spoil as it had been able to
collect. Tsongtse followed up this good service against the enemy by
bringing to their senses several rebellious officials who thought they saw
a good opportunity of shaking off the Sung authority. At this stage of the
war Tsongtse exhorted Kaotsong, who had quitted Nankin for Yangchow, to
return to Kaifong to encourage his troops with his presence, especially as
there never was such a favorable opportunity of delivering his august
family out of the hands of the Kins. Tsongtse is reported to have sent as
many as twenty formal petitions to his sovereign to do this, but Kaotsong
was deaf to them all, and it is said that his obtuseness and want of nerve
caused Tsongtse so much pain that he died of chagrin.
The death of Tsongtse induced the Kins to make a more strenuous effort to
humiliate the Sungs, and a large army under the joint command of Akouta's
son, Olito, and the general Niyamoho, advanced on the capital and captured
Yangchow. Kaotsong, who saved his life by precipitate flight, then agreed
to sign any treaty drawn up by his conqueror. In his letter to Niyamoho he
said, "Why fatigue your troops with long and arduous marches when I will
grant you of my own will whatever you demand?" But the Kins were
inexorable, and refused to grant any terms short of the unconditional
surrender of Kaotsong, who fled to Canton, pursued both on land and sea.
The Kin conquerors soon found that they had advanced too far, and the
Chinese rallying their forces gained some advantage during their retreat.
Some return of confidence followed this turn in the fortune of the war,
and two Chinese generals, serving in the hard school of adversity,
acquired a military knowledge and skill which made them formidable to even
the best of the Kin commanders. The campaigns carried on between 1131 and
1134 differed from any that had preceded them in that the Kin forces
steadily retired before Oukiai and Changtsiun, and victory, which had so
long remained constant in their favor, finally deserted their arms. The
death of the Kin emperor, Oukimai, who had upheld with no decline of
luster the dignity of his father Akouta, completed the discomfiture of the
Kins, and contributed to the revival of Chinese power under the last
emperor of the Sung dynasty. The reign of Oukimai marks the pinnacle of
Kin power, which under his cousin and successor Hola began steadily to
decline.
The possession of Honan formed the principal bone of contention between
the Kins and Sungs, but after considerable negotiation and some fighting,
Kaotsong agreed to leave it in the hands of the Kins, and also to pay them
a large annual subsidy in silk and money. He also agreed to hold the
remainder of his states as a gift at the hands of his northern neighbor.
Thus, notwithstanding the very considerable successes gained by several of
the Sung generals, Kaotsong had to undergo the mortification of signing a
humiliating peace and retaining his authority only on sufferance.
Fortunately for the independence of the Sungs, Hola was murdered by
Ticounai, a grandson of Akouta, whose ferocious character and ill-formed
projects for the subjugation of the whole of China furnished the Emperor
Kaotsong with the opportunity of shaking off the control asserted over his
actions and recovering his dignity. The extensive preparations of the Kin
government for war warned the Sungs to lose no time in placing every man
they could in the field, and when Ticounai rushed into the war, which was
all of his own making, he found that the Sungs were quite ready to receive
him and offer a strenuous resistance to his attack. A peace of twenty
years' duration had allowed of their organizing their forces and
recovering from an unreasoning terror of the Kins. Moreover, there was a
very general feeling among the inhabitants of both the north and the south
that the war was an unjust one, and that Ticounai had embarked upon a
course of lawless aggression which his tyrannical and cruel proceedings
toward his own subjects served to inflame.
The war began in 1161 A. D., with an ominous defeat of the Kin navy, and
when Kaotsong nerved himself for the crisis in his life and placed himself
at the head of his troops, Ticounai must have felt less sanguine of the
result than his confident declaration that he would end the war in a
single campaign indicated. Before the two armies came into collision
Ticounai learned that a rebellion had broken out in his rear, and that his
cousin Oulo challenged both his legitimacy and his authority. He believed,
and perhaps wisely, that the only way to deal with this new danger was to
press on, and by gaining a signal victory over the Sungs annihilate all
his enemies at a blow. But the victory had to be gained, and he seems to
have underestimated his opponent. He reached the Yangtsekiang, and the
Sungs retired behind it. Ticounai had no means of crossing it, as his
fleet had been destroyed and the Sung navy stood in his path. Such river
junks as he possessed were annihilated in another encounter on the river.
He offered sacrifices to heaven in order to obtain a safe passage, but the
powers above were deaf to his prayers. Discontent and disorder broke out
in his camp. The army that was to have carried all before it was stopped
by a mere river, and Ticounai's reputation as a general was ruined before
he had crossed swords with the enemy. In this dilemma his cruelty
increased, and after he had sentenced many of his officers and soldiers to
death he was murdered by those who found that they would have to share the
same fate. After this tragic ending of a bad career, the Kin army
retreated. They concluded a friendly convention with the Sungs, and
Kaotsong, deeming his work done by the repulse of this grave peril,
abdicated the throne, which had proved to him no bed of roses, in favor of
his adopted heir Hiaotsong. Kaotsong ruled during the long period of
thirty-six years, and when we consider the troubled time through which he
passed, and the many vicissitudes of fortune he underwent, he probably
rejoiced at being able to spend the last twenty-five years of his life
without the responsibility of governing the empire and free from the cares
of sovereignty.
The new Kin ruler Oulo wished for peace, but a section of his turbulent
subjects clamored for a renewal of the expeditions into China, and he was
compelled to bend to the storm. The Kin army, however, had no cause to
rejoice in its bellicoseness, for the Chinese general, Changtsiun,
defeated it in a battle the like of which had not been seen for ten years.
After this a peace was concluded which proved fairly durable, and the
remainder of the reigns of both Oulo and Hiaotsong were peaceful and
prosperous for northern and southern China. Both of these princes showed
an aversion to war and an appreciation of peace which was rare in their
day. The Kin ruler is stated to have made this noble retort when he was
solicited by a traitor from a neighboring state to seize it: "You deceive
yourself if you believe me to be capable of approving an act of treason
whatever the presumed advantage it might procure me. I love all peoples of
whatever nation they may be, and I wish to see them at peace with one
another." It is not surprising to learn that a prince who was so
thoroughly imbued with the spirit of civilization should have caused the
Chinese classics to be translated into the Kin language. Of all the Kin
rulers he was the most intellectual and the most anxious to elevate the
standard of his people, who were far ruder than the inhabitants of
southern China.
Hiaotsong was succeeded by his son Kwangtsong, and Oulo by his grandson
Madacou, both of whom continued the policy of their predecessors.
Kwangtsong was saved the trouble of ruling by his wife, the Empress Lichi,
and after a very short space he resigned the empty title of emperor, which
brought him neither satisfaction nor pleasure. Ningtsong, the son and
successor of Kwangtsong, ventured on one war with the Kins in which he was
worsted. This the last of the Kin successes, for Madacou died soon
afterward, just on the eve of the advent of the Mongol peril, which
threatened to sweep all before it, and which eventually buried both Kin
and Sung in a common ruin. The long competition and the bitter contest
between the Kins and Sungs had not resulted in the decisive success of
either side. The Kins had been strong enough to found an administration in
the north but not to conquer China. The Sungs very naturally represent in
Chinese history the national dynasty, and their misfortunes rather than
their successes appeal to the sentiment of the reader. They showed
themselves greater in adversity than in prosperity, and when the Mongol
tempest broke over China they proved the more doughty opponent, and the
possessor of greater powers of resistance than their uniformly successful
adversary the Kin or Golden Dynasty.
CHAPTER V
THE MONGOL CONQUEST OF CHINA
While the Kins were absorbed in their contest with the Southern Chinese,
they were oblivious of the growth of a new and formidable power on their
own borders. The strength of the Mongols had acquired serious dimensions
before the Kins realized that they would have to fight, not only for
supremacy, but for their very existence. Before describing the long wars
that resulted in the subjection of China by this northern race, we must
consider the origin and the growth of the power of the Mongols, who were
certainly the most remarkable race of conquerors Asia, or perhaps the
whole world, ever produced.
The home of the Mongols, whose name signifies "brave men," was in the
strip of territory between the Onon and Kerulon rivers, which are both
tributaries or upper courses of the Amour. They first appeared as a
separate clan or tribe in the ninth century, when they attracted special
attention for their physical strength and courage during one of China's
many wars with the children of the desert, and it was on that occasion
they gained the appellation under which they became famous. The earlier
history of the Mongol tribe is obscure, and baffles investigation, but
there seems no reason to doubt their affinity to the Hiongnou, with whose
royal house Genghis himself claimed blood relationship. If this claim be
admitted, Genghis and Attila, who were the two specially typical Scourges
of God, must be considered members of the same race, and the probability
is certainly strengthened by the close resemblance in their methods of
carrying on war. Budantsar is the first chief of the House of Genghis
whose person and achievements are more than mythical. He selected as the
abode of his race the territory between the Onon and the Kerulon, a region
fertile in itself, and well protected by those rivers against attack. It
was also so well placed as to be beyond the extreme limit of any
triumphant progress of the armies of the Chinese emperor. If Budantsar had
accomplished nothing more than this, he would still have done much to
justify his memory being preserved among a free and independent people.
But he seems to have incited his followers to pursue an active and
temperate life, to remain warriors rather than to become rich and lazy
citizens. He wrapped up this counsel in the exhortation, "What is the use
of embarrassing ourselves with wealth? Is not the fate of man decreed by
heaven?" He sowed the seed of future Mongol greatness, and the headship of
his clan remained vested in his family.
In due order of succession the chief ship passed to Kabul Khan, who in the
year 1135 began to encroach on the dominion of Hola, the Kin emperor. He
seems to have been induced to commit this act of hostility by a prophecy,
to the effect that his children should be emperors, and also by
discourteous treatment received on the occasion of his visit to the court
of Oukimai. Whatever the cause of umbrage, Kabul Khan made the Kins pay
dearly for their arrogance or short-sighted policy. Hola sent an army
under one of his best generals, Hushahu, to bring the Mongol chief to
reason, but the inaccessibility of his home stood him in good stead. The
Kin army suffered greatly in its futile attempt to cross the desert, and
during its retreat it was harassed by the pursuing Mongols. When the Kin
army endeavored to make a stand against its pursuers, it suffered a
crushing overthrow in a battle at Hailing, and on the Kins sending a
larger force against the Mongols in 1139, it had no better fortune. Kabul
Khan, after this second success, caused himself to be proclaimed Great
Emperor of the Mongols. His success in war, and his ambition, which rested
satisfied with no secondary position, indicated the path on which the
Mongols proceeded to the acquisition of supreme power and a paramount
military influence whithersoever they carried their name and standards.
The work begun by Kabul was well continued by his son Kutula, or Kublai.
He, too, was a great warrior, whose deeds of prowess aroused as much
enthusiasm among the Mongols as those of Coeur de Lion evoked in the days
of the Plantagenets. The struggle with the Kins was rendered more bitter
by the execution of several Mongols of importance, who happened to fall
into the hands of the Kins. When Kutula died the chiefship passed to his
nephew, Yissugei, who greatly extended the influence and power of his
family among the tribes neighboring to the Mongol home. Many of these, and
even some Chinese, joined the military organization of the dominant tribe,
so that what was originally a small force of strictly limited numbers
became a vast and ever-increasing confederacy of the most warlike and
aggressive races of the Chinese northern frontier. Important as Yissugei's
work in the development of Mongol power undoubtedly was, his chief
historical interest is derived from the fact that he was the father of
Genghis Khan.
There are several interesting fables in connection with the birth of
Genghis, which event may be safely assigned to the year 1162. One of these
reads as follows: "One day Yissugei was hunting in company with his
brothers, and was following the tracks of a white hare in the snow. They
struck upon the track of a wagon, and following it up came to a spot where
a woman's yart was pitched. Then said Yissugei, 'This woman will bear a
valiant son.' He discovered that she was the damsel Ogelen Eke (i.e., the
mother of nations), and that she was the wife of Yeke Yilatu, chief of a
Tartar tribe. Yissugei carried her off and made her his wife." Immediately
after his overthrow of Temujin, chief of one of the principal Tartar
tribes, Yissugei learned that the promised "valiant son" was about to be
born, and in honor of his victory he gave him the name of Temujin, which
was the proper name of the great Genghis. The village or encampment in
which the future conqueror first saw the light of day still bears the old
Mongol name, Dilun Boldak, on the banks of the Onon. When Yissugei died,
Temujin, or Genghis, was only thirteen, and his clan of forty thousand
families refused to recognize him as their leader. At a meeting of the
tribe Genghis entreated them with tears in his eyes to stand by the son of
their former chief, but the majority of them mocked at him, exclaiming,
"The deepest wells are sometimes dry, and the hardest stone is sometimes
broken, why should we cling to thee?" Genghis owed to the heroic attitude
of his mother, who flung abroad the cow-tailed banner of his race, the
acceptance of his authority by about half the warriors who had obeyed his
father. The great advantage of this step was that it gave Genghis time to
grow up to be a warrior as famous as any of his predecessors, and it
certainly averted what might have easily become the irretrievable
disintegration of the Mongol alliance.
The youth of Genghis was passed in one ceaseless struggle to regain the
whole of his birthright. His most formidable enemy was Chamuka, chief of
the Juriats, and for a long time he had all the worst of the struggle,
being taken prisoner on one occasion, and undergoing the indignity of the
cangue. On making his escape he rallied his remaining followers round him
for a final effort, and on the advice of his mother, Ogelen Eke, who was
his principal adviser and stanchest supporter, he divided his forces into
thirteen regiments of one thousand men each, and confined his attention to
the defense of his own territory. Chamuka, led away by what he deemed the
weakness of his adversary, attacked him on the Onon with as he considered
the overwhelming force of thirty thousand men; but the result dispelled
his hopes of conquest, for Genghis gained a decisive victory. Then was
furnished a striking instance of the truth of the saying that "nothing
succeeds like success." The despised Temujin, who was thought to be
unworthy of the post of ruling the Mongols, was lauded to the skies, and
the tribes declared with one voice, "Temujin alone is generous and worthy
of ruling a great people." At this time also he began to show the
qualities of a statesman and diplomatist. He formed in 1194 a temporary
alliance with the Kin emperor, Madacou, and the richness of his reward
seems to have excited his cupidity, while his experience of the Kin army
went to prove that they were not so formidable as had been imagined. The
discomfiture of Chamuka has been referred to, but he had not abandoned the
hope of success, and when he succeeded in detaching the Kerait chief, Wang
Khan, from the Mongols, to whom he was bound by ties of gratitude, he
fancied that he again held victory in his grasp. But the intrigue did not
realize his expectations. Wang Khan deserted Genghis while engaged in a
joint campaign against the Naimans, but he was the principal sufferer by
his treachery, for the enemy pursued his force, and inflicted a heavy
defeat upon it. In fact, he was only rescued from destruction by the
timely aid of the man he had betrayed.
But far from inspiring gratitude, this incident inflamed the resentment of
Wang Khan, who, throwing off the cloak of simulated friendship, declared
publicly that either the Kerait or the Mongol must be supreme on the great
steppe, as there was not room for both. Such was the superiority in
numbers of the Kerait, that in the first battle of this long and keenly-
contested struggle, Wang Khan defeated Temujin near Ourga, where the
mounds that cover the slain are still shown to the curious or skeptical
visitor. After this serious, and in some degree unexpected reverse, the
fortunes of Genghis sank to the lowest ebb. He was reduced to terrible
straits, and had to move his camp rapidly from one spot to another. A
small section of his followers, mindful of his past success and prowess,
still clung to him, and by a sudden and daring coup he changed the whole
aspect of the contest. He surprised Wang Khan in his camp at night, and
overwhelmed him and his forces. Wang Khan escaped to his old foes, the
Naimans, who, disregarding the laws of hospitality, put him to death. The
death of Wang Khan signified nothing less than the wholesale defection of
the Kerait tribe, which joined Genghis to the last man. Then Genghis
turned westward to settle the question of supremacy with the Naimans, who
were both hostile and defiant. The Naiman chief shared the opinion of Wang
Khan, that there could not be two masters on the Tian Shan, and with that
vigorous illustration which has never been wanting to these illiterate
tribes, he wrote, "There cannot be two suns in the sky, two swords in one
sheath, two eyes in one eyepit, or two kings in one empire." Both sides
made strenuous efforts for the fray, and brought every fighting man they
could into the field. The decisive battle of the war was fought in the
heart of Jungaria, and the star of Genghis rose in the ascendant. The
Naimans fought long and well, but they were borne down by the heavier
armed Mongols, and their desperate resistance only added to their loss.
Their chief died of his wounds, and the triumph of Genghis was rendered
complete by the capture of his old enemy, Chamuka. As Genghis had sworn
the oath of friendship with Chamuka, he would not slay him, but he handed
him over to a relative, who promptly exacted the rough revenge his past
hostility and treachery seemed to call for. On his way back from this
campaign the Mongol chief attacked the Prince of Hia, who reigned over
Kansuh and Tangut, and thus began the third war he waged for the extension
of his power. Before this assumed serious proportions he summoned a Grand
Council or Kuriltai, at his camp on the Onon, and then erected outside his
tent the royal Mongol banner of the nine white yak-tails. It was on this
occasion that Temujin took, and was proclaimed among the Mongol chiefs by,
the highly exalted name of Genghis Khan, which means Very Mighty Khan. The
Chinese character for the name signifies "Perfect Warrior," and the
earlier European writers affirm that it is supposed to represent the sound
of "the bird of heaven." At this assemblage, which was the first of a long
succession of Mongol councils summoned at the same place on critical
occasions, it was proposed and agreed that the war should be carried on
with the richer and less warlike races of the south. Among soldiers it is
necessary to preserve the spirit of pre-eminence and warlike zeal by
granting rewards and decorations. Genghis realized the importance of this
matter, and instituted the order of Baturu or Bahadur, meaning warrior. He
also made his two leading generals Muhula and Porshu princes, one to sit
on his right hand and the other on his left. He addressed them before the
council in the following words: "It is to you that I owe my empire. You
are and have been to me as the shafts of a carriage or the arms to a man's
body." Seals of office were also granted to all the officials, so that
their authority might be the more evident and the more honored.
In 1207 Genghis began his war with the state of Hia, which he had
determined to crush as the preliminary to an invasion of China. In that
year he contented himself with the capture of Wuhlahai, one of the border
fortresses of that principality, and in the following year he established
his control over the tribes of the desert more fully, thus gaining many
Kirghiz and Naiman auxiliaries. In 1209 he resumed the war with Hia in a
determined spirit, and placed himself in person at the head of all his
forces. Although the Hia ruler prepared as well as he could for the
struggle, he was really unnerved by the magnitude of the danger he had to
face. His army was overthrown, his best generals were taken prisoners, and
he himself had no resource left but to throw himself on the consideration
of Genghis. For good reasons the Mongol conqueror was lenient. He married
one of the daughters of the king, and he took him into subsidiary alliance
with himself. Thus did Genghis absorb the Hia power, which was very
considerable, and prepared to enroll it with all his own resources against
the Kin empire. If the causes of Mongol success on this occasion and
afterward are inquired for, I cannot do better than repeat what I
previously wrote on this subject: "The Mongols owed their military success
to their admirable discipline and to their close study of the art of war.
Their military supremacy arose from their superiority in all essentials as
a fighting power to their neighbors. Much of their knowledge was borrowed
from China, where the art of disciplining a large army and maneuvering it
in the field had been brought to a high state of perfection many centuries
before the time of Genghis. But the Mongols carried the teaching of the
past to a further point than any of the former or contemporary Chinese
commanders, indeed, than any in the whole world, had done; and the
revolution which they effected in tactics was not less remarkable in
itself, and did not leave a smaller impression upon the age, than the
improvements made in military science by Frederick the Great and Napoleon
in their day. The Mongol played in a large way in Asia the part which the
Normans on a smaller scale played in Europe. Although the landmarks of
their triumph have now almost wholly vanished, they were for two centuries
the dominant caste in most of the states of Asia."
Having thus prepared the way for the larger enterprise, it only remained
to find a plausible pretext for attacking the Kins. With or without a
pretext Genghis would no doubt have made war, but even the ruthless Mongol
sometimes showed a regard for appearances. Many years before the Kins had
sent as envoy to the Mongul encampment Chonghei, a member of their ruling
house, and his mission had been not only unsuccessful, but had led to a
personal antipathy between the two men. In the course of time Chonghei
succeeded Madacou as emperor of the Kins, and when a Kin messenger brought
intelligence of this event to Genghis, the Mongol ruler turned toward the
south, spat upon the ground, and said, "I thought that your sovereigns
were of the race of the gods, but do you suppose that I am going to do
homage to such an imbecile as that?" The affront rankled in the mind of
Chonghei, and while Genghis was engaged with Hia, he sent troops to attack
the Mongol outposts. Chonghei thus placed himself in the wrong, and gave
Genghis justification for declaring that the Kins and not he began the
war. The reputation of the Golden dynasty, although not as great as it
once was, still stood sufficiently high to make the most adventurous of
desert chiefs wary in attacking it. Genghis had already secured the co-
operation of the ruler of Hia in his enterprise, and he next concluded an
alliance with Yeliu Liuko, chief of the Khitans, who were again
manifesting discontent with the Kins. Genghis finally circulated a
proclamation among all the desert tribes, calling upon them to join him in
his attack on the common enemy. This appeal was heartily and generally
responded to, and it was at the head of an enormous force that Genghis set
out in March, 1211, to effect the conquest of China. The Mongol army was
led by Genghis in person, and under him his four sons and his most famous
general, Chepe Noyan, held commands.
The plan of campaign of the Mongol ruler was as simple as it was bold.
From his camp at Karakoram, on the Kerulon, he marched in a straight line
through Kuku Khoten and the Ongut country to Taitong, securing an
unopposed passage through the Great Wall by the defection of the Ongut
tribe. The Kins were unprepared for this sudden and vigorous assault
directed on their weakest spot, and successfully executed before their
army could reach the scene. During the two years that the forces of
Genghis kept the field on this occasion, they devastated the greater
portion of the three northern provinces of Shensi, Shansi, and Pechihli.
But the border fortress of Taitong and the Kin capital, Tungking,
successfully resisted all the assaults of the Mongols, and when Genghis
received a serious wound at the former place, he reluctantly ordered the
retreat of his army, laden with an immense quantity of spoil, but still
little advanced in its main task of conquering China. The success of the
Khitan Yeliu Liuko had not been less considerable, and he was proclaimed
King of Leaou as a vassal of the Mongols. The planting of this ally on the
very threshold of Chinese power facilitated the subsequent enterprises of
the Mongols against the Kins, and represented the most important result of
this war.
In 1213 Genghis again invaded the Kin dominions, but his success was not
very striking, and in several engagements of no very great importance the
Kin arms met with some success. The most important events of the year
were, however, the deposition and murder of Chonghei, the murder of a Kin
general, Hushahu, who had won a battle against the Mongols, and the
proclamation of Utubu as emperor. The change of sovereign brought no
change of fortune to the unlucky Kins. Utubu was only able to find safety
behind the walls of his capital, and he was delighted when Genghis wrote
him the following letter: "Seeing your wretched condition and my exalted
fortune, what may your opinion be now of the will of heaven with regard to
myself? At this moment I am desirous to return to Tartary, but could you
allow my soldiers to take their departure without appeasing their anger
with presents?" In reply Utubu sent Genghis a princess of his family as a
wife, and also "five hundred youths, the same number of girls, three
thousand horses, and a vast quantity of precious articles." Then Genghis
retired once more to Karakoram, but on his march he stained his reputation
by massacring all his prisoners--the first gross act of inhumanity he
committed during his Chinese wars.
When Utubu saw the Mongols retreating, he thought to provide against the
most serious consequences of their return by removing his capital to a
greater distance from the frontier, and with this object he transferred
his residence to Kaifong. The majority of his advisers were against this
change, as a retirement could not but shake public confidence. It had
another consequence, which they may not have contemplated, and that was
its providing Genghis with an excuse for renewing his attack on China. The
Mongol at once complained that the action of the Kin emperor implied an
unwarrantable suspicion of his intentions, and he sent his army across the
frontier to recommence his humiliation. On this occasion a Kin general
deserted to them, and thenceforward large bodies of the Chinese of the
north attached themselves to the Mongols, who were steadily acquiring a
unique reputation for power as well as military prowess. The great event
of this war was the siege of Yenking--on the site of which now stands the
capital Pekin--the defense of which had been intrusted to the Prince
Imperial; but Utubu, more anxious for his son's safety than the interests
of the state, ordered him to return to Kaifong. The governor of Yenking
offered a stout resistance to the Mongols, and when he found that he could
not hold out, he retired to the temple of the city and poisoned himself.
His last act was to write a letter to Utubu begging him to listen no more
to the pernicious advice of the man who had induced him to murder Hushahu.
The capture of Yenking, where Genghis obtained a large supply of war
materials, as well as vast booty, opened the road to Central China. The
Mongols advanced as far as the celebrated Tunkwan Pass, which connects
Shensi and Honan, but when their general, Samuka, saw how formidable it
was, and how strong were the Kin defenses and garrison, he declined to
attack it, and, making a detour through very difficult country, he marched
on Kaifong, where Utubu little expected him. The Mongols had to make their
own road, and they crossed several ravines by improvised "bridges made of
spears and the branches of trees bound together by strong chains." But the
Mongol force was too small to accomplish any great result, and the
impetuosity of Samuka nearly led to his destruction. A prompt retreat, and
the fact that the Hoangho was frozen over, enabled him to extricate his
army, after much fatigue and reduced in numbers, from its awkward
position. The retreat of the Mongols inspired Utubu with sufficient
confidence to induce him to attack Yeliu Liuko in Leaoutung, and the
success of this enterprise imparted a gleam of sunshine and credit to the
expiring cause of the Kins. Yeliu Liuko was driven from his newly-created
kingdom, but Genghis hastened to the assistance of his ally by sending
Muhula, the greatest of all his generals, at the head of a large army to
recover Leaoutung. His success was rapid and remarkable. The Kins were
speedily overthrown, Yeliu Liuko was restored to his authority, and the
neighboring King of Corea, impressed by the magnitude of the Mongol
success, hastened to acknowledge himself the vassal of Genghis. The most
important result of this campaign was that Genghis intrusted to Muhula the
control of all military arrangements for the conquest of China. He is
reported to have said to his lieutenant: "North of the Taihing Mountains I
am supreme, but all the regions to the south I commend to the care of
Muhula," and he "also presented him with a chariot and a banner with nine
scalops. As he handed him this last emblem of authority, he spoke to his
generals, saying, 'Let this banner be an emblem of sovereignty, and let
the orders issued from under it be obeyed as my own.'" The principal
reason for intrusting the conquest of China to a special force and
commander was that Genghis wished to devote the whole of his personal
attention to the prosecution of his new war with the King of Khwaresm and
the other great rulers of Western Asia.
Muhula more than justified the selection and confidence of his sovereign.
In the year 1218-19 he invaded Honan, defeated the best of the Kin
commanders, and not merely overran, but retained possession of the places
he occupied in the Kin dominions. The difficulties of Utubu were
aggravated by an attack from Ningtsong, the Sung emperor, who refused any
longer to pay tribute to the Kins, as they were evidently unable to
enforce the claim, and the Kin armies were as equally unfortunate against
their southern opponents as their northern. Then Utubu endeavored to
negotiate terms with Muhula for the retreat of his army, but the only
conditions the Mongol general would accept were the surrender of the Kin
ruler and his resignation of the imperial title in exchange for the
principality of Honan. Utubu, low as he had sunk, declined to abase
himself further and to purchase life at the loss of his dignity. The
sudden death of Muhula gained a brief respite for the distressed Chinese
potentate, but the advantage was not of any permanent significance; first
of all because the Kins were too exhausted by their long struggle, and,
secondly, because Genghis hastened to place himself at the head of his
army. The news of the death of Muhula reached him when he was encamped on
the frontier of India and preparing to add the conquest of that country to
his many other triumphs in Central and Western Asia. He at once came to
the conclusion that he must return to set his house in order at home, and
to prevent all the results of Muhula's remarkable triumphs being lost.
What was a disadvantage for China proved a benefit for India, and possibly
for Europe, as there is no saying how much further the Mongol encroachment
might have extended westward, if the direction of Genghis had not been
withdrawn. While Genghis was hastening from the Cabul River to the
Kerulon, across the Hindoo Koosh and Tian Shan ranges, Utubu died and
Ninkiassu reigned in his stead.
One of the first consequences of the death of Muhula was that the young
king of Hia, believing that the fortunes of the Mongols would then wane,
and that he might obtain a position of greater power and independence,
threw off his allegiance, and adopted hostile measures against them. The
prompt return of Genghis nipped this plan in the bud, but it was made
quite evident that the conquest of Hia was essential to the success of any
permanent annexation of Chinese territory, and as its prince could dispose
of an army which he boasted numbered half a million of men, it is not
surprising to find that he took a whole year in perfecting his
arrangements for so grave a contest. The war began in 1225 and continued
for two years. The success of the Mongol army was decisive and
unqualified. The Hias were defeated in several battles, and in one of them
fought upon the frozen waters of the Hoangho. Genghis broke the ice by
means of his engines, and the Hia army was almost annihilated. The king
Leseen was deposed, and Hia became a Mongol province.
[Illustration: HONG KONG
_China_]
It was immediately after this successful war that Genghis was seized with
his fatal illness. Signs had been seen in the heavens which the Mongol
astrologers said indicated the near approach of his death. The five
planets had appeared together in the southwest, and so much impressed was
Genghis by this phenomenon that on his death-bed he expressed "the earnest
desire that henceforth the lives of our enemies shall not be unnecessarily
sacrificed." The expression of this wish undoubtedly tended to mitigate
the terrors of war as carried on by the Mongols. The immediate successors
of Genghis conducted their campaigns after a more humane fashion, and it
was not until Timour revived the early Mongol massacres that their
opponents felt there was no chance in appealing to the humanity of the
Mongols. Various accounts have been published of the cause of his death;
some authorities ascribing it to violence, either by an arrow, lightning,
or drowning, and others to natural causes. The event seems to have
unquestionably happened in his camp on the borders of Shansi, August 27,
1227, when he was about sixty-five years of age, during more than fifty of
which he had enjoyed supreme command of his own tribe.
The area of the undertakings conducted under his eye was more vast and
included a greater number of countries than was the case with any other
conqueror. Not a country from the Euxine to the China Sea escaped the
tramp of the Mongol horsemen, and if we include the achievements of his
immediate successors, the conquest of Russia, Poland, and Hungary, the
plundering of Bulgaria, Roumania, and Bosnia, the final subjection of
China and its southern tributaries must be added to complete the tale of
Mongol triumph. The sphere of Mongol influence extended beyond this large
portion of the earth's surface, just as the consequence of an explosion
cannot be restricted to the immediate scene of the disaster. If we may
include the remarkable achievements of his descendant Baber, and of that
prince's grandson Akbar, in India three centuries later, not a country in
Asia enjoyed immunity from the effect of their successes. Perhaps the most
important result of their great outpouring into Western Asia--which
certainly was the arrest of the Mohammedan career in Central Asia, and the
diversion of the current of the fanatical propagators of the Prophet's
creed against Europe--is not yet as fully recognized as it should be. The
doubt has been already expressed whether the Mongols would ever have risen
to higher rank than that of a nomad tribe but for the appearance of
Genghis. Leaving that supposition in the category of other interesting but
problematical conjectures, it may be asserted that Genghis represented in
their highest forms all the qualities which entitled his race to exercise
governing authority. He was, moreover, a military genius of the very first
order, and it may be questioned whether either Caesar or Napoleon can as
commanders be placed on a par with him. Even the Chinese said that he led
his armies like a god. The manner in which he moved large bodies of men
over vast distances without an apparent effort, the judgment he showed in
the conduct of several wars in countries far apart from each other, his
strategy in unknown regions, always on the alert, yet never allowing
hesitation or overcaution to interfere with his enterprise, the sieges
which he brought to a successful termination, his brilliant victories, a
succession of "suns of Austerlitz," all combined make up the picture of a
career to which Europe can offer nothing that will surpass, if indeed she
has anything to bear comparison with it. After the lapse of centuries, and
in spite of the indifference with which the great figures of Asiatic
history have been treated, the name of Genghis preserves its magic spell.
It is still a name to conjure with when recording the great revolutions of
a period which beheld the death of the old system in China, and the advent
in that country of a newer and more vigorous government which, slowly
acquiring shape in the hands of Kublai and a more national form under the
Mings, has attained the pinnacle of its utility and strength under the
influence of the great emperors of the Manchu dynasty. But great as is the
reputation Genghis has acquired it is probably short of his merits. He is
remembered as a relentless and irresistible conqueror, a human scourge;
but he was much more. He was one of the greatest instruments of destiny,
one of the most remarkable molders of the fate of nations to be met with
in the history of the world. His name still overshadows Asia with its
fame, and the tribute of our admiration cannot be denied.
The death of Genghis did not seriously retard the progress of the war
against the Kins. He expressed the wish that war should be carried on in a
more humane and less vindictive manner, but he did not advocate there
being no war or the abandonment of any of his enterprises. His son and
successor Ogotai was indeed specially charged to bring the conquest of
China to a speedy and victorious conclusion. The weakness of the Mongol
confederacy was the delay connected with the proclamation of a new Khan
and the necessity of summoning to a Grand Council all the princes and
generals of the race, although it entailed the suspension and often the
abandonment of great enterprises. The death of Genghis saved India but not
China. Almost his last instructions were to draw up the plan for attacking
and turning the great fortress of Tunkwan, which had provided such an
efficient defense for Honan on the north, and in 1230, Ogotai, who had
already partitioned the territory taken from the Kins into ten
departments, took the field in person, giving a joint command to his
brother Tuli, under whom served the experienced generals Yeliu Chutsia,
Antchar, and Subutai. At first the Mongols met with no great success, and
the Kins, encouraged by a momentary gleam of victory, ventured to reject
the terms offered by Ogotai and to insult his envoy. The only important
fighting during the years 1230-31 occurred round Fongsian, which after a
long siege surrendered to Antchar, and when the campaign closed the Kins
presented a bold front to the Mongols and still hoped to retain their
power and dominions.
In 1232 the Mongols increased their armies in the field, and attacked the
Kins from two sides. Ogotai led the main force against Honan, while Tuli,
marching through Shensi into Szchuen, assailed them on their western
flank. The difficulties encountered by Tuli on this march, when he had to
make his own roads, were such that he entered the Kin territories with a
much reduced and exhausted army. The Kin forces gained some advantage over
it, but by either a feigned or a forced retreat, Tuli succeeded in
baffling their pursuit, and in effecting a junction with his brother
Ogotai, who had met with better fortune. Tuli destroyed everything along
his line of march, and his massacres and sacks revived the worst
traditions of Mongol ferocity. In these straits the Kins endeavored to
flood the country round their capital, to which the Mongols had now
advanced, but the Mongols fell upon the workmen while engaged in the task,
and slew ten thousand of them. When the main Kin army accepted battle
before the town of Yuchow, it was signally defeated, with the loss of
three of its principal generals, and Ninkiassu fled from Kaifong to a
place more removed from the scene of war. The garrison and townspeople of
Kaifong--an immense city with walls thirty-six miles in circumference, and
a population during the siege, it is said, of one million four hundred
thousand families, or nearly seven million people--offered a stubborn
resistance to the Mongols, who intrusted the conduct of the attack to
Subutai, the most daring of all their commanders. The Mongols employed
their most formidable engines, catapults hurling immense stones, and
mortars ejecting explosives and combustibles, but twelve months elapsed
before the walls were shattered and the courage and provisions of the
defenders exhausted. Then Kaifong surrendered at discretion, and Subutai
wished to massacre the whole of the population. But fortunately for the
Chinese, Yeliu Chutsai was a more humane and a more influential general,
and under his advice Ogotai rejected the cruel proposal.
At this moment, when it seemed impossible for fate to have any worse
experience in store for the unfortunate Kins, their old enemies, the
Sungs, wishing to give them the _coup de grace_, declared war upon
them, and placed a large army in the field under their best general,
Mongkong, of whom more will be heard. The relics of the Kin army, under
their sovereign Ninkiassu, took shelter in Tsaichau, where they were
closely besieged by the Mongols on one side and the Sungs on the other.
Driven thus into a corner, the Kins fought with the courage of despair and
long held out against the combined efforts of their enemies. At last
Ninkiassu saw that the struggle could not be prolonged, and he prepared
himself to end his life and career in a manner worthy of the race from
which he sprang. When the enemy broke into the city, and he heard the
stormers at the gate of his palace, he retired to an upper chamber and set
fire to the building. Many of his generals, and even of his soldiers,
followed his example, preferring to end their existence rather than to add
to the triumph of their Mongol and Sung opponents. Thus came to an end in
1234 the famous dynasty of the Kins, who under nine emperors had ruled
Northern China for one hundred and eighteen years, and whose power and
military capacity may best be gauged by the fact that without a single
ally they held out against the all-powerful Mongols for more than a
quarter of a century. Ninkiassu, the last of their rulers, was not able to
sustain the burden of their authority, but he at least showed himself
equal to ending it in a worthy and appropriately dramatic manner.
The folly of the Sungs had completed the discomfiture of the Kins, and had
brought to their own borders the terrible peril which had beset every
other state in Asia, and which had in almost every case entailed
destruction. How could the Sungs expect to avoid the same fate, or to
propitiate the most implacable and insatiable of conquering races? They
had done this to a large extent with their eyes open. More than once in
the early stages of the struggle the Kin rulers had sent envoys to beg
their alliance, and to warn them that if they did not help in keeping out
the Mongols, their time would come to be assailed and to share in the
common ruin. But Ningtsong did not pay heed to the warning, and scarcely
concealed his gratification at the misfortunes of his old opponents. The
nearer the Mongols came, and the worse the plight to which the Kins were
reduced, the more did he rejoice. He forgave Tuli the violation of Sung
territory, necessary for his flank attack on Honan, and when the knell of
the Kins sounded at the fall of Kaifong, he hastened to help in striking
the final blow at them, and to participate, as he hoped, in the
distribution of the plunder. By this time Litsong had succeeded his cousin
Ningtsong as ruler of the Sungs, and it is said that he received from
Tsaichau the armor and personal spoils of Ninkiassu, which he had the
satisfaction of offering up in the temple of his ancestors. But when he
requested the Mongols to comply with the more important part of the
convention, by which the Sung forces had joined the Mongols before
Tsaichau, and to evacuate the province of Honan, he experienced a rude
awakening from his dream that the overthrow of the Kins would redound to
his advantage, and he soon realized what value the Mongols attached to his
alliance. The military capacity of Mongkong inspired the Sung ruler with
confidence, and he called upon the Mongols to execute their promises, or
to prepare for war. The Mongol garrisons made no movement of retreat, and
the utmost that Litsong was offered was a portion of Honan, if it could be
practically divided. The proposition was probably meant ironically, but at
all events Litsong rejected it, and sent Mongkong to take by force
possession of the disputed province. The Mongol forces on the spot were
fewer than the Chinese, and they met with some reverses. But the hope of
the Sungs that the fortune of war would declare in their favor was soon
destroyed by the vast preparations of the Mongols, who, at a special
kuriltai, held at Karakoram, declared that the conquest of China was to be
completed. Then Litsong's confidence left him, and he sent an appeal for
peace to the Mongols, giving up all claim to Honan, and only asking to be
left in undisturbed possession of his original dominions. It was too late.
The Mongols had passed their decree that the Sungs were to be treated like
the Kins, and that the last Chinese government was to be destroyed.
In 1235, the year following the immolation of Ninkiassu, the Mongols
placed half a million men in the field for the purpose of destroying the
Sung power, and Ogotai divided them into three armies, which were to
attack Litsong's kingdom from as many sides. The Mongol ruler intrusted
the most difficult task to his son Kutan, who invaded the inaccessible and
vast province of Szchuen, at the head of one of these armies.
Notwithstanding its natural capacity for offering an advantageous defense,
the Chinese turned their opportunities to poor account, and the Mongols
succeeded in capturing all its frontier fortresses, with little or no
resistance. The shortcomings of the defense can be inferred from the
circumstances of the Chinese annalists making special mention of one
governor having had the courage to die at his post. For some reason not
clearly stated the Mongols did not attempt to retain possession of Szchuen
on this occasion. They withdrew when they were in successful occupation of
the northern half of the province, and when it seemed as if the other lay
at their mercy. In the two dual provinces of Kiangnan and Houkwang, the
other Mongol armies met with considerable success, which was dimmed,
however, by the death of Kuchu, the son and proclaimed heir of Ogotai.
This event, entailing no inconsiderable doubt and long-continued disputes
as to the succession, was followed by the withdrawal of the Mongol forces
from Sung territory, and during the last six years of his life Ogotai
abstained from war, and gave himself up to the indulgence of his gluttony.
He built a great palace at Karakoram, where his ancestors had been content
to live in a tent, and he intrusted the government of the old Kin
dominions to Yeliu Chutsai, who acquired great popularity among the
Chinese for his clemency and regard for their customs. Yeliu Chutsai
adopted the Chinese mode of taxation, and when Ogotai's widow, Turakina,
who acted as regent after her husband's death, ordered him to alter his
system and to farm out the revenues, he sent in his resignation, and, it
is said, died of grief shortly afterward. Ogotai was one of the most
humane and amiable of all the Mongol rulers, and Yeliu Chutsai imitated
his master. Of the latter the Chinese contemporary writers said "he was
distinguished by a rare disinterestedness. Of a very broad intellect, he
was able, without injustice and without wronging a single person, to amass
vast treasures (D'Ohsson says only of books, maps, and pictures), and to
enrich his family, but all his care and labors had for their sole object
the advantage and glory of his masters. Wise and calculating in his plans,
he did little of which he had any reason to repent."
During the five years following the death of Ogotai, the Mongols were
absorbed in the question who should be their next Great Khan, and it was
only after a warm and protracted discussion, which threatened to entail
the disruption of Mongol power, and the revelation of many rivalries among
the descendants of Genghis, that Kuyuk, the eldest son of Ogotai, was
proclaimed emperor. At the kuriltai held for this purpose, all the great
Mongol leaders were present, including Batu, the conqueror of Hungary, and
after the Mongol chiefs had agreed as to their chief, the captive kings,
Yaroslaf of Russia and David of Georgia, paid homage to their conqueror.
We owe to the monk Carpino, who was sent by the Pope to convert the
Mongol, a graphic account of one of the most brilliant ceremonies to be
met with in the whole course of Mongol history. The delay in selecting
Kuyuk, whose principal act of sovereignty was to issue a seal having this
inscription: "God in Heaven and Kuyuk on earth; by the power of God the
ruler of all men," had given the Sungs one respite, and his early death
procured them another. Kuyuk died in 1248, and his cousin, Mangu, the son
of Tuli, was appointed his successor. By this time the Mongol chiefs of
the family of Genghis in Western Asia were practically independent of the
nominal Great Khan, and governed their states in complete sovereignty, and
waged war without reference to Karakoram. This change left the Mongols in
their original home of the Amour absolutely free to devote all their
attention to the final overthrow of the Sungs, and Mangu declared that he
would know no rest until he had finally subjected the last of the Chinese
ruling families. In this resolution Mangu received the hearty support of
his younger but more able brother, Kublai, to whom was intrusted the
direction in the field of the armies sent to complete the conquest of
China.
Kublai received this charge in 1251, so that the Sungs had enjoyed, first
through the pacific disposition of Ogotai, and, secondly, from the family
disputes following his death, peace for more than fifteen years. The
advantage of this tranquillity was almost nullified by the death of
Mongkong, a general whose reputation may have been easily gained, but who
certainly enjoyed the confidence of his soldiers, and who was thought by
his countrymen to be the best commander of his day. When the Chinese
emperor, Litsong, saw the storm again approaching his northern frontier,
he found that he had lost the main support of his power, and that his
military resources were inferior to those of his enemy. He had allowed
himself to be lulled into a false sense of security by the long inaction
of the Mongols, and although he seems to have been an amiable prince, and
a typical Chinese ruler, honoring the descendants of Confucius with the
hereditary title of duke, which still remains in that family, and is the
only title of its kind in China, and encouraging the literary classes of
his country, he was a bad sovereign to be intrusted with the task of
defending his realm and people against a bold and determined enemy.
Kublai prepared the way for his campaigns in Southern China by following a
very wise and moderate policy in Northern China similar to that begun by
Muhula, and carried out with greater effect by Yeliu Chutsai. He had
enjoyed the advantage of a Chinese education, imparted by an able tutor
named Yaochu, who became the prince's private secretary and mentor in all
Chinese matters. At his instigation, or, at least, with his co-operation,
Kublai took in hand the restoration of the southern portion of Honan,
which had been devastated during the wars, and he succeeded in bringing
back its population and prosperity to that great province of Central
China. He thus secured a base for his operations close to the Sung
frontier, while he attached to his person a large section of the Chinese
nation. There never was any concealment that this patronage of Chinese
officials, and these measures for the amelioration of many millions of
Chinese subjects, were the well calculated preliminaries to the invasion
of Southern China and the extinction of the Sung dynasty.
If Kublai had succeeded in obtaining a wise adviser in Yaochu, he was not
less fortunate in procuring a great general in the person of Uriangkadai,
the son of Subutai, and his remarkable and unvarying successes were
largely due to the efforts of those two men in the cabinet and the field.
The plan of campaign, drawn up with great care and forethought by the
prince and his lieutenant, had the double merit of being both bold and
original. Its main purpose was not one that the Sung generals would be
likely to divine. It was determined to make a flank march round the Sung
dominions, and to occupy what is now the province of Yunnan; and, by
placing an army in the rear of their kingdom, to attack them eventually
from two sides. At this time Yunnan formed an independent state, and its
ruler, from his position behind the Sung territory, must have fancied
himself secure against any attack by the Mongols. He was destined to a
rude awakening. Kublai and Uriangkadai, marching across Szchuen and
crossing the Kinchakiang, or "river of golden sand," which forms the upper
course of the Great River, on rafts, burst into Yunnan, speedily
vanquished the frontier garrisons, and laid siege to the capital, Talifoo.
That town did not hold out long, and soon Kublai was in a position to
return to his own state, leaving Uriangkadai with a considerable garrison
in charge of Yunnan. That general, believing that his position would be
improved by his resorting to an active offensive, carried the standard of
his race against the many turbulent tribes in his neighborhood, and
invaded Burma whose king, after one campaign, was glad to recognize the
supremacy of the Mongols. The success and the boldness, which may have
been considered temerity, of this campaign, raised up enemies to Kublai at
the court of Karakoram, and the mind of his brother Mangu was poisoned
against him by many who declared that Kublai aspired to complete
independence. These designs so far succeeded, that in 1257 Mangu finally
deprived Kublai of all his commands, and ordered him to proceed to
Karakoram. At this harsh and unmerited treatment Kublai showed himself
inclined to rebel and dispute his brother's authority. If he had done
this, although the provocation was great, he would have confirmed the
charges of his accusers, and a war would have broken out among the Mongols
which would probably have rent their power in twain in Eastern Asia. But
fortunately Yaochu was at hand to give prudent advice, and after much
hesitation Kublai yielded to the impressive exhortations of his
experienced and sagacious minister. He is reported to have addressed
Kublai in the following terms: "Prince! You are the brother of the
emperor, but you are not the less his subject. You cannot, without
committing a crime, question his decisions, and, moreover, if you were to
do so, it would only result in placing you in a more dangerous
predicament, out of which you could hardly succeed in extricating
yourself, as you are so far distant from the capital where your enemies
seek to injure you. My advice is that you should send your family to
Mangu, and by this step you will justify yourself and remove any
suspicions there may be."
Kublai adopted this wise course, and proceeded in person to Karakoram,
where he succeeded in proving his innocence and in discomfiting his
enemies. It is said that Mangu was so affected at the mere sight of his
brother that he at once forgave him without waiting for an explanation and
reinstated him in all his offices. To ratify this reconciliation Mangu
proclaimed that he would take the field in person, and that Kublai should
hold joint command with himself. When he formed this resolution to proceed
to China in person, he appointed his next brother, Arikbuka, to act as his
lieutenant in Mongolia. It is necessary to recollect this arrangement, as
Mangu died during the campaign, and it led to the separation of the
Chinese empire and the Mongolian, which were divided after that event
between Kublai and Arikbuka.
Mangu did not come to his resolution to prosecute the war with the Sungs
any too soon, for Uriangkadai was beginning to find his isolated position
not free from danger. Large as the army of that general was, and
skillfully as he had endeavored to improve his position by strengthening
the fortresses and recruiting from the warlike tribes of Yunnan,
Uriangkadai found himself threatened by the collected armies of the Sungs,
who occupied Szchuen with a large garrison and menaced the daring Mongol
general with the whole of their power. There seems every reason to believe
that if the Sungs had acted with only ordinary promptitude they might have
destroyed this Mongol army long before any aid could have reached it from
the north. Once Mangu had formed his resolution the rapidity of his
movements left the Sungs little or no chance of attacking Uriangkadai.
This campaign began in the winter of 1257, when the troops were able to
cross the frozen waters of the Hoangho, and the immense Mongol army was
divided into three bodies, while Uriangkadai was ordered to march north
and effect a junction with his old chief Kublai in Szchuen. The principal
fighting of the first year occurred in this part of China, and Mangu
hastened there with another of his armies. The Sung garrison was large,
and showed great courage and fortitude. The difficulty of the country and
the strength of several of their fortresses seconded their efforts, and
after two years' fighting the Mongols felt so doubtful of success that
they held a council of war to decide whether they should retreat or
continue to prosecute the struggle. It has been said that councils of war
do not come to bold resolutions, but this must have been an exception, as
it decided not to retreat, and to make one more determined effort to
overcome the Chinese. The campaign of 1259 began with the siege of Hochau,
a strong fortress, held by a valiant garrison and commander, and to whose
aid a Chinese army under Luwenti was hastening. The governor, Wangkien,
offered a stout resistance, and Luwenti succeeded in harassing the
besiegers; but the fall of the fortress appeared assured, when a new and
more formidable defender arrived in the form of dysentery. The Mongol camp
was ravaged by this foe, Mangu himself died of the disease, and those of
the Mongols who escaped beat a hasty and disorderly retreat back to the
north. Once more the Sungs obtained a brief respite.
The death of Mangu threatened fresh disputes and strife among the Mongol
royal family. Kublai was his brother's lawful heir, but Arikbuka, the
youngest of the brothers was in possession of Karakoram, and supreme
throughout Mongolia. He was hostile to Kublai, and disposed to assert all
his rights and to make the most of his opportunities. No Great Khan could
be proclaimed anywhere save at Karakoram, and Arikbuka would not allow his
brother to gain that place, the cradle of their race and dynasty, unless
he could do so by force of arms. Kublai attempted to solve the difficulty
by holding a grand council near his favorite city of Cambaluc, the modern
Pekin, and he sent forth his proclamation to the Mongols as their Khan.
But they refused to recognize one who was not elected in the orthodox
fashion at Karakoram; and Arikbuka not merely defied Kublai, but summoned
his own kuriltai at Karakoram, where he was proclaimed Khakhan in the most
formal manner and with all the accustomed ceremonies. Arikbuka was
undoubtedly popular among the Mongols, while Kublai, who was regarded as
half a Chinese on account of his education, had a far greater reputation
south of the wall than north of it. Kublai could not tolerate the open
defiance of his authority, and the contempt shown for what was his
birthright, by Arikbuka; and in 1261 he advanced upon Karakoram at the
head of a large army. A single battle sufficed to dispose of Arikbuka's
pretensions, and that prince was glad to find a place of refuge among the
Kirghiz. Kublai proved himself a generous enemy. He sent Arikbuka his full
pardon, he reinstated him in his rank of prince, and he left him virtually
supreme among the Mongol tribes. He retraced his steps to Pekin, fully
resolved to become Chinese emperor in reality, but prepared to waive his
rights as Mongol Khan. Mangu Khan was the last of the Mongol rulers whose
authority was recognized in both the east and the west, and his successor,
Kublai, seeing that its old significance had departed, was fain to
establish his on a new basis in the fertile, ancient and wide-stretching
dominions of China.
Before Kublai composed the difficulty with Arikbuka he had resumed his
operations against the Sungs, and even before Mangu's death he had
succeeded in establishing some posts south of the Yangtsekiang, in the
impassability of which the Chinese fondly believed. During the year 1260
he laid siege to Wochow, the modern Wouchang, but he failed to make any
impression on the fortress on this occasion, and he agreed to the truce
which Litsong proposed. By the terms of this agreement Litsong
acknowledged himself a Mongol vassal, just as his ancestors had subjected
themselves to the Kins, paid a large tribute, and forbade his generals
anywhere to attack the Mongols. The last stipulation was partly broken by
an attack on the rear of Uriangkadai's corps, but no serious results
followed, for Kublai was well satisfied with the manner in which the
campaign terminated, as there is no doubt that his advance across the
Yangtsekiang had been precipitate, and he may have thought himself lucky
to escape with the appearance of success and the conclusion of a
gratifying treaty. It was with the reputation gained by this nominal
success, and by having made the Sungs his tributaries, that Kublai
hastened northward to settle his rivalry with Arikbuka. Having
accomplished that object with complete success, he decided to put an end
to the Sung dynasty. The Chinese emperor, acting with strange fatuity, had
given fresh cause of umbrage, and had provoked a war by many petty acts of
discourtesy, culminating in the murder of the envoys of Kublai, sent to
notify him of his proclamation as Great Khan of the Mongols. Probably the
Sung ruler could not have averted war if he had shown the greatest
forbearance and humility, but this cruel and inexcusable act precipitated
the crisis and the extinction of his attenuated authority. If there was
any delay in the movements of Kublai for the purpose of exacting
reparation for this outrage, it was due to his first having to arrange a
difficulty that had arisen in his relations with the King of Corea. That
potentate had long preserved the peace with his Mongol neighbors, and
perhaps he would have remained a friend without any interruption, had not
the Mongols done something which was construed as an infraction of Corean
liberty. The Corean love of independence took fire at the threatened
diminution of their rights, they rose en masse in defense of their
country, and even the king, Wangtien, who had been, well disposed to the
Mongol rulers, declared that he could not continue the alliance, and
placed himself at the head of his people. Seeing himself thus menaced with
a costly war in a difficult country on the eve of a more necessary and
hopeful contest, Kublai resorted to diplomacy. He addressed Wangtien in
complimentary terms and disclaimed all intention of injuring the Coreans,
with whom he wished to maintain friendly relations, but at the same time
he pointed out the magnitude of his power and dilated on the extent of the
Mongol conquests. Half by flattery and half by menace Kublai brought the
Corean court to reason, and Wangtien again entered into bonds of alliance
with Cambaluc and renewed his old oaths of friendship.
At this point of the long struggle with the Sungs it will be appropriate
to consider what was the exact position of Kublai with regard to his own
Chinese subjects, who now formed the backbone of his power. By this time
Kublai had become to all practical intents and purposes a Chinese emperor.
He had accepted all the traditional functions of the typical Hwangti, and
the etiquette and splendor of his court rivaled that of the Sungs. He had
not merely adopted the Chinese system of taxation and the form of
administration to which the larger portion of his officials, being of
Chinese race, had been accustomed, but he declared himself the patron of
learning and of Buddhism, which had gained a hold on the minds of the
Mongols that it has not lost to the present day. One of the most popular
of his early measures had been the order to liberate all the literate
class among his Chinese prisoners, and they had formed the nucleus of the
civil service Kublai attached to his interests and utilized as his empire
expanded. In his relations with Buddhism Kublai showed not less
astuteness, and in realizing that to attain durable success he must appeal
to the religious side of human character, he showed that he had the true
instincts of a statesman.
At this time two facts were clearly apparent. The Chinese were sunk in a
low state of religious disbelief, and the Sung rulers were not disposed to
play the part of regenerators of their country. The second fact was that
the only vigorous religion in China, or, indeed, in Eastern Asia, was
Buddhism, which, since the establishment of Brahmanism in India, had taken
up its headquarters in Tibet, where, however, the supreme authority was
still secular--that is to say, it was invested in the hands of a prince or
king, and not in those of a priest or Grand Lama. It so happened that
there was resident at Kublai's court a Tibetan priest, of the family which
had always supplied the Sanpou with his minister, who gained the ear of
Kublai, and convinced him how politic and advantageous to him personally
it would be if he were to secure the co-operation and sympathy of his
priestly order. Kublai fell in with his plans, and proclaimed his friend
Pakba Lama, and sent him back to Tibet, there to establish the
ecclesiastical authority, which still exists in that country, in intimate
alliance and sympathy with the Chinese rulers. By this and other similar
proceedings Kublai gained over to his side several influential classes
among the Chinese people, and many reflecting persons thought they saw in
him a true regenerator of the empire, and a worthy successor of their
greatest rulers. It was, therefore, with a thoroughly pacified country,
and to a great extent a contented people, that Kublai began his last war
with the rulers of Southern China.
In 1263 Kublai issued his proclamation of war, calling on his generals "to
assemble their troops, to sharpen their swords and their pikes, and to
prepare their bows and arrows," for he intended to attack the Sungs by
land and sea. The treason of a Chinese general in his service named Litan
served to delay the opening of the campaign for a few weeks, but this
incident was of no importance, as Litan was soon overthrown and executed.
Brief as was the interval, it was marked by one striking and important
event--the death of Litsong, who was succeeded by his nephew, Chowki,
called the Emperor Toutsong. Litsong was not a wise ruler, but, compared
with many of his successors, he might be more accurately styled
unfortunate than incompetent. Toutsong, and his weak and arrogant
minister, Kiassetao, hastened to show that there were greater heights of
folly than any to which he had attained. Acting on the advice of a
renegade Sung general, well acquainted with the defenses of Southern
China, Kublai altered his proposed attack, and prepared for crossing the
Yangtsekiang by first making himself supreme on its tributary, the Han
River. His earlier attack on Wouchang has been described, and his
compulsory retirement from that place had taught him the evil of making a
premature attack. His object remained the same, but instead of marching
direct to it across the Yangtsekiang he took the advice of the Sung
general, arid attacked the fortress of Sianyang on the Han River, with the
object of making himself supreme on that stream, and wresting from the
Sungs the last first-class fortress they possessed in the northwest. By
the time all these preliminaries were completed and the Mongol army had
fairly taken the field it was 1268, and Kublai sent sixty thousand of his
best troops, with a large number of auxiliaries, to lay siege to Sianyang,
which was held by a large garrison and a resolute governor. The Mongol
lines were drawn up round the town, and also its neighbor of Fanching,
situated on the opposite bank of the river, with which communication was
maintained by several bridges, and the Mongols built a large fleet of
fifty war junks, with which they closed the Han River and effectually
prevented any aid being sent up it from Hankow or Wouchang. Liuwen Hoan,
the commandant of Sianyang, was a brave man, and he commanded a numerous
garrison and possessed supplies, as he said, to stand a ten years' siege.
He repulsed all the assaults of the enemy, and, undaunted by his
isolation, replied to the threats of the Mongols, to give him no quarter
if he persisted in holding out, by boasting that he would hang their
traitor general in chains before his sovereign. The threats and vaunts of
the combatants did not bring the siege any nearer to an end. The utmost
that the Mongols could achieve was to prevent any provisions or re-
enforcements being thrown into the town. But on the fortress itself they
made no impression. Things had gone on like this for three years, and the
interest in the siege had begun to languish, when Kublai determined to
make a supreme effort to carry the place, and at the same moment the Sung
minister came to the conclusion to relieve it at all hazards.
The campaign of 1270 began with a heroic episode--the successful dispatch
of provisions into the besieged town, under the direction of two Chinese
officers named Changkoua and Changchun, whose names deserve to be long
remembered for their heroism. The flotilla was divided into two bodies,
one composed of the fighting, the other of the store-ships. The Mongols
had made every preparation to blockade the river, but the suddenness and
vigor of the Chinese attack surprised them, and, at first, the Chinese had
the best of the day. But soon the Mongols recovered, and from their
superior position threatened to overwhelm the assailing Chinese squadron.
In this perilous moment Changchun, devoting himself to death in the
interest of his country collected all his war-junks, and making a
desperate attack on the Mongols, succeeded in obtaining sufficient time to
enable the storeships under Changkoua to pass safely up to Sianyang. The
life of so great a hero as Changchun was, however, a heavy price to pay
for the temporary relief of Sianyang, which was more closely besieged than
ever after the arrival of Kublai in person.
After this affair the Mongols pushed the siege with greater vigor, and
instead of concentrating their efforts on Sianyang they attacked both that
fortress and Fanching from all sides. The Mongol commander, Alihaya, sent
to Persia, where the Mongols were also supreme, for engineers trained in
the working of mangonels or catapults, engines capable of throwing stones
of 160-pounds' weight with precision for a considerable distance. By their
aid the bridges across the river were first destroyed, and then the walls
of Sianyang were so severely damaged that an assault appeared to be
feasible. But Fanching had suffered still more from the Mongol
bombardment, and Alihaya therefore attacked it first. The garrison offered
a determined resistance, and the fighting was continued in the streets.
Not a man of the garrison escaped, and when the slaughter was over the
Mongols found that they had only acquired possession of a mass of ruins.
But they had obtained the key to Sianyang, the weakest flank of which had
been protected by Fanching, and the Chinese garrison was so discouraged
that Liuwen Hoan, despairing of relief, agreed to accept the terms offered
by Kublai. Those terms were expressed in the following noble letter from
the Mongol emperor: "The generous defense you have made during five years
covers you with glory. It is the duty of every faithful subject to serve
his prince at the expense of his life, but in the straits to which you are
reduced, your strength exhausted, deprived of succor and without hope of
receiving any, would it be reasonable to sacrifice the lives of so many
brave men out of sheer obstinacy? Submit in good faith to us and no harm
shall come to you. We promise you still more; and that is to provide each
and all of you with honorable employment. You shall have no grounds of
discontent, for that we pledge you our imperial word."
It will not excite surprise that Liuwen Hoan, who had been, practically
speaking, deserted by his own sovereign, should have accepted the
magnanimous terms of his conqueror, and become as loyal a lieutenant of
Kublai as he had shown himself to be of the Sung Toutsong. The death of
that ruler followed soon afterward, but as the real power had been in the
hands of the Minister Kiassetao, no change took place in the policy or
fortunes of the Sung kingdom. At this moment Kublai succeeded in obtaining
the services of Bay an, a Mongol general who had acquired a great
reputation under Khulagu in Persia. Bayan, whose name signifies the noble
or the brave, and who was popularly known as Bayan of the Hundred Eyes,
because he was supposed to see everything, was one of the greatest
military leaders of his age and race. He was intrusted with the command of
the main army, and under him served, it is interesting to state, Liuwen
Hoan. Several towns were captured after more or less resistance, and Bayan
bore down with all his force on the triple cities of Hankow, Wouchang, and
Hanyang. Bayan concentrated all his efforts on the capture of Hanyang,
while the Mongol navy under Artchu compelled the Chinese fleet to take
refuge under the walls of Wouchang. None of these towns offered a very
stubborn resistance, and Bayan had the satisfaction of receiving their
surrender one after another. Leaving Alihaya with 40,000 men to guard
these places, Bayan marched with the rest of his forces on the Sung
capital, Lingan or Hangchow, the celebrated Kincsay of medieval travelers.
The retreating fleet and army of the Sungs carried with them fear of the
Mongols, and the ever-increasing representation of their extraordinary
power and irresistible arms. In this juncture public opinion compelled
Kiassetao to take the lead, and he called upon all the subjects of the
Sung to contribute arms and money for the purpose of national defense. But
his own incompetence in directing this national movement deprived it of
half its force and of its natural chances of success. Bayan's advance was
rapid. Many towns opened their gates in terror or admiration of his name,
and Liuwen Hoan was frequently present to assure them that Kublai was the
most generous of masters, and that there was no wiser course than to
surrender to his generals.
The Mongol forces at last reached the neighborhood of the Sung capital,
where Kiassetao had succeeded in collecting an army of 130,000 men; but
many of them were ill-trained, and the splendor of the camp provided a
poor equivalent for the want of arms and discipline among the men.
Kiassetao seems to have been ignorant of the danger of his position, for
he sent an arrogant summons to the Mongols to retire, stating also that he
would grant a peace based on the Yangtsekiang as a boundary. Bayan's
simple reply to this notice was, "If you had really aimed at peace you
would have made this proposition before we crossed the Kiang. Now that we
are the masters of it, it is a little too late. Still if you sincerely
desire it, come and see me in person, and we will discuss the necessary
conditions." Very few of the Sung lieutenants offered a protracted
resistance, and even the isolated cases of devotion were confined to the
official class, who were more loyal than the mass of the people. Chao
Maofa and his wife Yongchi put an end to their existence sooner than give
up their charge at Chichow, but the garrison accepted the terms of the
Mongols without compunction, and without thinking of their duty. Kiassetao
attempted to resist the Mongol advance at Kien Kang, the modern Nankin,
but after an engagement on land and water the Sungs were driven back, and
their fleet only escaped destruction by retiring precipitately to the sea.
After this success Nankin, surrendered without resistance, although its
governor was a valiant and apparently a capable man. He committed suicide
sooner than surrender, and among his papers was found a plan of campaign,
after perusing which Bay an exclaimed, "Is it possible that the Sungs
possessed a man capable of giving such prudent counsel? If they had paid
heed to it, should we ever have reached this spot?" After this success
Bayan pressed on with increased rather than diminished energy, and the
Sung emperor and his court fled from the capital. Kublai showed an
inclination to temporize and to negotiate, but Bayan would not brook any
delay. "To relax your grip even for a moment on an enemy whom you have
held by the throat for a hundred years would only be to give him time to
recover his breath, to restore his forces, and in the end to cause us an
infinity of trouble."
The Sung fortunes showed some slight symptoms of improving when Kiassetao
was disgraced, and a more competent general was found in the person of
Chang Chikia. But the Mongols never abated the vigor of their attack or
relaxed in their efforts to cut off all possibility of succor from the
Sung capital. When Chang Chikia hoped to improve the position of his side
by resuming the offensive he was destined to rude disappointment. Making
an attack on the strong position of the Mongols at Nankin he was repulsed
with heavy loss. The Sung fleet was almost annihilated and 700 war-junks
were taken by the victors. After this the Chinese never dared to face the
Mongols again on the water. This victory was due to the courage and
capacity of Artchu. Bayan now returned from a campaign in Mongolia to
resume the chief conduct of the war, and he signalized his return by the
capture of Changchow. At this town he is said to have sanctioned a
massacre of the Chinese troops, but the facts are enwrapped in
uncertainty; and Marco Polo declares that this was only done after the
Chinese had treacherously cut up the Mongol garrison. Alarmed by the fall
of Changchow, the Sung ministers again sued for peace, sending an
imploring letter to this effect: "Our ruler is young and cannot be held
responsible for the differences that have arisen between the peoples.
Kiassetao the guilty one has been punished; give us peace and we shall be
better friends in the future." Bayan's reply was severe and
uncompromising. "The age of your prince has nothing to do with the
question between us. The war must go on to its legitimate end. Further
argument is useless." The defenses of the Sung capital were by this time
removed, and the unfortunate upholders of that dynasty had no option save
to come to terms with the Mongols. Marco Polo describes Kincsay as the
most opulent city of the world, but it was in no position to stand a
siege. The empress-regent, acting for her son, sent in her submission to
Bayan, and agreed to proceed to the court of the conqueror. She abdicated
for herself and family all the pretensions of their rank, and she accepted
the favors of the Mongol with due humility, saying, "The Son of Heaven
(thus giving Kublai the correct imperial style) grants you the favor of
sparing your life; it is just to thank him for it and to pay him homage."
Bayan made a triumphal entry into the city, while the Emperor Kongtsong
was sent off to Pekin. The majority of the Sung courtiers and soldiers
came to terms with Bayan, but a few of the more desperate or faithful
endeavored to uphold the Sung cause in Southern China under the general,
Chang Chikia. Two of the Sung princes were supported by this commander,
and one was proclaimed by the empty title of emperor. Capricious fortune
rallied to their side for a brief space, and some of the Mongol
detachments which had advanced too far or with undue precipitancy were cut
up and destroyed.
The Mongols seem to have thought that the war was over, and the success of
Chang Chikia's efforts may have been due to their negligence rather than
to his vigor. As soon as they realized that there remained a flickering
flame of opposition among the supporters of the Sungs they sent two
armies, one into Kwantung and the other into Fuhkien, and their fleet
against Chang Chikia. Desperate as was his position, that officer still
exclaimed, "If heaven has not resolved to overthrow the Sungs, do you
think that even now it cannot restore their ruined throne?" but his hopes
were dashed to the ground by the capture of Canton, and the expulsion of
all his forces from the mainland. One puppet emperor died, and then Chang
proclaimed another as Tiping. The last supporters of the cause took refuge
on the island of Tai in the Canton estuary, where they hoped to maintain
their position. The position was strong and the garrison was numerous; but
the Mongols were not to be frightened by appearances. Their fleet bore
down on the last Sung stronghold with absolute confidence, and, although
the Chinese resisted for three days and showed great gallantry, they were
overwhelmed by the superior engines as well as the numbers of the Mongols.
Chang Chikia with a few ships succeeded in escaping from the fray, but the
emperor's vessel was less fortunate, and finding that escape was
impossible, Lousionfoo, one of the last Sung ministers, seized the emperor
in his arms and jumped overboard with him. Thus died Tiping, the last
Chinese emperor of the Sungs, and with him expired that ill-fated dynasty.
Chang Chikia renewed the struggle with aid received from Tonquin, but when
he was leading a forlorn hope against Canton he was caught in a typhoon
and he and his ships were wrecked. His invocation to heaven, "I have done
everything I could to sustain on the throne the Sung dynasty. When one
prince died I caused another to be proclaimed emperor. He also has
perished, and I still live! Oh, heaven, shall I be acting against thy
desires if I sought to place a new prince of this family on the throne?"
sounded the dirge of the race he had served so well.
Thus was the conquest of China by the Mongols completed. After half a
century of warfare the kingdom of the Sungs shared the same fate as its
old rival the Kin, and Kublai had the personal satisfaction of completing
the work begun by his grandfather Genghis seventy years before. Of all the
Mongol triumphs it was the longest in being attained. The Chinese of the
north and of the south resisted with extraordinary powers of endurance the
whole force of the greatest conquering race Asia had ever seen. They were
not skilled in war and their generals were generally incompetent, but they
held out with desperate courage and obstinacy long after other races would
have given in. The student of history will not fail to see in these facts
striking testimony of the extraordinary resources of China, and of the
capacity of resistance to even a vigorous conqueror possessed by its inert
masses. Even the Mongols did not conquer until they had obtained the aid
of a large section of the Chinese nation, or before Kublai had shown that
he intended to prove himself a worthy Emperor of China and not merely a
great Khan of the Mongol Hordes.
CHAPTER VI
KUBLAI AND THE MONGOL DYNASTY
While Bayan was winning victories for his master and driving the Chinese
armies from the field, Kublai was engaged at Pekin in the difficult and
necessary task of consolidating his authority. In 1271 he gave his dynasty
the name of Yuen or Original, and he took for himself the Chinese title of
Chitsou, although it will never supersede his Mongol name of Kublai.
Summoning to his court the most experienced Chinese ministers, and aided
by many foreigners, he succeeded in founding a government which was
imposing by reason of its many-sidedness as well as its inherent strength.
It satisfied the Chinese and it was gratifying to the Mongols, because
they formed the buttress of one of the most imposing administrations in
the world. All this was the distinct work of Kublai, who had enjoyed the
special favor of Genghis, who had predicted of him that "one day he will
sit in my seat and bring you good fortune such as you have had in my
time." He resolved to make his court the most splendid in the world. His
capital Cambaluc or Khanbalig--"the city of the Khan"--stood on or near
the present site of Pekin, and was made for the first time capital of
China by the Mongols. There were, according to Marco Polo, twelve gates,
at each of which was stationed a guard of 1,000 men, and the streets were
so straight and wide that you could see from one end to the other, or from
gate to gate. The extent given of the walls varies: according to the
highest estimate they were twenty-seven miles round, according to the
lowest eighteen. The khan's palace at Chandu or Kaipingfoo, north of
Pekin, where he built a magnificent summer palace, kept his stud of
horses, and carried out his love of the chase in the immense park and
preserves attached, may be considered the Windsor of this Chinese monarch.
The position of Pekin had, and still has, much to recommend it as the site
of a capital. The Mings, after proclaiming Nankin the capital, made
scarcely less use of it, and Chuntche, the first of the Manchus, adopted
it as his. It has since remained the sole metropolis of the empire.
When Kublai permanently established himself at Pekin he drew up consistent
lines of policy on all the great questions with which it was likely he
would have to deal, and he always endeavored to act upon these set
principles. In framing this system of government he was greatly assisted
by his old friend and tutor Yaochu, as well as by other Chinese ministers.
He was thus able to deal wisely and also vigorously with a society with
which he was only imperfectly acquainted; and the impartiality and insight
into human character, which were his main characteristics, greatly
simplified the difficult task before him. His impartiality was shown most
clearly in his attitude on the question of religion; but it partook very
largely of a hard materialism which concealed itself under a nominal
indifference. At first he treated with equal consideration Buddhism,
Mohammedanism, Christianity, and even Judaism, and he said that he treated
them all with equal consideration because he hoped that the greatest among
them would help him in heaven. If some doubt may be felt as to the
sincerity of this statement, there can be none as to Kublai's effort to
turn all religions to a political use, and to make them serve his turn.
Some persons have thought he showed a predilection for Christianity, but
his measures in support of Buddhism, and of his friend the Pakba Lama, are
a truer indication of his feelings. But none were admitted into his
private confidence, and his acts evinced a politic tolerance toward all
creeds. But his religious tolerance or indifference did not extend to
personal matters. He insisted on the proper prayers being offered to
himself and the extreme reverence of the kow-tow. Priests were appointed
and specially enjoined to offer up prayers on his behalf before the
people, who were required to attend these services and to join in the
responses. Images of himself were also sent to all the provincial towns
for reverence to be offered. He also followed the Chinese custom of
erecting a temple to his ancestors, and the coins that passed current bore
his effigy. Thus did Kublai more and more identify himself with his
Chinese subjects, and as he found his measures crowned with success he
became himself more wedded to Chinese views, less tolerant of adverse
opinions, and more disposed to assert his sovereign majesty.
Having embellished his capital, it is not surprising to find that he drew
up a strict court ceremonial, and that he proscribed gorgeous dresses for
those who were to be allowed to approach him. His banquets were of the
most sumptuous description. Strangers from foreign states were admitted to
the presence, and dined at a table set apart for travelers, while the
great king himself feasted in the full gaze of his people. His courtiers,
guard, and ministers attended by a host of servitors, and protected from
enemies by 20,000 guards, the flower of the Mongol army; the countless
wealth seized in the capitals of numerous kingdoms; the brilliance of
intellect among his chief adherents and supporters; the martial character
of the race that lent itself almost as well to the pageantry of a court as
to the stern reality of battle; and finally the majesty of the great king
himself--all combined to make Kublai's court and capital the most
splendid, at that time, in the world. Although Kublai's instincts were
martial, he gave up all idea of accompanying his armies in the field after
his war with Arikbuka. As he was only forty-four when he formed this
decision, it must be assumed that he came to it mainly because he had so
many other matters to attend to, and also, no doubt, because he felt that
he possessed in Bayan a worthy substitute.
The most fortunate and successful monarch rarely escapes without some
misfortune, and Kublai was not destined to be an exception to the rule.
The successes of the Mongol navy undoubtedly led Kublai to believe that
his arms might be carried beyond the sea, and he formed the definite plan
of subjecting Japan to his power. The ruling family in that kingdom was of
Chinese descent, tracing back its origin to Taipe, a fugitive Chinese
prince of the twelfth century before our era. The Chinese in their usual
way had asserted the superior position of a Suzerain, and the Japanese had
as consistently refused to recognize the claim, and had maintained their
independence. As a rule the Japanese abstained from all interference in
the affairs of the continent, and the only occasion on which they departed
from this rule was when they aided Corea against China. In 1266 Kublai
sent two embassadors by way of Corea to Japan with a letter from himself
complaining that the Japanese court had taken no notice of his accession
to power, and treated him with indifference. The mission never had a
chance of success, for the Coreans succeeded in frightening the Mongol
envoys with the terrors of the sea, and by withholding their assistance
prevented them reaching their destination. The envoys returned without
having been able to deliver their letter. Kublai decided that the Japanese
were hostile to him, and he resolved to humble them. He called upon the
King of Corea to raise an auxiliary force, and that prince promised to
supply 1,000 ships and 10,000 men. In 1274 he sent a small force of 300
ships and 15,000 men to begin operations in the direction of Japan; but
the Japanese navy came out to meet it, and attacking it off the island of
Tsiusima, inflicted a crushing defeat. As this expedition was largely
composed of the Corean contingent Kublai easily persuaded himself that
this defeat did not indicate what would happen when he employed his own
Mongol troops. He also succeeded in sending several envoys to Japan after
his first abortive attempt, and they brought back consistent reports as to
the hostility and defiance of the Japanese, who at last, to leave no
further doubt on the subject, executed his envoy in 1280. For this outrage
the haughty monarch swore he would exact a terrible revenge, and in
1280-81, when the last of his campaigns with the Sungs had been brought
to a triumphant conclusion, he collected all his forces in the eastern
part of the kingdom, and prepared to attack Japan with all his power.
For the purposes of this war he raised an army of over 100,000 men, of
whom about one-third were Mongols; and a fleet large enough to carry this
host and its supplies was gathered together with great difficulty in the
harbors of Chekiang and Fuhkien. It would have been wiser if the
expedition had started from Corea, as the sea voyage would have been
greatly reduced; but the difficulty of getting his army to that country,
and the greater difficulty of feeding it when it got there, induced him to
make his own maritime possessions the base of his operations. From the
beginning misfortunes fell thick upon it, and the Japanese, not less than
the English when assailed by the Spanish armada and Boulogne invasions,
owed much to the alliance of the sea. Kublai had felt bound to appoint a
Chinese generalissimo as well as a Mongol to this host, but it did not
work well. One general fell ill and was superseded, another was lost in a
storm, and there was a general want of harmony in the Mongol camp and
fleet. Still the fleet set sail, but the elements declared themselves
against Kublai. His shattered fleet was compelled to take refuge off the
islets to the north of Japan, where it attempted to refit, but the
Japanese granted no respite, and assailed them both by land and sea. After
protracted but unequal fighting the Mongol commander had no choice left
but to surrender. The conquerors spared the Chinese and Coreans among
their prisoners, but they put every Mongol to the sword. Only a stray junk
or two escaped to tell Kublai the tale of the greatest defeat the Mongols
had ever experienced. Thirty thousand of their best troops were
slaughtered, and their newly-created fleet, on which they were founding
such great expectations, was annihilated, while 70,000 Chinese and Coreans
remained as prisoners in the hands of the victor. Kublai executed two of
his generals who escaped, but it is clear no one was to blame. The Mongols
were vanquished because they undertook a task beyond their power, and one
with which their military experience did not fit them to cope. The most
formidable portion of their army was cavalry, and they had no knowledge of
the sea. Nor could their Chinese auxiliaries supply this deficiency; for,
strange as it may appear, the Chinese, although many of them are good
fishermen and sailors, have never been a powerful nation at sea. On the
other hand, the Japanese have always been a bold and capable race of
mariners. They have frequently proved that the sea is their natural
element, and all the power and resources of Kublai availed not against the
skill and courage of these hardy islanders. Kublai was reluctant to
acquiesce in his defeat, and he endeavored to form another expedition, but
the Chinese sailors mutinied and refused to embark. They were supported by
all the Chinese ministers at Pekin, and Kublai felt himself compelled to
yield and abandon all designs of conquest beyond the sea.
The old success of the Mongols did not desert them on land, and Kublai
received some consolation for his rude repulse by the Japanese in the
triumph of his arms in Burmah. The momentary submission of the King of
Burmah, or Mien, as it was, and is still, called by the Chinese, had been
followed by a fit of truculence and open hostility. This monarch had
crossed over into Indian territory, and had assumed the title of King of
Bengala in addition to his own. Emboldened by his success, he did not
conceal his hostility to the Mongols, sent a defiant reply to all their
representations, and even assumed the offensive with his frontier
garrisons. He then declared open war. The Mongol general, Nasiuddin,
collected all the forces he could, and when the Burmese ruler crossed the
frontier at the head of an immense host of horse, foot, and elephants, he
found the Mongol army drawn up on the plain of Yungchang. The Mongols
numbered only 12,000 select troops, whereas the Burmese exceeded 80,000
men with a corps of elephants, estimated between 800 and 2,000, and an
artillery force of sixteen guns. Notwithstanding this numerical
disadvantage the Mongols were in no way dismayed by their opponents'
manifest superiority; but seldom has the struggle between disciplined and
brute force proved closer or more keenly contested. At first the charge of
the Burmese cavalry, aided by the elephants and artillery, carried all
before it. But Nasiuddin had provided for this contingency. He had
dismounted all his cavalry, and had ordered them to fire their arrows
exclusively against the elephant corps; and as the Mongols were then not
only the best archers in the world, but used the strongest bows, the
destruction they wrought was considerable, and soon threw the elephants
into hopeless confusion. The crowd of elephants turned tail before this
discharge of arrows, as did the elephants of Pyrrhus, and threw the whole
Burmese army into confusion. The Mongols then mounting their horses,
charged and completed the discomfiture of the Burmese, who were driven
from the field with heavy loss and tarnished reputation. On this occasion
the Mongols did not pursue the Burmese very far, and the King of Burmah
lost little or no part of his dominions, but Nasiuddin reported to Pekin
that it would be an easy matter to add the kingdom of Mien to the Mongol
empire. Kublai did not act on this advice until six years later, when he
sent his kinsman Singtur with a large force to subdue Burmah. The king
took shelter in Pegu, leaving his capital Amien at the mercy of the
conqueror. The Mongol conquests were thus brought down to the very border
of Assam. In Tonquin and Annam the arms of Kublai were not so successful.
Kublai's son Togan made an abortive campaign in these regions. Whenever an
open force had to be overcome, the Mongol army was successful, but when
the Mongols encountered the difficulties of a damp and inclement climate,
of the absence of roads, and other disadvantages, they were disheartened,
and suffered heavily in men and morale. With the loss of his two generals,
and the main portion of his army, Togan was lucky in himself escaping to
China. Kublai wished to make another effort to subdue these inhospitable
regions and their savage inhabitants, but Chinese public opinion proved
too strong, and he had to yield to the representations of his ministers.
Kublai was the more compelled to sacrifice his feelings on this point,
because there were not wanting indications that if he did not do so he
would find a Chinese rebellion on his hands. Notwithstanding his many
successes, and his evident desire to stand well with his Chinese subjects,
it was already clear that they bore their new leader little love. Several
of the principal provinces were in a state of veiled rebellion, showing
that the first opportunity would be taken to shake off the Mongol yoke,
and that Kublai's authority really rested on a quicksand. The predictions
of a fanatic were sufficient to shake the emperor on his throne, and such
was Kublai's apprehension that he banished all the remaining Sung
prisoners to Mongolia, and executed their last faithful minister, who went
to the scaffold with a smile on his face, exclaiming, "I am content; my
wishes are about to be realized." It must not be supposed from this that
Kublai's authority had vanished or become effete. It was absolutely
supreme over all declared enemies, but below the surface was seething an
amount of popular hostility and discontent ominous to the longevity of the
Mongol dynasty. The restless ambition of Kublai would not be satisfied
with anything short of recognition, in some form or other, of his power by
his neighbors, and he consequently sent envoys to ail the kingdoms of
Southern Asia to obtain, by lavish presents or persuasive language, that
recognition of his authority on which he had set his heart. In most cases
he was gratified, for there was not a power in Eastern Asia to compare
with that of the Mongol prince seated on the Dragon Throne of China, and
all were flattered to be brought into connection with it on any terms.
These successful and gratifying embassies had only one untoward result:
they induced Kublai to revert to his idea of repairing the overthrow of
his son Togan in Annam, and of finally subjugating that troublesome
country. The intention was not wise, and it was rendered more imprudent by
its execution being intrusted to Togan again. Another commander might have
fared better, but great as was his initial success, he could not hope to
permanently succeed. Togan began as he formerly commenced by carrying all
before him. He won seventeen separate engagements, but the further he
advanced into the country the more evident did it appear that he only
controlled the ground on which he stood. The King of Annam was a fugitive;
his capital was in the hands of the Mongols, and apparently nothing more
remained to be done. Apachi, the most experienced of the Mongol
commanders, then counseled a prompt retreat. Unfortunately the Mongol
prince Togan would not take his advice, and the Annamites, gathering fresh
forces on all sides, attacked the exhausted Mongols, and compelled them to
beat a precipitate retreat from their country. All the fruits of early
victory were lost, and Togan's disgrace was a poor consolation for the
culminating discomfiture of Kublai's reign. The people of Annam then made
good their independence, and they still enjoy it, so far as China is
concerned; though Annam is now a dependency of the French republic.
We cannot doubt that the failure of the emperor's endeavor to popularize
his rule was as largely due to the tyrannical acts and oppressive measures
of some of his principal ministers as to unpopular and unsuccessful
expeditions. Notwithstanding the popular dislike of the system, and
Kublai's efforts to put it down, the Mongols resorted to the old plan of
farming the revenue, and the extortion of those who purchased the right
drove the Chinese to the verge of rebellion, and made the whole Mongol
regime hateful. Several tax farmers were removed from their posts, and
punished with death, but their successors carried on the same system. The
declining years of Kublai's reign were therefore marred by the growing
discontent of his Chinese subjects, and by his inability or unwillingness
to put down official extortion and mismanagement. But he had to cope with
a still greater danger in the hostility of some members of his own family.
The rivalry between himself and his brother Arikbuka formed one incident
of his earlier career, the hostility of his cousin Kaidu proved a more
serious peril when Kublai was stricken in years, and approaching the end
of his long reign.
Kaidu was one of the sons of Ogotai, and consequently first cousin to
Kublai. He held some high post in Mongolia, and he represented a
reactionary party among the Mongols, who wished the administration to be
less Chinese, and who, perhaps, sighed for more worlds to conquer. But he
hated Kublai, and was jealous of his pre-eminence, which was, perhaps, the
only cause of his revolt. The hostility of Kaidu might have remained a
personal grievance if he had not obtained the alliance of Nayan, a Mongol
general of experience and ability, who had long been jealous of the
superior reputation of Bayan. He was long engaged in raising an army, with
which he might hope to make a bid for empire, but at last his preparations
reached the ear of Kublai, who determined to crush him before his power
had grown too great. Kublai marched against him at the head of 100,000
men, and all the troops Nayan could bring into the field were 40,000,
while Kaidu, although hastily gathering his forces, was too far off to
render any timely aid. Kublai commanded in person, and arranged his order
of battle from a tower supported on the backs of four elephants chained
together. Both armies showed great heroism and ferocity, but numbers
carried the day, and Nayan's army was almost destroyed, while he himself
fell into the hands of the victor. It was contrary to the practice of the
Mongols to shed the blood of their own princes, so Kublai ordered Nayan to
be sewn up in a sack, and then beaten to death. The war with Kaidu dragged
on for many years, and there is no doubt that Kublai did not desire to
push matters to an extremity with his cousin. Having restored the fortunes
of the war by assuming the command in person, Kublai returned in a short
time to Pekin, leaving his opponent, as he hoped, the proverbial golden
bridge by which to retreat. But his lieutenant, Bayan, to whom he
intrusted the conduct of the campaign, favored more vigorous action, and
was anxious to bring the struggle to a speedy and decisive termination. He
had gained one remarkable victory under considerable disadvantage, when
Kublai, either listening to his detractors or desirous of restraining his
activity, dismissed him from his military posts and, summoning him to
Pekin, gave him the uncongenial office of a minister of State. This
happened in 1293, and in the following year Kublai, who was nearly eighty,
and who had occupied the throne of China for thirty-five years, sickened
and died, leaving behind him a great reputation which has survived the
criticism of six centuries in both Europe and China.
Kublai's long reign marked the climax of the Mongol triumph which he had
all the personal satisfaction of extending to China. Where Genghis failed,
or attained only partial success, he succeeded to the fullest extent, thus
verifying the prophecy of his grandfather. But although he conquered their
country, he never vanquished the prejudices of the Chinese, and the
Mongols, unlike the Manchus, failed completely to propitiate the good will
of the historiographers of the Hanlin. Of Kublai they take some
recognition, as an enlightened and well-meaning prince, but for all the
other emperors of the Yuen line they have nothing good to say. Even Kublai
himself could not assure the stability of his throne, and when he died it
was at once clear that the Mongols could not long retain the supreme
position in China.
But Kublai's authority was sufficiently established for it to be
transmitted, without popular disturbance or any insurrection on the part
of the Chinese, to his legal heir, who was his grandson. Such risk as
presented itself to the succession arose from the dissensions among the
Mongol princes themselves, but the prompt measures of Bayan arrested any
trouble, and Prince Timour was proclaimed emperor under the Chinese style
of Chingtsong. A few months after this signal service to the ruling
family, Bayan died, leaving behind him the reputation of being one of the
most capable of all the Mongol commanders. Whether because he could find
no general worthy to fill Bayan's place, or because his temperament was
naturally pacific, Timour carried on no military operations, and the
thirteen years of his reign were marked by almost unbroken peace. But
peace did not bring prosperity in its train, for a considerable part of
China suffered from the ravages of famine, and the cravings of hunger
drove many to become brigands. Timour's anxiety to alleviate the public
suffering gained him some small measure of popularity, and he also
endeavored to limit the opportunities of the Mongol governors to be
tyrannical by taking away from them the power of life and death. Timour
was compelled by the sustained hostility of Kaidu to continue the struggle
with that prince, but he confined himself to the defensive, and the death
of Kaidu, in 1301, deprived the contest of its extreme bitterness although
it still continued.
Timour was, however, unfortunate in the one foreign enterprise which he
undertook. The ease with which Burmah had been vanquished and reduced to a
tributary state emboldened some of his officers on the southern frontier
to attempt the conquest of Papesifu--a state which may be identified with
the modern Laos. The enterprise, commenced in a thoughtless and light-
hearted manner, revealed unexpected peril and proved disastrous. A large
part of the Mongol army perished from the heat, and the survivors were
only rescued from their perilous position, surrounded by the numerous
enemies they had irritated, by a supreme effort on the part of Koko, the
viceroy of Yunnan, who was also Timour's uncle. The insurrectionary
movement was not confined to the outlying districts of Annam and Burmah,
but extended within the Chinese border, and several years elapsed before
tranquillity was restored to the frontier provinces.
Timour died in 1306 without leaving a direct legitimate heir, and his two
nephews Haichan and Aiyuli Palipata were held to possess an equal claim to
the throne. Haichan was absent in Mongolia when his uncle died, and a
faction put forward the pretensions of Honanta, prince of Gansi, who seems
to have been Timour's natural son, but Aiyuli Palipata, acting with great
energy, arrested the pretender and proclaimed Haichan as emperor. Haichan
reigned five years, during which the chief reputation he gained was as a
glutton. When he died, in 1311, his brother Palipata was proclaimed
emperor, although Haichan left two sons. Palipata's reign of nine years
was peaceful and uneventful, and his son Chutepala succeeded him.
Chutepala was a young and inexperienced prince who owed such authority as
he enjoyed to the courage of Baiju, a brave soldier, who was specially
distinguished as the lineal descendant of the great general, Muhula. The
plots and intrigues which compassed the ruin of the Yuen dynasty began
during this reign, and both Chutepala and Baiju were murdered by
conspirators. The next emperor, Yesun Timour, was fortunate in a peaceful
reign, but on his death, in 1328, the troubles of the dynasty accumulated,
and its end came clearly into view. In little more than a year, three
emperors were proclaimed and died. Tou Timour, one of the sons of Haichan,
who ruled before Palipata, was so far fortunate in reigning for a longer
period, but the most interesting episode in his barren reign was the visit
of the Grand Lama of Tibet to Pekin, where he was received with
exceptional honor; but when Tou Timour attempted to compel his courtiers
to pay the representative of Buddhism special obeisance he encountered the
opposition of both Chinese and Mongols.
After Tou Timour's death the imperial title passed to Tohan Timour, who is
best known by his Chinese title of Chunti. He found a champion in Bayan, a
descendant of the general of that name, who successfully defended the
palace against the attack of a band of conspirators. In 1337 the first
distinct rebellion on the part of the Chinese took place in the
neighborhood of Canton, and an order for the disarmament of the Chinese
population aggravated the situation because it could not be effectually
carried out. Bayan, after his defense of the palace, became the most
powerful personage in the state, and to his arrogance was largely due the
aggravation of the Mongol difficulties and the imbittering of Chinese
opinion. He murdered an empress, tyrannized over the Chinese, and outshone
the emperor in his apparel and equipages, as if he were a Wolsey or a
Buckingham. For the last offense Chunti could not forgive him, and Bayan
was deposed and disgraced. While these dissensions were in progress at
Pekin the Chinese were growing more daring and confident in their efforts
to liberate themselves from the foreign yoke. They had adopted red bonnets
as the mark of their patriotic league, and on the sea the piratical
confederacy of Fangkue Chin vanquished and destroyed such navy as the
Mongols ever possessed. But in open and regular fighting on land the
supremacy of the Mongols was still incontestable, and a minister, named
Toto, restored the sinking fortunes of Chunti until he fell the victim of
a court intrigue--being poisoned by a rival named Hamar. With Toto
disappeared the last possible champion of the Mongols, and the only thing
needed to insure their overthrow was the advent of a capable leader who
could give coherence to the national cause, and such a leader was not long
in making his appearance.
The deliverer of the Chinese from the Mongols was an individual named Choo
Yuen Chang, who, being left an orphan, entered a monastery as the easiest
way of gaining a livelihood. In the year 1345, when Chunti had been on the
throne twelve years, Choo quitted his retreat and joined one of the bands
of Chinese who had thrown off the authority of the Mongols. His physique
and fine presence soon gained for him a place of authority, and when the
chief of the band died he was chosen unanimously as his successor. He at
once showed himself superior to the other popular leaders by his humanity,
and by his wise efforts to convince the Chinese people that he had only
their interests at heart. Other Chinese so-called patriots thought mainly
of plunder, and they were not less terrible to peaceful citizens than the
most exacting Mongol commander or governor. But Choo strictly forbade
plundering, and any of his band caught robbing or ill-using the people met
with prompt and summary punishment. By this conduct he gained the
confidence of the Chinese, and his standard among all the national leaders
became the most popular and attracted the largest number of recruits. In
1356 he captured the city of Nankin, which thereupon became the base of
his operations, as it was subsequently the capital of his dynasty. He then
issued a proclamation declaring that his sole object was to expel the
foreigners and to restore the national form of government. In this
document he said, "It is the birthright of the Chinese to govern foreign
peoples and not of these latter to rule in China. It used to be said that
the Yuen or Mongols, who came from the regions of the north, conquered our
empire not so much by their courage and skill as by the aid of Heaven. And
now it is sufficiently plain that Heaven itself wishes to deprive them of
that empire, as some punishment for their crimes, and for not having acted
according to the teaching of their forefathers. The time has now come to
drive these foreigners out of China." While the Mongols were assailed in
every province of the empire by insurgents, Choo headed what was the only
organized movement for their expulsion, and his alliance with the pirate,
Fangkue Chin, added the command of the sea to the control he had himself
acquired over some of the wealthiest and most populous provinces of
Central China. The disunion among the Mongols contributed to their
overthrow as much as the valor of the Chinese. The Emperor Chunti had
quite given himself up to pleasure, and his debaucheries were the scandal
of the day. The two principal generals, Chahan Timour and Polo Timour,
hated each other, and refused to co-operate. Another general, Alouhiya,
raised the standard of revolt in Mongolia, and, while he declared that his
object was to regenerate his race, he, undoubtedly, aggravated the
embarrassment of Chunti.
In 1366, Choo, having carefully made all the necessary preparations for
war on a large scale, dispatched from Fankin two large armies to conquer
the provinces north of the Yangtsekiang, which were all that remained in
the possession of the Mongols. A third army was intrusted with the task of
subjecting the provinces dependent on Canton, and this task was
accomplished with rapidity and without a check. Such Mongol garrisons as
were stationed in this quarter were annihilated. The main Chinese army of
250,000 men was intrusted to the command of Suta, Choo's principal
lieutenant and best general, and advanced direct upon Pekin. In 1367 Suta
had overcome all resistance south of the Hoangho, which river he crossed
in the autumn of that year. The Mongols appeared demoralized, and
attempted little or no resistance. Chunti fled from Pekin to Mongolia,
where he died in 1370, and Suta carried the capital by storm from the
small Mongol garrison which remained to defend it. Choo hastened to Pekin
to receive the congratulations of his army, and to prove to the whole
Chinese nation that the Yuen dynasty had ceased to rule. The resistance
offered by the Mongols proved surprisingly slight, and, considering the
value of the prize for which they were fighting, quite unworthy of their
ancient renown. The real cause of their overthrow was that the Mongols
never succeeded in propitiating the good opinion and moral support of the
Chinese, who regarded them to the end as barbarians, and it must also be
admitted that the main force of the Mongols had drifted to Western Asia,
where the great Timour revived some of the traditions of Genghis. At the
end of his career that mighty conqueror prepared to invade China, but he
died shortly after he had begun a march that boded ill to the peace and
welfare of China. Thus, with the flight of Chunti, the Mongol or Yuen
dynasty came to an end, and the Mongols only reappear in Chinese history
as the humble allies of the Manchus, when they undertook the conquest of
China in the seventeenth century.
CHAPTER VII
THE MING DYNASTY
Having expelled the Mongols, Choo assumed the style of Hongwou, and he
gave his dynasty the name of Ming, which signifies "bright." He then
rewarded his generals and officers with titles and pecuniary grants, and
in 1369, the first year of his reign after the capture of Pekin, he
erected a temple or hall in that city in honor of the generals who had
been slain, while vacant places were left for the statues of those
generals who still held command. But while he rewarded his army, Hongwou
very carefully avoided giving his government a military character, knowing
that the Chinese resent the superiority of military officials, and he
devoted his main efforts to placing the civil administration on its old
and national basis. In this he received the cordial support of the Chinese
themselves, who had been kept in the background by their late conquerors,
whose administration was essentially military. Hongwou also patronized
literature, and endowed the celebrated Hanlin College, which was neglected
after the death of Kublai. He at once provided a literary task of great
magnitude in the history of the Yuen dynasty, which was intrusted to a
commission of eighteen writers. But a still greater literary work was
accomplished in the codified Book of Laws, which is known as the Pandects
of Yunglo, and which not merely simplified the administration of the law,
but also gave the people some idea of the laws under which they lived. He
also passed a great measure of gratuitous national education, and, in
order to carry out this reform in a thoroughly successful manner, he
appointed all the masters himself. He also founded many public libraries,
and he wished to establish one in every town, but this was beyond the
extent of his power. Not content with providing for the minds of his
subjects, Hongwou did his utmost to supply the needs of the aged. He cut
down the court expenses and issued sumptuary laws, so that he might devote
the sums thus economized to the support of the aged and sick. His last
instructions to the new officials, on proceeding to their posts, were to
"take particular care of the aged and the orphan." Thus did he show that
the Chinese had found in him a ruler who would revive the ancient glories
of the kingdom.
The frugality and modesty of his court have already been referred to. The
later Mongols were fond of a lavish display, and expended large sums on
banquets and amusements. At Pekin one of their emperors had erected in the
grounds of the palace a lofty tower of porcelain, at enormous expense, and
had arranged an ingenious contrivance at its base for denoting the time.
Two statues sounded a bell and struck a drum at every hour. When Hongwou
saw this edifice, he exclaimed, "How is it possible for men to neglect the
most important affairs of life for the sole object of devoting their
attention to useless buildings? If the Mongols in place of amusing
themselves with these trifles had applied their energies to the task of
contenting the people, would they not have preserved the scepter in their
family?" He then ordered that this building should be razed to the ground.
Nor did this action stand alone. He reduced the size of the harem
maintained by all the Chinese as well as the Mongol rulers, and he
instituted a rigid economy in all matters of state ceremonial. Changtu,
the Xanadu of Coleridge, the famous summer palace of Kublai, had been
destroyed during the campaigns with the Mongols, and Hongwou
systematically discouraged any attempt to embellish the northern capital,
Pekin, which, under the Kin and Yuen dynasties, had become identified with
foreign rulers. Pekin, during the whole of the Ming dynasty, was only a
second-rate city, and all the attention of the Ming rulers was given to
the embellishment of Nankin, the truly national capital of China.
The expulsion of the Mongols beyond the Great Wall and the death of
Chunti, the last of the Yuen emperors, by no means ended the struggle
between the Chinese and their late northern conquerors. The whole of the
reign of Hongwou was taken up with a war for the supremacy of his
authority and the security of his frontiers, in which he, indeed, took
little personal part, but which was carried on under his directions by his
great generals, Suta and Fuyuta. The former of these generals was engaged
for nearly twenty years, from 1368 to 1385, in constant war with the
Mongols. His first campaign, fought when the Chinese were in the full
flush of success, resulted in the brilliant and almost bloodless conquest
of the province of Shansi. The neighboring province of Shensi, which is
separated from the other by the river Hoangho, was at the time held by a
semi-independent Mongol governor named Lissechi, who believed that he
could hold his ground against the Mings. The principal fact upon which
this hope was based was the breadth and assumed impassability of that
river. Lissechi believed that this natural advantage would enable him to
hold out indefinitely against the superior numbers of the Chinese armies.
But his hope was vain if not unreasonable. The Chinese crossed the Hoangho
on a bridge of junks, and Tsinyuen, which Lissechi had made his capital,
surrendered without a blow. Lissechi abandoned one fortress after another
on the approach of Suta. Expelled from Shensi he hoped to find shelter and
safety in the adjoining province of Kansuh, where he took up his residence
at Lintao. For a moment the advance of the Chinese army was arrested while
a great council of war was held to decide the further course of the
campaign. The majority of the council favored the suggestion that did not
involve immediate action, and wished Suta to abandon the pursuit of
Lissechi and complete the conquest of Shensi, where several fortresses
still held out. But Suta was of a more resolute temper, and resolved to
ignore the decision of the council and to pursue Lissechi to Lintao. The
vigor of Suta's decision was matched by the rapidity of his march. Before
Lissechi had made any arrangements to stand a siege he found himself
surrounded at Lintao by the Ming army. In this plight he was obliged to
throw himself on the mercy of the victor, who sent him to the capital,
where Hongwou granted him his life and a small pension.
The overthrow of Lissechi prepared the way for the more formidable
enterprise against Ninghia, where the Mongols had drawn their remaining
power to a head. Ninghia, the old capital of Tangut, is situated in the
north of Kansuh, on the western bank of the Hoangho, and the Great Wall
passes through it. Strongly fortified and admirably placed, the Mongols,
so long as they possessed this town with its gates through the Great Wall,
might hope to recover what they had lost, and to make a fresh bid for
power in Northern China. North and west of Ninghia stretched the desert,
but while it continued in their possession the Mongols remained on the
threshold of China and held open a door through which their kinsmen from
the Amour and Central Asia might yet re-enter to revive the feats of
Genghis and Bayan. Suta determined to gain this place as speedily as
possible. Midway between Lintao and Ninghia is the fortified town of
Kingyang, which was held by a strong Mongol garrison. Suta laid close
siege to this town, the governor of which had only time to send off a
pressing appeal for aid to Kuku Timour, the governor at Ninghia, before he
was shut in on all sides by the Ming army. Kuku Timour apparently did his
best to aid his compatriot, but his forces were not sufficient to oppose
those of Suta in the open field, and Kingyang was at last reduced to such
straits that the garrison is said to have been compelled to use the slain
as food. At last the place made an unconditional surrender, and the
commandant was executed, not on account of his stubborn defense, but
because at the beginning of the siege he had said he would surrender and
had not kept his word. After the fall of Kingyang the Chinese troops were
granted a well-earned rest, and Suta visited Nankin to describe the
campaign to Hongwou.
The departure of Suta emboldened Kuku Timour so far as to lead him to take
the field, and he hastened to attack the town of Lanchefoo, the capital of
Kansuh, where there was only a small garrison. Notwithstanding this the
place offered a stout resistance, but the Mongols gained a decisive
success over a body of troops sent to its relief. This force was
annihilated and its general taken prisoner. The Mongols thought to terrify
the garrison by parading this general, whose name should be preserved,
Yukwang, before the walls, but he baffled their purpose by shouting out,
"Be of good courage, Suta is coming to your rescue." Yukwang was cut to
pieces, but his timely and courageous exclamation, like that of D'Assas,
saved his countrymen. Soon after this incident Suta reached the scene of
action, and on his approach Kuku Timour broke up his camp and retired to
Ninghia. The Chinese commander then hastened to occupy the towns of
Souchow and Kia-yu-kwan, important as being the southern extremity of the
Great Wall, and as isolating Ninghia on the west. Their loss was so
serious that the Mongol chief felt compelled to risk a general engagement.
The battle was keenly contested, and at one moment it seemed as if success
was going to declare itself in favor of the Mongols. But Suta had sent a
large part of his force to attack the Mongol rear, and when this movement
was completely executed, he assailed the Mongol position at the head of
all his troops. The struggle soon became a massacre, and it is said that
as many as 80,000 Mongols were slain, while Kuku Timour, thinking Ninghia
no longer safe, fled northward to the Amour. The success of Suta was
heightened and rendered complete by the capture of a large number of the
ex-Mongol ruling family by Ly Wenchong, another of the principal generals
of Hongwou. Among the prisoners was the eldest grandson of Chunti, and
several of the ministers advised that he should be put to death. But
Hongwou instead conferred on him a minor title of nobility, and expressed
his policy in a speech equally creditable to his wisdom as a statesman and
his heart as a man:
"The last ruler of the Yuens took heed only of his pleasures. The great,
profiting by his indolence, thought of nothing save of how to enrich
themselves; the public treasures being exhausted by their malpractices, it
needed only a few years of dearth to reduce the people to distress, and
the excessive tyranny of those who governed them led to the forming of
parties which disturbed the empire even to its foundations. Touched by the
misfortunes with which I saw them oppressed, I took up arms, not so much
against the Yuens as against the rebels who were engaged in war with them.
It was over the same foe that I gained my first successes. And if the Yuen
prince had not departed from the rules of wise government in order to give
himself up to his pleasures, and had the magnates of his court performed
their duty, would all honorable men have taken up arms as they did and
declared against him? The misconduct of the race brought me a large number
of partisans who were convinced of the rectitude of my intentions, and it
was from their hands and not from those of the Yuens that I received the
empire. If Heaven had not favored me should I have succeeded in destroying
with such ease those who withdrew into the desert of Shamo? We read in the
Chiking that after the destruction of the Chang family there remained more
than ten thousand of their descendants who submitted themselves to the
Chow, because it was the will of Heaven. Cannot men respect its decrees?
Let them put in the public treasure-house all the spoil brought back from
Tartary, so that it may serve to alleviate the people's wants. And with
regard to Maitilipala (Chunti's grandson), although former ages supply
examples of similar sacrifice, did Wou Wang, I ask you, when exterminating
the Chang family, resort to this barbarous policy? The Yuen princes were
the masters of this empire for nearly one hundred years, and my
forefathers were their subjects, and even although it were the constant
practice to treat in this fashion the princes of a dynasty which has
ceased to reign, yet could I not induce myself to adopt it."
These noble sentiments, to which there is nothing contradictory in the
whole life of Hongwou, would alone place his reign high among the most
civilizing and humanly interesting epochs in Chinese history. To his
people he appeared as a real benefactor as well as a just prince. He was
ever studious of their interests, knowing that their happiness depended on
what might seem trivial matters, as well as in showy feats of arms and
high policy. He simplified the transit of salt, that essential article of
life, to provinces where its production was scanty, and when dearth fell
on the land he devoted all the resources of his treasury to its
mitigation. His thoughtfulness for his soldiers was shown by sending fur
coats to all the soldiers in garrison at Ninghia where the winter was
exceptionally severe. A final instance of his justice and consideration
may be cited in his ordering certain Mongol colonies established in
Southern China, to whom the climate proved uncongenial, to be sent back at
his expense to their northern homes, when his ministers exhorted him to
proceed to extremities against them and to root them out by fire and
sword.
The pacification of the northern borders was followed by the dispatch of
troops into the southern provinces of Szchuen and Yunnan, where officials
appointed by the Mongols still exercised authority. One of these had
incurred the wrath of Hongwou by assuming a royal style and proclaiming
himself King of Hia. He was soon convinced of the folly of taking a title
which he had not the power to maintain, and the conquest of Szchuen was so
easily effected that it would not call for mention if it were not rendered
interesting as providing Hongwou's other great general Fuyuta with the
first opportunity of displaying his skill as a commander. The self-created
King of Hia presented himself laden with chains at the Chinese camp and
begged the favor of his life. The conquest of Szchuen was little more than
completed when the attention of Hongwou was again directed to the
northwest frontier, where Kuku Timour was making one more effort to
recover the footing he had lost on the fringe of the Celestial Empire, and
for a time fortune favored his enterprise. Even when Suta arrived upon the
scene and took the command of the Chinese forces in person, the Mongols
more than held their own. Twice did Suta attack the strong position taken
up by the Mongol chief in the desert, and twice was his assault repulsed
with heavy loss. A detachment under one of his lieutenants was surprised
in the desert and annihilated. Supplies were difficult to obtain, and
discouraged by defeat and the scarcity of food the Chinese army was placed
in an extremely dangerous position. Out of this dilemma it was rescued by
the heroic Fuyuta, who, on the news of the Mongol recrudescence, had
marched northward at the head of the army with which he had conquered
Szchuen. He advanced boldly into the desert, operated on the flank and in
the rear of Kuku Timour, vanquished the Mongols in many engagements, and
so monopolized their attention that Suta was able to retire in safety and
without loss. The war terminated with the Chinese maintaining all their
posts on the frontier, and the retreat of the Mongols, who had suffered
too heavy a loss to feel elated at their repulse of Suta. At the same time
no solid peace had been obtained, and the Mongols continued to harass the
borders, and to exact blackmail from all who traversed the desert. When
Hongwou endeavored to attain a settlement by a stroke of policy his
efforts were not more successful. His kind reception of the Mongol Prince
Maitilipala has been referred to, and about the year 1374 he sent him back
to Mongolia, in the hope that he would prove a friendly neighbor on his
father's death. The gratitude of Maitilipala seems to have been
unaffected; but, although he was the legitimate heir, the Mongols refused
to recognize him as Khan on the death of his father. Gradually
tranquillity settled down on those borders. The Chinese officials were
content to leave the Mongols alone, and the Mongols abandoned their
customary raids into Chinese territory. The death of Kuku Timour was
followed by the abandonment of all ideas of reviving Mongol authority in
China. Not long after that event died the great general, Suta, of whom the
national historians give the following glowing description which merits
preservation: "Suta spoke little and was endowed with great penetration.
He was always on good terms with the generals acting with him, sharing the
good and bad fortune alike of his soldiers, of whom there was not one who,
touched by his kindness, would not have done his duty to the death. He was
not less pronounced in his modesty. He had conquered a capital, three
provinces, several hundred towns, and on the very day of his return to
court from these triumphs he went without show and without retinue to his
own house, received there some learned professors and discussed various
subjects with them. Throughout his life he was in the presence of the
emperor respectful, and so reserved that one might have doubted his
capacity to speak." Hongwou was in the habit of speaking thus in his
praise: "My orders received, he forthwith departed; his task accomplished,
he returned without pride and without boasting. He loves not women, he
does not amass wealth. A man of strict integrity, without the slightest
stain, as pure and clear as the sun and moon, there is none like my first
general Suta."
Hongwou had the satisfaction of restoring amicable relations with the King
of Corea, a state in which the Chinese have always taken naturally enough
a great interest from its proximity, as well as from an apprehension that
the Japanese might make use of it as a vantage ground for the invasion of
the continent. The King of Corea sent a formal embassy to Nankin, and when
he died his son asked for and received investiture in his authority with
the royal yellow robes at the hands of the Ming ruler. During this period
it will be convenient here to note that the ruling power in Corea passed
from the old royal family to the minister Li Chungwei, who was the
ancestor of the present king. The last military episode of the reign of
Hongwou was the conquest of Yunnan, which had been left over after the
recovery of Szchuen, in consequence of the fresh outbreak of the Mongols
in the north. This task was intrusted to Fuyuta, who at the head of an
army of 100,000 men, divided into two corps, invaded Yunnan. The prince of
that state offered the utmost resistance he could, but in the one great
battle of the war his army fighting bravely was overthrown, and he was
compelled to abandon his capital. The conquest of Yunnan completed the
pacification of the empire, and the authority of Hongwou was unchallenged
from the borders of Burmah to the Great Wall and the Corean frontier. The
population of the empire thus restored did not much exceed sixty millions.
The last ten years of the reign of Hongwou were passed in tranquillity,
marred by only one unpleasant incident, the mutiny of a portion of his
army under an ambitious general. The plot was discovered in good time, but
it is said that the emperor did not consider the exigencies of the case to
be met until he had executed twenty thousand of the mutineers.
In 1398 Hongwou was attacked with the illness which ended his life. He was
then in his seventy-first year, and had reigned more than thirty years
since his proclamation of the Ming dynasty at Nankin. The Emperor Keen
Lung, in his history of the Mings, states that Hongwou possessed most of
the virtues and few of the vices of mankind. He was brave, patient under
suffering, far-seeing, studious of his people's welfare, and generous and
forbearing toward his enemies. It is not surprising that he succeeded in
establishing the Ming dynasty on a firm and popular basis, and that his
family have been better beloved in China than any dynasty with the
possible exception of the Hans. In his will, which is a remarkable
document, he recites the principal events of his reign, how he had
"pacified the empire and restored its ancient splendor." With the view of
providing for the stability of his empire, he chose as his successor his
grandson Chuwen, because he had remarked in him much prudence, a gentle
disposition, good intelligence, and a readiness to accept advice. He also
selected him because he was the eldest son of his eldest son, and as his
other sons might be disposed to dispute their nephew's authority he
ordered them to remain at their posts, and not to come to the capital on
his death. They were also enjoined to show the new emperor all the respect
and docility owed by subjects to their sovereign. Through these timely
precautions Chuwen, who was only sixteen years of age, was proclaimed
emperor without any opposition, and took the title of Kien Wenti.
Hongwou had rightly divined that his sons might prove a thorn in the side
of his successor, and his policy of employing them in posts at a distance
from the capital was only half successful in attaining its object. If it
kept them at a distance it also strengthened their feeling of
independence, and enabled them to collect their forces without attracting
much attention. Wenti, as it is most convenient to call the new emperor,
felt obliged to send formal invitations to his uncles to attend the
obsequies of their father. Most of them had the tact to perceive that the
invitation was dictated by regard for decency, and not by a wish that it
should be accepted, and gave the simplest excuse for not attending the
funeral. But Ty, Prince of Yen, the most powerful and ambitious of them
all, declared that he accepted the emperor's invitation. This decision
raised quite a flutter of excitement, almost amounting to consternation,
at Nankin, where the Prince of Yen was regarded as a bitter and vindictive
enemy. The only way Wenti saw out of this dilemma was to send his uncle a
special intimation that his presence at the capital would not be
desirable. Before he had been many weeks on the throne Wenti was thus
brought into open conflict with the most powerful and ambitious of all his
relatives. He resolved, under the advice of his ministers, to treat all
his uncles as his enemies, and he sent his officers with armies at their
back to depose them, and bring them as prisoners to his court. Five of his
uncles were thus summarily dealt with, one committed suicide, and the
other four were degraded to the rank of the people. But the Prince of Yen
was too formidable to be tackled in this fashion. Taking warning from the
fate of his brothers, he collected all the troops he could, prepared to
defend his position against the emperor, and issued a proclamation stating
that it was lawful for subjects to revolt for the purpose of removing the
pernicious advisers of the sovereign. The last was, he announced, the
cause of his taking up arms, and he disclaimed any motive of ambitious
turbulence for raising his standard. He said, "I am endeavoring to avert
the ruin of my family, and to maintain the emperor on a throne which is
placed in jeopardy by the acts of traitors. My cause ought, therefore, to
be that of all those who keep the blood of the great Hong-wou, now falsely
aspersed, in affectionate remembrance." A large number of the inhabitants
of the northern provinces joined his side, and proclaimed him as "The
Prince." Wenti had recourse to arms to bring his uncle back to his
allegiance, and a civil war began, which was carried on, with exceptional
bitterness, during five years. The resources of the emperor, in men and
money, were the superior, but he did not seem able to turn them to good
account; and the prince's troops were generally victorious, and his power
gradually increased. In the year 1401 both sides concentrated all their
strength for deciding the contest by a single trial of arms. The two
armies numbered several hundred thousand men, and it is stated that the
imperial force alone mustered 600,000 strong. The battle--which was fought
at Techow in Shantung--considering the numbers engaged, it is not
surprising to learn, lasted several days, and its fortune alternated from
one side to the other. At last victory declared for the prince, and the
imperial army was driven in rout from the field with the loss of 100,000
men.
After this great victory the further progress of the prince was arrested
by a capable general named Chinyong, who succeeded in gaining one great
victory. If Wenti had known how to profit by this success he might have
turned the course of the struggle permanently in his own favor. But
instead of profiting by his good fortune, Wenti, believing that all danger
from the prince was at an end, resumed his old practices, and reinstated
two of the most obnoxious of his ministers, whom he had disgraced in a fit
of apprehension. Undoubtedly this step raised against him a fresh storm of
unpopularity, and at the same time brought many supporters to his uncle,
who, even after the serious disaster described, found himself stronger
than he had been before. The struggle must have shown little signs of a
decisive issue, for in 1402 the prince made a voluntary offer of peace,
with a view to putting an end to all strife and of giving the empire
peace; but Wenti could not make up his mind to forgive him. The success of
his generals in the earlier part of the struggle seemed to warrant the
belief that there was no reason in prudence for coming to terms with his
rebellious uncle, and that he would succeed in establishing his
indisputable supremacy. The prince seemed reduced to such straits that he
had to give his army the option of retreat. Addressing his soldiers he
said: "I know how to advance, but not to retreat"; but his army decided to
return to their homes in the north, when the extraordinary and unexpected
retreat of the greater part of the army of Wenti revived their courage and
induced them to follow their leader through one more encounter. Like
Frederick the Great, the Prince of Yen was never greater than in defeat.
He surprised the lately victorious army of Wenti, smashed it in pieces,
and captured Tingan, the emperor's best general. The occupation of Nankin
and the abdication of Wenti followed this victory in rapid succession.
Afraid to trust himself to the mercy of his relative, he fled, disguised
as a priest, to Yunnan, where he passed his life ignominiously for forty
years, and his identity was only discovered after that lapse of time by
his publishing, in his new character of a Buddhist priest, a poem reciting
and lamenting the misfortunes of Wenti. Then he was removed to Pekin,
where he died in honorable confinement. As a priest he seems to have been
more fortunate than as a ruler, and history contains no more striking
example of happiness being found in a private station when unattainable on
a throne.
After some hesitation the Prince of Yen allowed himself to be proclaimed
emperor, and as such he is best known as Yonglo, a name signifying
"Eternal Joy." Considering his many declarations that his only ambition
was to reform and not to destroy the administration of his nephew, his
first act obliterating the reign of Wenti from the records and
constituting himself the immediate successor of Hongwou was not calculated
to support his alleged indifference to power. He was scarcely seated on
the throne before he was involved in serious troubles on both his northern
and his southern frontiers. In Mongolia he attempted to assert a formal
supremacy over the khans through the person of an adventurer named
Kulitchi, but the agent was unable to fulfill his promises, and met with a
speedy overthrow. In Tonquin an ambitious minister named Likimao deposed
his master and established himself as ruler in his place. The emperor sent
an army to bring him to his senses, and it met with such rapid success
that the Chinese were encouraged to annex Tonquin and convert it into a
province of the empire. When Yonglo's plans failed on the steppe he was
drawn into a struggle with the Mongols, which necessitated annual
expeditions until he died. During the last of these he advanced as far as
the Kerulon, and on his return march he died in his camp at the age of
sixty-five. Although he bore arms so long against the head of the state
there is no doubt that he greatly consolidated the power of the Mings,
which he extended on one side to the Amour and on the other to the
Songcoi. It was during his reign that Tamerlane contemplated the
reconquest of China, and perhaps it was well for Yonglo that that great
commander died when he had traversed only a few stages of his march to the
Great Wall. One of his sons succeeded Yonglo as emperor, but he only
reigned under the style of Gintsong for a few months.
Then Suentsong, the son of Gintsong, occupied the throne, and during his
reign a vital question affecting the constitution of the civil service,
and through it the whole administration of the country, was brought
forward, and fortunately settled without recourse to blows, as was at one
time feared would be the case. Before his reign the public examinations
had been open to candidates from all parts of the empire, and it had
become noticeable that all the honors were being carried off by students
from the southern provinces, who were of quicker intelligence than those
of the north. It seemed as if in the course of a short time all the posts
would be held by them, and that the natives of the provinces north of the
Hoangho would be gradually driven out of the service. Naturally this
marked tendency led to much agitation in the north, and a very bitter
feeling was spreading when Suentsong and his minister took up the matter
and proceeded to apply a sound practical remedy. After a commission of
inquiry had certified to the reality of the evil, Suentsong decreed that
all competitors for literary honors should be restricted to their native
districts, and that for the purpose of the competitive examinations China
should be divided into three separate divisions, one for the north,
another for the center, and the third for the south. The firmness shown by
the Emperor Suentsong in this matter was equally conspicuous in his
dealings with an uncle, who showed some inclination to revolt. He took the
field in person, and before the country was generally aware of the revolt,
Suentsong was conducting his relative to a state prison. The rest of
Suentsong's reign was peaceful and prosperous, and he left the crown to
his son, Yngtsong, a child eight years old.
During his minority the governing authority was exercised by his
grandmother, the Empress Changchi, the mother of the Emperor Suentsong. At
first it seemed as if there would be a struggle for power between her and
the eunuch Wangchin, who had gained the affections of the young emperor;
but after she had denounced him before the court and called for his
execution, from which fate he was only rescued by the tears and
supplications of the young sovereign, the feud was composed by Wangchin
gaining such an ascendency over the empress that she made him her
associate in the regency. Unfortunately Wangchin did not prove a wise or
able administrator. He thought more of the sweets of office than of the
duties of his lofty station. He appointed his relations and creatures to
the highest civil and military posts without regard to their
qualifications or ability. To his arrogance was directly due the
commencement of a disastrous war with Yesien, the most powerful of the
Mongol chiefs of the day. When that prince sent the usual presents to the
Chinese capital, and made the customary request for a Chinese princess as
wife, Wangchin appropriated the gifts for himself and sent back a haughty
refusal to Yesien's petition, although it was both customary and rarely
refused. Such a reception was tantamount to a declaration of war, and
Yesien, who had already been tempted by the apparent weakness of the
Chinese frontier to resume the raids which were so popular with the
nomadic tribes of the desert, gathered his fighting men together and
invaded China. Alarmed by the storm he had raised, Wangchin still
endeavored to meet it, and summoning all the garrisons in the north to his
aid, he placed himself at the head of an army computed to number half a
million of men. In the hope of inspiring his force with confidence he took
the boy-emperor, Yngtsong, with him, but his own incompetence nullified
the value of numbers, and rendered the presence of the emperor the cause
of additional ignominy instead of the inspiration of invincible
confidence. The vast and unwieldy Chinese army took up a false position at
a place named Toumon, and it is affirmed that the position was so bad that
Yesien feared that it must cover a ruse. He accordingly sent some of his
officers to propose an armistice, but really to inspect the Chinese lines.
They returned to say that there was no concealment, and that if an attack
were made at once the Chinese army lay at his mercy. Yesien delayed not a
moment in delivering his attack, and it was completely successful. The
very numbers of the Chinese, in a confined position, added to their
discomfiture, and after a few hours' fighting the battle became a massacre
and a rout. Wangchin, the cause of all this ruin, was killed by Fanchong,
the commander of the imperial guards, and the youthful ruler, Yngtsong,
was taken prisoner. There has rarely been a more disastrous day in the
long annals of the Chinese empire than the rout at Toumon.
Then Yesien returned to his camp on the Toula, taking his prisoner with
him, and announcing that he would only restore him for a ransom of 100
taels of gold, 200 taels of silver, and 200 pieces of the finest silk. For
some unknown reason the Empress Changchi did not feel disposed to pay this
comparatively low ransom, and instead of reclaiming Yngtsong from his
conqueror she placed his brother, Kingti, on the throne. The struggle with
the Mongols under Yesien continued, but his attention was distracted from
China by his desire to become the great Khan of the Mongols, a title still
held by his brother-in-law, Thotho Timour, of the House of Genghis.
Yesien, suddenly releasing of his own accord Yngtsong--who returned to
Pekin--hastened to the Kerulon country, where he overthrew and
assassinated Thotho Timour, and was in turn himself slain by another
chieftain. While the Mongol was thus pursuing his own ambition, and
reaching the violent death which forms so common a feature in the history
of his family, the unfortunate Yngtsong returned to China, where, on the
refusal of his brother Kingti to resign the throne, he sank quietly into
private life. Kingti died seven years after his brother's return, and
then, failing a better or nearer prince, Yngtsong was brought from his
confinement and restored to the throne. He reigned eight years after his
restoration, but he never possessed any real power, his authority being
wielded by unscrupulous ministers, who stained his reign by the execution
of Yukien, the most honest and capable general of the period. If his reign
was not remarkable for political or military vigor, some useful reforms
appear to have been instituted. Among others may be named the formation of
state farms on waste or confiscated lands, the establishment of military
schools for teaching archery and horsemanship, and the completion of some
useful and elaborate educational works, of which a geography of China, in
ninety volumes, is the most famous.
Yngtsong died in the year 1465, and was succeeded by his son, Hientsong,
who began his reign with acts of filial devotion that attracted the
sympathy of his subjects. He also rendered posthumous honors to the ill-
used general, Yukien, and established his fame as a national benefactor.
During the twenty-eight years that he occupied the throne he was engaged
in a number of petty wars, none of which requires specific mention. The
only unpopular measure associated with his name was the creation of a
Grand Council of Eunuchs, to which was referred all questions of capital
punishment, and this body soon acquired a power which made it resemble the
tyrannical and irresponsible British Star Chamber. After five years this
institution became so unpopular and was so deeply execrated by the nation
that Hientsong, however reluctantly, had to abolish his own creation, and
acquiesce in the execution of some of its most active members.
During Hientsong's reign a systematic attempt was made to work the gold
mines reputed to exist in Central China, but although half a million men
were employed upon them it is stated that the find did not exceed thirty
ounces. More useful work was accomplished in the building of a canal from
Pekin to the Peiho, which thus enabled grain junks to reach the northern
capital by the Euho and Shaho canals from the Yangtsekiang. Another useful
public work was the repairing of the Great Wall, effected along a
considerable portion of its extent, by the efforts of 50,000 soldiers,
which gave the Chinese a sense of increased security. In connection with
this measure of defense, it may be stated that the Chinese advanced into
Central Asia and occupied the town of Hami, which then and since has
served them as a useful watch-tower in the direction of the west. The
death of Hientsong occurred in 1487, at a moment when the success and
prosperity of the country under the Mings may be described as having
reached its height.
During the reign of his son and successor, Hiaotsong, matters progressed
peacefully, for, although there was some fighting for the possession of
Hami, which was coveted by several of the desert chiefs, but which
remained during the whole of this reign subject to China, the empire was
not involved in any great war. An insurrection of the black aborigines of
the island of Hainan was put down without any very serious difficulty.
These events do not throw any very clear light on the character and
personality of Hiaotsong, who died in 1505 at the early age of thirty-six;
but his care for his people, and his desire to alleviate the misfortunes
that might befall his subjects, was shown by his ordering every district
composed of ten villages to send in annually to a State granary, a
specified quantity of grain, until 100,000 bushels had been stored in
every such building throughout the country. The idea was an excellent one;
but it is to be feared that a large portion of this grain was diverted to
the use of the peculating officials, whence arose the phrase, "The emperor
is full of pity, but the Court of Finance is like the never-dying worm
which devours the richest crops." To Hiaotsong succeeded his son,
Woutsong, during whose reign many misfortunes fell upon the land. The
emperor's uncles had designs on his authority, but these fell through and
came to naught, rather through Woutsong's good fortune than the excellence
of his arrangements. In Szchuen a peasant war threatened to assume the
dimensions of a rebellion, and in Pechihli bands of mounted robbers, or
Hiangmas, raided the open country. He succeeded in suppressing these
revolts, but his indifference to the disturbed state of his realm was
shown by his passing most of his time in hunting expeditions beyond the
Great Wall. His successors were to reap the result of this neglect of
business for the pursuit of pleasure; and when he died in 1519, without
leaving an heir, the outlook was beginning to look serious for the Ming
dynasty. One event, and perhaps the most important of Woutsong's reign,
calls for special mention, and that is the arrival at Canton of the first
native of Europe to reach China by sea. Of course it will be recollected
that Marco Polo and others reached the Mongol court by land, although the
Venetian sailed from China on his embassy to southern India. In 1511,
Raphael Perestralo sailed from Malacca to China, and in 1517 the
Portuguese officer, Don Fernand Perez D'Andrade, arrived in the Canton
River with a squadron, and was favorably received by the mandarins.
D'Andrade visited Pekin, where he resided for some time as embassador. The
commencement of intercourse between Europeans and China was thus effected
most auspiciously; and it might have continued so but that a second
Portuguese fleet appeared in Chinese waters, and committed there numerous
outrages and acts of piracy. Upon this D'Andrade was arrested by order of
Woutsong, and after undergoing imprisonment, was executed by his successor
in 1523. It was a bad beginning for a connection which, after nearly four
hundred years, is neither as stable nor as general as the strivers after
perfection could desire.
The death of Woutsong without children, or any recognized heir, threatened
to involve the realm in serious dangers; but the occasion was so critical
that the members of the Ming family braced themselves to it, and under the
auspices of the Empress Changchi, the widow of the late ruler, a secret
council was held, when the grandson of the Emperor Hientsong, a youth of
fourteen, was placed on the throne under the name of Chitsong. It is said
that his mother gave him good advice on being raised from a private
station to the lofty eminence of emperor, and that she told him that he
was about to accept a heavy burden; but experience showed that he was
unequal to it. Still, his shortcomings were preferable to a disputed
succession. The earlier years of his reign were marked by some successes
over the Tartars, and he received tribute from chiefs who had never paid
it before. But Chitsong had little taste for the serious work of
administration. He showed himself superstitious in matters of religion,
and he cultivated poetry, and may even have persuaded himself that he was
a poet. But he did not pay any heed to the advice of those among his
ministers who urged him to take a serious view of his position, and to act
in a manner worthy of his dignity. It is clear that his influence on the
lot of his people, and even on the course of his country's history, was
small, and such reigns as his inspire the regret expressed at there being
no history of the Chinese people; but such a history is impossible.
It might be more instructive to trace the growth of thought among the
masses, or to indicate the progress of civil and political freedom; yet,
not only do the materials not exist for such a task, but those we possess
all tend to show that there has been no growth to describe, no progress to
be indicated, during these comparatively recent centuries. It is the
peculiar and distinguishing characteristic of Chinese history that the
people and their institutions have remained practically unchanged and the
same from a very early period. Even the introduction of a foreign element
has not tended to disturb the established order of things. The supreme
ruler possesses the same attributes and discharges the same functions; the
governing classes are chosen in the same manner; the people are bound in
the same state of servitude, and enjoy the same practical liberty; all is
now as it was. Neither under the Tangs nor the Sungs, under the Yuens nor
the Mings, was there any change in national character or in political
institutions to be noted or chronicled. The history of the empire has
always been the fortunes of the dynasty, which has depended, in the first
place, on the passive content of the subjects, and, in the second, on the
success or failure of its external and internal wars. This condition of
things may be disappointing to those who pride themselves on tracing the
origin of a constitution and the growth of civil rights, and also would
have a history of China a history of the Chinese people; although the fact
is undoubted that there is no history of the Chinese people apart from
that of their country to be recorded. The national institutions and
character were formed, and had attained in all essentials their present
state, more than two thousand years ago, or before the destruction of all
trustworthy materials for the task by the burning of the ancient
literature and chronicles of China. Without them we must fain content
ourselves with the history of the country and the empire.
Chitsong was engaged in three serious operations beyond his frontier, one
with a Tartar chief named Yenta, another with the Japanese, and the third
in Cochin China. Yenta was of Mongol extraction, and enjoyed supreme power
on the borders of Shansi. His brother was chief of the Ordus tribe, which
dwells within the Chinese frontier. Changtu, the old residence of Kublai,
was one of his camps, and it was said that he could bring 100,000 horsemen
into the field. The success of his raids carried alarm through the
province of Shansi, and during one of them he laid siege to the capital,
Taiyuen. Then the emperor placed a reward on his head and offered an
official post to the person who would rid him of his enemy by
assassination. The offer failed to bring forward either a murderer or a
patriot, and Yenta's hostility was increased by the personal nature of
this attack, and perhaps by the apprehension of a sinister fate. He
invaded China on a larger scale than ever, and carried his ravages to the
southern extremity of Shansi, and returned laden with the spoil of forty
districts, and bearing with him 200,000 prisoners to a northern captivity.
After this success Yenta seems to have rested on his laurels, although he
by no means gave up his raids, which, however, assumed more and more a
local character. The Chinese annalists state that never was the frontier
more disturbed, and even the establishment of horse fairs for the benefit
of the Mongols failed to keep them quiet. In Cochin China the emperor
gained some gratifying if not very important successes, and asserted his
right as suzerain over several disobedient princes. But a more serious and
less satisfactory question had to be settled on the side of Japan.
The Japanese had never forgiven the formidable and unprovoked invasion of
their country by Kublai Khan. The Japanese are by nature a military
nation, and the Chinese writers themselves describe them as "intrepid,
inured to fatigue, despising life, and knowing well how to face death;
although inferior in number a hundred of them would blush to flee before a
thousand foreigners, and if they did they would not dare to return to
their country. Sentiments such as these, which are instilled into them
from their earliest childhood, render them terrible in battle." Emboldened
by their success over the formidable Mongols the Japanese treated the
Chinese with contempt, and fitted out piratical expeditions from time to
time with the object of preying on the commerce and coasting towns of
China. To guard against the descents of these enterprising islanders the
Chinese had erected towers of defense along the coast, and had called out
a militia which was more or less inefficient. On the main they did not so
much as attempt to make a stand against their neighbors, whose war junks
exercised undisputed authority on the Eastern Sea. While this strife
continued a trade also sprang up between the two peoples, who share in an
equal degree the commercial instinct; but as the Chinese government only
admitted Japanese goods when brought by the embassador, who was sent every
ten years from Japan, this trade could only be carried on by smuggling. A
regular system was adopted to secure the greatest success and profit. The
Japanese landed their goods on some island off the coast, whence the
Chinese removed them at a safe and convenient moment to the mainland. The
average value of the cargo of one of the small junks which carried on this
trade is said to have been $20,000, so that it may be inferred that the
profits were considerable. But the national antipathies would not be
repressed by the profitable character of this trade, and the refusal of a
Chinese merchant to give a Japanese the goods for which he had paid lit
the embers of a war which went on for half a century, and which materially
weakened the Ming power. During the last years of Chitsong's long reign of
forty-five years this trouble showed signs of getting worse, although the
Japanese confined their efforts to irregular and unexpected attacks on
places on the coast, and did not attempt to wage a regular war. In the
midst of these troubles, and when it was hoped that the exhortation of his
ministers would produce some effect, Chitsong died, leaving behind him a
will or public proclamation to be issued after his death, and which reads
like a long confession of fault. Mea culpa, exclaimed this Eastern ruler
at the misfortunes of his people and the calamities of his realm, but he
could not propound a remedy for them.
His third son succeeded him as the Emperor Moutsong, and the character and
capacity of this prince gave promise that his reign would be satisfactory
if not glorious. Unfortunately for his family, and perhaps for his
country, the public expectations were dispelled in his case by an early
death. The six years during which he reigned were rendered remarkable by
the conclusion of a stable peace with the Tartar Yenta, who accepted the
title of a Prince of the Empire. Moutsong when he found that he was dying
grew apprehensive lest the youth of his son might not stir up dissension
and provoke that internal strife which had so often proved the bane of the
empire and involved the wreck of many of its dynasties. He exhorted his
ministers to stand by his son who was only a boy, to give him the best
advice in their power, and to render him worthy of the throne. That the
apprehensions of Moutsong were not without reason was clearly shown by the
mishaps and calamities which occurred during the long reign of his son and
successor Wanleh. With the death of Moutsong the period ends when it was
possible to state that the majesty of the Mings remained undimmed, and
that this truly national dynasty wielded with power and full authority the
imperial mandate. When they had driven out the Mongol the Mings seem to
have settled down into an ordinary and intensely national line of rulers.
The successors of Hongwou did nothing great or noteworthy, but the Chinese
acquiesced in their rule, and even showed that they possessed for it a
special regard and affection.
CHAPTER VIII
THE DECLINE OP THE MINGS
The reign of Wanleh covers the long and important epoch from 1573 to 1620,
during which period occurred some very remarkable events in the history of
the country, including the first movements of the Manchus with a view to
the conquest of the empire. The young prince was only six when he was
placed on the throne, but he soon showed that he had been well-trained to
play the part of ruler. The best indication of the prosperity of the realm
is furnished by the revenue, which steadily increased until it reached the
great total, excluding the grain receipts, of seventy-five millions of our
money. But a large revenue becomes of diminished value unless it is
associated with sound finance. The public expenditure showed a steady
increase; the emperor and his advisers were incapable of checking the
outlay, and extravagance, combined with improvidence, soon depleted the
exchequer. Internal troubles occurred to further embarrass the executive,
and the resources of the state were severely strained in coping with more
than one serious rebellion, among which the most formidable was the mutiny
of a mercenary force under the command of a Turk officer named Popai, who
imagined that he was unjustly treated, and that the time was favorable to
found an administration of his own. His early successes encouraged him to
believe that he would succeed in his object; but when he found that all
the disposable forces of the empire were sent against him, he abandoned
the field, and shut himself up in the fortress at Ninghia, where he hoped
to hold out indefinitely. For many months he succeeded in baffling the
attacks of Wanleh's general, and the siege might even have had to be
raised if the latter had not conceived the idea of diverting the course of
the river Hoangho, so that it might bear upon the walls of the fortress.
Popai was unable to resist this form of attack, and when the Chinese
stormers made their way through the breach thus caused, he attempted to
commit suicide by setting fire to his residence. This satisfaction was
denied him, for a Chinese officer dragged him from the flames, slew him,
and sent his head to the general Li Jusong, who conducted the siege, and
of whom we shall hear a great deal more.
The gratification caused by the overthrow of Popai had scarcely abated
when the attention of the Chinese government was drawn away from domestic
enemies to a foreign assailant who threatened the most serious danger to
China. Reference was made in the last chapter to the relations between the
Chinese and the Japanese, and to the aggressions of the latter, increased,
no doubt, by Chinese chicane and their own naval superiority and
confidence. But nothing serious might have come out of these unneighborly
relations if they had not furnished an ambitious ruler with the
opportunity of embarking on an enterprise which promised to increase his
empire and his glory. The old Japanese ruling family was descended, as
already described, from a Chinese exile; but the hero of the sixteenth
century could claim no relationship with the royal house, and owed none of
his success to the accident of a noble birth. Fashiba, called by some
English writers Hideyoshi; by the Chinese Pingsiuki; and by the Japanese,
on his elevation to the dignity of Tycoon, Taiko Sama, was originally a
slave; and it is said that he first attracted attention by refusing to
make the prescribed obeisance to one of the daimios or lords. He was on
the point of receiving condign punishment, when he pleaded his case with
such ingenuity and courage that the daimio not only forgave him his
offense, but gave him a post in his service. Having thus obtained
honorable employment, Fashiba devoted all his energy and capacity to
promoting the interests of his new master, knowing well that his position
and opportunities must increase equally with them. In a short time he made
his lord the most powerful daimio in the land, and on his death he
stepped, naturally enough, into the position and power of his chief. How
long he would have maintained himself thus in ordinary times may be matter
of opinion, but he resolved to give stability to his position and a
greater luster to his name by undertaking an enterprise which should be
popular with the people and profitable to the state. The Japanese had only
attempted raids on the coast, and they had never thought of establishing
themselves on the mainland. But Fashiba proposed the conquest of China,
and he hoped to effect his purpose through the instrumentality of Corea.
With this view he wrote the king of that country the following letter: "I
will assemble a mighty host, and, invading the country of the Great Ming,
I will fill with hoar-frost from my sword the whole sky over the 400
provinces. Should I carry out this purpose, I hope that Corea will be my
vanguard. Let her not fail to do so, for my friendship to your honorable
country depends solely on your conduct when I lead my army against China."
Fashiba began with an act of aggression at Corea's expense, by seizing the
important harbor of Fushan. Having thus secured a foothold on the mainland
and a gateway into the kingdom, Fashiba hastened to invade Corea at the
head of a large army. The capital was sacked and the tombs of Lipan's
ancestors desecrated, while he himself fled to the Chinese court to
implore the assistance of Wanleh. An army was hastily assembled and
marched to arrest the progress of the Japanese invader, who had by this
reached Pingyang, a town 400 miles north of Fushan. An action was fought
outside this town. The advantage rested with the Japanese, who succeeded
in destroying a Chinese regiment. After this a lull ensued in the
campaign, and both sides brought up fresh forces. Fashiba came over from
Japan with further supplies and troops to assist his general, Hingchang,
while on the Chinese side, Li Jusong, the captor of Ninghia, was placed at
the head of the Chinese army. A second battle was fought in the
neighborhood of Pingyang, and after some stubborn fighting the Japanese
were driven out of that town.
The second campaign was opened by a brilliant feat on the part of Li
Jusong, who succeeded in surprising and destroying the granaries and
storehouses constructed by the Japanese, near Seoul. The loss of their
stores compelled the Japanese to retire on Fushan, but they did not with
such boldness and confidence that the Chinese did not venture to attack
them. The ultimate result of the struggle was still doubtful when the
sudden death of Fashiba completely altered the complexion of the
situation. The Japanese army then withdrew, taking with it a vast amount
of booty and the ears of 10,000 Coreans. The Chinese troops also retired,
leaving the Corean king at liberty to restore his disputed authority, and
his kingdom once more sank into its primitive state of exclusion and semi-
darkness.
For the first time in Chinese history the relations between the Middle
Kingdom and Europeans became of importance during the reign of Wanleh,
which would alone give it a special distinction. The Portuguese led the
way for European enterprise in China, and it was very unfortunate that
they did so, for it was soon written of them that "the Portuguese have no
other design than to come under the name of merchants to spy the country,
that they may hereafter fall upon it with fire and sword." As early as the
year 1560 they had obtained from the local officials the right to found a
settlement and to erect sheds for their goods at a place which is now
known as Macao. In a few years it became of so much importance that it was
the annual restort of five or six hundred Portuguese merchants; and the
Portuguese, by paying a yearly rent of 500 taels, secured the practical
monopoly of the trade of the Canton River, which was then and long
afterward the only vent for the external trade of China. No doubt the
Portuguese had to supplement this nominal rent by judicious bribes to the
leading mandarins. Next after the Portuguese came the Spaniards, who,
instead of establishing themselves on the mainland, made their
headquarters in a group of the Philippine Islands.
The promotion of European interests in China owed little or nothing to the
forbearance and moderation of either the Spaniards or Portuguese. They
tyrannized over the Chinese subject to their sway, and they employed all
their resources in driving away other Europeans from what they chose to
consider their special commercial preserves. Thus the Dutch were expelled
from the south by the Portuguese and compelled to take refuge in Formosa,
while the English and French did not make their appearance, except by
occasional visits, until a much later period, although it should be
recorded that the English Captain Weddell was the first to discover the
mouth of the Canton River, and to make his way up to that great city.
One of the principal troubles of the Emperor Wanleh arose from his having
no legitimate heir, and his ministers impressed upon him, for many years,
the disadvantage of this situation before he would undertake to select one
of his children by the inferior members of the harem as his successor. And
then he made what may be termed a divided selection. He proclaimed his
eldest son heir-apparent, and declared the next brother to be in the
direct order of succession, and conferred on him the title of Prince Fou
Wang. The latter was his real favorite, and, encouraged by his father's
preference, he formed a party to oust his elder brother and to gain the
heritage before it was due. The intrigues in which he engaged long
disturbed the court and agitated the mind of the emperor. Supported by his
mother, Prince Fou Wang threatened the position and even the life of the
heir-apparent, Prince Chu Changlo, but the plot was discovered and Fou
Wang's rank would not have saved him from the executioner if it had not
been for the special intercession of his proposed victim, Chu Changlo. In
the midst of these family troubles, as well as those of the state, the
Emperor Wanleh died, after a long reign, in 1620. The last years of his
life were rendered unhappy and miserable by the reverses experienced at
the hands of the new and formidable opponent who had suddenly appeared
upon the northern frontier of the empire.
Some detailed account of the Manchu race and of the progress of their arms
before the death of Wanleh will form a fitting prelude to the description
of the long wars which resulted in the conquest of China and in the
placing of the present ruling family on the Dragon Throne.
The first chief of the Manchu clan was a mythical personage named Aisin
Gioro, who flourished in the middle of the fourteenth century, while
Hongwou, the founder of the Mings, was employed in the task of driving out
the Mongols. Aisin Gioro is said to mean Golden Family Stem, and thus the
connection with the Kin dynasty finds recognition at an early stage. His
birth is described in mythical terms--it is said that a magpie dropped a
red fruit into the lap of a maiden of the Niuche, who straightway ate it
and conceived a son. The skeptical have interpreted this as meaning that
Aisin Gioro was a runaway Mongol, who was granted shelter by the Niuche of
Hootooala. At all events he became lord of the valley, and five
generations later, in the reign of Wanleh, his descendant, Huen, was head
of the Manchus. His grandson, the great Noorhachu, was born in the year
1559, and his birth was attended by several miraculous circumstances. He
is said "to have been a thirteen-months' child, to have had the dragon
face and the phenix eye, an enormous chest, large ears, and a voice like
the tone of the largest bell."
A chief named Haida was the first to stir up the embers of internecine
strife among the Niuche clans. To gratify his own ambition or to avenge
some blood feuds, he obtained the assistance of one of the principal
Chinese officers on the Leaoutung borders, and thus overran the territory
of his neighbors. Encouraged by his first successes, Haida proceeded to
attack the chief of Goolo, who was married to a cousin of Noorhachu, and
who at once appealed to Hootooala for assistance. The whole Manchu clan
marched to his rescue, and it was on this occasion that Noorhachu had his
first experience of war on a large scale. The Manchus presented such a
bold front that there is every reason to believe that Haida and his
Chinese allies would have failed to conquer Goolo by force, but they
resorted to fraud, which proved only too successful. Haida succeeded in
enticing the old chief Huen and his son, the father of Noorhachu, into a
conference, when he murdered them and many of their companions. The
momentary success gained by this breach of faith was heavily paid for by
the incentive it gave Noorhachu to exact revenge for the brutal and
cowardly murder of his father and grandfather. Haida constructed a
fortified camp at Toolun, but he did not feel secure there against the
open attacks of Noorhachu or the private plots he formed to gain
possession of his person. Several times Haida fled from Toolun to Chinese
territory, where he hoped to enjoy greater safety, until at last the
Chinese became tired of giving him shelter and protecting one who could
not support his own pretensions. Then, with strange inconstancy, they
delivered him over into the hands of Noorhachu, who straightway killed
him, thus carrying out the first portion of his vow to avenge the massacre
at Goolo.
Then Noorhachu turned all his attention and devoted all his energy to the
realization of the project which Haida had conceived, the union of the
Niuche clans; but whereas Haida had looked to Chinese support and
patronage for the attainment of his object, Noorhachu resolved to achieve
success as an enemy of China and by means of his own Manchu followers. His
first measure was to carefully select a site for his capital on a plain
well supplied with water, and then to fortify it by surrounding it with
three walls. He then drew up simple regulations for the government of his
people, and military rules imposing a severe discipline on his small army.
The Chinese appear to have treated him with indifference, and they
continued to pay him the sums of money and the honorary gifts which had
been made to Haida. Several of the Niuche clans, won over by the success
and reputation of Noorhachu, voluntarily associated themselves with him,
and it was not until the year 1591 that the Manchu chief committed his
first act of open aggression by invading the district of Yalookiang. That
territory was soon overrun and annexed; but it roused such a fear among
the other Niuche chiefs, lest their fate should be the same, that seven of
them combined, under Boojai, to overthrow the upstart who aspired to play
the part of a dictator. They brought into the field a force of 30,000 men,
including, besides their own followers, a considerable contingent from the
Mongols; and as Noorhachu's army numbered only 4,000 men, it seemed as if
he must certainly be overwhelmed. But, small as was his force, it enjoyed
the incalculable advantage of discipline; and seldom has the superiority
of trained troops over raw levies been more conspicuously illustrated than
by this encounter between warriors of the same race. This battle was
fought at Goolo Hill, and resulted in the decisive victory of Noorhachu.
Boojai and 4,000 of his men were killed, a large number of his followers
were taken prisoners and enrolled in the ranks of the victor, and the
spoil included many suits of mail and arms of offense which improved the
state of Noorhachu's arsenal. Several of the districts which had been
subject to these confederated princes passed into the hands of the
conqueror, and he carried his authority northward up the Songari River
over tribes who had never recognized any southern authority. These
successes paved the way to an attack on Yeho, the principality of Boojai,
which was reputed to be the most powerful of all the Niuche states; and on
this occasion it vindicated its reputation by repelling the attack of
Noorhachu. Its success was not entirely due to its own strength, for the
Chinese governor of Leaoutung, roused at last to the danger from
Noorhachu, sent money and arms to assist the Yeho people in their defense.
The significance of this repulse was diminished by other successes
elsewhere, and Noorhachu devoted his main attention to disciplining the
larger force he had acquired by his later conquests, and by raising its
efficiency to the high point attained by the army with which he had gained
his first triumphs. He also meditated a more daring and important
enterprise than any struggle with his kinsfolk; for he came to the
conclusion that it was essential to destroy the Chinese power in Leaoutung
before he should undertake any further enterprise in Manchuria. His army
had now been raised to an effective strength of 40,000 men, and the Manchu
bowman, with his formidable bow, and the Manchu man-at-arms, in his cotton
mail, proof to the arrow or spear, were as formidable warriors as then
existed in the world. Confident in his military power, and thinking, no
doubt, that a successful foreign enterprise was the best way to rally and
confirm the allegiance of his race, Noorhachu invaded Leaoutung, and
published a proclamation against the Chinese, which became known as the
Seven Hates. Instead of forwarding this document to the Chinese Court he
burned it in the presence of his army, so that Heaven itself might judge
the justice of the cause between him and the Chinese.
It was in the year 1618 that Noorhachu invaded Leaoutung, and so surprised
were the Chinese at his audacity that they offered little or no
resistance. The town of Fooshun was captured and made the headquarters of
the Manchu prince. From this place he sent a list of his requirements to
the governor of Leaoutung, and it is said that he offered, on the Chinese
complying with his terms, to withdraw and desist from hostilities. But the
Chinese did not appreciate the power of this new enemy. They treated his
grievances with indifference and contempt, and they sent an army to drive
him out of Leaoutung. The Chinese troops soon had a taste of the quality
of the Manchu army. They were defeated in several encounters, and the best
Chinese troops fled before the impetuous charge of the Manchu cavalry.
Noorhachu then laid siege to the prefectural town of Tsingho, which he
captured after a siege of some weeks, and where he massacred nearly 20,000
of the garrison and townspeople. He would have continued the campaign but
that his followers demanded to be led back, stating that they feared for
the safety of their homes at the hands of Yeho, still hostile and
aggressive in their rear. The conquest of Leaoutung was therefore
discontinued for the purpose of closing accounts with the last of the
Niuche principalities; but enough had been accomplished to whet the
appetite of the Manchu leader for more, and to show him how easy it was to
vanquish the Chinese. On his return to his capital, Hingking, he prepared
to invade Yeho, but his plans were undoubtedly delayed by the necessity of
resting his troops and of allowing many of them to return to their homes.
This delay, no doubt, induced the Chinese to make a supreme effort to
avert the overthrow of Yeho, who had proved so useful an ally, and
accordingly the governor of Leaoutung advanced with 100,000 men into
Manchuria. He sacrificed the advantage of superior numbers by dividing his
army into four divisions, with very inadequate means of inter-
communication. Noorhachu could only bring 60,000 men into the field; but,
apart from their high training, they represented a compact body subject to
the direction of Noorhachu alone. The Manchu leader at once perceived the
faulty disposition of the Chinese army, and he resolved to attack and
overwhelm each corps in detail before it could receive aid from the
others. The strongest Chinese corps was that operating most to the west,
and marching from Fooshun on Hingking; and Noorhachu perceived that if he
could overthrow it the flank of the rest of the Chinese army would be
exposed, and its line of retreat imperiled. The Chinese general in command
of this corps was impetuous and anxious to distinguish himself. His
courage might on another occasion have helped his country, but under the
circumstances his very ardor served the purpose of Noorhachu. Tousong,
such was his name, marched more rapidly than any of his comrades, and
reached the Hwunho--the Tiber of the Manchus--behind which Noorhachu had,
at a little distance, drawn up his army. Without pausing to reconnoiter,
or to discover with what force he had to deal, Tousong threw himself
across the river, and intrenched himself on Sarhoo Hill. His
overconfidence was so extreme and fatuous that he weakened his army by
sending a detachment to lay siege to the town of Jiefan. The Manchus had,
however, well provided for the defense of that place, and while the
Chinese detachment sent against it was being destroyed, Noorhachu attacked
Tousong in his position on Sarhoo Hill with the whole of his army. The
Chinese were overwhelmed, Tousong was slain, and the majority of those who
escaped the fray perished in the waters of the Hwunho, beneath the arrows
and javelins of the pursuing Manchus.
Then Noorhachu hastened to attack the second of the Chinese divisions
under a capable officer named Malin, who selected a strong position with
great care, and wished to stand on the defensive. His wings rested on two
hills which he fortified, and he strengthened his center in the
intervening valley with a triple line of wagons. If he had only remained
in this position he might have succeeded in keeping Noorhachu at bay until
he could have been joined by the two remaining Chinese corps; but the
impetuosity of his troops, or it may have been the artifice of the Manchu
leader, drew him from his intrenchments. At first the Chinese seemed to
have the best of the battle, but in a short time victory turned to the
side of the Manchus, and Malin fled with the relics of his force back to
Chinese territory. After these two successes Noorhachu proceeded to attack
the third Chinese corps under Liuyen, who had acquired a cheap reputation
by his success over the Miaotze. He had no better fortune than any of his
colleagues, and his signal defeat completed the Manchu triumph over the
Chinese army of invasion. The defeat of Liuyen was effected by a stratagem
as much as by superior force. Noorhachu dressed some of his troops in the
Chinese uniforms he had captured, and sent them among the Chinese, who
received them as comrades until they discovered their mistake in the
crisis of the battle. During this campaign it was computed that the total
losses of the Chinese amounted to 310 general officers and 45,000 private
soldiers. Among other immediate results of this success were the return of
20,000 Yeho troops to their homes and the defection of 5,000 Coreans, who
joined Noorhachu. Like all great commanders, Noorhachu gave his enemies no
time to recover from their misfortunes. He pursued Malin to Kaiyuen, which
he captured, with so many prisoners that it took three days to count them.
He invaded Yeho, which recognized his authority without a blow, and gave
him an additional 30,000 fighting men. All the Niuche clans thus became
united under his banner, and adopted the name of Manchu. He had succeeded
in the great object of his life, the union of his race, and he had well
avenged the death of his father and grandfather; but his ambition was not
satisfied with this success. It had rather grown with the widening horizon
opened by the discomfiture of the Chinese, and with the sense of military
superiority.
Amid these national disasters the long reign of Wanleh closed in the year
1620. That unhappy monarch lived long enough to see the establishment on
his northern borders of the power which was to destroy his dynasty. The
very last act of his reign was, whether by accident or good judgment, the
most calculated to prevent the Manchus overrunning the State, and that was
the selection of a capable general in the person of Hiung Tingbi. With the
death of Wanleh the decadence of Ming power became clearly marked, and the
only question that remained was whether it could be arrested before it
resulted in absolute ruin.
CHAPTER IX
THE MANCHU CONQUEST OF CHINA
Tingbi, with the wrecks of the Chinese armies, succeeded in doing more for
the defense of his country than had been accomplished by any of his
predecessors with undiminished resources. He built a chain of forts, he
raised the garrison of Leaoutung to 180,000 men, and he spared no effort
to place Leaouyang, the capital of that province, in a position to stand a
protracted siege. If his counsels had been followed to the end, he might
have succeeded in permanently arresting the flood of Manchu conquest; but
at the very moment when his plans promised to give assured success, he
fell into disgrace at the capital, and his career was summarily ended by
the executioner. The greatest compliment to his ability was that Noorhachu
remained quiescent as long as he was on the frontier, but as soon as he
was removed he at once resumed his aggression on Chinese soil.
Meanwhile, Wanleh had been succeeded on the Chinese throne by his son, Chu
Changlo, who took the name of Kwangtsong. He was an amiable and well-
meaning prince, whose reign was unquestionably cut short by foul means.
There is little doubt that he was poisoned by the mother of his half-
brother, from a wish to secure the throne for her son; but if so she never
gained the object that inspired her crime, for the princes of the family
met in secret conclave, and selected Kwangtsong's son a youth of sixteen,
as his successor. The choice did not prove fortunate, as this prince
became known as Tienki the Unhappy, whose reign witnessed the culmination
of Ming misfortunes. One of his first acts was the removal of Tingbi from
his command, and this error of judgment, aggravated by the ingratitude it
implied to a faithful servant, fitly marked the commencement of a reign of
incompetence and misfortune.
In 1621 the Manchu war reopened with an attack on Moukden or Fanyang,
which Noorhachu had marked out as his next object. The garrison was
numerous, and might have made a good defense, for the walls were strong;
but the commandant was brave to the degree of temerity, and, leaving his
fortress, marched out to meet the Manchus in the open. The result was a
decisive overthrow, and the victors entered Moukden at the heels of the
vanquished. The Chinese still resisted, and a terrible slaughter ensued,
but the Manchus retained their conquest. At this juncture the Chinese were
offered the assistance of the Portuguese at Macao, who sent a small body
of 200 men, armed with arquebuses and with several cannon, to Pekin; but
after some hesitation the Chinese, whether from pride or contempt of so
small a force, declined to avail themselves of their service, and thus
lost an auxiliary that might have turned the fortune of the war in their
favor. The Portuguese were sent back to Macao, and, although the Chinese
kept the cannon, and employed the Jesuit priests in casting others for
them, nothing came of an incident which might have exercised a lasting
influence not merely on the fortune of the war, but also on the relations
between the Chinese and Europeans. The Chinese sent several armies to
recover Moukden; but, although they took these guns with them, they met
with no success, and Noorhachu made it the base of his plan of attack on
Leaouyang, the capital of the province. The defense of this important town
was intrusted to Yuen Yingtai, the court favorite and incompetent
successor of Tingbi. That officer, unwarned by the past, and regardless of
the experience of so many of his predecessors, weakened himself and
invited defeat by attempting to oppose the Manchus in the open. He was
defeated, losing some of his best soldiers, and compelled to shut himself
up in the town with a disheartened garrison. The Manchus gained an
entrance into the city. Then a terrible encounter took place. The garrison
was massacred to a man, Yuen Yingtai, brave, if incapable, committed
suicide, and those of the townspeople who wished to save their lives had
to shave their heads in token of subjection. This is the first historical
reference to a practice that is now universal throughout China, and that
has become what may be called a national characteristic. The badge of
conquest has changed to a mark of national pride; but it is strange to
find that the Chinese themselves and the most patient inquirers among
sinologues are unable to say what was the origin of the pig-tail. They
cannot tell us whether shaving the head was the national custom of the
Manchus, or whether Noorhachu only conceived this happy idea of
distinguishing those who surrendered to his power among the countless
millions of the long-haired people of China. All that can be said of the
origin of the pig-tail is that it was first enforced as a badge of
subjugation by the Manchus at the siege of Leaouyang, and that
thenceforward, until the whole of China was conquered, it was made the one
condition of immunity from massacre.
The capture of Leaouyang signified the surrender of the remaining places
in Leaoutung, which became a Manchu possession, and Noorhachu, to
celebrate his triumph, and also to facilitate his plans for the further
humiliation of the Chinese, transferred his capital from Moukden to
Leaouyang. Misfortunes never come singly. In Szchuen a local chief had
raised a force of 30,000 men for service on the frontier in the wars with
the Manchus, and the viceroy of the province not only declined to utilize
their services, but dismissed them without reward or even recognition of
their loyalty. These slighted and disbanded braves easily changed
themselves into brigands, and as the government would not have them as
supporters, they determined to make it feel their enmity, Chetsong Ming,
the chief who had raised them, placed himself at their head, and attracted
a large number of the inhabitants to his standard. The local garrisons
were crushed, the viceroy killed, and general disorder prevailed among the
people of what was the most fertile and prosperous province of the empire.
Chetsong attempted to set up an administration, but he does not seem to
have possessed the capacity or the knowledge to establish a regular
government. While he headed the rebellious movement, a woman named
Tsinleang, the hereditary chieftainess of a small district, placed herself
at the head of the loyalists in the state, and, leading them herself,
succeeded in recovering the principal cities and in driving Chetsong out
of the province. She has been not inappropriately called by one of the
missionary historians the Chinese Penthesilea. The success she met with in
pacifying Szchuen after a two years' struggle was not attained in other
directions without a greater effort and at a still heavier cost. In
Kweichow and Yunnan a rebel named Ganpangyen raised an insurrection on a
large scale, and if his power had not been broken by the long siege of a
strong fortress, obstinately defended by a valiant governor, there is no
telling to what success he might not have attained. But his followers were
disheartened by the delay in carrying this place, and they abandoned him
as soon as they found that he could not command success. In Shantung
another rising occurred; but after two years' disturbance the rebel leader
was captured and executed. These internal disorders, produced by the
corruption and inertness of the officials as much as by a prevalent sense
of the embarrassment of the Mings, distracted the attention of the central
government from Manchuria, and weakened its preparations against
Noorhachu.
For a time Noorhachu showed no disposition to cross the River Leaou, and
confined his attention to consolidating his position in his new conquest.
But it was clear that this lull would not long continue, and the Chinese
emperor, Tienki, endeavored to meet the coming storm by once more
intrusting the defense of the frontier to Tingbi. That general devised a
simple and what might have proved an efficacious line of defense, but his
colleague, with more powerful influence at court, would have none of it,
and insisted on his own plan being adopted. Noorhachu divined that the
councils of the Chinese were divided, and that Tingbi was hampered. He
promptly took advantage of the divergence of opinion, and, crossing the
frontier, drove the Chinese behind the Great Wall. Even that barrier would
not have arrested his progress but for the stubborn resistance offered by
the fortress of Ningyuen--a town about seventy miles northeast of
Shanhaikwan, once of great importance, but now, for many years past, in
ruins. When he reached that place he found that Tingbi had fallen into
disgrace and been executed, not for devising his own plan of campaign, but
for animadverting on that of his colleague in satirical terms. The Chinese
had made every preparation for the resolute defense of Ningyuen, and when
Noorhachu sat down before it, its resolute defender, Chungwan, defied him
to do his worst, although all the Chinese troops had been compelled to
retreat, and there was no hope of re-enforcement or rescue. At first
Noorhachu did not conduct the siege of Ningyuen in person. It promised to
be an affair of no great importance, and he intrusted it to his
lieutenants, but he soon perceived that Chungwan was a resolute soldier,
and that the possession of Ningyuen was essential to the realization of
his future plans. Therefore, he collected all his forces and sat down
before Ningyuen with the full determination to capture it at all costs.
But the garrison was resolute, its commander capable, and on the walls
were arranged the cannon of European construction. Noorhachu led two
assaults in person, both of which were repulsed, and it is said that this
result was mainly due to the volleys of the European artillery. At last,
Noorhachu was compelled to withdraw his troops, and although he obtained
some successes in other parts of the country, he was so chagrined at this
repulse that he fell ill and died some months later at Moukden, in
September, 1626.
Noorhachu was succeeded by his fourth son, the fourth Beira or Prince,
known as Taitsong, who continued both his work and policy. Taitsong was as
determined to humiliate the Mings as his father had been. He commenced his
offensive measures by an attack on Corea, which he speedily reduced to
such a pass that it accepted his authority and transferred its allegiance
from the Mings to the Manchus. This was an important success, as it
secured his eastern flank and deprived the Chinese of a useful ally in the
Forbidden Kingdom. It encouraged Taitsong to think that the time was once
more ripe for attacking Ningyuen, and he laid siege to that fortress at
the head of a large army, including the flower of his troops.
Notwithstanding the energy of his attack, Chungwan, the former bold
defender of the place, had again the satisfaction of seeing the Manchus
repulsed, and compelled to admit that the ramparts of Ningyuen presented a
serious if not insuperable obstacle to their progress. Almost at the very
moment of this success the Emperor Tienki died, and was succeeded, in
1627, by his younger brother, Tsongching, who was destined to be the last
of the Ming rulers.
The repulse of Taitsong before Ningyuen might have been fatal if he had
not been a man of great ability and resource. The occasion called for some
special effort, and Taitsong proved himself equal to it by a stroke of
genius that showed he was the worthy inheritor of the mission of
Noorhachu. Without taking anybody into his confidence he ordered his army
and his allies, the Kortsin Mongols, to assemble in the country west of
Ningyuen, and when he had thus collected over a hundred thousand men, he
announced his intention of ignoring Ningyuen and marching direct on Pekin.
At this juncture Taitsong divided his army into eight banners, which still
remain the national divisions of the Manchu race. The Manchus seem to have
been a little alarmed by the boldness of Taitsong's scheme, and they might
have hesitated to follow him if he had given them any time for reflection,
but his plans were not fully known until his forces were through the
Dangan Pass on the march to the capital. The Chinese, relying altogether
on Ningyuen as a defense, had made no preparation to hold their ground on
this side, and Taitsong encountered no opposition until he reached Kichow.
Then Chungwan, realizing that he had been outmaneuvered, and that the
defenses of Ningyuen had been turned, hastened back by forced marches to
defend Pekin. Owing to his road being the better of the two he gained the
capital in time, and succeeded in throwing himself and his troops into it
in order to defend it against the assault of the Manchus. After Taitsong
sat down before Pekin he engaged in an intrigue for the ruin of Chungwan,
whose disgrace would be equivalent to a great victory. The method is not
to be approved on general grounds, but Taitsong conceived that he was
justified in bribing persons in Pekin to discredit Chungwan and compass
his ruin. The emperor was persuaded that Chungwan was too powerful a
subject to be absolutely loyal, and it was asserted that he was in
communication with the enemy. Chungwan, who had been so long the buttress
of the kingdom, was secretly arrested and thrown into a prison from which
he never issued. The disappearance of Chungwan was as valuable to Taitsong
as a great victory, and he made his final preparations for assaulting
Pekin; but either the want of supplies or the occurrence of some
disturbance in his rear prevented the execution of his plan. He drew off
his forces and retired behind the Great Wall at the very moment when Pekin
seemed at his mercy.
During four years of more or less tranquillity Taitsong confined his
attention to political designs, and to training a corps of artillery, and
then he resumed his main project of the conquest of China. Instead of
availing themselves of the lull thus afforded to improve their position,
the Chinese ministers seemed to believe that the danger from the Manchus
had passed away, and they treated all the communications from Taitsong
with imprudent and unnecessary disdain. Their attention was also
distracted by many internal troubles, produced by their own folly, as well
as by the perils of the time.
Taitsong, in 1634, resumed his operations in China, and on this occasion
he invaded the province of Shansi, at the head of an army composed largely
of Mongols as well as of Manchus. Although the people of Shansi had not
had any practical experience of Manchu prowess, and notwithstanding that
their frontier was exceedingly strong by nature, Taitsong met with little
or no resistance from either the local garrisons or the people themselves.
One Chinese governor, it is said, ventured to publish a boastful report of
an imaginary victory over the Manchus, and to send a copy of it to Pekin.
Taitsong, however, intercepted the letter, and at once sent the officer a
challenge, matching 1,000 of his men against 10,000 of the Chinese. That
the offer was not accepted is the best proof of the superiority of the
Manchu army.
It was at the close of this successful campaign in Shansi, that Taitsong,
in the year 1635, assumed, for the first time among any of the Manchu
rulers, the style of Emperor of China. Events had long been moving in this
direction, but an accident is said to have determined Taitsong to take
this final measure. The jade seal of the old Mongol rulers was suddenly
discovered, and placed in the hands of Taitsong. When the Mongols heard of
this, forty-nine of their chiefs hastened to tender their allegiance to
Taitsong and the only condition made was that the King of Corea should be
compelled to do so likewise. Taitsong, nothing loth, at once sent off
letters to the Corean court announcing the adhesion of the Mongols, and
calling upon the king of that state to recognize his supremacy. But the
Corean ruler had got wind of the contents of these letters and declined to
open them, thus hoping to get out of his difficulty without offending his
old friends the Chinese. But Taitsong was not to be put off in this
fashion. He sent an army to inflict chastisement on his neighbor, and its
mission was successfully discharged. The king and his family were taken
prisoners, although they had fled to the island of Gangwa for safety, and
Corea became a Manchu possession. The last years of Taitsong's life were
spent in conducting repeated expeditions into the provinces of Shansi and
Pechihli, but the strength of the fortresses of Ningyuen and Shanhaikwan
on the Great Wall effectually prevented his renewing his attempt on Pekin.
These two places with the minor forts of Kingchow and Songshan formed a
quadrilateral that effectually secured Pekin on its northern side, and
being intrusted to the defense of Wou Sankwei, a general of great
capacity, of whom much more will be heard, all Taitsong's ability and
resources were taxed to overcome those obstacles to his progress south of
the Great Wall. He succeeded after great loss, and at the end of several
campaigns, in taking Kingchow and Songshan, but these were his last
successes, for in the year 1643 he was seized with a fatal illness at
Moukden, which terminated his career at the comparatively early age of
fifty-two. Taitsong's premature death, due, in all probability, to the
incompetence of his physicians, cut short a career that had not reached
its prime, and retarded the conquest of China, for the supreme authority
among the Manchus then passed from a skillful and experienced ruler into
the hands of a child.
The possession of a well-trained army, the production of two great leaders
of admitted superiority, and forty years of almost continuously successful
war, had not availed to bring the authority of the Manchus in any
permanent form south of the Great Wall. The barrier of Tsin Che Hwangti
still kept out the most formidable adversary who had ever borne down upon
it, and the independence of China seemed far removed from serious
jeopardy. At this juncture events occurred that altered the whole
situation, and the internal divisions of the Chinese proved more serious
and entailed a more rapid collapse than all the efforts of the Manchus.
The arch rebel Li Tseching, who proved more formidable to the Ming ruler
than his Manchu opponent, was the son of a peasant in the province of
Shansi. At an early age he attached himself to the profession of arms, and
became well known as a skillful archer and horseman. In 1629, he first
appears on the scene as member of a band of robbers, who were, however,
destroyed by a rare display of energy on the part of one of the emperor's
lieutenants. Li was one of the few who were fortunate enough to escape
with their lives and liberty. He soon gathered round him another band, and
under his successful and courageous leading it shortly acquired the size
of an army. One reason of his success was his forming an alliance with the
Mohammedan settlers in Kansuh, who were already known as Tungani or
"Colonists." But the principal cause of his success was his skill and
promptitude in coming to terms with the imperial authorities whenever they
became too strong for him, and he often purchased a truce when, if the
officials had pushed home their advantage, he must have been destroyed.
His power thus grew to a high point, while that of other robber chiefs
only waxed to wane and disappear; and about the year 1640, when it was
said that his followers numbered half a million of men, he began to think
seriously of displacing the Ming and placing himself on the throne of
China. With this object in view he laid siege to the town of Honan, the
capital of the province of the same name. At first the resolution of the
governor baffled his attempt, but treachery succeeded when force failed. A
traitor opened a gate for a sum of money which he was never paid, and Li's
army burst into the city. The garrison was put to the sword, and horrible
outrages were perpetrated on the townspeople. From Honan Li marched on
Kaifong, which he besieged for seven days; but he did not possess the
necessary engines to attack a place of any strength, and Kaifong was
reputed to be the strongest fortress in China. He was obliged to beat a
hasty retreat, pursued by an army that the imperial authorities had
hurriedly collected. There is reason to think his retreat was a skillful
movement to the rear in order to draw the emperor's troops after him.
Certain it is that they pursued him in four separate corps, and that he
turned upon them and beat them one after the other. When he had vanquished
these armies in four separate encounters he again laid siege to Kaifong,
and it was thought that he would have taken it, when Li was wounded by an
arrow, and called off his troops in consequence. Several times afterward
he resumed the attempt, but with no better fortune, until an accident
accomplished what all his power had failed to do. The governor had among
other precautions flooded the moat from the Hoangho, and this extra
barrier of defense had undoubtedly done much toward discomfiting the
besiegers. But in the end it proved fatal to the besieged, for the
Hoangho, at all times capricious in its movements, and the source of as
much trouble as benefit to the provinces it waters, rose suddenly to the
dimensions of a flood, and overflowing its banks spread over the country.
Many of Li's soldiers were drowned, and his camp was flooded, but the most
serious loss befell the Imperialists in Kaifong. The waters of the river
swept away the walls and flooded the town. Thousands perished at the time,
and those who attempted to escape were cut down by the rebels outside.
Kaifong itself was destroyed and has never recovered its ancient
importance, being now a town of only the third or fourth rank. This great
success established the reputation of Li Tseching on a firm basis, and
constituted him one of the arbiters of his country's destiny. He found
himself master of one-third of the state; proclaimed himself Emperor of
China, under the style of Yongchang, and gave his dynasty the name of
Tachun. Having taken this step of open defiance to the Ming government, Li
invaded Shansi, which he reduced to subjection with little difficulty or
bloodshed. An officer, named Likintai, was sent to organize some measures
of defense, but, on arrival, he found the province in the hands of the
rebel, and he had no choice save to beat a discreet and rapid retreat. The
success of Li continued unchecked. Important places like Taiyuen and
Taitong surrendered to him after a merely nominal resistance, and when
they fell there was no further impediment in the way of his marching on
Pekin.
No preparations had been made to defend Pekin. The defenses were weak, the
garrison insufficient, as all the best troops were on the frontier, and
the citizens disposed to come to terms with the assailant rather than to
die in the breach for their sovereign. When Li pitched his tent outside
the western gate of the capital, and sent a haughty demand to the emperor
to abdicate his throne, he was master of the situation; but Tsongching,
ignorant of his own impotence, defied and upbraided his opponent as a
rebel. His indignation was turned to despair when he learned that the
troops had abandoned his cause, that the people were crying out for Li
Tseching, and that that leader's followers were rapidly approaching his
palace. Tsongching strangled himself with his girdle, but only one officer
was found devoted enough to share his fate. Although Tsongching had some
nominal successors, he was, strictly speaking, the last of the Ming
emperors, and with him the great dynasty founded by Hongwou came to an
end. The many disasters that preceded its fall rendered the loss of the
imperial station less of a blow to the individual, and the last of the
Ming rulers seems to have even experienced relief on reaching the term of
his anxieties. The episode of the faithful officer, Li Kweiching,
concludes the dramatic events accompanying the capture of Pekin and the
fall of the dynasty. After the death of his sovereign he attempted to
defend the capital; but overpowered by numbers he surrendered to the
victor, who offered him an honorable command in his service. Li Kweiching
accepted the offer on the stipulation that he should be allowed to give
the Emperor Tsongching honorable burial, and that the surviving members of
the Ming family should be spared. These conditions, so creditable to Li
Kweiching, were granted; but, at the funeral of his late sovereign, grief
or a spirit of duty so overcame him that he committed suicide on the grave
of Tsongching. Li Tseching, who had counted on valuable assistance from
this officer, became furious at this occurrence. He plundered and
destroyed the ancestral temple of the Mings, and he caused every member of
the imperial family on whom he could lay hands to be executed. Thus
terminated the events at Pekin in the absolute and complete triumph of the
rebel Li Tseching, and the panic produced by his success and severity
blinded observers to the hollowness of his power, and to the want of
solidity in his administration. Yet it seemed for a time as if he were
left the virtual master of China.
While the Ming power was collapsing before the onset of Li Tseching, there
still remained the large and well-trained Ming army in garrison on the
Manchu frontier, under command of the able general, Wou Sankwei. At the
eleventh hour the Emperor Tsonching had sent a message to Wou Sankwei,
begging him to come in all haste to save the capital; and that general,
evacuating Ningyuen, and leaving a small garrison at Shanhaikwan, had
begun his march for Pekin, when he learned that it had fallen and that the
Ming dynasty had ceased to be. Placed in this dilemma, between the
advancing Manchus, who immediately occupied Ningyuen on his evacuation of
it, and the large rebel force in possession of Pekin, Wou Sankwei had no
choice between coming to terms with one or other of them. Li Tseching
offered him liberal rewards and a high command, but in vain, for Wou
Sankwei decided that it would be better to invite the Manchus to enter the
country, and to assist them to conquer it. There can be no doubt that this
course was both the wiser and the more patriotic, for Li Tseching was
nothing more than a successful brigand on a large scale; whereas the
Manchu government was a respectable one, was well organized, and aspired
to revive the best traditions of the Chinese. Having come to a prompt
decision, Wou Sankwei lost no time in promptly carrying it out. He wrote a
letter to the Manchus, asking them to send an army to co-operate with his
in driving Li Tseching out of Pekin; and the Manchus, at once realizing
that the moment had arrived for conquering China, acquiesced promptly in
his plans, sent forward their advanced corps, and ordered a _levee en
masse_ of the nation for the conquest of China. Assured of his rear,
and also of speedy re-enforcement, Wou Sankwei did not delay a day in
marching on Pekin. Li Tseching sent out a portion of his army to oppose
the advance of Wou Sankwei; but the officer's instructions were rather to
negotiate than to fight, for to the last Li Tseching expected that Wou
Sankwei would come over to his side. He was already beginning to feel
doubtful as to the security of his position; and his fears were increased
by his superstition, for when, on entering Pekin, he passed under a gate
above which was written the character "joong" (middle), he exclaimed,
drawing his bow at the same time, "If I hit this joong in the middle, it
is a sign I have gained the whole empire, as the empire is joong, the
middle kingdom." His arrow missed its mark. The apprehensions of Li
Tseching were soon confirmed, for Wou Sankwei defeated the first army he
had sent out with a loss of 20,000 men. Li does not seem to have known of
the alliance between that officer and the Manchus, for he marched at the
head of 60,000 men to encounter him. He took with him the aged father of
Wou Sankwei and two Ming princes, who had survived the massacre of their
family, with a view to appealing to the affection and loyalty of that
commander; but these devices proved vain.
Wou Sankwei drew up his forces at Yungping in a strong position near the
scene of his recent victory; his front seems to have been protected by the
river Zanho, and he calmly awaited the attack of Li Tseching, whose army
far outnumbered his. Up to this point Wou Sankwei had not been joined by
any of the Manchus, but a body was known to be approaching, and he was
anxious to put off the battle until they arrived. For the same reason Li
Tseching was as anxious to begin the attack, and, notwithstanding the
strength of Wou Sankwei's position, he ordered his troops to engage
without delay. Adopting the orthodox Chinese mode of attack of forming his
army in a crescent, so that the extreme wings should overlap and gradually
encompass those of the enemy, Li trusted to his numerical superiority to
give him the victory. At one moment it seemed as if his expectation would
be justified; for, bravely as Wou Sankwei and his army fought, the weight
of numbers was telling its inevitable tale when a Manchu corps opportunely
arrived, and attacking the Chinese with great impetuosity, changed the
fortune of the day and put the army of Li Tseching to the rout. Thirty
thousand men are said to have fallen on the field, and Li himself escaped
from the carnage with only a few hundred horsemen.
After this Li met with disaster after disaster. He was driven out of
Shansi into Honan, and from Honan into Shensi. Wou Sankwei took Tunkwan
without firing a shot, and when Li attempted to defend Singan he found
that his soldiers would not obey his orders, and wished only to come to
terms with Wou Sankwei. Expelled from the last of his towns he took refuge
in the hills, but the necessity of obtaining provisions compelled him now
and then to descend into the plains, and on one of these occasions he was
surprised in a village and killed. His head was placed in triumph over the
nearest prefecture, and thus ended the most remarkable career of a
princely robber chieftain to be found in Chinese annals. At one time it
seemed as if Li Tseching would be the founder of a dynasty, but his
meteor-like career ended not less suddenly than his rise to supreme power
was rapid. Extraordinary as was his success, Wou Sankwei had rightly
gauged its nature when he declared that it had no solid basis.
The overthrow of Li Tseching paved the way for a fresh difficulty. It had
been achieved to a large extent by the military genius of Wou Sankwei and
by the exertions of his Chinese army. That officer had invited the Manchus
into the country, but when victory was achieved he showed some anxiety for
their departure. This was no part of the compact, nor did it coincide with
the ambition of the Manchus. They determined to retain the territory they
had conquered, at the same time that they endeavored to propitiate Wou
Sankwei and to retain the command of his useful services. He was given the
high sounding title of Ping-si Wang, or Prince Pacifier of the West, and
many other honors. Gratified by these rewards and unable to discover any
person who could govern China, Wou Sankwei gradually reconciled himself to
the situation and performed his duty faithfully as the most powerful
lieutenant of the young Manchu ruler, Chuntche, the son of Taitsong, who,
after the fall of Li Tseching, removed his capital to Pekin, and assumed
the style and ceremony of a Chinese emperor. The active administration was
intrusted to Prince Dorgun, brother of Taitsong, who now became known as
Ama Wang, the Father Prince, and who acted as regent during the long
minority of his nephew. The new dynasty was inaugurated at Pekin with a
grand ceremony and court.
After this formal and solemn assumption of the governing power in China by
the young Manchu prince, the activity of the Manchus increased, and
several armies were sent south to subject the provinces, and to bring the
whole Chinese race under his authority. For some time no serious
opposition was encountered, as the disruption of Li's forces entailed the
surrender of all the territory north of the Hoangho. But at Nankin, and in
the provinces south of the Yangtsekiang, an attempt had been made, and not
unsuccessfully, to set up a fresh administration under one of the members
of the prolific Ming family. Fou Wang, a grandson of Wanleh, was placed on
the Dragon Throne of Southern China in this hope, but his character did
not justify the faith reposed in him. He thought nothing of the serious
responsibility he had accepted, but showed that he regarded his high
station merely as an opportunity for gratifying his own pleasures. There
is little or no doubt that if he had shown himself worthy of his station
he might have rallied to his side the mass of the Chinese nation, and Wou
Sankwei, who had shown some signs of chafing at Manchu authority, might
have been won back by a capable and sympathetic sovereign. But
notwithstanding the ability of Fou Wang's minister, Shu Kofa, who strove
to repair the errors of his master, the new Ming power at Nankin did not
prosper. Wou Sankwei, cautious not to commit himself, rejected the patent
of a duke and the money gifts sent him by Shu Kofa, while Ama Wang, on his
side, sought to gain over Shu Kofa by making him the most lavish promises
of reward. But that minister proved as true to his sovereign as Wou
Sankwei did to the Manchu. The result of the long correspondence between
them was nil, but it showed the leaders of the Manchus in very favorable
colors, as wishing to avert the horrors of war, and to simplify the
surrender of provinces which could not be held against them. When Ama Wang
discovered that there was no hope of gaining over Shu Kofa, and thus
paving his way to the disintegration of the Nankin power, he decided to
prosecute the war against the surviving Ming administration with the
greatest activity.
While these preparations were being made to extend the Manchu conquest
over Central China, all was confusion at Nankin. Jealousies between the
commanders, none of whom possessed much merit or experience, bickerings
among the ministers, apathy on the part of the ruler, and bitter
disappointment and disgust in the ranks of the people, all combined to
precipitate the overthrow of the ephemeral throne that had been erected in
the Southern capital. Ama Wang Waited patiently to allow these causes of
disintegration time to develop their full force, and to contribute to the
ruin of the Mings, but in the winter of 1644-45 he decided that the right
moment to strike had come. Shu Kofa made some effort to oppose the Manchu
armies, and even assumed the command in person, although he was only a
civilian, but his troops had no heart to oppose the Manchus, and the
devices to which he resorted to make his military power appear more
formidable were both puerile and ineffective. Yet one passage may be
quoted to his credit if it gave his opponent an advantage. It is affirmed
on good authority that he could have obtained a material advantage if he
would only have flooded the country, but he "refused to do so, on the
ground that more civilians would perish than Manchus, and he said, 'First
the people, next the dynasty.'" The sentiment was a noble one, but it was
too severe a crisis to admit of any sentiment, especially when fighting an
up-hill battle, and Shu Kofa, soon realizing that he was not qualified to
play the part of a great soldier, resolved to end his existence. He took
shelter with a small force in the town of Yangchow, and when he heard that
the Manchus were entering the gate, he and his officers committed suicide.
The Chinese lamented and were crushed by his death. In him they saw the
last of their great men, and, no doubt, they credited him with a higher
capacity even than he possessed. Only a military genius of the first rank
could have saved the Mings, and Shu Kofa was nothing more than a
conscientious and capable civil mandarin, ignorant of war. His fortitude
could only be measured by his indifference to life, and by his resolve to
anticipate the fall of his sovereign as soon as he saw it to be
inevitable.
Fou Wang speedily followed the fate of his faithful minister; for, when
the Manchus marched on Nankin, he abandoned his capital, and sought safety
in flight. But one of his officers, anxious to make favorable terms for
himself with the conqueror, undertook his capture, and coming up with him
when on the point of entering a junk to put to sea, Fou Wang had no
alternative left between an ignominious surrender and suicide. He chose
the latter course, and throwing himself into the river was drowned, thus
ending his own career, and the Ming dynasty in its southern capital of
Nankin.
Meantime dissension further weakened the already discouraged Chinese
forces. The pirate Ching Chelong, who was the mainstay of the Ming cause,
cherished the hope that he might place his own family on the throne, and
he endeavored to induce the Ming prince to recognize his son, Koshinga, as
his heir. Low as he had fallen, it is to the credit of this prince that he
refused to sign away the birth-right of his family. Ching was bitterly
chagrined at this refusal, and after detaching his forces from the other
Chinese he at last came to the resolution to throw in his lot with the
Manchus. He was promised honorable terms, but the Tartars seem to have had
no intention of complying with them, so far at least as allowing him to
retain his liberty. For they sent him off to Pekin, where he was kept in
honorable confinement, notwithstanding his protests and promises, and the
defiant threats of his son Koshinga. In preserving his life he was more
fortunate than the members of the Ming family, who were hunted down in a
remorseless manner and executed with all their relations on capture. The
only place that offered any resistance to the Manchus was the town of
Kanchow, on the Kan River, in Kiangsi. The garrison defended themselves
with desperate valor during two months, and a council of war was held amid
much anxiety, to consider whether the siege should be abandoned. Bold
counsels prevailed. The Manchus returned to the attack, and had the
satisfaction of carrying the town by assault, when the garrison were put
to the sword.
The relics of the Chinese armies gathered for a final stand in the city of
Canton, but unfortunately for them the leaders were still divided by petty
jealousies. One Ming prince proclaimed himself Emperor at Canton, and
another in the adjoining province of Kwangsi. Although the Manchus were
gathering their forces to overwhelm the Chinese in their last retreat,
they could not lay aside their divisions and petty ambitions in order to
combine against the national enemy, but must needs assail one another to
decide which should have the empty title of Ming emperor. The Manchus had
the satisfaction of seeing the two rivals break their strength against
each other, and then they advanced to crush the victor at Canton. Strong
as the place was said to be, it offered no serious resistance, and the
great commercial city of the south passed into the hands of the race who
had subdued the whole country from Pekin to the Tonquin frontier. At this
moment the fortune of the Manchus underwent a sudden and inexplicable
change. Two repulses before a fortress southwest of Canton, and the
disaffection of a large part of their Chinese auxiliaries, who clamored
for their pay, seem to have broken the strength of the advanced Manchu
army. A wave of national antipathy drove the Tartars out of Canton and the
southern provinces, but it soon broke its force, and the Manchus,
returning with fresh troops, speedily recovered all they had lost, and by
placing stronger garrisons in the places they occupied consolidated their
hold on Southern China. Although the struggle between the Manchus and
their new subjects was far from concluded, the conquest of China as such
may be said to have reached its end at this stage. How a small Tartar
tribe succeeded after fifty years of war in imposing its yoke on the
skeptical, freedom-loving, and intensely national millions of China will
always remain one of the enigmas of history.
CHAPTER X
THE FIRST MANCHU RULER
While the Manchu generals and armies were establishing their power in
Southern China the young Emperor Chuntche, under the direction of his
prudent uncle, the regent Ama Wang, was setting up at Pekin the central
power of a ruling dynasty. In doing so little or no opposition was
experienced at the hands of the Chinese, who showed that they longed once
more for a settled government; and this acquiescence on the part of the
Chinese people in their authority no doubt induced the Manchu leaders to
adopt a far more conciliatory and lenient policy toward the Chinese than
would otherwise have been the case. Ama Wang gave special orders that the
lives and property of all who surrendered to his lieutenants should be
scrupulously respected. This moderation was only departed from in the case
of some rebels in Shensi, who, after accepting, repudiated the Manchu
authority, and laid close siege to the chief town of Singan, which held a
garrison of only 3,000 Manchus. The commandant wished to make his position
secure by massacring the Chinese of the town, but he was deterred from
taking this extreme step by the representations of a Chinese officer, who,
binding himself for the good faith of his countrymen, induced him to
enroll them in the ranks of the garrison. They proved faithful and
rendered excellent service in the siege; and when a relieving Manchu army
came from Pekin the rebels were quickly scattered and pursued with
unflagging bitterness to their remotest hiding places.
In the province of Szchuen a Chinese leader proclaimed himself Si Wang, or
King of the West. He was execrated by those who were nominally his
subjects. Among the most heinous of his crimes was his invitation to
literary men to come to his capital for employment, and when they had
assembled to the number of 30,000, to order them to be massacred. He dealt
in a similar manner with 3,000 of his courtiers, because one of them
happened to omit a portion of his full titles. His excesses culminated in
the massacre of Chentu, when 600,000 innocent persons are said to have
perished. Even allowing for the Eastern exaggeration of numbers, the
crimes of this inhuman monster have rarely, if ever, been surpassed. His
rage or appetite for destruction was not appeased by human sacrifices. He
made equal war on the objects of nature and the works of man. He destroyed
cities, leveled forests, and overthrew all the public monuments that
embellished his province. In the midst of his excesses he was told that a
Manchu army had crossed the frontier, but he resolved to crown his inhuman
career by a deed unparalleled in the records of history, and, what is more
extraordinary, he succeeded in inducing his followers to execute his
commands. His project was to massacre all the women in attendance on his
army.
When the assembly took place Si Wang slew his wives _coram populo_, and
his followers, seized with an extreme frenzy, followed his example. It
is said that as many as 400,000 women were slain that day, and Si Wang,
intoxicated by his success in inducing his followers to execute his
inhuman behests, believed that he had nothing to fear at the hands of the
Manchus. But he was soon undeceived, for in one of the earliest affairs at
the outposts he was killed by an arrow. His power at once crumbled away,
and Szchuen passed under the authority of the Manchus. The conquest of
Szchuen paved the way for the recovery of the position that had been lost
in Southern China, and close siege was laid to the city of Canton. Outside
Canton the Manchus carried everything before them, and that city itself at
last was captured, after what passed for a stubborn resistance. Canton was
given over to pillage.
At this moment of success Ama Wang, the wise regent, died, and Chuntche
assumed the reins of government. He at once devoted his attention to
administrative reforms. Corruption had begun to sway the public
examinations, and Chuntche issued a special edict, enjoining the examiners
to give fair awards and to maintain the purity of the service. But several
examiners had to be executed and others banished beyond the Wall before
matters were placed on a satisfactory basis. He also adopted the
astronomical system in force in Europe, and he appointed the priest Adam
Schaal head of the Mathematical Board at Pekin. But his most important
work was the institution of the Grand Council, which still exists, and
which is the supreme power under the emperor in the country. It is
composed of only four members--two Manchus and two Chinese--who alone
possess the privilege of personal audience with the emperor whenever they
may demand it. As this act gave the Chinese an equal place with the
Manchus in the highest body of the empire it was exceedingly welcome, and
explains, among other causes, the popularity and stability of the Manchu
dynasty. When allotting Chuntche his place among the founders of Manchu
greatness, allowance must be made for this wise and far-reaching measure.
An interesting event in the reign of Chuntche was the arrival at Pekin of
more than one embassy from European States. The Dutch and the Russians can
equally claim the honor of having had an envoy resident in the Chinese
capital during the year 1656.
In 1661 the health of Chuntche became so bad that it was evident to his
courtiers that his end was drawing near, although he was little more than
thirty years of age. On his deathbed he selected as his successor the
second of his sons, who afterward became famous as the Emperor Kanghi.
Kanghi assumed the personal direction of affairs when only fourteen years
of age. Such a bold step undoubtedly betokened no ordinary vigor on the
part of a youth, and its complete success reflected still further credit
upon him.
The interest of the period passes from the scenes at court to the camp of
Wou Sankwei, who, twenty years earlier, had introduced the Manchus into
China. During the Manchu campaign in Southern China he had kept peace on
the western frontier, gradually extending his authority from Shensi into
Szchuen and thence over Yunnan. When a Ming prince, Kwei Wang, who had
fled into Burmah, returned with the support of the king of that country to
make another bid for the throne, he found himself confronted by all the
power and resources of Wou Sankwei, who was still as loyal a servant of
the Manchu emperor as when he carried his ensigns against Li Tseching.
Kwei Wang does not appear to have expected opposition from Wou Sankwei,
and in the first encounter he was overthrown and taken prisoner. The
conqueror, who was already under suspicion at the Manchu court, and whom
every Chinese rebel persisted in regarding as a natural ally, now
hesitated as to how he should treat these important prisoners. Kwei Wang
and his son--the last of the Mings--were eventually led forth to
execution, although it should be stated that a less authentic report
affirms they were allowed to strangle themselves. Having made use of Wou
Sankwei, and obtained, as they thought, the full value of his services,
the Manchus sought to treat him with indifference and to throw him into
the shade. But the splendor of his work was such that they had to confer
on him the title of Prince, and to make him viceroy of Yunnan and the
adjacent territories. He exerted such an extraordinary influence over the
Chinese subjects that they speedily settled down under his authority;
revenue and trade increased, and the Manchu authority was maintained
without a Tartar garrison, for Wou Sankwei's army was composed exclusively
of Chinese, and its nucleus was formed by his old garrison of Ningyuen and
Shanhaikwan. There is no certain reason for saying that Wou Sankwei nursed
any scheme of personal aggrandizement, but the measures he took and the
reforms he instituted were calculated to make his authority become
gradually independent of Manchu control. For a time the Manchu government
suppressed its apprehensions on account of this powerful satrap, by the
argument that in a few years his death in the course of nature must
relieve it from this peril, but Wou Sankwei lived on and showed no signs
of paying the common debt of humanity. Then it seemed to Kanghi that Wou
Sankwei was gradually establishing the solid foundation of a formidable
and independent power. The Manchu generals and ministers had always been
jealous of the greater fame of Wou Sankwei. When they saw that Kanghi
wanted an excuse to fall foul of him, they carried every tale of alleged
self-assertion on the part of the Chinese viceroy to the imperial ears,
and represented that his power dwarfed the dignity of the Manchu throne
and threatened its stability.
At last Kanghi resolved to take some decisive step to bring the question
to a climax, and he accordingly sent Wou Sankwei an invitation to visit
him at Pekin. Wou Sankwei excused himself from going to court on the
ground that he was very old, and that his only wish was to end his days in
peace. He also deputed his son to tender his allegiance to the emperor and
to perform the Kotao in his name. But Kanghi was not to be put off in this
way, and he sent two trusted officials to Wou Sankwei to represent that he
must comply with the exact terms of his command, and to point out the
grave consequences of his refusing. Wou Sankwei cast off his allegiance to
the Manchus, and entered upon a war which aimed at the subversion of their
authority. Such was the reputation of this great commander, to whose
ability and military prowess the Manchus unquestionably were indebted for
their conquest of the empire, that a large part of Southern China at once
admitted his authority, and from Szchuen to the warlike province of Hunan
his lieutenants were able to collect all the fighting resources of the
state, and to array the levies of those provinces in the field for the
approaching contest with Kanghi.
While Wou Sankwei was making these extensive preparations in the south,
his son at Pekin had devised an ingenious and daring plot for the massacre
of the Manchus and the destruction of the dynasty. He engaged in his
scheme the large body of Chinese slaves who had been placed in servitude
under their Tartar conquerors, and these, incited by the hope of liberty,
proved very ready tools to his designs. They bound themselves together by
a solemn oath to be true to one another, and all the preparations were
made to massacre the Manchus on the occasion of the New Year's Festival.
This is the grand religious and social ceremony of the Chinese. It takes
place on the first day of the first moon, which falls in our month of
February. All business is stopped, the tribunals are closed for ten days,
and a state of high festival resembling the Carnival prevails. The
conspirators resolved to take advantage of this public holiday, and of the
excitement accompanying it, to carry out their scheme, and the Manchus
appear to have been in total ignorance until the eleventh hour of the plot
for their destruction. The discovery of the conspiracy bears a close
resemblance to that of the Gunpowder Plot. A Chinese slave, wishing to
save his master, gave him notice of the danger, and this Manchu officer at
once informed Kanghi of the conspiracy. The son of Wou Sankwei and the
other conspirators were immediately arrested and executed without delay.
The Manchus thus escaped by the merest accident from a danger which
threatened them with annihilation, and Kanghi, having succeeded in getting
rid of the son, concentrated his power and attention on the more difficult
task of grappling with the father.
But the power and reputation of Wou Sankwei were so formidable that Kanghi
resolved to proceed with great caution, and the emperor began his measures
of offense by issuing an edict ordering the disbandment of all the native
armies maintained by the Chinese viceroys, besides Wou Sankwei. The object
of this edict was to make all the governors of Chinese race show their
hands, and Kanghi learned the full measure of the hostility he had to cope
with by every governor from the sea coast of Fuhkien to Canton defying
him, and throwing in their lot with Wou Sankwei. The piratical confederacy
of Formosa, where Ching, the son of Koshinga, had succeeded to his
authority, also joined in with what may be called the national party, but
its alliance proved of little value, as Ching, at an early period, took
umbrage at his reception by a Chinese official, and returned to his island
home. But the most formidable danger to the young Manchu ruler came from
an unexpected quarter. The Mongols, seeing his embarrassment, and
believing that the hours of the dynasty were numbered, resolved to take
advantage of the occasion to push their claims. Satchar, chief of one of
the Banners, issued a proclamation, calling his race to his side, and
declaring his intention to invade China at the head of 100,000 men. It
seemed hardly possible for Kanghi to extricate himself from his many
dangers. With great quickness of perception Kanghi saw that the most
pressing danger was that from the Mongols, and he sent the whole of his
northern garrisons to attack Satchar before the Mongol clans could have
gathered to his assistance. The Manchu cavalry, by a rapid march,
surprised Satchar in his camp and carried him and his family off as
prisoners to Pekin. The capture of their chief discouraged the Mongols and
interrupted their plans for invading China. Kanghi thus obtained a respite
from what seemed his greatest peril. Then he turned his attention to
dealing with Wou Sankwei, and the first effort of his armies resulted in
the recovery of Fuhkien, where the governor and Ching had reduced
themselves to a state of exhaustion by a contest inspired by personal
jealousy not patriotism. From Fuhkien his successful lieutenants passed
into Kwantung, and the Chinese, seeing that the Manchus were not sunk as
low as had been thought, abandoned all resistance, and again recognized
the Tartar authority. The Manchus did not dare to punish the rebels except
in rare instances, and, therefore, the recovery of Canton was
unaccompanied by any scenes of blood. But a garrison of Manchus was placed
in each town of importance, and it was by Kanghi's order that a walled
town, or "Tartar city," was built within each city for the accommodation
and security of the dominant race.
But notwithstanding these successes Kanghi made little or no progress
against the main force of Wou Sankwei, whose supremacy was undisputed
throughout the whole of southwest China. It was not until 1677 that Kanghi
ventured to move his armies against Wou Sankwei in person. Although he
obtained no signal success in the field, the divisions among the Chinese
commanders were such that he had the satisfaction of compelling them to
evacuate Hunan, and when Wou Sankwei took his first step backward the sun
of his fortunes began to set. Calamity rapidly followed calamity. Wou
Sankwei had not known the meaning of defeat in his long career of fifty
years, but now, in his old age, he saw his affairs in inextricable
confusion. His adherents deserted him, many rebel officers sought to come
to terms with the Manchus, and Kanghi's armies gradually converged on Wou
Sankwei from the east and the north. Driven out of Szchuen, Wou Sankwei
endeavored to make a stand in Yunnan. He certainly succeeded in prolonging
the struggle down to the year 1679, when his death put a sudden end to the
contest, and relieved Kanghi from much anxiety; for although the success
of the Manchus was no longer uncertain, the military skill of the old
Chinese warrior might have indefinitely prolonged the war. Wou Sankwei was
one of the most conspicuous and attractive figures to be met with in the
long course of Chinese history, and his career covered one of the most
critical periods in the modern existence of that empire. From the time of
his first distinguishing himself in the defense of Ningyuen until he died,
half a century later, as Prince of Yunnan, he occupied the very foremost
place in the minds of his fellow-countrymen. The part he had taken, first
in keeping out the Manchus, and then in introducing them into the state,
reflected equal credit on his ability and his patriotism. In requesting
the Manchus to crush the robber Li and to take the throne which the fall
of the Mings had rendered vacant, he was actuated by the purest motives.
There was only a choice of evils, and he selected that which seemed the
less. He gave the empire to a foreign ruler of intelligence, but he saved
it from an unscrupulous robber. He played the part of king-maker to the
family of Noorhachu, and the magnitude of their obligations to him could
not be denied. They were not as grateful as he may have expected, and they
looked askance at his military power and influence over his countrymen.
Probably he felt that he had not been well treated, and chagrin
undoubtedly induced him to reject Kanghi's request to proceed to Pekin. If
he had only acceeded to that arrangement he would have left a name for
conspicuous loyalty and political consistency in the service of the great
race, which he had been mainly instrumental in placing over China. But
even as events turned out he was one of the most remarkable personages the
Chinese race ever produced, and his military career shows that they are
capable of producing great generals and brave soldiers.
The death of Wou Sankwei signified the overthrow of the Chinese uprising
which had threatened to extinguish the still growing power of the Manchu
under its youthful Emperor Kanghi. Wou Shufan, the grandson of that
prince, endeavored to carry on the task of holding Yunnan as an
independent territory, but by the year 1681 his possessions were reduced
to the town of Yunnanfoo, where he was closely besieged by the Manchu
forces. Although the Chinese fought valiantly, they were soon reduced to
extremities, and the Manchus carried the place by storm. The garrison were
massacred to the last man, and Wou Shufan only avoided a worse fate by
committing suicide. The Manchus, not satisfied with his death, sent his
head to Pekin to be placed on its principal gate in triumph, and the body
of Wou Sankwei himself was exhumed so that his ashes might be scattered in
each of the eighteen provinces of China as a warning to traitors. Having
crushed their most redoubtable antagonist, the Manchus resorted to more
severe measures against those who had surrendered in Fuhkien and Kwantung,
and many insurgent chiefs who had surrendered, and enjoyed a brief
respite, ended their lives under the knife of the executioner. The Manchu
soldiers are said to have been given spoil to the extent of nearly ten
million dollars, and the war which witnessed the final assertion of Manchu
power over the Chinese was essentially popular with the soldiers who
carried it on to a victorious conclusion. A very short time after the
final overthrow of Wou Sankwei and his family, the Chinese regime in
Formosa was brought to an end. Kanghi, having collected a fleet, and
concluded a convention with the Dutch, determined on the invasion and
conquest of Formosa. In the midst of these preparations Ching, the son of
Koshinga, died, and no doubt the plans of Kanghi were facilitated by the
confusion that followed. The Manchu fleet seized Ponghu, the principal
island of the Pescadore group, and thence the Manchus threw a force into
Formosa. It is said that they were helped by a high tide, and by the
superstition of the islanders, who exclaimed, "The first Wang (Koshinga)
got possession of Taiwan by a high tide. The fleet now comes in the same
manner. It is the will of Heaven." Formosa accepted the supremacy of the
Manchus without further ado. Those of the islanders who had ever
recognized the authority of any government, accepted that of the Emperor
Kanghi, shaved their heads in token of submission, and became so far as in
them lay respectable citizens.
The overthrow of Wou Sankwei and the conquest of Formosa completed what
may be called the pacification of China by the Manchus. From that period
to the Taeping Rebellion, or for nearly 200 years, there was no internal
insurrection on a large scale. On the whole the Manchus stained their
conclusive triumph by few excesses, and Kanghi's moderation was scarcely
inferior to that of his father, Chuntche. The family of Wou Sankwei seems
to have been rooted out more for the personal attempt of the son at Pekin
than for the bold ambition of the potentate himself. The family of
Koshinga was spared, and its principal representative received the patent
of an earl. Thus, by a policy judiciously combined of severity and
moderation, did Kanghi make himself supreme, and complete the work of his
race. Whatever troubles may have beset the government in the last 220
years, it will be justifiable to speak of the Manchus and the Tatsing
dynasty as the legitimate authorities in China, and, instead of foreign
adventurers, as the national and recognized rulers of the Middle Kingdom.
CHAPTER XI
THE EMPEROR KANGHI
Among the Mongol tribes the noblest at this period were the Khalkas. They
prided themselves on being the descendants of the House of Genghis, the
representatives of the special clan of the great conqueror, and the
occupants of the original home in the valleys of the Onon and Kerulon.
Although their military power was slight, the name of the Khalka princes
stood high among the Mongol tribes, and they exercised an influence far in
excess of their numbers or capacity as a fighting force. Kanghi determined
to establish friendly relations with this clan, and by the dispatch of
friendly letters and costly presents lie succeeded in inducing the Khalka
chiefs to enter into formal alliance with himself, and to conclude a
treaty of amity with China, which, be it noted, they faithfully observed.
Kanghi's efforts in this direction, which may have been dictated by
apprehension at the movements of his new neighbors, the Russians, were
thus crowned with success, and the adhesion of the Khalkas signified that
the great majority of the Mongols would thenceforth abstain from acts of
unprovoked aggression on the Chinese frontier. But the advance of China
and her influence, even in the form of paying homage to the emperor as the
Bogdo Khan, or the Celestial Ruler, so far west as the upper course of the
Amour, involved the Pekin Government in fresh complications by bringing it
into contact with tribes and peoples of whom it had no cognizance. Beyond
the Khalkas were the Eleuths, supreme in Ili and Kashgaria, and divided
into four hordes, who obeyed as many chiefs. They had had some relations
with the Khalkas, but of China they knew nothing more than the greatness
of her name. When the surrender of the Khalka princes became known the
Eleuth chiefs held a grand assembly or kuriltai, and at this it was
finally, and, indeed, ostentatiously, decided not to yield Kanghi his
demands. Important as this decision was, it derived increased weight from
the character of the man who was mainly instrumental in inducing the
Eleuths to take it.
Much has been written of the desert chiefs from Yenta to Yakoob Beg, but
none of these showed greater ability or attained more conspicuous success
than Galdan, who strained the power of China, and fought for many years on
equal terms with the Emperor Kanghi. Galdan determined that the easiest
and most advantageous beginning for his enterprise would be to attack his
neighbors the Khalkas, who, by accepting Kanghi's offers, had made
themselves the advanced guard of China in Central Asia. He began a
systematic encroachment into their lands in the year 1679, but at the same
time he resorted to every device to screen his movements from the Chinese
court, and such was the delay in receiving intelligence, and the ignorance
of the situation beyond the border, that in the very year of his beginning
to attack the Khalkas, his envoy at Pekin received a flattering reception
at the hands of Kanghi, still hopeful of a peaceful settlement, and
returned with the seal and patent of a Khan. Events had not reached a
state of open hostility three years later, when Kanghi sent special envoys
to the camp of Galdan, as well as to the Khalkas. They were instructed to
promise and pay much, but to rest content with nothing short of the formal
acceptance by all the chiefs of the supremacy of China. Galdan, bound by
the laws of hospitality, nowhere more sacred than in the East, gave them
an honorable reception, and lavished upon them the poor resources he
commanded. In hyperbolic terms he declared that the arrival of an embassy
from the rich and powerful Chinese emperor in his poor State would be
handed down as the most glorious event of his reign. But he refused to
make any tender of allegiance, or to subscribe himself as a Chinese
vassal. The dissensions among the Khalka princes assisted the development
of Galdan's ambition, and added to the anxiety of the Chinese ruler.
Kanghi admonished them to heal their differences and to abstain from an
internecine strife, which would only facilitate their conquest by Galdan,
and he succeeded so far that he induced them to swear a peace among
themselves before an image of Buddha.
At this juncture the Chinese came into collision with the Russians on the
Amour. The Russians had built a fort at Albazin, on the upper course of
that river, and the Chinese army located in the Khalka country,
considering its proximity a menace to their own security, attacked it in
overwhelming force. Albazin was taken, and those of the garrison who fell
into the hands of the Chinese were carried off to Pekin, where their
descendants still reside as a distinct Russian colony. But when the
Chinese evacuated Albazin the Russians returned there with characteristic
obstinacy, and Kanghi, becoming anxious at the increasing activity of
Galdan, accepted the overtures of the Russian authorities in Siberia, who,
in 1688, sent the son of the Governor-general of Eastern Siberia to Pekin
to negotiate a peace. After twelve months' negotiation, protracted by the
outbreak of war with Galdan, the Treaty of Nerchinsk, the first concluded
between China and any European power, was signed, and the brief and only
war between Russia and China was thus brought to a speedy and satisfactory
termination. The Russians agreed to the destruction of Fort Albazin, but
they were allowed to build another at Nerchinsk.
There is reason to believe that Galdan thought that he might derive some
advantage from the complications with Russia, for his military movements
were hastened when he heard that the two powers were embroiled on the
Amour, and he proclaimed his intention of invading the Khalka region,
because some of their people had murdered his kinsmen. Galdan endeavored
to conclude an alliance with the Russians, who sent an officer to his
camp; but they soon came to the determination that it would be more
advantageous to keep on friendly terms with the Chinese than to embark on
a hazardous adventure with the chief of an Asiatic horde. The mere rumor
of a possible alliance between Galdan and the Russians roused Kanghi to
increased activity, and all the picked troops of the Eight Manchu Banners,
the Forty-nine Mongol Banners, and the Chinese auxiliaries, were
dispatched across the steppe to bring the Napoleon of Central Asia to
reason. In face of this formidable danger Galdan showed undiminished
courage and energy. Realizing the peril of inaction, he did not hesitate
to assume the offensive, and the war began with a victory he gained over a
general named Horni, within the limits of Chinese territory. The moral of
this success was that it showed that Kanghi had not decided a moment too
soon in resorting to extreme measures against the ambitious potentate who
found the Gobi Desert and the surrounding region too circumscribed for his
ambition.
Kanghi intrusted the chief command of his armies to his brother, Yu Tsing
Wang, who justified his appointment by bringing the Eleuth forces speedily
to an engagement, and by gaming a more or less decisive victory over them
at Oulan Poutong. The loss was considerable on both sides, among the
imperial officers killed being an uncle of the emperor; but Galdan's
forces suffered a great deal more during the retreat than they had done in
the action. After this disaster Galdan signed a treaty with the Chinese
commander, Yu Tsing Wang. At first he attempted to gain an advantage by
excluding his personal enemies, the Khalkas, from it, but the Chinese were
not to be entrapped into any such arrangement, and, standing up for their
dependents, the provisions of the treaty provided equally for their safety
and for the acceptance by Galdan of the supremacy of China. This new
arrangement or treaty was concluded in 1690, but Kanghi himself seems to
have placed no great faith in the sincerity of Galdan, and to have
regarded it merely as a truce. This view was soon found to be correct, for
neither side laid aside their arms, and the unusual vigilance of the
Chinese gave Galdan additional cause for umbrage. Kanghi showed that he
was resolved not to let the terms, to which Galdan had subscribed, become
a dead letter. He summoned a great assemblage of the Khalka tribes on the
plain of Dolonor--the Seven Springs near Changtu--and he attended it in
person, bestowing gifts and titles with a lavish hand. Kanghi was thus
able to convince himself that, so far as the Mongol tribes were concerned,
he might count on their loyalty and support. He then began to establish an
understanding with Tse Wang Rabdan, and thus obtain an ally in the rear of
Galdan. This latter circumstance was the direct cause of the second war
with Galdan, for Kanghi's embassador was waylaid and murdered in the
neighborhood of Hami. The outrage for which, whether he inspired it or
not, Galdan was held blameworthy, aroused the strongest resentment and
anger of Kanghi.
Kanghi made extraordinary preparations for the campaign. He placed four
armies in the field numbering about 150,000 combatants, and it has been
computed that, with non-combatants, the total of men employed did not fall
short of a million. The first of these armies numbered 35,600 men, and was
intrusted to Feyanku, the Ney of the Manchu army. Kanghi took personal
command of the second, and its strength is given at 37,700 men; and the
third army, 35,400 men, was placed under the orders of Sapsu. The fourth,
of unstated but greatest numerical strength, acted as the reserve force
for the others, and did not, properly speaking, come into action at all.
In order to render the war popular Kanghi offered special pay to the
soldiers, and undertook to provide for the widows and orphans of those
slain. At the same time Kanghi neglected no precaution to insure the
success of his arms. He provided cotton armor which was proof to the
bullet for his cavalry and part of his infantry, and he organized a corps
of artillerists mounted on camels, which also carried the light pieces,
and rendered good service as "flying artillery." Before setting out for
the campaign, the emperor reviewed his army, and he chose for the occasion
the date of the popular Feast of Lanterns, when all China takes a holiday.
After the inspection of the numerous and well equipped army an impressive
ceremony took place. Feyanku approached his sovereign, and received at his
hands a cup of wine, which the general took while on his knees, and which,
on descending from the steps of the throne, he quaffed in full view of the
spectators. Each of his assistant generals and the subordinate officers in
groups of ten went through the same ceremony, and the ruin of Galdan was
anticipated in the libations of his conquerors. While Feyanku marched to
encounter Galdan wherever he should find him, the ministers and courtiers
at Pekin made a strenuous effort to prevent Kanghi taking the field in
person, expatiating on the dangers of a war in the desert, and of the loss
to the empire if anything happened to him. But Kanghi, while thanking them
for their solicitude, was not to be deterred from his purpose. He led his
army by a parallel route to that pursued by Feyanku across the Gobi Desert
to Kobdo, where Galdan had established his headquarters. The details of
the march are fully described by the Roman Catholic priest, Gerbillon, in
his interesting narrative. They reveal the difficulties of the enterprise
as well as its success. Some detachments of the Chinese army were
compelled to beat a retreat, but the main body succeeded in making its way
to the valley of the Kerulon, where some supplies could be obtained.
Feyanku's corps, when it reached the neighborhood of the modern Ourga, was
reduced to an effective strength of 10,000 men, and of Sapsu's army only
2,000 ever reached the scene of operations, and they formed a junction
with the force under Feyanku. But Galdan did not possess the military
strength to take any advantage of the enfeebled state in which the Chinese
armies reached his neighborhood. He abandoned camp after camp, and sought
to make good his position by establishing an empty alliance with the
Russians in Siberia, from whom he asked 60,000 troops to consummate the
conquest of China. Such visionary projects as this provided a poor defense
against the active operations of a Chinese army in his own country. In a
fit bordering on desperation Galdan suddenly determined to risk an attack
on the camp of Feyanku at Chowmodo. That general, less fortunate than his
sovereign, had been reduced to the verge of distress by the exhaustion of
his supplies, and was even meditating a retreat back to China, when the
action of Galdan relieved him from his dilemma. The exact course of the
battle at Chowmodo is not described in any authentic document. During
three hours Feyanku stood on the defensive, but when he gave the order for
attack, the Eleuths broke in confusion before the charge of his cavalry.
Two thousand of their best warriors were slain, their organization was
shattered, and Galdan became a fugitive in the region where he had posed
as undisputed master. This victory undoubtedly relieved the Chinese from
serious embarrassment, and Kanghi felt able to return to Pekin, leaving
the further conduct of the war and the pursuit of Galdan in the hands of
Feyanku. Formidable enemy as Galdan had proved himself, the defeat at
Chowmodo put an end to his career, and destroyed all his schemes of
greatness. The Chinese pursued him with great persistence, and at last he
died in 1697, either of his deprivations or by the act of his own hand.
With Galdan disappeared one of the most remarkable of the desert chiefs;
but, although Kanghi flattered himself that such would be the case, peace
did not settle down on Central Asia as the consequence of the death of his
active and enterprising antagonist. The Chinese armies were recalled for
this occasion, and the only force left on the remote frontier was a small
one under the command of the gallant Feyanku.
The overthrow and death of Galdan brought Tse Wang Rabdan into direct
contact with the Chinese. He had from his hostile relations with Galdan--
the murderer of his father Tsenka--acted as the ally of Kanghi, but when
he became the chief of the Eleuths on the death of his uncle, his ideas
underwent a change, and he thought more of his dignity and independence.
No rupture might have taken place, but that the Chinese, in their
implacable resolve to exterminate the family of their enemy Galdan,
demanded from Tse Wang Rabdan not only the bones of that chieftain, but
also the persons of his son and daughter, who had taken refuge with him.
Tse Wang Rabdan resented both the demand itself and the language in which
it was expressed. He evaded the requests sent by Feyanku, and he addressed
a letter of remonstrance to Kanghi, in the course of which he said, "The
war being now concluded, past injuries ought to be buried in oblivion.
Pity should be shown to the vanquished, and it would be barbarous to think
of nothing but of how to overwhelm them. It is the first law inspired by
humanity, and one which custom has consecrated from the earliest period
among us who are Eleuths." Kanghi, undeterred by this homily, continued to
press his demand, and sent several missions to the Eleuth camp to obtain
the surrender of Galdan's remains and relations. His pertinacity was at
last rewarded, and the bones of his old opponent were surrendered to be
scattered as those of a traitor throughout China, and his son was sent to
Pekin, where, however, he received an honorable appointment in lieu of
being handed over to the public executioner. Although Tse Wang Rabdan at
last conceded to Kanghi what he demanded, his general action soon marked
him out as the antagonist of the Chinese in Central Asia. He first
vanquished in battle, and then established an alliance with the Kirghiz,
and thus his military forces were recruited from the whole of the vast
territory from Hami on the east to Khokand on the west.
The main object of his policy was to assert his influence and authority in
Tibet, and to make the ruling lama at Lhasa accept whatever course he
might dictate for him. Galdan had at one time entertained the same idea;
but probably because he had not as good means of access into the country
as Tse Wang Rabdan had, on account of his possession of Khoten, it lay
dormant until it was dispelled by the rupture after his adoption of
Mohammedanism. Up to this time China had been content with a very shadowy
hold on Tibet, and she had no resident representative at Lhasa. But
Kanghi, convinced of the importance of maintaining his supremacy in Tibet,
took energetic measures to counteract the Eleuth intrigues, and for a time
there was a keen diplomatic struggle between the contending potentates.
From an early period the supremacy in the Tibetan administration had been
disputed between two different classes, the one which represented the
military body making use of religious matters to forward its designs, the
other being an order of priests supported by the unquestioning faith and
confidence of the mass of the people. The former became known as Red Caps
and the latter as Yellow Caps. The rivalry between these classes had been
keen before, and was still bitterly contested when Chuntche first asconded
the throne; but victory had finally inclined to the side of the Yellow
Caps before the fall of Galdan. The Dalai Lama was their great spiritual
head, and his triumph had been assisted by the intervention and influence
of the Manchu emperor. The Red Caps were driven out of the country into
Bhutan, where they still hold sway. After this success a new functionary,
with both civil and military authority, was appointed to carry on the
administration, under the orders of the Dalai Lama, who was supposed to be
lost in his spiritual speculations and religious devotions. This
functionary received the name of the Tipa, and, encouraged by the little
control exercised over his acts, he soon began to carry on intrigues for
the elevation of his own power at the expense of that of his priestly
superiors. The ambition of one Tipa led to his fall and execution, but the
offense was attributed to the individual, and a new one was appointed.
This second Tipa was the reputed son of a Dalai Lama, and when his father
died in 1682 he kept the fact of his death secret, giving out that he had
only retired into the recesses of the palace, and ruled the state in his
name for the space of sixteen years. The Tipa well knew that he could not
hope to obtain the approval of Kanghi for what he had done, and he had
made overtures to the princes of Jungaria for protection, whenever he
might require it, against the Chinese emperor. At last the truth was
divulged, and Kanghi was most indignant at having been duped, and
threatened to send an army to punish the Tipa for his crime. Then the Tipa
selected a new Dalai Lama, and endeavored to appease Kanghi, but his
choice proved unfortunate because it did not satisfy the Tibetans. His own
general, Latsan Khan, made himself the executor of public opinion. The
Tipa was slain with most of his supporters, and the boy Dalai Lama shared
the same fate. These occurrences did not insure the tranquillity of the
state, for when another Dalai Lama was found, the selection was not
agreeable to Latsan Khan, and his friends had to convey the youth for
safety to Sining, in China.
It was at this moment that Tse Wang Rabdan determined to interfere in
Tibet, and, strangely enough, instead of attempting to make Latsan Khan
his friend, he at once resolved to treat him as an enemy, throwing his
son, who happened to be at Ili, into prison. He then dispatched an army
into Tibet to crush Latsan Khan, and at the same time he sent a force
against Sining in the hope of gaining possession of the person of the
young Dalai Lama. The Eleuth army quitted the banks of the Ili in 1709,
under the command of Zeren Donduk, and having crossed Eastern Turkestan
appeared in due course before Lhasa. It met with little or no resistance.
Latsan Khan was slain, and the Eleuth army collected an incalculable
quantity of spoil, with which it returned to the banks of the Ili. The
expedition against Sining failed, and the rapid advance of a Chinese army
compelled the retreat of Zeren Donduk without having attained any
permanent success. As the Eleuth army had evacuated Tibet there was no
object in sending Chinese troops into that state, and Kanghi's generals
were instructed to march westward from Hami to Turfan. But their movements
were marked by carelessness or over-confidence, and the Eleuths surprised
their camp and inflicted such loss upon Kanghi's commanders that they had
even to evacuate Hami. But this was only a temporary reverse. A fresh
Manchu army soon retrieved it, and Hami again became the bulwark of the
Chinese frontier. At the same time Kanghi sent a garrison to Tibet, and
appointed resident ambans at Lhasa, which officials China has retained
there ever since. The war with Tse Wang Rabdan was not ended by these
successes, for he resorted to the hereditary tactics of his family,
retiring when the Chinese appeared in force, and then advancing on their
retreat. As Kanghi wrote, they are "like wolves who, at the sight of the
huntsmen, scatter to their dens, and at the withdrawal of danger assemble
again round the prey they have abandoned with regret. Such was the policy
of these desert robbers." The last year of Kanghi's reign was illustrated
by a more than usually decisive victory over the forces of Tse Wang
Rabdan, which a courtier declared to be "equivalent to the conquest of
Tibet"; but on the whole the utmost success that can be claimed for
Kanghi's policy was that it repelled the chronic danger from the desert
chiefs and their turbulent followers to a greater distance from the
immediate frontier of the empire than had been the case for many
centuries. He left the task of breaking the Eleuth power to his grandson,
Keen Lung.
The close of Kanghi's reign witnessed a decline in the interest he took in
the representatives of Europe, and this was not revived by the splendor of
the embassy which Peter the Great sent to Pekin in 1719. The embassy
consisted of the embassador himself, M. Ismaloff; his secretary, M. de
Lange; the English traveler, Mr. Bell, and a considerable suite. Kanghi
received in the most gracious manner the letter which Peter addressed to
him in the following terms: "To the emperor of the vast countries of Asia,
to the Sovereign Monarch of Bogdo, to the Supreme Majesty of Khitay,
friendship and greeting. With the design I possess of holding and
increasing the friendship and close relations long established between
your Majesty and my predecessors and myself, I have thought it right to
send to your court, in the capacity of embassador-extraordinary, Leon
Ismaloff, captain in my guards. I beg you will receive him in a manner
suitable to the character in which he comes, to have regard and to attach
as much faith to what he may say on the subject of our mutual affairs as
if I were speaking to you myself, and also to permit his residing at your
Court of Pekin until I recall him. Allow me to sign myself your Majesty's
good friend. Peter." Kanghi gave the Russian envoy a very honorable
reception. A house was set apart for his accommodation, and when the
difficulties raised by the mandarins on the question of the kotao ceremony
at the audience threatened to bring the embassy to an abortive end, Kanghi
himself intervened with a suggestion that solved the difficulty. He
arranged that his principal minister should perform the kotao to the
letter of the Russian emperor, while the Russian envoy rendered him the
same obeisance. The audience then took place without further delay, and it
was allowed on all hands that no foreign embassy had ever been received
with greater honor in China than this. Ismaloff returned to his master
with the most roseate account of his reception and of the opening in China
for Russian trade. A large and rich caravan was accordingly fitted out by
Peter, to proceed to Pekin; but when it arrived it found a very different
state of affairs from what Ismaloff had pictured. Kanghi lay on his death-
bed, the anti-foreign ministers were supreme, declaring that "trade was a
matter of little consequence, and regarded by them with contempt," and the
Russians were ignominiously sent back to Siberia with the final
declaration that such intercourse as was unavoidable must be restricted to
the frontier. Thus summarily was ended Peter's dream of tapping the wealth
of China.
Although Kanghi was not altogether free from domestic trouble, through the
ambition of his many sons to succeed him, his life must on the whole be
said to have passed along tranquilly enough apart from his cares of state.
The public acts and magnificent exploits of his reign prove him to have
been wise, courageous, and magnanimous, and his private life will bear the
most searching examination, and only render his virtue the more
conspicuous. He always showed a tender solicitude for the interests of his
people, which was proved, among other things, by his giving up his annual
tours through his dominions on account of the expense thrown on his
subjects by the inevitable size of his retinue. His active habits as a
hunter, a rider, and even as a pedestrian, were subjects of admiring
comment on the part of the Chinese people, and he was one of their few
rulers who made it a habit to walk through the streets of his capital. He
was also conspicuous as the patron of learning; notably in his support of
the foreign missionaries as geographers and cartographers. He was also the
consistent and energetic supporter of the celebrated Hanlin College, and,
as he was no ordinary _litterateur_ himself, this is not surprising.
His own works filled a hundred volumes, prominent among which were his
Sixteen Maxims on the Art of Government, and it is believed that he took a
large part in bringing out the Imperial Dictionary of the Hanlin College.
His writings were marked by a high code of morality as well as by the
lofty ideas of a broad-minded statesman. His enemies have imputed to him
an excessive vanity and avarice; but the whole tenor of his life disproves
the former statement, and, whatever foundation in fact the latter may have
had, he never carried it to any greater length than mere prudence and
consideration for the wants of his people demanded. We know that he
resorted to gentle pressure to attain his ends rather than to tyrannical
force. When he wished to levy a heavy contribution from a too rich subject
he had recourse to what may be styled a mild joke, sooner than to threats
and corporal punishment. The following incident has been quoted in this
connection: One day Kanghi made an official, who had grown very wealthy,
lead him, riding on an ass, round his gardens. As recompense the emperor
gave him a tael. Then he himself led the mandarin in similar fashion. At
the end of the tour he asked how much greater he was than his minister?
"The comparison is impossible," said the ready courtier. "Then I must make
the estimate myself," replied Kanghi. "I am 20,000 times as great,
therefore you will pay me 20,000 taels." His reign was singularly free
from the executions so common under even the best of Chinese rulers; and,
whenever possible, he always tempered justice with mercy.
Notwithstanding his enfeebled health and the many illnesses from which he
had suffered in later life, he persisted in following his usual sporting
amusements, and he passed the winter of 1722 at his hunting-box at Haidsu.
He seems to have caught a chill, and after a brief illness he died on the
2oth of December in that year.
The place of Kanghi among Chinese sovereigns is clearly defined. He ranks
on almost equal terms with the two greatest of them all--Taitsong and his
own grandson, Keen Lung--and it would be ungracious, if not impossible, to
say in what respect he falls short of complete equality with either, so
numerous and conspicuous were his talents and his virtues. His long
friendship and high consideration for the Christian missionaries have no
doubt contributed to bring his name and the events of his reign more
prominently before Europe than was the case with any other Chinese ruler.
But, although this predilection for European practices may have had the
effect of strengthening his claims to precede every other of his country's
rulers, it can add but little to the impression produced on even the most
cursory reader by the remarkable achievements in peace and war
accomplished by this gifted emperor. Kanghi's genius dominates one of the
most critical periods in Chinese history, of which the narrative should
form neither an uninteresting nor an uninstructive theme. Celebrated as
the consolidator and completer of the Manchu conquest, Kanghi's virtue and
moderation have gained him permanent fame as a wise, just, and beneficent
national sovereign in the hearts of the Chinese people.
CHAPTER XII
A SHORT REIGN AND THE BEGINNING OF A LONG ONE
Immediately after the death of Kanghi, his fourth son, who had long been
designated as his heir, was proclaimed emperor, under the style of Yung
Ching, which name means "the indissoluble concord or stable peace." The
late emperor had always favored this prince, and in his will he publicly
proclaimed that he bore much resemblance to himself, and that he was a man
of rare and precious character. His first acts indicated considerable
vigor and decision of mind. In the edict announcing the death of his
father and his own accession he said that on the advice of his ministers
he had entered upon the discharge of his imperial duties, without giving
up precious time to the indulgence of his natural grief, which would be
gratifying to his feelings, but injurious to the public interests. As Yung
Ching was of the mature age of forty-five, and as he had enjoyed the
confidence of his predecessor, he was fully qualified to carry on the
administration. He declared that his main purpose was to continue his
father's work, and that he would tread as closely as he could in Kanghi's
footsteps. While Yung Ching took these prompt steps to secure himself on
the throne, some of his brothers assumed an attitude of menacing hostility
toward him, and all his energy and vigilance were required to counteract
their designs. A very little time was needed, however, to show that Kanghi
had selected his worthiest son as his successor, and that China would have
no reason to fear under Yung Ching the loss of any of the benefits
conferred on the nation by Kanghi. His fine presence, and frank, open
manner, secured for him the sympathy and applause of the public, and in a
very short time he also gained their respect and admiration by his wisdom
and justice.
The most important and formidable of his brothers was the fourteenth son
of Kanghi, by the same mother, however, as that of Yung Ching. He and his
son Poki had been regarded with no inconsiderable favor by Kanghi, and at
one time it was thought that he would have chosen them as his successors;
but these expectations were disappointed. He was sent instead to hold the
chief command against the Eleuths on the western borders. Young Ching
determined to remove him from this post, in which he might have
opportunities of asserting his independence, and for a moment it seemed as
if he might disobey. But more prudent counsels prevailed, and he returned
to Pekin, where he was placed in honorable confinement, and retained there
during the whole of Yung Ching's reign. He and his son owed their release
thirteen years later to the greater clemency or self-confidence of Keen
Lung. Another brother, named Sessaka, also fell under suspicion, and he
was arrested and his estates confiscated. He was then so far forgiven that
a small military command was given him in the provinces. Others of more
importance were involved in his affairs. Lessihin, son of Prince
Sourniama, an elder brother of Kanghi, was denounced as a sympathizer and
supporter of Sessaka. The charge seems to have been based on slender
evidence, but it sufficed to cause the banishment of this personage and
all his family to Sining. It appears as if they were specially punished
for having become Christians, and there is no doubt that their conversion
imbittered the emperor's mind against the Christian missionaries and their
religion. It enabled him to say, or at least induced him to accept the
statement, that the Christians meddled and took a side in the internal
politics of the country. Yung Ching saw and seized his opportunity. His
measures of repression against the recalcitrant party in his own family
culminated in the summary exile of Sourniama and all his descendants down
to the fourth generation. Sourniama vainly endeavored to establish his
innocence, and he sent three of his sons, laden with chains, to the
palace, to protest his innocence and devotion. But they were refused
audience, and Sourniama and his family sank into oblivion and wretchedness
on the outskirts of the empire.
Having thus settled the difficulties within his own family, Yung Ching
next turned his attention to humbling the bold band of foreigners who had
established themselves in the capital and throughout the country, as much
by their own persistency and indifference to slight as by the acquiescence
of the Chinese government, and who, after they had reached some of the
highest official posts, continued to preach and propagate their gospel of
a supreme power and mercy beyond the control of kings, a gospel which was
simply destructive of the paternal and sacred claims on which a Chinese
emperor based his authority as superior to all earthly interference, and
as transmitted to him direct from Heaven, The official classes confirmed
the emperor's suspicions, and encouraged him to proceed to extreme
lengths. On all sides offenses were freely laid at the doors of the
missionaries. It was said of them that "their doctrine sows trouble among
the people, and makes them doubt the goodness of our laws." In the
province of Fuhkien their eighteen churches were closed, and the priests
were summarily ordered to return to Macao. At Pekin itself the Jesuits
lost all their influence. Those who had been well-disposed toward them
were either banished or cowed into silence. The emperor turned his back on
them and refused to see them, and they could only wait with their usual
fortitude until the period of imperial displeasure had passed over. When
they endeavored to enlist in their support the sympathy and influence of
the emperor's brother--the thirteenth prince--who in Kanghi's time had
been considered their friend, they met with a rebuff not unnatural or
unreasonable when the mishaps to his relations for their Christian
proclivities are borne in mind. This prince said, in words which have
often been repeated since by Chinese ministers and political writers,
"What would you say if our people were to go to Europe and wished to
change there the laws and customs established by your ancient sages? The
emperor, my brother, wishes to put an end to all this in an effectual
manner. I have seen the accusation of the Tsongtou of Fuhkien. It is
undoubtedly strong, and your disputes about our customs have greatly
injured you. What would you say if we were to transport ourselves to
Europe and to act there as you have done here? Would you stand it for a
moment? In the course of time I shall master this business, but I declare
to you that China will want for nothing when you cease to live in it, and
that your absence will not cause it any loss. Here nobody is retained by
force, and nobody also will be suffered to break the laws or to make light
of our customs."
The influence of Yung Ching on the development of the important foreign
question arrested the ambition and sanguine flight of the imagination of
the Roman Catholic missionaries, who, rendered overconfident by their
success under Kanghi, believed that they held the future of China in their
own hands, and that persistency alone was needed to secure the adhesion of
that country to the Christian Church. Yung Ching dispelled these
illusions, and so far as they were illusions, which nearly two subsequent
centuries have proved them to be, it was well that they should be so
dispelled. He asserted himself in very unequivocal terms as an emperor of
China, and as resolute in maintaining his sovereign position outside the
control of any religious potentate or creed. The progress of the Christian
religion of the Roman Catholic Church in China was quite incompatible with
the supposed celestial origin of the emperor, who was alleged to receive
his authority direct from Heaven. It is not surprising that Yung Ching, at
the earliest possible moment, decided to blight these hopes, and to assert
the natural and inherited prerogative of a Chinese emperor. There is no
room to doubt that the Catholic priests had drawn a too hasty and too
favorable deduction from the favor of Kanghi. They confounded their
practical utility with the intrinsic merit and persuasive force of
Christianity. An enlightened ruler had recognized the former, but a
skeptical people showed themselves singularly obdurate to the latter. The
persecution of the Christians, of which the letters from the missionaries
at Pekin at this time are so full, did not go beyond the placing of some
restraint on the preaching of their religion. No wholesale executions or
sweeping decrees passed against their persons attended its course or
marked its development. Yung Ching simply showed by his conduct that they
must count no longer on the favor of the emperor in the carrying out of
their designs. The difficulties inherent in the task they had undertaken
stood for the first time fully revealed, and having been denounced as a
source of possible danger to the stability of the empire, they became an
object of suspicion even to those who had sympathized with them
personally, if not with their creed.
The early years of the reign of Yung Ching were marked by extraordinary
public misfortunes. The flooding of the Hoangho entailed a famine, which
spread such desolation throughout the northern provinces that it is
affirmed, on credible authority, that 40,000 persons were fed at the state
expense in Pekin alone for a period of four months. The taxes in some of
the most important cities and wealthiest districts had to be greatly
reduced, and the resources of the exchequer were severely strained. But
the loss and suffering caused by the famine were speedily cast into the
shade by a terrible and sudden visitation which carried desolation and
destruction throughout the whole of the metropolitan province of Pechihli.
The northern districts of China have for many centuries been liable to the
frequent recurrence of earthquakes on a terribly vast and disastrous
scale, but none of them equaled in its terrific proportions that of the
year 1730. It came without warning, but the shocks continued for ten days.
Over 100,000 persons were overwhelmed in a moment at Pekin, the suburbs
were laid in ruins, the imperial palace was destroyed, the summer
residence at Yuen Ming Yuen, on which Yung Ching had lavished his taste
and his treasure, suffered in scarcely a less degree. The emperor and the
inhabitants fled from the city, and took shelter without the walls, where
they encamped. The loss was incalculable, and it has been stated that Yung
Ching expended seventy-five million dollars in repairing the damage and
allaying the public misfortune. Notwithstanding these national calamities
the population increased, and in some provinces threatened to outgrow the
production of rice. Various devices were resorted to to check the growth
of the population; but they were all of a simple and harmless character,
such as the issue of rewards to widows who did not marry again and to
bachelors who preserved their state.
The military events of Yung Ching's reign were confined to the side of
Central Asia, where Tse Wang Rabdan emulated with more than ordinary
success the example of his predecessors, and where he transmitted his
power and authority to his son, Galdan Chereng, on his death in 1727. He
established his sovereignty over the whole of Kashgaria, which he ruled
through a prince named Daniel, and he established relations with the
Russians, which at one time promised to attain a cordial character, but
which were suddenly converted into hostility by the Russian belief that
the Upper Urtish lay in a gold region which they resolved to conquer.
Instead of an ally they then found in Tse Wang Rabdan the successful
defender of that region. But the wars of Central Asia had no interest for
Yung Ching. He was one of the Chinese rulers who thought that he should
regard these matters as outside his concern, and the experience of
Kanghi's wars had divided Chinese statesmen into two clearly-defined
parties: those who held that China should conquer Central Asia up to the
Pamir, and those who thought that the Great Wall was the best practical
limit for the exercise of Chinese authority. Yung Ching belonged to the
latter school, and, instead of dispatching fresh armies into the Gobi
region to complete the triumph of his father, he withdrew those that were
there, and publicly proclaimed that the aggressive chiefs and turbulent
tribes of that region might fight out their own quarrels, and indulge
their own petty ambitions as best they felt disposed. The success of this
policy would have been incontestable if it had been reflected in the
conduct of the Central Asian princelets, who, however, seemed to see in
the moderation and inaction of the Chinese ruler only a fresh incentive to
aggression and turbulence. Yung Ching himself died too soon to appreciate
the shortcomings of his own policy.
In the midst of his labors as a beneficent ruler the life of Yung Ching
was cut short. On October 7, 1735, he gave audience to the high officials
of his court in accordance with his usual custom; but feeling indisposed
he was compelled to break off the interview in a sudden manner. His
indisposition at once assumed a grave form, and in a few hours he had
ceased to live. The loss of this emperor does not seem to have caused any
profound or widespread sentiment of grief among the masses, although the
more intelligent recognized in him one of those wise and prudent rulers
whose tenure of power makes their people's happiness.
Yung Ching died so suddenly that he had not nominated his heir. He left
three sons, and, after brief consideration, the eldest of these--to whom
was given the name of Keen Lung--was placed upon the throne. The choice
was justified by the result, although the chroniclers declare that it came
as a surprise to the recipient of the honor, as he had passed his life in
the pursuit of literary studies rather than in practical administrative
work. His skill and proficiency in the field of letters had already been
proved before his father's death; but of public affairs and the government
of a vast empire he knew little or nothing. He was a student of books
rather than of men, and he had to undergo a preliminary course of training
in the art of government before he felt himself capable of assuming the
reigns of power. Moreover, Keen Lung, although the eldest son, was not the
offspring of the empress, and the custom of succession in the imperial
family was too uncertain to allow any one in his position to feel absolute
confidence as to his claims securing the recognition they might seem to
warrant. His admission of his being unequal to the duties of his lofty
position, notwithstanding that he was twenty-five years of age, was
thoroughly characteristic of the man, and augured well for the future of
his reign. He appointed four regents, whose special task was to show him
how to rule; but in the edict delegating his authority to them he
expressly limited its application to the period of mourning, covering a
space of four years; and as a measure of precaution against any undue
ambition he made the office terminable at his discretion.
Keen Lung began his reign with acts of clemency, which seldom fail to add
a special luster to a sovereign's assumption of power. His father had
punished with rigor some of the first princes of the court simply because
they were his relations, and there is some ground for thinking that he had
put forward antipathy to the foreign heresy of the Christians as a cloak
to conceal his private animosities and personal apprehensions. Keen Lung
at once resolved to reverse the acts of his predecessor, and to offer such
reparation as he could to those who had suffered for no sufficient
offense. The sons of Kanghi and their children who had fallen under the
suspicion of Yung Ching were released from their confinement, and restored
to their rank and privileges. They showed their gratitude to their
benefactor by sustained loyalty and practical service that contributed to
the splendor of his long reign. The impression thus produced on the public
mind was also most favorable, and already the people were beginning to
declare that they had found a worthy successor to the great Kanghi.
There is nothing surprising to learn that in consequence of the pardon and
restitution of the men who had nominally suffered for their Christian
proclivities the foreign missionaries began to hope and to agitate for an
improvement in their lot and condition. They somewhat hastily assumed that
the evil days of persecution wore over, and that Keen Lung would accord
them the same honorable positions as they had enjoyed under his
grandfather, Kanghi. These expectations were destined to a rude
disappointment, as the party hostile to the Christians remained as strong
as ever at court, and the regents were not less prejudiced against them
than the ministers of Yung Ching had been. The emperor's own opinion does
not appear to have been very strong one way or the other, but it seems
probable that he was slightly prejudiced against the foreigners. He
certainly assented to an order prohibiting the practice of Christianity by
any of his subjects, and ordaining the punishment of those who should
obstinately adhere to it. At the same time the foreign missionaries were
ordered to confine their labors to the secular functions in which they
were useful, and to give up all attempts to propagate their creed. Still
some slight abatement in practice was procured of these rigid measures
through the mediation of the painter Castiglione, who, while taking a
portrait of the emperor, pleaded, and not ineffectually, the cause of his
countrymen. There was one distinct persecution on a large scale in the
province of Fuhkien, where several Spanish missionaries were tortured,
their chief native supporters strangled, and Keen Lung himself sent the
order to execute the missionaries in retaliation for the massacre of
Chinese subjects by the Spaniards in the Philippines. After he had been on
the throne fifteen years, Keen Lung began to unbend toward the foreigners,
and to avail himself of their services in the same manner as his
grandfather had done. The artists Castiglione and Attiret were constantly
employed in the palace, painting his portrait and other pictures. Keen
Lung is said to have been so pleased with that drawn by Attiret that he
wished to make him a mandarin. The French in particular strove to amuse
the great monarch, and to enable him to wile away his leisure with
ingeniously constructed automatons worked by clockwork machinery. He also
learned from them much about the politics and material condition of
Europe, and it is not surprising that he became imbued with the idea that
France was the greatest and most powerful state in that continent. Almost
insensibly Keen Lung entertained a more favorable opinion of the
foreigners, and extended to them his protection with other privileges that
had long been withheld. But this policy was attributable to practical
considerations and not to religious belief.
Very little detailed information is obtainable about the inner working of
the government and the annual course of events, owing to the practice of
not giving the official history of the dynasty publicity until after it
has ceased to reign; so all that can be said with any confidence of the
first fifteen years of Keen Lung's reign, is that they were marked by
great internal prosperity arising from the tranquillity of the realm and
the content of the people. Any misfortunes that befell the realm were of
personal importance to the sovereign rather than of national significance,
although some of the foreign priests affected to see in them the
retribution of Providence for the apathy and tyranny of the Chinese
rulers. In 1751 Keen Lung lost both his principal wife, the empress, and
his eldest son. His disagreements with his ministers also proved many and
serious, and the letters from Pekin note, with more than a gleam of
satisfaction, that those who were most prominent as Anti-Christians
suffered most heavily. Keen Lung suffered from physical weakness, and a
susceptibility to bodily ailments, that detracted during the first few
years of his reign from his capacity to discharge all the duties of his
position, and more than their usual share of power consequently fell into
the hands of the great tribunals of the state. When Keen Lung resolutely
devoted himself to the task of supervising the acts of the official world
the evils became less perceptible, and gradually the provincial governors
found it to be their best and wisest course to obey and faithfully execute
the behests of their sovereign. For a brief space Keen Lung seemed likely
to prove more indifferent to the duties of his rank than either of his
predecessors; but after a few years' practice he hastened to devote
himself to his work with an energy which neither Kanghi nor Yung Ching had
surpassed.
Keen Lung seems to have passed his time between his palace at Pekin and
his hunting-box at Jehol, a small town beyond the Wall. The latter,
perhaps, was his favorite residence, because he enjoyed the quiet of the
country, and the purer and more invigorating air of the northern region
agreed with his constitution. Here he varied the monotony of rural
pursuits--for he never became as keen a hunter as Kanghi--with grand
ceremonies which he employed the foreigners in painting. It was at Jehol
that he planned most of his military campaigns, and those conquests which
carried his banners to the Pamir and the Himalaya. If the earlier period
of Keen Lung's reign was tranquil and undisturbed by war, the last forty
years made up for it by their sustained military excitement and
achievement. As soon as Keen Lung grasped the situation and found that the
administration of the country was working in perfect order, he resolved to
attain a complete settlement of the questions pending in Central Asia,
which his father had shirked. Up to this time Keen Lung had been generally
set down as a literary student, as a man more of thought than of action.
But his reading had taught him one thing, and that was that the danger to
China from the side of Central Asia was one that went back to remote ages,
that it had never been allayed, save for brief intervals, and then only by
establishing Chinese authority on either side of the Tian Shan. His
studies showed Keen Lung what ought to be done, and the aggressions of his
neighbors soon gave him the opportunity of carrying out the policy that he
felt to be the best.
CHAPTER XIII
KEEN LUNG'S WARS AND CONQUESTS
It was the arrival of a chief named Amursana at his court that first led
Keen Lung to seriously entertain the idea of advancing into Central Asia,
and having determined on the Central Asian campaign, Keen Lung's military
preparations were commensurate with the importance and magnitude of the
undertaking. He collected an army of 150,000 men, including the picked
Manchu Banners and the celebrated Solon contingent, each of whom was said
to be worth ten other soldiers. The command of this army was given to
Panti, the best of the Manchu generals, and Amursana, who accompanied it,
received a seal and the honorary title of Great General. But Keen Lung
superintended all the operations of the war, and took credit to himself
for its successful issue.
The triumph of Amursana, by the aid of the Chinese, did not bring
tranquillity to Central Asia. He was not contented with the position to
which the friendship of Keen Lung had raised him, and, placing too high an
estimate on his own ability and resources, he was inclined to dispute the
accepted opinion that all his success was due to the Chinese army. On the
termination of the campaign the major portion of that army returned to
China, but Panti was left with a select contingent, partly to support
Amursana, and partly to secure the restoration of China's authority.
Amursana, however, considered that the presence of this force detracted
from the dignity of his position. Having risen to the greatness he
coveted, Amursana meditated casting aside the prop by which he had risen;
but before he took an irretraceable step he resolved to make use of the
Chinese forces for extending his authority south of the Tian Shan range
into Kashgaria. With some hesitation Panti lent him 500 Chinese soldiers,
and with their aid the Eleuth prince captured the cities of Kashgar and
Yarkand, and set up a chief named Barhanuddin Khoja as his nominee. This
success confirmed Amursana in his good opinion of himself and his
resources, and when Keen Lung, who had grown mistrustful of his good
faith, summoned him to Pekin, he resolved to throw off the mask and his
allegiance to China. At this supreme moment of his fate not the least
thought of gratitude to the Chinese emperor, who had made him what he was,
seems to have entered his mind. He determined not merely to disregard the
summons to Pekin and to proclaim his independence, but also to show the
extent of his hostility by adding to his defiance an act of treachery.
Before he fully revealed his plans he surprised the Chinese garrison and
massacred it to the last man; the valiant Panti, who had gained his
victories for him, being executed by the public executioner.
The impression produced by this event was profound, and when Amursana
followed up the blow by spreading abroad rumors of the magnitude of his
designs they obtained some credence even among the Mongols. Encouraged by
this success he sought to rally those tribes to his side by imputing
minister intentions to Keen Lung. His emissaries declared that Keen Lung
wished to deprive them all of their rank and authority, and that he had
summoned Amursana to Pekin only for the purpose of deposing him. To
complete the quarrel, Amursana declared himself King of the Eleuths, and
absolutely independent of China. But the energy and indignation of Keen
Lung soon exposed the hollowness of these designs, and the inadequacy of
Amursana's power and capacity to make good his pretensions. Keen Lung
collected another army larger than that which had placed him on his
throne, to hurl Amursana from the supremacy which had not satisfied him
and which he had grossly abused.
The armies of Keen Lung traversed the Gobi Desert and arrived in Central
Asia, but the incapacity of his generals prevented the campaigns having
those decisive results which he expected. The autocratic Chinese ruler
treated his generals who failed like the fickle French Republic. The
penalty of failure was a public execution. Keen Lung would accept nothing
short of the capture of Amursana as evidence of his victory, and Amursana
escaped to the Kirghiz. His celerity or ingenuity cost the lives of four
respectable Chinese generals, two of whom were executed at Pekin and two
were slain by brigands on their way there to share the same fate.
Emboldened by the inability of the Chinese to capture him, Amursana again
assembled an army and pursued the retiring Chinese across the desert,
where he succeeded in inflicting no inconsiderable loss upon them.
When the Chinese army retired before Amursana one corps maintained its
position and successfully defied him, thanks to the capacity of its
commander, Tchaohoei. Tchaohoei not merely held his ground, but drew up a
scheme for regaining all that had been lost in Central Asia, and Keen Lung
was so impressed by it that he at once resolved to intrust the execution
of his policy to the only officer who had shown any military capacity. Two
fresh armies were sent to the Ili, and placed, on their arrival there,
under the command of Tchaohoei, who was exhorted, above all things, to
capture Amursana, dead or alive. Tchaohoei at once assumed the offensive,
and as Amursana was abandoned by his followers as soon as they saw that
China was putting forth the whole of her strength, he had no alternative
but once more to flee for shelter to the Kirghiz. But the conditions
imposed by Keen Lung were so rigorous that Tchaohoei realized that the
capture of Amursana was essential to his gaining the confidence and
gratitude of his master. He, therefore, sent his best lieutenant, Fouta,
to pursue the Eleuth prince. Fouta pursued Amursana with the energy of one
who has to gain his spurs, and he almost succeeded in effecting his
capture, but Amursana just made his escape in time across the frontier
into Russian territory. But Keen Lung was not satisfied with this result,
and he sent both to Fouta and Tchaohoei to rest satisfied with nothing
short of the capture of Amursana. The close of that unfortunate prince's
career was near at hand, although it was not ended by the act of the
Chinese officers. He died in Russian territory of a fever, and when the
Chinese demanded of their neighbors that his body should be surrendered
they refused, on the ground that enmity should cease with death; but Fouta
was able to report to his sovereign that he had seen with his own eyes the
mortal remains of the Eleuth chief who had first been the humble friend
and then the bitter foe of the Manchu ruler.
Keen Lung decided to administer the country which he had conquered. But
another step was seen to be necessary to give stability to the Chinese
administration, and that was the annexation of Kashgaria. The great region
of Little Bokhara or Eastern Turkestan, known to us now under the more
convenient form of Kashgaria, was still ruled by the Khoja Barhanuddin,
who had been placed in power by Amursana, and it afforded a shelter for
all the disaffected, and a base of hostility against the Chinese. Even if
Tchaohoei had not reported that the possession of Kashgaria was essential
to the military security of Jungaria, there is no doubt that sooner or
later Keen Lung would have proceeded to extreme lengths with regard to
Barhanuddin. The Chinese were fully warranted, however, in treating him as
an enemy when he seized an envoy sent to his capital by Tchaohoei and
executed him and his escort. This outrage precluded all possibility of an
amicable arrangement, and the Chinese prepared their fighting men for the
invasion and conquest of Kashgaria. They crossed the frontier in two
bodies, one under the command of Tchaohoei, the other under that of Fouta.
Any resistance that Barhanuddin and his brother attempted was speedily
overcome; the principal cities, Kashgar and Yarkand, were occupied, and
the ill-advised princes were compelled to seek their personal safety by a
precipitate flight. The conquest and annexation of Kashgaria completed the
task with which Tchaohoei was charged, and it also realized Keen Lung's
main idea by setting up his authority in the midst of the turbulent tribes
who had long disturbed the empire, and who first learned peaceful pursuits
as his subjects. The Chinese commanders followed up this decided success
by the dispatch of several expeditions into the adjoining states.
The ruler of Khokand was either so much impressed by his neighbor's
prowess, or, as there is much reason to believe, experienced himself the
weight of their power by the occupation of his principal cities, Tashkent
and Khokand, that he hastened to recognize the authority of the emperor
and to enroll himself among the tributaries of the Son of Heaven. The
tribute he bound himself to pay was sent without a break for a period of
half a century. The Kirghiz chiefs of low and high degree imitated his
example, a |
