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.