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.