The announcement of a work by the late Dr Gutzlaff, entitled the _Life
of Taou-Kwang, late Emperor of China, with Memoirs of the Court of
Peking_,[1] excited a good deal of expectation; but for our own part,
now that the book is published, we must confess our disappointment on
finding it not a well-constructed memoir, but a volume bearing the
appearance of a collection of materials put together just as they came
to hand, with a view to re-arrangement. Declining health probably
prevented the author from perfecting his plan, and hurried his pages
to the press; death has now removed him from his labours. But a
collection of authentic historic facts is valuable, however loosely
embodied; and few writers have enjoyed such favourable opportunities
as Dr Gutzlaff for obtaining them.
Referring first to the personal history of Taou-Kwang, we find that
his education was more Tatar than Chinese. He was one of the numerous
grandchildren of the imperial house of Keelung, but without any
expectation of filling the throne, as both his mother and paternal
grandmother were inferior members of the imperial harem. The
discipline under which the royal family was trained, was of the
strictest kind. Each of the male children, on completing his sixth
year, was placed with the rest under a course of education
superintended by the state. Though eminent doctors were engaged to
instruct them in Chinese literature, yet archery and horsemanship were
considered higher accomplishments, and the most expert masters from
Mongolia and Manchooria trained them in these exercises. They were
treated as mere schoolboys, were allotted a very small income for
their maintenance, were closely confined to the apartments assigned to
them, kept in entire ignorance of passing events, and allowed little
intercourse with the court--none with the people. Not till each had
passed his twentieth year, was there any relaxation of this
discipline. Taou-Kwang was about this age when his father ascended the
throne, in consequence of the somewhat capricious appointment of
Keelung, who abdicated, and soon after died. The new emperor
surrounded himself with buffoons, playactors, and boon-companions. The
debaucheries, jealousies, and cruelties of his reign, remind us of
what we have half sceptically read of Nero and Caligula. But
Taou-Kwang kept aloof alike from the frivolities and the intrigues of
his father's court: he seemed to have no desire ungratified so long as
he had his bow and arrows, his horse and matchlock; and even after he
was unexpectedly nominated heir to the throne, in consequence of
having personally defended his father from a band of assassins, his
new expectations made no difference in his frugal and modest way of
life. The emperor at length died; it did not clearly appear by what
means, and it would perhaps have been troublesome to inquire: the
empress-dowager waived the claims of her son; and Taou-Kwang ascended
the throne without bloodshed. The luxury of the preceding reign now
gave place to sobriety and economy; though the usual ceremonies of the
court were strictly observed, they were conducted in the least
expensive manner; and the ruling passion of the monarch soon appeared
to be avarice.
Taou-Kwang had no taste either for literature or the arts; and he
jumbled together in one large magazine the beautiful pictures, clocks,
and musical instruments accumulated by his ancestors. To explain and
repair these, there had always been Europeans, chiefly Portuguese, in
attendance; and to some of these we have been indebted in times past
for memoirs of the court of Peking; but Taou-Kwang dismissed the last
of them. It is believed that an undefined dread of Western power had
much to do with this distaste for the products of its ingenuity.
The only orgies which the emperor seemed desirous of maintaining, were
feasts for the promotion of Manchoo union; on which occasions, the
Manchoos assembled to eat meat without rice--in order to maintain the
recollection of their Nimrodic origin--and to drink an intoxicating
liquor made of mare's milk. He had a favourite sequestered abode at no
great distance from the capital, where he had allowed the vegetation
to run wild and rank, in order to make it a rural retreat, instead of
an imperial park. All business was excluded from the precincts, and
here the emperor spent much of his time, wandering solitarily on foot
among the trees, amusing himself with the friends of his youth, or
sailing, with some of the ladies of his family, along the mimic
rivers.
According to traditional usage, the monarch must perform a pilgrimage
to the tombs of his ancestors. The astronomical, or rather
astrological board having ascertained the month, the day, the hour,
even the minute, when the stars would prove propitious, the cavalcade
set out. The princes of the blood, the ladies of the palace, and the
favourite ministers of the court, formed part of the train, which was
attended by at least 2000 camels. But even an emperor cannot travel
through waste and desert lands without inconvenience; and though great
preparations had been made beforehand in erecting temporary dwellings
where no villages were to be found, yet his Celestial majesty, with
his court, had often to bivouac under tents in the open air. The
people crowded in thousands to see their sovereign--a liberty which,
it is well known, may not be used in Peking, where every one must
hasten to hide his head as from the fabled Gorgon. The ancestral tombs
at Mookden, where the imperial manes repose under care of a large
garrison, were at length reached. And now Taou-Kwang became a family
man, abandoning the forms of state and the pomp of empire, and
mingling in familiar intercourse with his relatives and attendants.
Such particulars prove that we must receive at very considerable
discount the descriptions hitherto published concerning the extreme
sacredness of the emperor's person, the monotonous routine of ceremony
to which he is condemned, and the impossibility of his 'indulging in
the least relaxation from the fatiguing support of his dignity.' Turn
we now to public events.
By a series of unexpected conquests, the three largest empires in the
world have been gradually approaching each other's frontiers in Asia.
England, from the distant West, has formed military establishments
bordering on Thibet; China, from the remote East, has come to take
that country under its dominion; while Russia, the colossus of Europe,
has traversed the ice-fields of Siberia, and furnished an extensive
northern frontier to Mongolia and Manchooria, the Tatar dominions of
China. These powers, by their combined influence, keep within bounds
the lawless hordes of Asia, by whose frequent irruptions in past ages
vast regions of more civilised territory were overwhelmed, and whole
nations extirpated. The empire that effects most in this way is China,
and that with the smallest amount of means. Its frontier army is
indeed but a burlesque compared with the well-appointed warriors of
England and Russia; yet the Usbecks, Calmuks, and Kinghis are kept in
subjection. The volume before us gives some insight into the mode in
which this is accomplished.
A formidable insurrection, excited partly by religious enthusiasm,
broke out in the western parts of Chinese Tatary in 1826. An able
leader was found in Tehangir, a descendant of one of the former
princes. He proclaimed himself the deliverer of the faithful from the
infidel yoke, drew multitudes to his standard, and proceeded
victoriously from city to city. The imperial army sent to quell this
insurrection cost on an average L.23,000 of our money per day; and
though victories were, as usual, reported, there was no appearance of
the war coming to a termination. What prowess could not effect was
accomplished by bribery. The Mohammedans were themselves divided into
rival factions; and the Karatak ('black caps') were induced by Chinese
diplomacy to turn against the Altktak ('white caps'), to whom Tehangir
belonged. He was betrayed, taken to Peking, and cut to pieces in
presence of the emperor; after which, nearly the whole of Turkistan
was laid waste by fire and sword. After twenty more of the rebels had
been decapitated, the emperor enacted new laws for the country, with
the view of attaching the people to himself by the mildness of his
rule. The black caps were promoted either to offices of trust in their
own country, or to places of distinction in the Chinese army. When
Turkistan again became the seat of trouble in 1830, the emperor at
once sent 4000 camels with 2,000,000 taëls of silver (about L.700,000)
to settle matters, which was considered much wiser than to engage in a
long and expensive war. A similar policy was pursued in 1847, when a
formidable rising occurred, during which Kashgar was taken, and the
Manchoo forces routed. The Mohammedan leaders agreed to accept the
emperor's bounty; and on condition of all lives being spared, the
imperial troops were allowed to recapture Kashgar as by military
force. A splendid victory was of course announced in the _Peking
Gazette_; and in the subsequent distribution of rewards, the
diplomatist was raised ten steps above the general.
It is commonly believed that the Celestial Empire dwells in perpetual
peace within itself, as the fruit of that universal spirit of
subordination and filial obedience which is the great object of all
its institutions. Nothing, however, can be more erroneous. Not only do
the restless Tatars frequently break into revolt, but in China itself,
the extortions of the mandarins, or the occurrence of famine,
frequently excites a village, a city, or even a large district to
rebellion; and there are cases of an infuriated population actually
broiling their magistrates over a slow fire. The usual policy of
Taou-Kwang in all such cases was to send an army, but at the same time
to set the leaders at loggerheads by administering suitable bribes,
and inducing them to betray each other. In this manner, a civil war
can be brought to a speedy conclusion; and then the cruelty of the
victorious government knows no bounds. 'The treatment of political
prisoners,' says our author, 'is really so shocking as to be
incredible, if one had not been an eye-witness of these inhuman
deeds.'
The volume affords us some amusing particulars connected with the
collision with England. When the British fleet was expected in the
Chinese waters, the imperial orders were, to 'listen to no proposals,
but fire on the ships, and annihilate them at once.' To the great
emperor, it would have appeared quite ridiculous to condescend to
negotiation with so inferior a power as Britain: he had given his
orders; these must be obeyed; and his minister had himself written a
letter to Queen Victoria, that she might not plead ignorance of the
high behests of his Celestial majesty. It was not till the fleet
appeared at the mouth of the Pei-Ho, and the capital was in danger,
that Taou-Kwang deigned to seek an accommodation by means of his
smooth-tongued minister Keshen, who negotiated an armistice, promising
that all wrongs would be redressed by a commission appointed to meet
the British representatives at Canton. But as soon as the fleet turned
southward, the danger was considered visionary; and again the cry
arose to punish the insolence of the Western barbarians, as the
English were politely designated. The empress-dowager, who was never
before known to meddle with state affairs, told her son that 'the
English and Chinese could not co-exist under the canopy of heaven;
that the Celestial Empire must assert its superiority over these
barbarian robbers; and that unless he waged war to their utter
extermination, his ancestors would never acknowledge him in Hades.'
Keshen was now denounced as a traitor to his country for having come
to any terms; he was sentenced to death; and though his execution was
deferred, yet his whole property, amounting in silver alone to the
value of three millions sterling, was confiscated; his very wives were
sold by auction; and he who had been one of the richest men in the
empire, had not the means of buying himself a jacket.
Elepoo, the imperial commissioner at Ning-poo, opposite Chusan, was
also denounced. His crime was, that he had, according to the terms of
the truce, surrendered the English prisoners, notwithstanding the
counter-orders he had received to send them to Peking as trophies of
victory, to be cut to pieces according to custom. Among them was a
captain's wife, who had been wrecked, and had thus fallen into his
power. A happy thought struck some of the mandarins--that she might be
passed off as the sister of the barbarian Queen. She was accordingly
put into a cage, and carried about for exhibition; but Elepoo
delivered her from the excruciating death she would have suffered as
Queen Victoria's sister, and restored her to her countrymen. The whole
cabinet was indignant; he was summoned to appear immediately before
his exasperated sovereign, and sentenced to transportation to the
deserts of Manchooria.
When it came to fighting in earnest, and there was for the Chinese, as
we know, nothing but utter defeat, still there was no report sent to
court but of victory. But as million after million of taëls vanished,
and grandee after grandee disappeared, the emperor was obliged to be
informed of the real state of affairs, and his wrath knew no bounds.
In vain he threatened utter destruction to the barbarians, if they did
not instantly leave the coasts; in vain called on the people to arm
themselves _en masse_, and protect their lives and property: no one
stirred, and the emperor resorted to new counsellors for new plans of
defence. It was now gravely proposed, to build a fleet three times as
powerful as that of the British, and station it near Singapore and
Anjeer, to intercept the British vessels ere they reached China, and
annihilate their fleet piecemeal. The forests were to be felled to
supply materials: the only thing wanting was some English men-of-war,
to serve as models. Again, Hou-chunn, the Marshal Ney of China, was
ready to face the whole British fleet if he had but a steamer to carry
6000 men, half divers, half gunners; the divers would jump into the
water, and sink the English ships by boring large holes in them, while
the gunners would keep up an incessant fire. Striking as this plan
appeared, the emperor doubted its practicability. Imitation steamships
had been attempted already; but though they looked quite like the
foreign ones, they would not move: the paddles had to be turned like a
treadmill. Another great suggestion, was to march 300,000 men right
through the Russian territories to London, and put a stop to all
further operations by crushing the English at home!
Meanwhile, the British arms prevailed; and when the fleet reached the
first bend in the Yang-tse-kiang, there happened a solar eclipse; it
was impossible not to see that the sun of China had set for ever!
When Taou-Kwang found that the danger actually threatened his throne
and his person, he hastily packed up his effects, and prepared to fly
to some of the interior provinces; but being assured that peace might
yet be obtained, he gave _carte blanche_ for its conclusion. 'One can
form no adequate idea,' says Dr Gutzlaff, 'of the utter amazement of
the Chinese on perceiving that the "son of heaven" was not invincible;
and that he was even fallible; a revulsion of feeling took place, such
as had never been known before; and the political supremacy which
China had so proudly asserted, was humbled in the dust.'
As soon as peace was concluded, the first care of Taou-Kwang was to
punish the champions who had clamoured for war, but proved cowards in
the fight. Some had already died of grief, some had committed suicide,
and others had fled. But those who remained within the monarch's
grasp, besides many civil and military officers who had been compelled
to surrender their cities, were treated with merciless severity.
Keshen's extreme sentence was reversed, and he was made pipe-bearer to
the emperor.
A new era had now commenced. It had been proved to a demonstration,
that the mandarins were common mortals, and that the great emperor did
not sway the whole world. Democratic assemblies rose in every part of
the land; the people must be consulted where their happiness was
concerned; the citizens and peasants turned politicians; and if in any
case remonstrance failed, they proceeded, _en masse_, to the
government offices, and carried by force what was denied to courtesy.
The emperor learning these movements, instantly took the popular side;
laid all the blame on the mandarins, and superseded those who had
given offence. The taxes which had been refused, he remitted as an act
of sovereign favour; and the laws were relaxed--often to the injury of
well-disposed citizens. The people were again and again termed the
dear children of the emperor, and every member of the cabinet found
his best interest in advocating popular measures.
The rest of Taou-Kwang's reign was spent chiefly in endeavours to
improve his naval and military forces, and in fruitless struggles to
replenish the exhausted treasury of the state. His own, meanwhile, was
full to overflowing, having received immense accessions from the
confiscated property of his unsuccessful generals and degraded
ministers. He died on the 25th of February 1850, aged sixty-nine. In
his will, there appears the following notice of the English war: 'The
little fools beyond the Western Ocean were chastised and quelled by
our troops, and peace was soon made; but we presumed not to vaunt our
martial powers.'