masterful strategy in combination with the forces of P’eng
Yu-lin and Tseng Kuo-ch’uan,[15] attacking the rebels both by
land and by water. Over a hundred cities have been recaptured
and over a hundred thousand rebels, who were advancing to the
relief of Nanking, have been slain and ‘their left ears cut
off.’[16] Nanking was thus completely invested and its relief
became impossible. Early this month the outer defences of the
city were taken and some thirty thousand rebels put to the
sword, but their so-called King and his desperate followers
were still at bay in the inner city, fighting fiercely to the
end.
“Tseng Kuo-fan now reports that after the capture by our troops
of the outer city ramparts, the rebels greatly strengthened
the inner defences. Our men succeeded in taking the ‘Dragon’s
Elbow’ hill and a general bombardment followed. Mining and
counter-mining went on furiously in the vicinity of the chief
forts amidst desperate encounters. At dawn on the 16th all our
forces were collected, and by springing a mine under the wall
of the city a breach was made some sixty yards in width. Our
men rushed the gap, burst into the city and were advancing on
all sides when the rebels from the wall exploded a magazine,
and many of our men were slain. A panic was only averted by our
leaders cutting down a number of those who were attempting to
fly.
[_Here follows a detailed description of the fighting, which we omit._]
“By 1 A.M. flames were bursting from the Palace of the
‘Heavenly King’ and the residences of other rebel leaders. One
of them rushed from the main Palace Hall with one thousand
followers and sought refuge in some houses near the south
gate of the city. After some seven hundred of his men had
been slain, he was captured, and on his person were found two
Imperial seals of jade and one official seal of gold. At 3 A.M.
about a thousand of the rebels, disguised in our uniforms,
escaped through the tunnel at the Gate of Heavenly Peace
but our cavalry pursued them and captured or destroyed the
whole force at Hu-Shu chen, where their leader, the ‘Glorious
Prince,’ was taken alive. On being examined, this leader whose
name was Li Wan-ts’ai, admitted that seven of the so-called
Princes of the Taipings had been slain by our forces, while
seeking to escape under cover of darkness, on the night of our
entrance into the city.
“According to the evidence of other rebels, the arch-leader
Hung Hsiu-ch’uan, had committed suicide by taking poison a
month before. He had been buried in the court-yard of his
Palace, and his son, the so-called Boy-Prince, had succeeded
to the usurped title. He also had committed suicide by burning
when the city fell. Another of their chiefs, one Li Hsiu-cheng,
had been wounded and was in hiding at a spot near by, where our
men found him together with the elder brother of the ‘Heavenly
King.’ During these three days, over a hundred thousand rebels
were killed, of whom some three thousand were their so-called
Princes, generals, and high officers.
“This glorious victory is entirely due to the bountiful
protection of Heaven, to the ever-present help of our
Ancestors, and to the foresight and wisdom of the Empresses
Regent, who, by employing and promoting efficient leaders for
their armies, have thus secured co-operation of all our forces
and the accomplishment of this great achievement, whereby the
soul of our late father in Heaven must be comforted, and the
desire of all people fulfilled. For ourselves we feel utterly
unworthy of this crowning triumph, and we are truly distressed
at the thought that our late father could not live to witness
this consummation of his unfinished plans. This rebellion has
now lasted fifteen years, during twelve of which Nanking has
been held by the rebels. They have devastated about a dozen
provinces, and have captured some hundreds of cities. Their
final defeat we owe to our Generals, ‘who have been combed by
the wind and bathed in the rain,’ and who have undergone every
conceivable hardship in bringing about the destruction of these
unspeakable traitors. We are therefore bound to recognise their
exceptional services by the bestowal of exceptional rewards.
Tseng Kuo-fan first contributed to this glorious end by
raising a force of militia in Hunan and a fleet of war-vessels
with which he won great victories, saving his province from
complete ruin. He re-captured Wu-Ch’ang, cleared the whole
province of Kiangsi, and, advancing eastwards, recovered city
after city. That glorious success has finally crowned our
efforts is due chiefly to his masterly strategy and courage,
to his employment of able subordinates and to his remarkable
powers of organisation. We now confer upon him the title of
Senior Guardian of the Throne, a marquisate of the first rank,
hereditary in perpetuity, and the decoration of the double-eyed
peacock’s feather.
[_Here follows a long list of officers rewarded, beginning with Tseng
Kuo-fan’s brother, above mentioned, who was given an earldom._]
“As soon as the troops have found the body of the usurper
known as the ‘Heavenly King,’ Hung Hsiu-ch’uan, let it be
dismembered forthwith and let the head be sent for exhibition
in every province that has been ravaged by his rebellion, in
order that the public indignation may be appeased. As to the
two captured leaders, let them be sent in cages to Peking, in
order that they may be examined and then punished with death by
the lingering process.”
A further Decree announced that the Emperor would go in person to offer
thanksgiving and sacrifice at all Imperial Temples and shrines, and make
sacrifice to deities of the chief mountains and rivers of the Empire.
A Chinese diarist of the rebellion, referring to the manner in which the
‘Heavenly King’ met his death, says:—
“From the moment that the Imperialists captured Ch’u-yung, the
rebels, pent up in Nanking like wild beasts in a cage, were
in a hopeless plight. From the commencement of the 4th Moon,
the city was completely invested, and without hope of relief.
They were living on reduced rations of one meagre meal a day.
The ‘Heavenly King’ caused roots and leaves to be kneaded and
rolled into pellets which he had served out to his immediate
followers, the rebel chiefs, saying, ‘This is manna from
Heaven; for a long time we in the Palace have eaten nothing
else.’ He gave orders that every household should collect ten
loads of this stuff for storage in the Palace granaries; some
of the more ignorant people obeyed the order, but most of the
rebels ignored it.
“The rebel Li Hsiu-ch’eng, known as the ‘Patriotic Prince,’
escaped from Ch’u-yung and made his way to Nanking. Upon
entering the city, he had drums beaten and bells rung as a
signal for the ‘Heavenly King’ and his followers to ascend
to the Throne Chamber for the discussion of the perilous
situation. Hung Hsiu-ch’uan came, and boastfully ascending the
Throne, spake as follows ‘The Most High has issued to me his
sacred Decree. God the Father, and my Divine elder brother
(Christ) have commanded me to descend unto this world of flesh
and to become the one true lord of all nations and kindreds
upon earth. What cause have I then for fear? Remain with me,
or leave me, as you choose: my inheritance of this Empire,
which is even as an iron girdle of defence, will be protected
by others if you decline to protect it. I have at my command
an angelic host of a million strong: how then could a hundred
thousand or so of these unholy Imperialists enter the city’?
When Li Hsiu-ch’eng heard this nonsensical boasting, he burst
into tears and left the hall.
“But before the middle of the 5th Moon, Hung Hsiu-ch’uan had
come to realise that the city was doomed, and on the 27th day,
having abandoned all hope, he procured a deadly poison which he
mixed with his wine. Then raising the cup on high, he cried,
‘It is not that God the Father has deceived me, but it is I who
have disobeyed God the Father.’ After repeating this several
times he drank the poison. By midnight the measure of his
iniquity was full, and, writhing in agony, he died. Even his
last words showed no true repentance, although they amounted
to an admission of guilt. When his followers learned what
had happened, they wrapped his body in a coverlet of yellow
silk, embroidered with dragons and then, following the rule
of their religion, buried it, uncoffined, in a corner of the
Palace ground. They then placed on the Throne the rebel’s son,
the so-called Boy-Emperor, but they tried to keep secret the
news of the ‘Heavenly King’s’ death. It eventually leaked out,
however, and the courage of the besieged dropped to the last
depths of despair.”
In his Memorial to the Throne, Tseng Kuo-fan described the exhumation of
the rebel Emperor’s body.
“Even the feet of the corpse were wrapped in dragon
embroideries,” he says; “he had a bald head and a beard
streaked with grey. After examining the body I beheaded it and
then burnt it on a large bonfire. One of the concubines in the
usurper’s palace, a woman named Huang, who had herself prepared
the body for burial, told me that the ‘Heavenly King’ seldom
showed himself to his Court, so that they were able to keep his
death a secret for sixteen days. I am sending his bogus seals
to Peking that they may be deposited in the Imperial Archives
Department.”
The Memorial then proceeds:—
“The prisoner Li Hsiu-ch’eng, known as the ‘Patriotic Prince,’
was minutely cross-examined by myself, and his statement, which
he wrote out with his own hand, extends to some thirty thousand
words. He narrated in detail the first causes of the rebellion
and described the present position of the rebels still at large
in Shensi and elsewhere. He strongly advised that we should not
be too hard on the defeated rebels from Kuangtung and Kuangsi,
on the ground that severity would only lead to an increase of
the anti-dynastic feeling in those provinces. It seems to me
that there is much sense in his advice.
“All my staff were most anxious that Li Hsiu-ch’eng should be
sent to Peking in a cage, and even the foreigner Gordon, when
he called to congratulate me, strongly urged this course. But
it seems to me that the high prestige of our Sacred Dynasty
needs no such sending of petty rebels to Peking as trophies or
prisoners of war. The ‘Heavenly King’s’ head is now being sent
round those provinces which were laid waste by the rebellion,
and this should suffice. Besides, I feel that there would be
some risk of Li starving himself to death on the journey,
or that a rescue might even be attempted, for this Li was
extraordinarily popular with the common people. After the
fall of the city, some peasants gave him shelter, and when
he was finally captured the people of the village where he
was taken decoyed and slew one of our men in revenge. After
he had been put in his cage here, another rebel leader, the
so-called ‘Pine Prince,’ was brought into camp. As soon as he
caught sight of Li, he went down on his knees and saluted him
most respectfully, I therefore decided to behead him and the
sentence was duly carried out on the 6th instant.
“The two elder brothers of the ‘Heavenly King’ were men of a
cruel and savage nature, who committed many foul and impious
crimes. Li detested them both heartily. When captured, they
were in a dazed state, and could only mumble ‘God the Father,
God the Father.’ As I could get no information from them,
and as they were sick unto death, I had them both beheaded,
two days before the execution of Li Hsiu-ch’eng. I am now in
receipt of your Majesties’ Decree, approving my action and
ordering me to forward the heads of the three rebel chiefs to
the various provinces in order that public indignation may be
appeased. I have duly suspended the heads from long poles, and
the sight of them has given great and general satisfaction.
“And now, victory being ours, I am led to the reflection that
this our Dynasty surpasses all its predecessors in martial
glory and has suppressed several rebellions by achievements
which shed lustre on our history. The Ssŭ-ch’uan and Hupei
rebellion of half a century ago was, however, limited to four
provinces, and only some twenty cities were held by the rebels.
The insurrection of Wu San-kuei, in the reign of K’ang-Hsi,
overran twelve provinces, and the rebels captured some three
hundred cities and towns. But this Taiping rebellion has been
on a scale vaster than any before, and has produced some great
leaders in its armies. Here in Nanking not a single rebel
surrendered. Many burned themselves alive rather than be taken.
Such things are unparalleled in history, and we feel that the
final happy issue is due to the consummate virtue and wisdom of
his late Majesty, which alone made victory possible. By dint of
careful economy in the Palace, he was able to set aside large
sums for the equipment of adequate forces. Most careful in his
choice of leaders, he was lavish of rewards; all wise himself,
yet was he ever ready to listen to the advice of his generals.
Your Majesties the Empresses and the Emperor have faithfully
carried out and even amplified these principles, and thus you
have succeeded in wiping out these usurpers and have shed great
glory on your reign. We, who so unworthily hold your high
command, grieve greatly that His Majesty did not live to see
his work crowned with triumph.”
For four years after the collapse of the rebellion, Tseng Kuo-fan
remained at Nanking as Viceroy. (The Hunanese still regard that post
as belonging by prescriptive right to a Hunanese official.) His only
absence was during a brief expedition against the Mahomedan rebels in
Shantung. In September 1868 he was appointed Viceroy of Chihli, and left
for Peking at the end of the year, receiving a remarkable ovation from
the people of Nanking. In Peking he was received with great honours, and
in his capacity of Grand Secretary had a meeting with the Council on the
morning after his arrival, followed immediately by an Audience, to which
he was summoned and conducted by one of the Princes. The young Emperor
was sitting on a Throne facing west, and the Empresses Regent were behind
him, screened from view by the yellow curtain, Tzŭ An to the left and Tzŭ
Hsi to the right of the Throne. In the Chinese narrative of the rebellion
to which we have already referred, the writer professes to report this
audience, and several that followed, practically verbatim, and as it
affords interesting information as to the manner and methods of Tzŭ Hsi
on these occasions, the following extracts are worthy of reproduction. It
is to be observed that the writer, like all his contemporaries, assumes
_ab initio_ that the Empress Tzŭ An, though senior, is a negligible
quantity and that the whole interest of the occasion lies between Tzŭ Hsi
and the official in audience.
Upon entering the Throne room, Tseng fell upon his knees, as in duty
bound, and in that position advanced a few feet, saying “Your servant
Tseng Kuo-fan respectfully enquires after Your Majesties’ health.” Then
removing his hat and performing the kowtow, he humbly returned thanks
for Imperial favours bestowed upon him. These preliminaries completed,
he rose and advanced a few steps to kneel on the cushion prepared for
him below the daïs. The following dialogue then took place:—
_Her Majesty Tzŭ Hsi._ When you left Nanking, was all your
official work completed?
_Tseng._ Yes, quite completed.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ Have the irregular troops and braves all been
disbanded?
_Tseng._ Yes, all.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ How many in all?
_Tseng._ I have disbanded over twenty thousand irregulars and
have enrolled thirty thousand regulars.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ From which province do the majority of these men
hail?
_Tseng._ A few of the troops come from Hunan, but the great
majority are Anhui men.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ Was the disbandment effected quite quietly?
_Tseng._ Yes, quite quietly.
Then follow numerous questions regarding Tseng’s previous career, his
family, &c. As soon as the questions cease, after waiting a few minutes,
the audience is at an end, and Tseng kowtows and retires. On each
occasion, and they were many, the Empress had evidently worked up her
questions carefully from study of reports and despatches, and invariably
put them in the short sharp form indicated; always peremptory, _de haut
en bas_ and Cæsarian, this woman “behind the screen,” addressing the
veteran who had saved China for her rule.
After describing Tseng’s important position at the Court banquet given to
high officials, Manchu and Chinese, on the 16th day of the 1st Moon (at
which six plays were performed and the dishes “passed all reckoning”),
the narrative gives an account of his farewell audience, at which Her
Majesty closely cross-examined him as to his plans for the reorganisation
of the naval and military forces of Chihli. He held the post of Chihli
Viceroy for a little over a year. The viceregal residence in those days
was at Pao-ting fu, so that when the Tientsin massacre occurred (1870)
he was not directly to blame, though officially responsible. In June of
that year the Nanking Viceroy was assassinated, and Tseng was ordered
to resume duty at that post, his place in Chihli being taken by Li
Hung-chang, who held it for twenty-four years. Tseng, whose health was
failing, endeavoured to have his appointment to Nanking cancelled, but
Tzŭ Hsi would take no excuses. She issued a Decree in which she laid
stress on the arduous nature of the work to be done at the southern
capital and Tseng’s special fitness for the post which he had so ably
administered in the past. “Even if his eyesight troubles him,” she said,
“he can still exercise a general supervision.”
Before leaving for the south, Tseng celebrated his sixtieth birthday,
receiving many marks of Imperial favour and rich gifts. The Empress
sent him a poem of congratulation in her own handwriting, and a tablet
bearing the inscription “My lofty pillar and rock of defence,” together
with an image of Buddha, a sandalwood sceptre inlaid with jade, a dragon
robe, ten rolls of “auspicious” silk, and ten of crape. At his farewell
audience the following interesting conversation took place:—
_Tzŭ Hsi._ When did you leave Tientsin?
_Tseng._ On the 23rd.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ Have the ringleaders in the massacre of foreigners
been executed yet?
_Tseng._ Not yet. The Consul told me that the Russian Minister
was coming to Tientsin and that the French Minister was sending
a deputy to witness the executions, so that the decapitations
could not be summarily carried out.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ What date has Li Hung-chang fixed for the executions?
_Tseng._ On the day of my departure, he sent me word that he
expected to dispose of them yesterday.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ Have the Tientsin populace calmed down?
_Tseng._ Yes, things are now quite settled and orderly.
_Tzŭ Hsi_. What made the Prefect and Magistrate run away to
Shun-Tê after the massacre?
_Tseng._ When first removed from their posts, they knew not
what sentence would be decreed against them, so they boldly and
shamelessly ran away from the city.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ Have you quite lost the sight of your right eye?
_Tseng._ Yes, it is quite blind; but I can still see with the
left.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ Have you entirely recovered from your other maladies?
_Tseng._ Yes, I think I can say that I have.
_Tzŭ Hsi_. You appear to kneel, and to rise from that posture
quite briskly and freely, as if your physique were still pretty
good?
_Tseng._ No; it is not what it used to be.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ That was a strange thing, the assassination of Ma
Hsin-yi (the late Viceroy of Nanking), was it not?
_Tseng._ Extraordinary.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ He was a first-rate administrator.
_Tseng._ Yes, he took great pains, and was honest and impartial.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ How many regular troops have you raised in Chihli?
_Tseng._ Three thousand. The former Viceroy had four thousand
men trained under the old system. I had intended to raise three
thousand more, making a total force of ten thousand. I have
arranged with Li Hung-chang to carry out this programme.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ It is of vital importance that we should have a
force of properly trained troops in the south. You must see to
this.
_Tseng._ Yes. At present peace prevails, but we must be
prepared for all possible emergencies. I propose to build forts
at several places on the Yangtsze.
_Tzŭ Hsi._ It would be a fine thing if we could secure
ourselves properly against invasion. These missionary
complications are perpetually creating trouble for us.
_Tseng._ That is true. Of late the missionaries have created
trouble everywhere. The native converts are given to oppressing
those who will not embrace Christianity (literally “_eat the
religion_”) and the missionaries always screen the converts,
while the Consuls protect the missionaries. Next year, when
the time comes for revising the French Treaty, we must take
particular pains to reconsider carefully the whole question of
religious propaganda.
In November Tseng had his farewell audience, and Tzŭ Hsi never saw him
again. A month later he took over the seals of office at his old post,
one of his first acts being to try the assassin of his predecessor, who
was condemned to death by the slicing process. In the following summer he
went for a cruise of inspection and visited various places of interest,
noting with satisfaction the complete restoration of law and order in
the districts which had been for so long the scene of the Taipings’
devastations. On one occasion, seeing the gaily decked “flower-boats” and
listening to the sounds of their revelries, he joyfully exclaimed: “I am
glad to have lived to see my province as it was before the rebellion.” In
December he moved into the Viceregal residence which he had known as the
Palace of the Taiping “Heavenly King.” But he was not long to administer
that high office, for in the early part of 1872 he had a first stroke of
paralysis. A few days later, going in his chair to meet a high official
arriving from Peking, and reciting, as was his wont, favourite passages
from the classics, he suddenly made a sign to his attendants, but speech
failed him and he could only mumble. In his diary that same evening, he
wrote:—“This illness of mine prevents me from attending to my work. In
the 26th and 27th years of Tao-Kuang (1846-7) I found that efforts at
poetical composition brought on attacks of eczema and insomnia. Now it
is different. I feel all dazed and confused. Spots float before my eyes
and my liver is disordered. Alas, that I can neither obtain a speedy
release, like the morning dew which swiftly passes away, nor hope for
the restoration of energies to enable me to perform my duty. What sadder
fate than thus to linger on, useless, in the world!” On the next day
he wrote:—“My strength is rapidly failing, and I must leave behind me
many unsettled questions and business half completed. The dead leaves
of disappointed hopes fill all the landscape, and I see no prospect of
settling my affairs. Thirty years have passed since I took my degree, and
I have attained to the highest rank; yet have I learned nothing, and my
character still lacks true solidity. What shame should be mine at having
reached thus uselessly old age!” Next day, while reading a despatch, he
had another stroke. Rallying, he told his eldest son, Tseng Chi-tsê,
to see to it that his funeral ceremonies were conducted after the old
usages, and that neither Buddhist nor Taoist priests be permitted to
chant their liturgies over his corpse. On the following morning, though
very weak, he insisted on perusing one of the essays which had been
successful at the provincial examination. In the evening he was taken
out into his garden and was returning thence with his son when the last
seizure occurred. They carried him into the great Hall of audience, where
he sat upright, as if presiding at a meeting of Council, and thus passed
away, well stricken in age, though only sixty-two by the calendar. “Every
man in Nanking,” says the writer of this narrative, “felt as if he had
lost a parent; it was rumoured that a shooting star had fallen in the
city at the very moment of his death. The news was received by the Throne
with profound grief. All Court functions were suspended for three days.”