Empress Orchid - Anchee Min [87]
It was due to Prince Kung’s encouragement that the Emperor granted General Tseng a private audience.
“Orchid,” Emperor Hsien Feng called as he put on his dragon robe. “Come with me this morning and let me know your impression of Tseng Kuo-fan.” I followed my husband to the Hall of Spiritual Nurturing.
The general rose from his knees and greeted His Majesty. I noticed that he was too nervous to raise his eyes. This was not uncommon during a first Imperial audience. It happened more often among those of Chinese origin. Humble to a fault, they could not believe their ruler was receiving them.
In truth, it was not the Chinese but the Manchus who lacked confidence. Our ancestors may have conquered the mainland by force two centuries before, but we had never mastered the art of ruling. We arrived without the fundamentals, such as Confucian philosophy, which unified the nation through morality and spirituality, and without a system that effectively centralized power. We also lacked a language that allowed the Emperor to communicate with his people, 80 percent of whom were Chinese.
Wisely, our ancestors had adopted Chinese ways. In my view, this was probably unavoidable. The culture was so gracious and broad that it both accepted and served us. Confucian fundamentals continued to dominate the nation. For myself, my first language was Chinese, my eating habits Chinese, my rough schooling Chinese, and my favorite form of entertainment Peking operas!
I had come to realize that the Manchu sense of superiority had betrayed us. Today’s Manchus were as rotten as termite-infested wood. Manchu men were generally spoiled. They no longer knew how to win battles on horseback. Most had become their own enemies. Beneath their proud exterior, they were lazy and insecure. They created difficulties for my husband whenever he wished to promote someone of true talent who happened to be Chinese.
Sadly, they remained the dominant political force. Their opinions influenced Emperor Hsien Feng. Tseng Kuo-fan was the best general in the empire, yet His Majesty was afraid to promote him. This was typical. Any high-ranking Chinese could easily find himself cut off at a moment’s notice. There was never an explanation.
Prince Kung had repeatedly advised the Emperor to rid his administration of discrimination. Kung’s point was that until His Majesty could demonstrate true justice, he would receive no true loyalty. Tseng Kuo-fan illustrated the point. The renowned general didn’t believe that he was here to be honored. The man broke down when Emperor Hsien Feng attempted a light-hearted joke: “Is ‘Head-Chopper Tseng’ your name?”
Tseng Kuo-fan knocked his forehead on the floor and trembled violently.
I tried not to giggle when I heard Tseng’s jewelry clanking.
The Emperor was charmed. “Why don’t you answer my question?”
“I should be punished and die ten thousand times before I soil Your Majesty’s ears with this name,” the man replied.
“No, I wasn’t upset.” Emperor Hsien Feng smiled. “Rise, please. I like the name Head-Chopper Tseng. Would you explain how you got it?”
Drawing a deep breath, the man replied, “Your Majesty, the name was first created by my enemies, and then my men adopted it.”
“Your men must be very proud to serve under you.”
“Yes, indeed, they are.”
“You have honored me, Tseng Kuo-fan. I wish I had more head-choppers as generals!”
When Emperor Hsien Feng invited Tseng to join him for lunch, the man was moved to tears. He said that he could now die and greet his ancestors with pride, because he had brought them great honor.
After a little liquor, General Tseng became relaxed. When I was introduced as the Emperor’s favorite concubine, Tseng fell to his knees and bowed to me. I was very pleased. Many years later, after the death of my husband, when Tseng Kuo-fan and I were both old, I asked him what he had thought of me when we first met. He flattered me and said that he had been stunned by