Mandarin

by Elegant, Robert;

  “You’re right, my dear,” Saul said. “No reservations—not tonight.”

  The reservations Saul suppressed were fundamental. His joy at discovering his kinship with the Lees was diminished by his fear that they might never be wholly one with the community of Israel. Aisek had agreed that his sons should receive instruction in doctrine, though he said his old head could not hold so many new ideas. Still, Saul, who was practical as well as devout, wondered whether it would be wise for Aaron and David to declare themselves observant Jews.

  Most perplexing was the question of circumcision, the ritual removal of the foreskin required of every male of Israel. Circumcision was abhorrent to the Chinese, in part because it resembled the mutilation of the palace eunuchs, who sacrificed all their parts to the knife. Though that castration could lead to great wealth and power, eunuchs were despised, not only because they surrendered their manhood to ambition but because their bodies were not whole. The Confucian ethos required men to preserve intact the bodies that were the inalienable gift of their ancestors. (Mutilating women by binding their feet was another matter.) The eunuchs themselves preserved their “relics” in spirits so that they could be buried with them and rejoin their ancestors as whole men.

  Circumcision might therefore close to Aaron and David the official career to which they, like all educated Chinese, aspired. The Mandarins of the Great Pure Dynasty were a small and privileged class, their ranks replenished not by inheritance but by merit demonstrated through strenuous examinations. A circumcised man might not be acceptable to the Mandarinate—though millions of Chinese Moslems, unlike a few hundred Chinese Jews, circumcised their sons, and some Moslems served as officials.

  Avowing Judaism might actually be an advantage to the boys in dealing with foreigners, who were eager to befriend—and to convert—Chinese Jews, while holding other Jews at arm’s length. But the Chinese tolerated Moslem Mandarins only because they had existed in some numbers for some time. Precedent ruled; any practice that had long endured was not only sanctioned but virtually sacrosanct. In its decay, the erratically theocratic empire distrusted innovation above all else.

  However, Saul could not further postpone the rites of the Seder. Fronah was twisting on her chair, impatient for her moment of glory. He began the formal narration, the Haggadah, which told of the liberation of the Hebrews by their exodus from Egypt to the land of Israel. After removing the eggs and the lamb shank, Saul raised the platter with both hands to display the matzah—and to emphasize the difference between the bread of affliction and the present bounty.

  “Behold and see,” he intoned, “the bread of woe our fathers ate.… Let all who hunger now partake … to celebrate our freedom and the Passover.… May the wandering tribes this year return to Israel …”

  As Saul replaced the platter, Aisek mused, “My father sometimes talked of his grandfather’s remembering the Feast of Unleavened Bread. My mother always scoffed, though she was a Chao of Kaifeng before she came to Shanghai to marry. But my mother always scoffs, all honor to her.”

  “When the Lord chooses, she will be enlightened.” Saul was impatient of his partner’s often-repeated grievance.

  “She scoffs at everything.” Aisek was not diverted. “She scoffs at our being Jews and hates our joining the Seder. Worse, she hates our partnership and claims it has impoverished the family.”

  “The Lord will dispose as He pleases,” Saul reiterated.

  “She goes around in rags. She hoards every scrap, even the burned husks from the rice pot.” Brandy and wine had lubricated Aisek’s tongue. “She sits and keens. She wails and says only her frugality keeps the family alive, because I’ve wasted our substance in futile ventures with a barbarian. When I tell her of our great coup, she won’t even listen.”

  Sarah passed the crystal carafe, and the red wine flowed into the ancient silver cups reserved for Passover. They were Spanish heirlooms brought from Baghdad when she joined Saul in Bombay sixteen years before. She was not sure she liked seeing her treasured cups in the hands of the Lees, though Saul insisted that the Chinese were not only Jews but distant kinsmen. Still, the boys, especially David, were a delight—even if David did encourage Fronah’s wildness.

  Sarah Haleevie’s pleasure in her daughter was this night unmarred by her intermittent annoyance at Fronah’s willfulness. She listened with pride as the girl began the ritual Mah Nishtannah. The youngest present always asked the Four Questions to initiate the recollection of history that was a central purpose of the Seder.

  Fronah smoothed her kaftan over her hips and tossed her head. The girl’s oval face was animated, and the resonant Hebrew lingered on her full lips. Her brown hair glinted with ruddy highlights when she dipped her chin for emphasis. Reflected from her white silk kaftan, the lamplight molded the pertly rounded tip of her nose.

  “Why is this night different from all other nights?” Fronah’s tone was grave, but a smile quirked her mouth. “On all other nights, we eat leavened or unleavened bread. Why on this night only unleavened bread? Why on this night do we eat only bitter herbs? Why do we dip the herbs in salt water? And why, unlike all other nights, do we eat reclining?”

  Unperturbed by his daughter’s high spirits, Saul Haleevie explained the symbols of the Hebrews’ captivity in Egypt and their escape to the Promised Land: the bitter herbs of bondage, the matzah that had fed them during their flight, and the relaxed posture of free men. Twice again the celebrants drank ritual cups of wine before the white-jacketed Shanghai houseboy served the abundant meal that sealed their rejoicing.

  “Next year in Jerusalem!” Saul intoned as the rite of the Seder ended. “Next year in Jerusalem!”

  The Lees were puzzled by the riddles, the jokes, and the songs that enlivened the ceremony, since levity had no place in Chinese rituals. But they were pleased to acknowledge—and to honor—the distant ancestors Saul revealed to them. Already the proud heirs of six millennia of Chinese civilization, they were further exalted by their descent from another people almost as ancient. Antiquity and continuity were the mainsprings of life for all Chinese—even Jewish Chinese.

  Though he was deeply moved, Aaron was also troubled by his kinship with the Haleevies. They were part of the tide of outlanders sweeping over the barriers the Empire had erected to preserve its cultural, spiritual, and economic institutions intact. Though a score of Jews among some three hundred foreigners in Shanghai were insignificant amid the waves of alien commerce and alien doctrines, he now sat in a foreign house inside a foreign enclave, whose inhabitants disdained Chinese law and were exempt from Chinese jurisdiction—solely because of the power of their guns.

  Aaron responded passionately to his father’s casual question: “Why were they patrolling Yangjingbang Creek? Dr. MacGregor said the foreigners had clashed with the Imperial forces, but no more.”

  “The barbarians laugh and call it the Battle of Muddy Flat,” Aaron replied bitterly. “But it was no joke. They joined with the Small Sword rebels to attack His Imperial Majesty’s forces. Joke they may, but it could come to war again—a new war against the barbarians.”

  “What started the fighting?” Struck by Aaron’s vehemence, Saul did not see David slip from the dining room.

  “No more than has been going on since the Small Swords took the South City half a year ago and our troops besieged them. The barbarians claimed Imperial soldiers curtailed their freedom of movement—harassed them and their women. Then, on April third, the barbarians presented an ultimatum. They demanded guarantees and immunities the government couldn’t possibly grant. The next day they brought up their warships, landed troops, marched on Imperial Headquarters—and swept over it.”

  “Swept over it?” Aisek asked. “Just brushed the troops aside?”

  “Virtually, Father. Though I don’t think our soldiers fought hard. They were probably ordered not to resist. Who wants another war like the war over opium only fourteen years ago? But it will come. I’m afraid …”

  “I am weary,”
a lugubrious voice complained. “I am weary and worn with traveling.”

  Aisek and Aaron broke off in astonishment. Although they had anticipated the interruption, the Haleevies were also startled. David, who had changed his long gown for his father’s discarded traveling clothes, was balancing the afikoman, the larger piece of the broken matzah, on his shoulder like a heavy burden.

  “Where do you come from, traveler?” Fronah asked gleefully.

  “Tsung Ai-chi …” David replied dolefully. “Out of Egypt. And I am very weary—weary unto death.”

  “And where are you going, traveler?” Fronah delighted in the byplay. “Whence go you?”

  “To the land of Israel by the grace of the Lord our God,” he answered. “And when I come to Jerusalem, I shall …”

  Shrill wailing broke into David’s speech, and he turned toward the doorway, where three Chinese women were driving the protesting houseboy before them. Two were maidservants in thigh-length tunics over flapping trousers. The third leaned on their arms, hobbling on bound feet. Her long green satin chi-pao, narrow-cut like the Manchu riding coat that gave it its name, was slit to the knee to reveal slim black trousers. Not only her clothing but her long nails and her white-powdered face demonstrated that she was a lady of a prosperous family.

  Nonetheless, her shining hair hung loose from the white band encircling her forehead. Her features were twisted with grief and her makeup runneled with tears. Her soft red mouth wailed, and her hands tore at her clothing. The serving women sobbed convulsively.

  “Maylu, what is it?” Aisek Lee demanded of his concubine.

  “Lord, your mother …” the lady replied. “Your honored mother in her venerable age, she has …”

  “Go on, woman!” Aisek commanded when her sobs muffled her words. “Speak out!”

  “Your thrice-honored mother, Lord. She has passed … passed from this world. I found her … hanging from a beam. Woe unto our house! Only an hour before, she told me, but I could not believe it. She said she would—hang herself. She could not endure living in abject—abject, she said—poverty. Woe unto our house!”

  CHAPTER 3

  April 16, 1854

  NANKING

  The midday sun burnished the tiles of the ten-tiered pagoda, and a spire of flame blazed on the hill outside Tienking, the Heavenly Capital. The metropolis entwined by a coil of the Yangtze River had been called Nanking, the Southern Capital, at the beginning of the Great Ming Dynasty centuries earlier. Renamed Tienking a few months ago, it was again the capital of a resurgent dynasty, which had within half a decade conquered almost half China. The ardent troops of the Taiping Tienkuo, the Heavenly Kingdom of Great Peace, were that Easter Sunday of 1854 approaching Peking, the Northern Capital, where the decadent Manchu Emperor kept his Imperial Court.

  The light shining from the pagoda pierced the foliage surrounding the palace of the Heavenly King. Behind that leafy screen, the fretwork windows of the Hall of Worship were flung open to entice the breeze. The heat was inequable for mid-April, and the light bathing the congregation was tinctured with the green of the leaves. The intense beam glared on the brass bells of the horns and the oboes that the black-robed musicians played beside the altar. Their melancholy minor-key melody burst occasionally into strident gaiety.

  The iridescent rays illuminated the Hall of Worship like light shining through a diamond. The rays lingered on the tall Westerner in the gray frock coat who stood before the altar, his small eyes and beaked nose glowing with fervor in his rawboned face. Curvetting across the flagstones, the rays lit the worshipers’ upraised eyes before casting a golden aura around the figure on the dais at the opposite end of the hall. When the breeze touched him, five-clawed Imperial dragons cavorted on his Imperial-yellow silk robe, and his jeweled headdress glittered. His olive features, snub-nosed and heavy-boned, were stamped with majestic self-confidence, and his robust body was arrogantly erect. He listened patiently to the ringing cadences of the foreign preacher in the frock coat.

  “Hsiung-ti, chieh-mei …” The American spoke Chinese with a nasal Kentucky twang. “Brothers and sisters, I say unto you, let us rejoice. The Lamb of God is reborn. Jesus Christ, our Savior, is risen. Alleluia.”

  “Alleluia!” Children’s trebles and women’s clear tones accentuated the deep voices of the men seated across the aisle. “Alleluia!”

  The horns pealed, and his subjects turned to the golden figure of the Heavenly King. They looked to him as their pontiff as well as their monarch—and as an incarnate divinity. But the fundamentalist American preacher was reluctant to surrender the attention of a Chinese congregation twenty times larger than any he had previously addressed.

  “I say unto you, brothers and sisters,” he declared, “I say unto you that the Kingdom of God will be built upon earth. Even now the Kingdom of God is abuilding upon this ground on which we stand. There is rejoicing in Heaven that the great Chinese nation acknowledges the One True God and His Son, Jesus Christ. We are all brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ. Together with the true believers from across the oceans, you will destroy the Manchu idolators and set the rightful Emperor, the Heavenly King, upon the Dragon Throne in Peking. The Lord be praised!”

  “Tsan-mei …” The congregation responded ardently, and the horns pealed again. “The Lord be praised! Alleluia!”

  The women piously lifted their eyes to the carved wooden ceiling, their hands smoothing the calf-length tunics that covered their voluminous pantaloons. The preacher saw again with wonder that all wore flat-heeled cloth shoes turned up at the tips. Not a single female, not even the wives of the Taiping Princes and the Heavenly King, was disfigured by the tiny bound feet, the maimed “golden lilies” that were elsewhere the caste mark of Chinese ladies of rank. Even more remarkably, long hair curled beneath the cloth turbans and the conical straw hats of the robed men. None wore the long braided queue growing from the back of a shaven crown that had been the emblem of Chinese subjugation to Manchu overlords for more than two centuries.

  The expressions of both men and women were open and confident, unmarred by the deceitfulness most foreigners discerned in the faces of other Chinese. These Chinese had regained their dignity and their self-respect. All were gravely attentive when the Heavenly King spoke in a high-pitched, portentous voice.

  “The Great God, Our Heavenly Father, has sent Ourself, the Heavenly King, to rule over you and to subdue the rivers and the mountains to Our dominion. On this joyous day, the day of the resurrection of Our Heavenly Elder Brother, We bring you new tidings of delight, tidings of joyous portent for Our Heavenly Kingdom of Great Peace.”

  The wide mouth above the glossy goatee closed. The fleshy lips were briefly still while the visionary eyes swept the Hall of Worship. The Heavenly King nodded his approval of the offerings on the scarlet altar cloth: three handleless teacups chased with gold, three dragon-scrolled ricebowls, and three red-lacquered ducks on blue-and-white platters.

  Prolonging his pause, the Heavenly King resumed just before his followers’ concentration wavered: “We bear direct witness to the resurrection that came unto Him, Our Heavenly Elder Brother Jesus. Did not Our Heavenly Father call Us to His Celestial Domain to reveal His will to Us? Did He not reveal to Us Our destiny, which is to hold dominion over all the land? Did He not reveal to Us that We too are His Son, the Heavenly Younger Brother of the Lord Jesus Christ? Were We too then not reborn?”

  “Shih-di! Shih-di!” The congregation responded as one. “So it is! So it is!”

  “The Heavenly Father has already given Us dominion over half the Great Empire because We are His Son and We are virtuous. The people rally to Us because Our troops are virtuous. They know that any soldier of the Taiping who abuses or robs them is immediately executed. And this very day We have received tidings of the inestimable favor Our Heavenly Father has newly bestowed upon Us.”

  “The Lord be praised!” the congregation intoned. “Tell the joyous tidings!”

  “So We shall!” The Heavenly
King graciously assented. “Know, then, that the fate of the Manchu Imps is now sealed. They shall all be destroyed, wiped from the face of the earth, driven down into the eighteen hells that yawn beneath. Not one will ever see even the lowest of the thirty-three Heavens. And the Chinese people shall rule themselves again.”

  “The Heavenly Father be praised!” the congregation chorused. “When, O King, when?”

  “Soon, Our people, very soon it shall come to pass. The outlanders from across the oceans have defeated the Manchus at Shanghai. Already our brothers in religion, our brothers in Christ, the outlanders are now our brothers in arms. Together we shall sweep the Imps from the land. Soon! Very soon!”

  CHAPTER 4

  June 21, 1854

  Shanghai

  THE SOUTH CITY

  “Arel!” Saul Haleevie swore in Hebrew. “Uncircumcised son of a poxed Aleppo whore.”

  The coolie vanished around the bend of the alley after spattering Saul with human excrement from the wooden buckets swaying on a bamboo carrying pole. The throng in the tortuous thoroughfare of the Chinese quarter had hastily parted before the night-soil coolie’s warning hoots. When his passage was recalled only by a trail of malodorous khaki splotches on the cobblestones, the pedestrians coalesced again into a mass.

  “Wantchee make believe no one talkee, must no talkee, my friend.” Whispering into his partner’s ear in pidgin, Aisek Lee stopped before an open shopfront. “Suppose talkee, allee damnfool dress-up no use.”

  Saul nodded contritely behind the bandage that concealed his ruddy beard and aquiline nose. He clapped his hand against his jaw, miming the toothache the bandage presumably assuaged, and pretended fascination with the display of multicolored fans. Beneath his coarse tunic, sweat dripped from his armpits and trickled down his ribs to soak the waistband of his baggy trousers.