by Cook, James A. ,Goldstein, Joshua,Johnson, Matthew D. ,Schmalzer, Sigrid
Some may be tempted to read imperial invocations of “observing the people” as a cultural concession whereby the Qianlong emperor presented himself as a “Confucian” defender of venerable political principles. After all, classically educated scholar-officials were surely familiar with the discourse of “observing the people” and probably found Qianlong’s justification of his southern tours in this canonical idiom both politically palatable and culturally reassuring, not to mention ideologically unassailable. Although this interpretation of the southern tours as a form of cultural appeasement or propitiation is not entirely inaccurate, neither does it tell the whole story. An analysis centered solely upon the Qing court’s acknowledgment of Han literati ideals may actually prevent us from fully appreciating the subtle workings of Qianlong’s ideological statements and the complexities of the broader political culture in which he operated. More specifically, a close analysis of how the Qianlong emperor deftly intertwined classically sanctioned notions of “observing the people” with explicit references to horseback riding in his southern tour poetry provides important insight into the active process by which he continued to elaborate upon the concept of “ruling from horseback” as a legitimate and ethnically imbued mode of diligent and benevolent civil governance during his southern tours
Qianlong’s southern tour poetry is filled with descriptions of himself “driving a horse” (cema, ceji), “sitting in the saddle” (ju’an), “mounting a steed” (chengma), and “drawing in the reigns” (anpei),46 especially as he inspected the critical hydraulic infrastructure along the Yellow River47 and the Zhejiang coastal seawalls.48 Although such self-descriptions of an emperor on horseback are far too numerous to describe and analyze in individual detail here, one important point deserves our attention.
Whether traveling overland or via the Grand Canal, the Qianlong emperor insisted on riding on horseback when passing through administrative seats at the provincial, prefectural, and district levels49 as well as when he visited scenic sites on the outskirts of major urban centers such as Yangzhou, Suzhou, Hangzhou, and Jiangning.50 His reasoning was that “[traveling by] horse is more convenient than [traveling by] boat and also allows the common folk to draw nearer to [Our] radiance.”51 Indeed, it was an explicit policy that “each time [the imperial procession] arrives at a walled city, most disembark from the boats and ride horses [cema] past [the urban area]. [Our] desire is to observe the people [guanmin] and this [riding on horseback] is in accordance with the people’s wishes.”52 This strictly enforced protocol explicitly identified the practice of horseback riding as a means of realizing a classically sanctioned tenet of “observing the people” (guanmin).
Qianlong’s insistence on horseback riding during his southern tours, then, derived neither from administrative nor from logistical necessity, but rather from his ideological commitment to ethno-dynastic aggrandizement. During his travels through Jiangnan, Qianlong legitimized the ethno-dynastic spectacle of “ruling from horseback” as a means of inspecting hydraulic infrastructure and “observing the people”—that is, as a perfect vehicle for realizing diligent administration and benevolent civil rule in China proper.
Conclusion
Qianlong’s southern tours, then, were political spectacles of the first order that necessarily entailed ideologically pregnant acts of seeing and being seen. Historical inquiry may also be thought of as entailing acts of imagination and visualization based upon the historian’s critical and creative interpretation of available sources. As we have seen above, the Qianlong emperor imagined and presented himself as a ruler concerned with the tasks of benevolent civil governance. At the same time, he forsake neither his identity as a Manchu, nor his ideological commitment to ethno-dynastic aggrandizement. He presented himself as both a “Confucian monarch” and a “Manchu ethnarch,” and he did this by transforming the ethno-dynastic spectacle of “ruling from horseback” into a means of “observing the people.” Ruling from horseback in the Lower Yangtze delta, then, became an assertion of Manchu virtues and exceptionalism in both military and civil affairs. This was a new ideological horizon that extended Manchu prerogatives into the sphere of civil administration and statecraft. Qianlong’s southern tours were not simple exercises in cultural concession in which his ethnic identity was hidden behind or subsumed under that of a literati tourist or even a “Confucian” monarch. Instead, Qianlong’s southern tours should be viewed as ideological constructs, constituted through dynamics of cultural appropriation and redaction. It was through such acts of appropriation and redaction that Manchu ethno-dynastic rule was legitimated as the most appropriate means by which to realize venerable ideals of benevolent civil governance in China proper.
Abbreviations used in the notes:
DQHD (JQ): Tuojin et al. Da Qing huidain (Jiaqing chao) [Collected statutes of the Great Qing, Jiaqing reign] 1817. (Taibei: Wenhai chubanshe, 1991).
ECCP: Hummel, Arthur E. ed. Eminent Chinese of the Ch’ing Period 1644–1912. 2 vols. (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1943 and 1944).
NXSD: G’ao Jin, comp. Nanxun shengdian [Great canon of the southern tours]. 1771. (Taibei: Xinxing shuju, 1989).
QDNXSD: Sa-zai et al. comps. Qingding nanxun shengdian [Imperially commissioned great canon of the southern tours] 1791. (Taibei: Taiwan Shangwu yinshuguan, 1983).
QLCSYD: China First Historical Archives ed., Qianlong chao shangyu dang [Imperial Edicts of the Qianlong reign] (Beijing: Dang’an chubanshe, 1991).
QSG: Zhao Erxun et al., Qingshi Gao [Draft History of the Qing] (Beijing, Zhonghua shuju, 1996).
notes
1. Qianlong’s southern tours occurred in the spring of 1751, 1757, 1762, 1765, 1780, and 1784.
2. For a concise overview see Naquin and Rawski, Chinese Society in the Eighteenth Century, 147–158.
3. Joohoi served as a Commander-general of the Imperial Escort (xiangdao tongling) on Qianlong’s first two southern tours in 1751 and 1757, while Nusan served in this capacity on all of Qianlong’s first four southern tours (1751, 1757, 1762, and 1765).
4. For a more see Zhuang, Qing Gaozong shiquan wugong yanjiu, 9–107; Perdue, China Marches West, 270–292; and Millward, Beyond the Pass.
5. For more on the Ziguang ge see Qing-gui et al., Guochao gongshi xubian, juan 65 and QSG, juan 12, 454.
6. Wang, Qingdai beixun yudao he saiwai xinggong, 26–27.
7. Bi (Pirazzoli) and Hou, Mulan tu yu Qianlong qiuji dalie zhi yanjiu, 98.
8. ECCP, 74; and Qing-gui et al., Guochao gongshi xubian, juan 97, 960–966.
9. Many thanks to Cary Liu, a curator at Princeton University’s Museum of Fine Art, who has alerted me to the presence of one temporary structure depicted in one of the scrolls of the Qianlong-era Nanxun tu. Although tent structures appear in the Nanxun tu, they are not a central element of the composition, and there is no representation of anything resembling an imperial encampment.
10. QLCSYD, v. 2, 886, doc. (4), QL 21/12.
11. Wang Zhenyu, Yangji zhai conglu, 47.
12. DQHD (JQ), juan 874, 31b–32a and 33b.
13. Hearn, “The ‘Kangxi Southern Inspection Tour’: A Narrative Program by Wang Hui,” (Ph.D. dissertation, Princeton University, 1990), 63–64.
14. ECCP, 78–80.
15. Zhao-lian [Aisin Gioro Jooliyan], Xiaoting zalu, 372.
16. NXSD, juan 11, 26a.
17. Shen, Shen Deqian ziding nianpu, 44b and 55b.
18. ECCP, 74. Four Jesuit priests then living in Beijing—Giuseppe Castiglione, Ignatius Sichelbart, Jean-Denis Attiret, and Jean-Damascène Salusti—were ordered to make reproductions of these scenes for engraving. The copper engravings themselves were completed in Paris in 1774. A set of prints consisted of thirty-four sheets with sixteen paintings, sixteen poems, a preface, and a postscript. One hundred sets were sent to China of which only a few are extant. A complete set is preserved in the U.S. Library of Congress.
19. QDNXSD, juan 81, 5b. Locations included temples and other noted sites
in Yangzhou, Wuxi, Suzhou, and Hangzhou.
20. Li, Yangzhou huafang lu, juan 1, 2–3.
21. QLCSYD, v. 2, 889.
22. Lufu zouzhe, Junji dang [Grand Council reference collection] (China First Historical Archives, Beijing), microfilm roll 033, frame no. 1153, Injišan, Qianlong 29/10/21.
23. The Qianlong emperor’s movements through the city of Yangzhou during his first southern tour of 1751 buttress the undertone of martial vigor, with the procession passing through the parade grounds of the Green Standard military garrison in the middle of Yangzhou’s new city, and the emperor encamping at to the east of the city wall. See Li, Yangzhou huafang lu, juan 9, 194.
24. Hulsewé, “Shih chi,” in ECT, 405.
25. Sima Qian, Shiji, juan 97, p. 2697–2706 (Zhonghua ed., p. 683.1–685.1); and Ban Gu, Hanshu, juan 43, p. 2111–2116 (Zhonghua ed., p. 540.2–541.2).
26. Elliott, The Manchu Way, 8 and 275–304.
27. QLCSYD, v. 3, 18, doc. 80 (edict QL22/2/28, 1757/4/16).
28. Chang, “A Court on Horseback,” 255–292.
29. For paintings of tribute horses presented by the Khalkas (1743), Kazakhs (1757), and Afghans (1762) see Cécile and Michel Beurdeley, Giuseppe Castiglione, 103–105, 120–123, 165–166 (nos. 18–23), and 167–168 (no. 27).
30. In the Mulan scrolls (Figure 2.15, website), Qialong’s bodyguard is armed with bows and arrows. Meanwhile in the Suzhou scene (Figure 1.2, see Introduction), they are armed with swords, sheathed in what appear to be jade scabbards. In the third painting (Figure 2.16, website), we see that Qianlong carries his own bow and arrows and is no longer protected by an imperial umbrella.
31. A-ke-dang-a, Yao Wentian et al., Yangzhou fuzhi (Gazetteer of Yangzhou prefecture) 1810 (Taibei: Chengwen chubanshe, 1974) juan 1 (edicts), juan 2–4 (poems); Li Mingwan, Feng Guifen et al. Suzhou fuzhi [Gazetteer of Suzhou prefecture] 1883. (Taibei: Chengwen chubanshe, 1970) juan shou 1–3.
32. Qianlong’s southern tour poems were collected in a total of three volumes: the first chronicling his travels from Beijing through Zhili and Shandong provinces; the second his southward movements in Jiangnan and Zhejiang; and the third all poems written on his northward return to the capital. (QDNXSD, juan 17, 32b–33a.)
33. NXSD, juan 8, 4b–5a.
34. NXSD, juan 16, 1b.
35. NXSD, juan 16, 26a.
36. NXSD, juan 1, 3a.
37. NXSD, juan 1, 21a. The term zhanjiu is a classical allusion to the phrase “drawing near the sun and gazing upon the clouds” (jiu ri zhan yun) which refers to a description of the sage-king Yao’s virtues found in Sima Qian’s Shiji. See Nienhauser et. al., The Grand Scribe’s Records, v.1 , 6.
38. NXSD, juan 1, 27a.
39. Li, Yangzhou huafang lu, p. 3, no. 3.
40. NXSD, juan 1, 21a.
41. For Kong Yingda’s exegesis of the hexagram for guan as related to imperial touring (xunshou) as well as the concept of self-reflection (guanwo) and observing the people (guanmin) see Zhouyi zhengyi in Ruan Yuan, Shisan jing zhushu, 36.3.
42. For Zheng Xuan and Kong Yingda’s commentary on the connection between “observing the people” (guanmin) and “imperial touring” (xunshou) in antiquity see Mao Shi zhengyi in Ruan Yuan, Shisan jing zhushu, 264 and 588.3.
43. For Zheng Xuan’s annotation see Liji zhengyi in Ruan Yuan, Shisan jing zhushu, 1609.3.
44. The poem was entitled “Clear Weather” (Qing). (see QDNXSD, juan 18, 9a–b.) and was followed with an extended gloss on the interrelated principles of “contemplating/observing oneself” (guanwo) and “contemplating/observing the people” (guanmin) based upon Zhu Xi’s commentary on the hexagram for “the ruler’s contemplation” in The Book of Changes: “When ruler contemplates / observes himself, his actions are not simply limited to his own personal merits and mistakes. This should also include contemplating / observing the well-being of people as a means of self-reflection.”
45. Wilhelm, trans., The I Ching, 82.
46. For “anpei” see Li Mingwan, Feng Guifen et al. Suzhou fuzhi, juan shou 2, 70b.
47. NXSD, juan 7, 10a [1751]; and juan 23, 4b–5a [1762].
48. NXSD, juan 17, 19b–20a.
49. For instance, in cities such as (from north to south): Huai’an (NXSD, juan 7, 10a [1751]; juan 15, 9a [1757]); Gaoyou (NXSD, juan 23, 12a [1762]); Yangzhou (NXSD, juan 7, 15a [1751]; QDNXSD, juan 16, 20a–b [1780]); Changzhou (NXSD, juan 8, 2a–b [1751]; juan 16, 1a [1757]; and juan 24, 1a [1762]), etc.
50. For example, Tiger Hill (Huqiu) (NXSD, juan 24, 16b–17a [1762]; and juan 32, 8b–9a [1765]); Mount Hua (Huashan) (NXSD, juan 16, 10b–11a [1757]); etc.
51. NXSD, juan 15, 17a, QL22, 1757 (Jiangnan).
52. NXSD, juan 23, 19b, QL27, 1762 (Jiangnan).
Chapter 3
In the Eyes of the Beholder
Rebellion as Visual Experience
Cecily McCaffrey
What does rebellion look like? The chaos and violence of popular uprisings are often presumed rather than articulated in scholarship on Chinese rebellions; yet it is obvious that the visual impact of rebellion, as well as contemporary experience of it, directly contributed to the influence of popular movements on Chinese history.1 Rebellion appeared differently to select groups of historical actors: a posse of rebels might signify mob rule and chaos to an elite observer but simultaneously look like a band of brothers to an active member. This chapter will explore the different descriptions of rebels and rebellions in official documents, elite accounts, and rebel depositions. These alternative visions of rebellion overlapped and coincided in ways that highlight the relationship between the state and the people and demonstrate the impact of popular uprisings on the public order.
Visual sources relating to peasant rebellion in China in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries are extremely limited. At best, scholars can look to a series of battle paintings commissioned by the Qing court in the late-nineteenth century or to sketched representations of rebellion that were published in the foreign press (Figure 3.1, see website).2 However, these visual sources have limited utility if we are to address the question posed above in holistic terms. Court battle paintings celebrate the victory of Qing forces alone; foreign representations focus more or less exclusively on foreign concerns. In order to achieve a balanced accounting of rebellion, it is necessary to turn to the written record. In an era prior to the development of visual technology such as the camera, writers created pictures with their prose; these descriptions fuel the analysis in this chapter. Accordingly, the visual images presented in this chapter can only suggest what the events and phenomena described may have looked like: readers will have to employ their imaginative faculties in order to fully appreciate rebellion in visual terms.
Even when relying on the written record, it is difficult to describe peasant rebellion in abstract terms; all that can be gleaned from the sources are hints or clues for the historian to follow. Those caught in the fray of battle routinely describe groups of rebels hundreds or thousands of people strong. One presumes hyperbole in such accounts, but the overwhelming impression is of a mass of people, usually outsiders, descending on a village or a city. Descriptions of areas prior to rebel attack usually indicate an opposite phenomenon: streets are eerily empty as denizens abandon their daily routines for flight. In mountainous regions, military officials write of unfamiliar trails forking in unknown directions, their progress obscured by mist, the area seemingly devoid of human habitation until the next rebel ambush. Fire and smoke predominate in accounts of occupied cities under siege. Burnt buildings and looted storefronts signal rebel progress through an area; yet when the soldiers arrive, the consequences are not much different. Flaming projectiles are thrown over walls, and rebel “lairs” are routinely put to the torch. Finally, there is death and destruction. Layman observers are quite vivid in their descriptions of corpses piled in the streets and the stench of rot in the air. Even battle-weary veterans comment on the extent of the carnage at the end of a siege or on the brutal
consequences of mountain warfare, where a missed step is a deadly plunge into a ravine far below.
This essay focuses specifically on religious rebellion during the Qing dynasty (1644–1911), with a particular emphasis on the White Lotus Rebellion (1796–1804) and the Taiping Rebellion (1851–1864). The sources for each perspective represented are almost purely textual. Rebel opinions are drawn from depositions taken either during or in the aftermath of an uprising. Elite observations come directly from first-hand accounts of revolt. The official view is culled from the correspondence sent from military and civil officials to the court. In citing and interpreting these materials, the emphasis rests on the depiction and representation of rebels and rebellion. Impression is favored over action. In other words, it matters less who won a battle than how it was presented. An emphasis on the visual aspects of unrest and uprising necessarily leads to a “re-visioning” of popular revolts, obliging the historian to focus on the contemporary experience of rebellion rather than its progress and conclusion. With this method, rebellion becomes a window into social and cultural history, illuminating the different perspectives and worldviews of the actors involved.
The concepts of heterodoxy versus orthodoxy and chaos versus order are repeating themes in the documentary record; these themes reflect elemental aspects of late imperial society and thus shape the narratives examined here. The Qing state espoused Confucian norms of behavior as a means of ordering the empire. Simply conceived, this secular philosophy constituted the measure of orthodox or correct practices, whether conducted in the imperial chambers or in individual households.3 To this end, there was a natural congruence between orthodoxy and social order. The label “heterodox” was applied to groups that engaged in antistate (hence antisocial) activity as a result of their religious beliefs. This label proved particularly potent. In addition to the very real consequences of the term—state regulations outlawed the existence of so-called heterodox sects, for example—it also carried a host of ascriptive characteristics. As detailed below, these descriptive attributes were common tropes in narrative accounts of rebel activity, to the extent that such confabulations were “seen” as well as believed.