“Do you now understand that when he beheaded those Taiping rebel leaders, it was because they had insulted the emperor? It was his duty to keep the emperor from losing face. If Li allowed the emperor to lose face by King Nah’s actions, Li would also lose face. Li is Han Chinese and the Manchu do not trust the Han. Any hint that a Han general or minister might be disloyal is swiftly dealt with.”
“How can that be?” Gordon said. “I have difficulty believing the emperor of China would have one of his successful generals beheaded because he let another man wear the emperor’s colors and didn’t punish him. How absurd!”
“How well do you know the Chinese culture?”
“What does that have to do with fighting a war?”
“Everything. How can you be effective when you don’t understand the motivations of the people you are fighting for?”
“Explain these differences, so I will understand.”
Robert saw this as a move in the right direction. He smiled. “Who are your favorite artists?”
“Why are you asking me that? What does art have to do with this subject?”
“It has everything to do with it. Humor me.”
“I like Rembrandt and Michelangelo,” Gordon said. “And of course there are others.”
“Why do you admire them?”
“The realism of their work. When I study a Rembrandt, the characters are so real that they look like they could come alive and step from the painting.”
“But the Chinese don’t paint like that, do they?”
“They paint a lot of silly flowers and trees in ink and watercolor.”
“This shows us that flowers and trees are important to the Chinese. To truly understand China, it is wise to understand their art. There are places inside the Chinese soul that only their art can explain. If you want to get behind the unemotional mask of a Chinese man, you must understand what that difference is. Chinese art shows a taste and finesse and an understanding that distinguishes the best products of the human spirit. Chinese art represents calm and harmony, and that calm and harmony comes from the soul of the Chinese artist.
“The Chinese art lover is happy to contemplate a dragonfly, a frog, a grasshopper or a piece of jagged rock. The spirit of western art is more sensual, more passionate, and fuller of the artist’s ego, while the spirit of Chinese art is more restrained and in harmony with nature.”
Gordon’s eyes widened. “Why, that’s what I said about Chinese architecture.” He gently puffed on his cigar with a thoughtful look on his face.
“The art and the architecture are no different. They are the same.”
“I think I’m beginning to see what you mean.” Out came the cigar and he waved it about. He spit in the dust, picked up the teapot and drank from the spout again.
“Then you should understand that the differences in art between the West and China parallel the differences in what is important to the Chinese on a personal and family level.
“If the emperor were allowed to lose face, or lose respect because one of his Han generals didn’t have enough respect for him to behead someone who insulted the Son of Heaven, the emperor could no longer work with that general or trust him. Hence, the proper action would be to behead the general since by his inaction he also shows disrespect for his ruler.”
“If we thought that way in England, many would lose their heads,” Gordon said. “It must be dangerous being a general for the emperor. Do they always lose their heads when they don’t help the emperor save face?”
“No, some of them get demoted in rank and sent to the outer provinces where they might spend decades before they are called back. That is, if they are fortunate enough to be called back. And that is the reason Li beheaded those Taiping generals and their king.
“Li didn’t want to risk losing his head or finish his life in some godforsaken flea-hole of a fortress somewhere on the other side of the Great Wall. He might have been sent to the northwest and Xinjiang to fight Uygur rebels. If Li lost his head, there is a good chance his entire family would earn the same fate.”
“All of that to preserve the emperor’s face?” Gordon looked astonished, as he stared at Robert with the smoldering cigar in his hand—forgotten.
“Yes,” Robert said. “Face is very important in China. Now, will you consider putting England’s needs before yours? China needs a friend, and England should be that friend. You and I can make that happen if we work together to mend this wound that exists between you and Li.”
“You are right.” Gordon’s voice was soft with some thoughtfulness to it. He took several gentle puffs from the cigar. “After all, I’m not fighting for myself. Even with the differences and disputes that exist between Britain and China, they’ve one common enemy, the Taipings.”
In Li’s name, Robert invited Gordon to Soochow. After Gordon accepted the invitation, Robert went with him.
When they passed through Soochow’s gates, Gordon saw posters of Li’s statement plastered on the city’s walls. People stood about in clusters reading the proclamation as they had been instructed. The proclamations were written in both English and Chinese so Gordon could see what they said.
“If you aren’t convinced about Li’s sincerity, read that.” He stopped his horse indicating that Gordon should read the English version of the proclamation glued to a wall.
Puffing on a cigar, the general dismounted. The Chinese crowd parted for him. Robert watched Gordon carefully while he read the poster. Near the end, he noticed a softening in Gordon’s posture. He was also gentler with his cigar. It was good that Li had staged the show as instructed. Robert had written the original copy of the poster in both languages and urged Li to use that version.
“You were right about Li. I shouldn’t have been so proud and stubborn.” Obviously, Gordon felt his reputation had been restored.
When they reached Li’s mansion, he exhibited happiness at seeing Gordon. Before they talked, Li handed Gordon a box of the British officer’s favorite cigars. Then the three men had a long talk. They celebrated the renewed harmony and settled down to organize the campaign against the Taipings.
Li told Robert that a letter had come from Ayaou. He took it out of the wide sleeve of his robe and handed it across the table. Robert let Li and Gordon continue the conversation while he opened the letter to discover that Ayaou was pregnant and expecting the baby near the end of the year or early in 1865. She must have conceived right before he left Peking—maybe on that passionate night before his departure.
The two generals had stopped talking and were watching him. “Is there something wrong, Robert?” Gordon asked. “You look like you just saw God.”
“I’m going to have another child,” he replied.
“Great news,” Li said. “May it be a son to carry on your family name.”
“This calls for a drink.” Gordon slapped Robert on the back. “I happen to have some French brandy.”
The three men spent the night drinking jasmine tea and sipping brandy while toasting the fact that Robert was going to have a new addition to his family. Li took out an ink brush, had an aide grind some ink and bring rice paper. He painted Robert a picture of a peach tree with five birds in it.
Gordon commented on the delicacy of the strokes that portrayed the birds and the boldness of the lines that denoted the strength of the branch. That surprised Robert. It seemed that Gordon had a better grasp of Chinese art and what it meant than he had let on.
“This painting should bring you luck, Robert,” Gordon said. “It looks like your family stands on a strong foundation. That means one-day your young birds will take wing and leave the nest, like you left Ireland.”
“Precisely,” Li said.
“Ayaou,” Robert wrote in a letter a few days later, “the crisis was resolved. Gordon and Li have mended their differences and are cooperating again to end the Taiping rebellion. Gordon has returned to the Kunshan Heights to lead his Victory Army into battle against the Taipings.
“I sta
yed with Li to find a decent translator for Gordon. It turns out that the translator they relied on for communications botched the job and created the crisis. I have offered the job to an interpreter I trained. You may remember him. He was the young Englishman named Hobson that I brought to dinner one night. I told you I saw a shadow of myself in him.
“It wasn’t as easy as I make it sound. At first, Gordon didn’t want to let his old translator go. I had to tell him that his old translator was not good enough and that an inadequate translation might cause more difficulties in the future. Gordon eventually accepted my advice and took Hobson.”
In April, Li and Gordon’s armies worked together to trap the Taipings in Southern China, while Li’s mentor, General ‘Head Chopper’ Tseng Kuo-fan’s army approached the Taiping capital of Nanking from the north.
Satisfied that he had completed his job, Robert arranged to return home. However, while passing Changchow, where both Li and Gordon’s armies had gathered to deliver a major blow to the Taipings, he couldn’t resist their invitation to witness the battle.
“Without you, this battle would never have taken place,” both Li and Gordon said.
Gordon assigned Robert a boat for his personal use and a squad of special men to protect him. That boat followed Gordon’s command vessel, and Robert had a clear view of the battle.
A few hours into the attack, Li sent people to fetch him, and he went ashore where Li was waiting. Together, they climbed a hill outside Changchow. From the hilltop, he had a grand view of the battlefield, an image he never forgot.
A tall, imposing medieval wall and a deep but dry moat surrounded Changchow. The defenders had burned all the bridges that spanned the moat. Outside the moat were trenches and wooden palisades to protect the assaulting armies from the defenders on the city walls.
The trenches reminded Robert of the spokes from a wagon wheel with the city as the hub of the wheel. However, it was an unfinished wheel. Some of the spokes and portions of the wheel represented by the wooden palisade were still being built.
Some of Li’s troops, several hundred in number, marched in formation toward the trenches, broke into what looked like ribbons as the individual lines went into the trenches to move closer to the city. A cannon fired and rebounded while its crew jumped away, then back to reload. The ball hit the city wall and chunks of granite flew.
A cannon replied from the city and the ball hit the wooden palisade that protected Li’s men near the front lines. Splinters flew, a man went down, and he writhed on the ground. It was too far away to hear the wounded man’s cries of pain, but Robert easily imagined the man’s mortal wound. A cheer sounded from the Taipings on the city’s wall.
Robert felt like Lemuel Gulliver in the land of Lilliput from Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. Down in that valley, the Lilliputians, represented by Li and Gordon’s ant like armies, were taking the battle to their age-old foes, the Blefuscudans, represented by the flea like figures of the Taiping rebels on the walls of Changchow.
Unlike Gulliver, Robert would not refuse to help, and he would not sail away. This fight in China differed from the feud between Catholics and Protestants. The fate of China was uncertain. The Taipings could not be allowed to win.
He left his perch on the hilltop and joined Li in the army’s headquarters. The roar of a battery of cannons firing echoed off the hills.
“Look at the battlefield,” Li said, pointing at the map. “It is so dark I can’t see to fight. It’s as if the map is obscured by fog.”
There was nothing dark about it. The inside of the headquarters tent was filled with light, but Robert knew what Li meant. He was saying he didn’t know what to do to break the standoff. He was at a loss of how to proceed so they could take Changchow without great loss of life.
Li stepped aside to provide a better view of the map. “If you were to shed light on this battle, it might help me see.”
Robert was stunned. Li was asking for his advice! He leaned over the map and studied the situation. Li had eight thousand men moving to tighten the encirclement of the city.
The only weak spot seemed near the city wall where Gordon’s army was struggling to break through. Then Robert remembered how Li’s men looked like ants marching in thin ant-like lines into their underground nests and saw the solution.
“Contact Gordon and ask him to make a move that will divert the Tapings’ attention,” Robert said. “While Gordon is doing this, your men will dig a tunnel under the wall.”
“You mean for us to enter the city through the tunnel?” Li asked.
“Exactly. At first, this work must be done at night. You will cover some of your trenches with a roof and place dirt on top of that roof. That way, the defenders will not know what your men are doing. Gordon should attack from the other side of the city.
“In fact, you should marshal most of your troops on that side of the city with your artillery so the Taipings will think that is where the assault is coming from. Meanwhile, your men will be on this side of the city digging day and night to tunnel under the moat and wall to get inside.”
Both Li and Gordon acted on Robert’s suggestion. On May 11, 1864, the tunnel was completed. Gordon’s army went underground and took Changchow while Li’s army secured Soochow.
When Gordon and Li’s armies moved on in early June toward Nanking, Robert returned to Peking with news for Prince Kung that the Taipings’ defeat was assured.
He had been in the field for several months with Li and Gordon. His life had gained a new meaning and bringing Gordon and Li together was part of that changing picture. If his destiny was to play an important role in bringing harmony to China, then he was willing to pay the price even if that meant staying away from home months at a time.
At least, he was going home. Li and Gordon were not. They were marching off with their armies toward another battle and all the risk that entailed.
Chapter 59
After reaching Peking, Robert went to the Tsungli Yamen to report to Prince Kung.
“Great news, Robert,” Kung said. “With Gordon and Li working together, the Longhaired Bandits are losing battles all across China.” He rummaged among the papers on his desk, pulled out one and waved it as if it were a flag.
“This report arrived this morning from General Tseng Kuo-fan.” His voice went up an octave. “The Longhaired Bandits are in such a panic because of the defeat at Changchow, they have removed most of their armies from his path to Nanking and shifted the fight to Gordon and Li. The back door has been left open.” A rare smile creased his lips.
“Tseng Kuo-fan’s army is moving toward the Bandit capital. Do you realize what that means? The Longhaired Bandits have panicked, and Head Chopper is going to deliver a killing blow. This could mean an end to the rebellion.”
He threw the report down and jumped to his feet. “I am going to update the situation for the Empress Dowagers and the young emperor. I will request that you be rewarded.”
Before Robert could open his mouth to protest that he didn’t deserve the praise, Prince Kung hurried to the door where he stopped briefly, and said, “Do not leave, I will be back.” Then the prince was gone.
He glanced at the reports scattered across the desk. In one of the reports, Li Hung-chang had praised Robert’s contributions—not only for solving the dispute with Gordon, but also for the battle tactics that led to the fall of Changchow. A servant came with tea and preserved fruits.
An hour later, Prince Kung returned to the Tsungli Yamen, and said, “Robert, before the year ends expect several honors and titles from the emperor no foreigner has been granted before. The imperial court also decided to display the silver and gold taels the Maritime Customs Service has contributed toward the cost of this war. This is a great honor and all China will learn of it.”
Not all the awards and the highest rank in China could dispel Robert’s ache to be home with Ayaou and the children. When he was free, he hurried to his Peking mansion with the recently added eight-acre Inspecto
rate garden, which was another reward for his work.
Ayaou received him with her big belly looking as if she were carrying a large watermelon. Although she looked exhausted, she seemed in good spirits and in harmony with the world.
That night, he went to sleep thinking about how to tell her that he’d decided to make her his wife. There had to be a way so she wouldn’t protest. After all, with what he had accomplished recently, this marriage would not cost him his future. The Ch’ing Dynasty wanted to please him.
In addition, his family and friends would have to deal with the reality that he had achieved great success and had a right to decide whom to marry. Besides, it didn’t look like he was going to be leaving China for some time. He doubted that he would ever find success like this elsewhere.
The next morning, he was in the kitchen eating a simple breakfast of rice porridge with yams. The baby had been in a kicking mood, so Ayaou had stayed in bed after a difficult night. “Guan-jiah, I’m going to marry Ayaou, but I want to do it on a lucky day. What do you suggest?”
“I know the best date, Master,” Guan-jiah replied. “It is in August during ‘Qi Xi’, a festival for lovers. This is a most auspicious time to marry and will insure happiness and bring more children to fill this house with endless laughter.” The eunuch’s eyes sparkled. “I will take care of the details and arrange everything to perfection. That way, you will have beautiful memories to reflect on when you are both old. Anna will play the piano during the ceremony. She practices daily for hours, and this will give her a chance to show off what she has learned.”
Unfortunately, Robert’s job pulled him back into the Maritime Customs whirlpool. In China, it was easy to accept bribes and every man had a price if it could be found.
Less than a week after returning from Changchow, he was leaving again. With reluctance, he said goodbye to Ayaou and the children. He was tired. He never had enough sleep. Even in Peking, his workdays lasted twenty hours.
My Splendid Concubine Page 67