by Poon, Alice;
Soon after the massacre, pamphlets describing the atrocities were disseminated through the towns of the region. As expected, the technique worked, as it had worked for Genghis Khan across Asia. In the following month, Nanjing surrendered without putting up much of a fight. Then Hangzhou and Suzhou also surrendered. The Ming loyalists were pushed south of the Qiantang River and would remain inactive for a long while. Although much of southern China was now under Qing control, beneath the apparent calm there lurked deep resentments against the new rulers. Strategically shrewd as he was, Dorgon had a blind spot, which only Bumbutai was able to identify and raise with him. At the end of a victory celebration feast, she initiated what became a heated argument, as she voiced her concerns.
“Why are you doing this to the Hans?” she asked. “You know violence is not the solution. It never is. Why did you insist on such mass murders?” Her eyes were shrouded in a vapor of deep angst.
“My love, you don’t understand warfare,” Dorgon replied patronizingly. “Creating terror amongst the enemy is a tried and proven military strategy. It is the fastest way to overpowering them.” He looked calm but he was a little taken aback by her effrontery.
“But this will just exacerbate the antagonism!” she cried. “Once the vindictive mood spreads, it will be hard to contain, let alone reverse. Cruelty can never earn allegiance. Ask any survivor from Yangzhou, if there is one, if he truly respects the Qing Empire. And even if, out of fear, he declares respect, he will still have hatred rooted deep in his heart.”
“We have come a long way to getting where we are today,” he countered. “China is our great enterprise and our work is not yet done. How can we let the Ming loyalists gather strength in the South and be a persistent threat to our sovereignty?”
Bumbutai had no ready answer. But she knew that violence would only sow the seeds of enmity.
“Don’t you remember what Hong Taiji used to say?” she said breathlessly. “Winning the hearts and minds of the conquered is the ultimate way to rule. What you’re doing now will only alienate them. There must be better ways.”
On the mention of his deceased half-brother, Dorgon’s face crinkled into a glower.
“Hong Taiji is hardly a model for me,” he shot back. “You should know that. I don’t care what he said. I’ll do things my way.” Fumes of anger lit up his eyes.
“He had his flaws,” she agreed. “But in terms of ruling compassionately, he was not wrong…” before she could finish, he raised his hand to stop her.
“That’s enough. It’s better that we don’t discuss such matters. I know what I’m doing. An important end always justifies the means, any means. My focus is on the end alone. Besides, some of the Hans are selfish and depraved. I am going to use that trait to my advantage.”
Bumbutai was surprised to hear from him the familiar comment the end justifies the means. It seemed ironic that Dorgon, for all his opposition to Hong Taiji’s ways, shared what had been an early belief of Hong Taiji’s. She could see that his military successes and the idolization of his army subordinates were feeding him a lethal dose of hubris and had given him a sense of infallibility. There was little she could do now to make him change his approach – his enemy forever was Hong Taiji and whatever he had publicly advocated.
Dorgon had not given up his desire to re-impose the shaved-head order, which he had reluctantly repealed soon after the occupation of Beijing and northern China. He knew that such an order was a symbol of oppression, and he therefore made it a rule to use former Ming generals of the Han race to implement the order, so that any resulting wrath from the populace would be directed at them rather than at the Manchus. One such Han general was Li Chengdong from Jiading in the rich lands just south of the mouth of the Yangtze River. Dorgon knew him to be a venal character who would do the vilest things in exchange for status and wealth.
The region around Jiading, including the tiny fishing town of Shanghai, was one of the places where resistance to the order was fiercest, especially among the scholar class who felt it was a defilement of their Confucian tradition of filial piety. Shortly after Dorgon’s shaved-head edict was announced in July of the following year, Li Chengdong led a heavily-armed troop of bandits on boats to Jiading under the Qing banner.
Li had no qualms about using any evil means to get what he wanted. He allowed his soldiers to rob and rape to their hearts’ content, provided they offered him a cut. After he and his men had their fill of looting and debauchery, they stashed their spoils on board their boats moored on the canals nearby, left some soldiers to guard them, then went off to plunder other neighboring towns, under the pretense of implementing the shaved-head order. While they were gone, the Jiading villagers armed themselves up and launched a surprise attack on the bandits on the boats, killing a few and burning the boats. Among those killed was Li’s brother. When Li returned and found his brother’s charred body, he went berserk and ordered his troops to bombard the small walled town day and night with cannons borrowed from the Qing army. The town’s fortifications gave way the following night amidst a tempestuous downpour. Li ordered his soldiers to kill every inhabitant of the town who could not offer up valuables. Many of the scholars who had volunteered as defenders thereupon committed suicide.
After three days of killings, the town’s canals overflowed with corpses. Yet there were still many survivors who managed to escape the massacre and hid themselves in the vicinity of the town. When Li’s army left the town, the surviving villagers gathered together and took control of Jiading town again. News of this reached Li and he ordered his underlings to suppress the resisting villagers, resulting in another slaughter.
About ten days later, a band of Ming loyalists entered the town in an attempt to wrest control back from Li’s men. The two groups fought ferociously for several days, but finally Li gained the upper-hand and a third slaughter ensued. By the end of this, not a single living soul could be found in the Jiading district. Ming army and civilian deaths in this area and those close by were said to be in the hundreds of thousands.
Dorgon rewarded Li as he had promised by making him a Han Banner Chief, but secretly despising his baseness, granted him no fiefdom.
Towards the end of the second year of Shunzhi’s reign, Hooge was getting restless and, with the help of one of his military deputies, devised a plot to overthrow Dorgon’s Regency.
The deputy had, during one of the military campaigns, spent time with one of Dorgon’s five closest personal guards. He had learned from the guard that Dorgon had a habit of taking a stroll in the garden of his residence after dinner each evening alone with only that guard. At other times he would be surrounded by the whole team of five. The deputy told Hooge that the guard had a great appetite for beautiful women.
To buy the service of the guard, Hooge sought to entice him with a Mongolian beauty from amongst his many concubines. Treating him to a sumptuous feast, Hooge bade the concubine perform an erotic dance. The guard, drunk on rice wine, begged to be granted the woman. After being under her bewitchment for some time, he began to entertain the thought of switching masters, and Hooge bribed him with twenty gold bars to assist in staging an ambush on the Regent.
Two days before the ambush was to take place, Hooge met Dodo in a tavern. As was his habit, he binged on alcohol but got so drunk that, bleary-eyed, he mistook Dodo for his deputy and unwittingly blurted out some details of his scheme. Fatally, he also revealed the name of the bribed guard. His few incoherent words were enough to make Dodo understand the danger, and he wasted no time in heading to Dorgon’s residence, where he passed on all he had just heard.
Dorgon immediately had his guard seized and tortured with burning iron rods until he disclosed the plot and the mastermind behind it. He then had Hooge and his deputy arrested and imprisoned. After a trial, the deputy was executed while Hooge was stripped of his title of Imperial Prince and incarcerated for life. Some months later, he was found dead i
nside his heavily-guarded prison under suspicious circumstances.
Fifteen
Bumbutai suggested a delay to the date of her wedding ceremony, and while Dorgon had agreed to this, it didn’t mean he was happy about her apparent hesitation. To show his displeasure, he decided to hold a lavish feast to celebrate his wedding with Hooge’s primary wife, whom he had taken into custody after Hooge’s death. She happened to be a beautiful young cousin of Bumbutai’s from the Borjigit clan. Dorgon had first seen this Lady Borjigit at one of the Court banquets and had been arrested by her charming presence.
Lady Borjigit, being the youngest and most beautiful of her Mongolian noble clan, undoubtedly gave a boost to his ego. But in his position now, he could take any number of young beautiful virgins he desired. It was obvious that she, now a widow, was more a pawn in his wile. He made sure that the wedding was ostentatious and ordered that wedding invitations be sent to all the Aisin Gioro and Borjigit clansmen and clanswomen.
Appearing unannounced in the Cining Palace where Bumbutai resided, he swaggered through unannounced into Bumbutai’s inner chambers. With a smug grin on his face, he waved the gold-embossed invitation card at her.
“I would have liked the bride’s name on the card to be yours,” he said. “Unfortunately that was not to be. My patience is wearing thin and I need a woman’s comfort. Would you honor me with your presence at my wedding?”
“Venerable Highness, you shouldn’t have troubled yourself to deliver the invitation,” she replied with a forced smile, her lips twitching with unease. “May I offer you my congratulations? Why, I cannot wait to share your joy. Your bride is a renowned beauty in our clan.”
“I take that as a promise. You must come early, so you won’t miss anything. Your cousin has been rehearsing a dance for the occasion.” He let out a raucous laugh, as if he had just won a bet.
The banquet was held in the large courtyard in front of the main wing of Dorgon’s opulent residence. Flaming torches had been put up at close intervals all around the courtyard to light the whole scene up like day. When dishes were being served to guests, Dorgon, seated at the head table, gave a signal to his chief bondservant. A moment later, his new concubine and a male dance partner appeared on horseback, as fiddle music started to float through the scented night air. Horses’ hooves hit on the cobbled ground rhythmically in time with the folk song being played and the dancers moved their horses in rehearsed cadence.
Bumbutai noticed that her cousin was dressed in a Mongolian-style dancing costume, just like the way she had dressed while performing the same waltz in her homeland years ago. Her face looked dewy fresh as lilies and her body as supple as an eel. A stab of envy stultified her as she shifted in her chair. When she stole a glance in Dorgon’s direction, her eyes unexpectedly caught his fervid gaze, which was riveted on her. She understood at once what all this meant. Instinctively she turned her face aside to hide her misty eyes.
As Dorgon claimed more and more victories in battles in the conquest of the remaining territories of China, he did not forget Bumbutai’s promise to wed him. He thought it was now time she made good her side of the bargain. His position of Regent would only be secure if he became the husband of the Empress Dowager and step-father of the Emperor. Therefore, a formal tying of the knot was not only the consummation of a life-long desire, but actually a necessary step in consolidating his position. Once he became the Emperor’s step-father, no one would be or could be above him. Not even the joint forces of Daisan and Jirgalang could oust him from power then.
One balmy night in the spring of the third year of Shunzhi’s reign, Bumbutai had just taken a bath and was getting ready to retire to bed when Dorgon barged into her bed chamber. She was startled by his sudden appearance. They hadn’t seen each other since his wedding feast. His eyes were fixated on her silky black tresses cascading down her shoulders and back. Her white silk robe, tied at the waist, draped fluidly over her body and gave accent to its curves. The sight stoked a latent flame in him. He stepped closer to run his hand through her hair, drinking in its delicate fragrance with closed eyes.
His unexpected gesture set her pulse racing and she winced.
“Venerable Prince Regent, I beg you to stop! My maids may walk in on us.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I have come to seek your approval on our wedding date. Yesterday I consulted Scholar Fan on an auspicious date, and he suggested a day which is three months from today.” Ignoring her plea, he drew her closer and continued to play with her hair.
“Do you think three months is enough to make preparations?” She couldn’t hide her surprise.
“All I need to do is to set the date,” he pressed on. “I will leave the rest to the Board of Rites. So do I have your agreement?” He was determined not to let her wriggle her way out this time.
“I am sure Scholar Fan has warned you about the possible negative reaction from the Han Ministers. Dorgon, perhaps we could opt for a small quiet ceremony.”
She was looking intensely at him, searching obsessively for the boyish warmth on his face that she had been so irresistibly drawn to on that day of their first encounter. But what met her gaze now were frosty eyes, deeply set in a still very handsome though weathered face, from which she could scarcely read any feelings, save for raw desire.
“I wouldn’t mind a small ceremony, but you would have to live with me in my residence. I don’t like it at all that you and Fulin stay so close together. It will turn him into a spoiled child.”
Bumbutai had been dreading the day when she and her son would be forced apart. Now that day was almost upon her. She must be careful not to annoy Dorgon, otherwise she could even be robbed of the chance of ever seeing Fulin again.
“I don’t like living in the Palaces anyway, and I can’t wait for us to start our new life together, Dorgon,” she replied, her tone softening. “Please go ahead with the arrangement.” She let him run his hands over her lithe body with no resistance, remembering what Sumalagu had revealed to her.
She was trying to relive those dreamy moments that they had shared on those two most memorable days of her life in her homeland. But just as soon as she wanted to let go her feelings, twinges of guilt started to spike her like punishing thorns. Her dark phoenix eyes began to swim in tears. With a fluttering of her long lashes, a big drop rolled down her hot cheeks. She gently pushed Dorgon away, averting his burning gaze, and tried to change the subject.
“Dorgon, have you ever considered retracting your shaved-head order? There is so much rancor in the Han society…”
The edict had decreed a death sentence for any Han Chinese who disobeyed the shaved-head order and Manchu dress code. Bumbutai was well aware she was fighting a lost cause, knowing that he had already rejected Scholar Fan’s advice to delay the order, but she felt the need to still make one more attempt.
“I don’t see any need to do that,” he said imperiously. “It’s the only way to pick out the troublemakers. For stability to take root, we must first eliminate those who will not yield.”
Not even her tears would be allowed to change his mind.
“But oppressive rule will only alienate the Hans further. The trauma of the Yangzhou killings has already left deep, open wounds on them. Peace might prove to be an elusive goal for us. There’s much to learn from our own history and from their history too, Dorgon. Hatred only begets more hatred. We must show good faith and respect for the Han culture if we want them to trust us as rulers.”
He shook his head. “I would hear no more of that, Bumbutai. I’m not Hong Taiji and I will do things my way. Even Genghis Khan didn’t tolerate those who dared stand in his way.” He hated it when she brought up Chinese history, which he had always loathed.
“But Genghis only fought those who resisted,” she pointed out, “he didn’t oppress the defenseless. In Han culture, a person’s hair is considered sacred because it was given to them
at birth by their parents. It would be against filial piety to have one’s hair shaved for no good reason. If you force the Manchu hairstyle and dress code on the Hans, it will only exacerbate their ill feelings.”
“But if the Hans will not follow our customs, it means they are not willing to submit to our rule,” he said stubbornly. “Until they do, we are not truly the master of China.” There was a pause, and he stared into her eyes. The naked candor they revealed mollified him and he relaxed somewhat. At length he said:
“You know how much I love the way you look in Han clothes….. Alright, I will exempt the Hans from the Manchu dress code, excepting Court officials. But all Han males must still shave their heads and wear queues like us.”
Bumbutai had not expected that he would make any concession at all, and was secretly pleased. Outwardly though, she displayed no emotion.
“Dorgon, we did pledge to restore peace to Han society at the sovereignty handover ceremony, remember?”
“That is precisely what I’m trying to do. Divide and conquer is the quickest and most effective way to establish our authority and to restore peace and order.” He adamantly refused to budge. Intuition told her that his approach was short-sighted and callous and would never win the Hans over, but she knew that locking horns with him further now would serve no purpose. She could only pray he would somehow come to his senses.
“It’s very late, and I’m tired,” she said. “… Isn’t your young concubine waiting for you?” She had not forgotten how her heart had been stung.
“I was hoping I would make you jealous,” he said with a touch of triumph in his voice. “So you are jealous? Don’t you want me?” He tightened his grip on her waist.
“I do … But it wouldn’t be proper for you to stay here the night. Fulin usually comes in to see me in the early mornings.” She lowered her eyes in a deep blush, satisfied that he was still under her spell.
“He’ll learn about us soon enough. I’ll go if you say you want me to. Just so you know, you can dance far better than your cousin,” he pressed against her body and cupped her breasts, feeling their softness under the flimsy silk. Before he could loosen the string that held her robe, she wriggled out of his embrace.
