by Poon, Alice;
“Demoting an Empress may stir up dissent in your Court, especially among the Han Ministers with their strict adherence to Imperial rites,” she added. “But if there is to be any opposition to your will, you can rest assured that it will not be from me. I understand your situation, Son.”
“I appreciate your support so much, Mother. I will take this matter into my own hands.”
As his mother had predicted, several of his Court Ministers signed a petition imploring him to reconsider the demotion, claiming that such a dramatic move might impair the Imperial Household’s honor. To these dissenters, he asked a scathing question:
“What is wrong with demoting someone from a position that she has shown herself to be unworthy of?”
Realizing that the Emperor’s mind was determinedly set in this matter, they finally acquiesced to his wishes.
At the end of that month, the Empress moved out of the Palace of Earthly Tranquility into a small West Palace, to the delight of all maids in her former Residence. Within a couple of months, she was quietly sent back in a carriage to her homeland in Inner Mongolia, in stinging contrast to the spectacular reception of her bridal procession into Beijing and the dazzling pomp of her wedding day.
In the middle of the following year, another wedding was held for sixteen-year-old Shunzhi in the Hall of Preserving Harmony. This time, his new Empress, three years younger than he, was a grandniece of Bumbutai, the daughter of her second elder brother’s son, which meant that she was also from the Borjigit clan. Shunzhi feared that the demotion of his first Empress might hurt the feelings of his Mongolian relatives and hence affect the Manchu-Mongolian bond that her mother had tried so hard to nurture. He thus agreed to his mother’s proposal of making another Borjigit Princess, actually a young niece of his, his new Empress.
By this time, his harem had already grown to twenty-five Consorts and Concubines, so it didn’t matter to him that he had no feelings for his new Empress. He was well aware that the marriage was purely a political matter. That he found her clumsy and stupid was just another excuse for never showing up in the Palace of Earthly Tranquility.
Shortly after this second wedding, Wu saw his master become quite downcast from his heavy workload and considered how to raise his spirits. He told him of the Han maidens in the Jiangnan region of China to the south and their reputation for delicate beauty, slimness of figure and superb dancing skills. Showing him paintings of some of the famous courtesans of Hangzhou and Suzhou, he piqued his master’s interest.
Unable to control his desires, Shunzhi ordered Wu to go south to select Han maidens on his behalf. They were to serve in name as special maids-in-waiting, when in reality they would be objects of his lust. When news of this reached the region, parents of many young girls rushed to betroth them to boys of other families. In protest, a district official made a daring petition to Shunzhi pleading against the maiden harvest. Shunzhi could do nothing but deny the allegation, and out of pride, he dismissed the petitioning official from his post and exiled him to a remote and derelict village.
When the Empress Dowager heard about this, she was furious and gave her son a severe tongue-lashing for the first time since he had assumed power.
“Son, I have let you have free rein over your private life, as I always thought I could trust you to use your sense and discretion. But I am so disappointed. Distressing your subjects to satisfy your desires is bad enough. To punish a forthright official, whose only crime was to speak the truth is pure cowardice. How do you think the people of Jiangnan will hold you in their regard now?”
Her stern eyes bored into him, as he stood fidgeting in front of her in the garden of Cining Palace. She resumed the watering of her lavender lilies while waiting for his response.
“Mother, please forgive me. I have made a mistake. I am just overwhelmed by work,” he stuttered with his eyes cast down.
“Overwhelmed by work? Surely there are more refined ways to deal with such a problem. Was this Wu Liangfu’s idea?” She knew the answer before posing the question, but wanted to test him.
“No, the idea was mine. He only did as I told him. Mother, I will make amends for the wrong I’ve done, I promise.”
“You don’t have to promise me anything, son. I only ask that you always respect your privileged position as an Emperor.” Her tone softened as she took comfort in discovering that her son at least had the courage to answer for his own actions.
Later that same day, he granted a pardon to the petitioning official and reinstated him in his former post. He returned to his studies and developed a passion for painting and calligraphy. His talent in the arts was visible through the vast quantity of works that he produced in this period.
Shunzhi’s weakness for the fairer sex did not prevent him from building an effective administration. He issued a decree demanding that all district government administrators pass a public examination once every three years. This applied to both Manchu and Han officials alike. Those who failed to pass would be demoted or dismissed. In the first year, a total of nine hundred and sixty-nine administrators failed the exam and were either demoted or dismissed on the grounds of incompetence.
Meanwhile, Shunzhi re-established the Ming institution, the Hanlin Academy, which scholars used as a stepping stone to a Court career.He sent special investigating envoys to all provincial governments to investigate complaints of official corruption. Before their departure, Shunzhi personally lectured them on the principles of integrity and fair play.
But many of the envoys abused the special powers endowed in them and colluded with local corrupt officials to gain personal benefits while falsifying reports against honest ones. In one case, an official who had planned to make a corruption complaint against his superior was arrested by an envoy on fabricated charges and tortured. The official committed suicide by slashing his own throat.
When the news reached Shunzhi, he flew into a rage and ordered the incarceration of the envoy involved. He personally conducted the interrogation of the prisoner and after sentencing him to death by beheading, he also punished those who had recommended him to the post. Then he sentenced to exile a large group of local officials who had colluded with the envoy in corruption crimes.
For all his weaknesses, Shunzhi set a good example of fighting corruption that would be followed by later Emperors of the Qing dynasty.
Despite his good intentions, his favoritism towards the Han literati backfired. Many of the Manchu Bannermen officials in his Court were jealous of the rapid rise to important posts of Han scholars.
Shunzhi befriended one such scholar, Chen Mingxia, whom he admired for his knowledge of Chinese literature and art. When Chen made an ill-timed proposal allowing Han Court Officials to revert to Ming-style hair and attire, the Manchu faction used it as an excuse to force the Emperor to execute him. In other matters where the Manchu clansmen’s special privileges were at stake, such as their right to enslave Chinese peasants, Shunzhi was pressured into protecting the interests of the Manchu nobility.
On his mother’s advice, Shunzhi had, since taking power, begun placing trust in Schall von Bell’s advice on matters of administration. Bumbutai had earlier befriended the German priest when he had cured her niece, the first Empress, of a grave illness soon after her arrival in Beijing.
In time, Shunzhi came to respect the priest so much that he would go out of the Palaces to visit him at his home, often talking with him for long periods of time. In offering his advice, the priest was consistently honest and unpretentious, always taking the welfare of the people to heart and persuading the Emperor to act with generosity and mercy, and Shunzhi appreciated this. The priest regularly submitted petitions to the Emperor containing ideas or suggestions for solutions to problems, and over time, the Emperor formed a habit of placing the priest’s petitions on a special bookshelf in his library. Whenever he went on a hunting trip, he would always pick several of those petitions and br
ing them along to read.
On one occasion, the priest heard of a sentence of exile being passed on five Han officials in a district government who had been caught flouting the Manchu attire code while at work, and he immediately went to the Emperor’s Residence to plead on their behalf for leniency. The Emperor asked for his reason and the priest simply answered with a question: “Your Imperial Highness, do you not feel in your heart that the sentence is disproportionately harsh?” After pondering this for a while, Shunzhi granted a full pardon to the five prisoners, and ordered their immediate release.
By this time, the Emperor held the priest in such high esteem that he addressed him as Mafa (Grandpa), with Bumbutai’s express approval. He was allowed to enter the Emperor’s Residence at any time and was even exempt from the prostrating posture when he came into the Emperor’s presence.
Twenty
At the start of the thirteenth year of Shunzhi’s reign, the Empress held a modest banquet at the Hall of Union to celebrate the lunar New Year, to which she invited all the Aisin Gioro clansmen and their spouses. Among the guests, one graceful young woman caught Shunzhi’s eyes. She was Lady Bombogor, wife of Prince Bombogor, the only son of Noble Consort Namuzhong (a widow of Hong Taiji’s) and a half-brother of Shunzhi’s. The Lady was the daughter of a Court Minister under the Plain White Banner who was born in Liaoning Province and whose wife was Han Chinese. In her maiden days, she had been known for her affecting beauty and exceptional talent in reading and needlework.
This day, she looked especially ravishing in a pale blue Manchu-style wide-sleeved robe embroidered in floral pattern and with dark blue borders, worn over a white pleated skirt. On her head she wore a dark blue pearl-studded headdress with long tassels hanging down both sides of her face. She had the most beguiling smile on her face.
When Bumbutai first laid eyes on her, she was awestruck at the likeness she bore to Harjol: the same heart-shape face and the same crescent-moon eyes. Only she had eyebrows like willow leaflets while Harjol’s eyebrows were arched. Bumbutai became quite speechless when the young noblewoman presented herself and made obeisance to her. The next thing she noticed was that Lady Bombogor’s face effortlessly arrested her son’s previously wandering eyes, which never strayed again for the rest of the evening.
When the young woman realized that she was the object of a constant stare from the Emperor, she became quite nervous and tried to pretend she was unaware of it. But like any young woman who attracts the steady attention of a young man, she couldn’t resist the temptation to throw back a surreptitious glance. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a florid face defined by a square jaw-line, with ebony dark eyes and a straight nose. She blushed a deep pink, her heart galloping like an untamed mare. She took a quick sip of wine from her chalice in an attempt to regain her composure.
A couple of months after the Court banquet, Lady Bombogor received an invitation from the Empress to a cherry blossom viewing in the Imperial Garden. When she arrived at the appointed time, she was surprised to find no one there except two maids-in-waiting and the Emperor, who was working on a painting inside a pavilion. When Shunzhi saw her, he put down his brush and motioned her to enter. She approached and made obeisance timidly, just outside the pavilion:
“Your Imperial Highness, may I offer my best wishes for your pristine health.”
“Please rise, Lady Bombogor. Let us do away with the formalities, shall we? Come in and take a look at my work.” The painting in front of him was a landscape painting with, in the background, a distant vista of steep cliffs covered with old pine trees, and in the foreground, a snaking river with three fishermen idling away on a midstream islet.
“It would be my honor, Your Imperial Highness,” she said softly as she stepped lightly inside the pavilion. She looked at the painting and exclaimed:
“This picture brings to life the poem Immortals by the River, by the Ming poet Yang Shen!”
“That’s right!” he replied. “I knew I had read that poem before! It was at the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t recall the title. When I was painting it, the image just rose up in my mind. You are indeed well read in Chinese poetry!”
He clasped her hand in his ecstatically. This embarrassed her beyond words and her face glowed a deep pink. But she did not try to withdraw her hand.
“How would you like to do me the honor of penning the poem on the painting?” he asked. “I have heard that you are skillful at calligraphy. I won’t accept a refusal. Come, don’t be shy.” He cajoled her like a child, while signaling for his maids to grind more ink.
“The honor would be all mine, Your Imperial Highness.”
She sat down on a porcelain stool and picked up a brush pen confidently. Steadily focusing her attention on the tip, she began writing the verse in a firm but delicate hand, occasionally dipping the brush into the ink dish. Her exquisite craft put a delightful finishing touch on the Emperor’s spontaneous work of art. The poem went like this:
On and on to the east rolls the Great Yangtze,
Burying in its current hordes of gallant men.
Right or wrong, shame or glory, all comes to naught.
Only the green hills linger, after many a glowing sunset.
White-haired men by the river, mind the seasons not;
All they care of is in the bottle, and meeting with old friends.
Stories new and old, come alive in their witty repartee.
Shunzhi carefully held up the scroll of paper to admire the new addition, nodding his head approvingly. The two then went on to discuss Tang and Song poetry. By the time they had extricated themselves from that world, the lukewarm sun was bidding farewell on the horizon. Spontaneously he held her hand and led her to the cherry blossoms garden, the blissful sight of which made her heart jump. Like a troupe of ethereal dancers clad in pink tassels, the trees seemed to sidle forth in lissome gait to welcome the approaching admirers.
“Oh, Your Imperial Highness, I’ve never seen such beauty in all my life,” she said softly, a little short of breath. A rosy luster slipped onto her face, tinted gold by the oblique rays of the setting sun. The falling petals of the blossoms were like tiny snowy nymphs sent from the heavens, frolicking in the sprightly breeze. Light as feathers, as fleeting as Zephyr, one moment they breathed pink, the next they faded. Cherry blossoms were as much an inspiration for beautiful verse as they were a reminder of life’s fickleness, she thought.
Shunzhi couldn’t take his eyes off her impeccably featured complexion, now lit up by her serene meditation. As he walked by her side, he was besotted by the delicate scent wafting from her. Was it from her hair, or from her body? He couldn’t stop wondering.
That night, he could not close his eyes without recalling the image of Lady Bombogor and her fragrance. He did not call for any Consort or Concubine, content to wallow all night in his lonely thoughts. His strange behavior troubled his eunuch.
The next morning, Wu fussed over his master, trying to find out what was wrong with him. He was about to call in a Court physician, when Shunzhi waved his hand dismissively. By the time he had finished eating his morning meal, he could restrain himself no longer and he sat down at his writing table to pen a personal invitation to Lady Bombogor, requesting her company for dinner in his Residence. When Wu was ordered to deliver the invitation, he understood.
By the time the lovers had had their fourth secretive meeting, gossip about the liaisons reached Prince Bombogor’s ears. Having the Chakhar Mongolian blood of his mother in his veins, and being a fearless warrior with a passion for honor, he did not take his wife’s indiscretions well. But his adoration for her, as well as the power of the Emperor, held him back from confronting her. His silent resentment festered inside.
Lady Bombogor had never been attracted to her husband, being married to him at the age of thirteen. She had never tasted what love was until she met Shunzhi. Since meeting him, she could not
put him out of her mind. The gentle touch of his hand, his artistic flair and his mild manner haunted her day and night. She felt she understood him well. From the painting she gleaned the fact that he was pining for a life that would be forever beyond his reach. Though she knew her acceptance of his love was breaking all moral codes, yet she lacked the strength to resist the forbidden fruit.
On the day they met for their sixth liaison, they were walking amongst rose bushes in a quiet corner of the Imperial Garden. The path was a narrow one. Lady Bombogor’s body scent intoxicated him and he put his arms round her and kissed her mouth passionately. She was flustered by his move but did not resist. He started to move his hands over her body when Prince Bombogor, Shunzhi’s half-brother, suddenly bolted out of nowhere. The abashed Emperor was at a loss for words and Lady Bombogor gasped in terror, her face turning ashen white.
The agitated husband stared Shunzhi in the face without saying a word, his face a rancorous scowl. His glare didn’t budge even when Shunzhi cast down his eyes. Shunzhi’s reaction was to view the stare as an insolent challenge to his supreme authority and he became incensed. He raised his hand to slap the Prince’s cheek and regretted the move almost at the same instant. The Prince howled like a wounded beast and would have jumped upon the Emperor had not Lady Bombogor pulled him back with all her might.
Just then, a maid came up to offer tea to the guests and, seeing the strange expressions, scrambled away as quickly as she could. This interruption put a check on the tensions and the humiliated husband and his teary wife made for the Gate of Divine Might, mounted the carriage in which he had come and departed.
That night, a loud scream tore through the nocturnal silence of the Prince’s residence. One of the housemaids found the Prince hanging from a beam in his bed chamber. By the time he was untied, all signs of life had gone.
In the summer of that year, the seventeen-year-old Lady Bombogor was admitted into the Inner Palaces as Consort Donggo with the permission of Empress Dowager Xiaozhuang, and installed in the East Palace. Having seen the way her son looked at Donggo at the Court banquet, Bumbutai had been convinced that he would pursue her with the same zeal that his father had pursued Harjol. She understood that the Lady’s hold on her son was not simply due to her physical beauty. They were attracted to each other by a deeper connection, one that was more spiritual than corporal. As things turned out, she was right. Her only worry was that the Emperor’s favoritism towards the Lady might spur her latent ambition, if any existed. So before giving permission for Lady Bombogor to join the harem, Bumbutai had held a private meeting with her.
