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Green Phoenix

Page 22

by Poon, Alice;


  “Venerable Empress Dowager, may I offer you my best wishes for your pristine health,” Lady Bombogor began, timidly making obeisance in Cining Palace.

  “Rise, my dear child, you may stand and speak,” Bumbutai said in a motherly tone. “I hear that you are well versed in the Chinese classic The Legend of Honorable Women. Presumably you know that your loyalty towards the Emperor as his woman shall always take precedence over any personal concerns?”

  “Yes, Venerable, I do know that and would never dare to forget it for one moment.”

  “As one of his Consorts, you know that your first duty is to serve him well with all your heart and that you have to respect your senior sisters in the Inner Palaces?”

  “Yes, Venerable, I have read the Inner Palaces book of etiquette and rites and will abide by them faithfully.”

  “If the Emperor were to offer to make you his Empress, what would you do?”

  Not expecting such a question to come from the Empress Dowager, the Lady appeared disconcerted for a moment, and, after mulling for a little while, she replied:

  “Venerable, I would ask His Imperial Highness to punish me, because I must have done something wrong to make him commit such a grave mistake,” she said this with humility. Bumbutai could find no fault with her words.

  “Will you take an oath that you will never pursue the position of Empress?

  “Venerable, I vow on my life that I will never dare harbor the thought.”

  Bumbutai had been satisfied with the meeting. The Lady’s docile nature meant that she would not be a source of trouble for the Emperor.

  A little more than a month later, Shunzhi issued an edict promoting Consort Donggo to the prestigious rank of Imperial Noble Consort, bypassing the Noble Consort rank. A lavish title- granting ceremony was held in the Hall of Central Harmony one fine day in the twelfth lunar month. On the same day, the happy Emperor granted a general pardon to all criminals. Under the Imperial rites, there could only be one Imperial Noble Consort, and the rank was second only to that of the Empress.

  Imperial Noble Consort Donggo, for her part, felt like she was daily walking on thin ice. Being the recipient of so much honor and glory in such a short period of time, she was the target of acidic envy in the Inner Palaces, and would take only one false step to have all the other Consorts gang up on her. Snide gossip about her disgracing the Bombogor household increased the precariousness of her position. She knew she had to make every effort to win over hearts and made a point of never having dinner with the Emperor, purposely letting other Consorts enjoy some time with him. Emulating the Empress Dowager, she set an example of leading a frugal life. She insisted on only having two maids and never ordered clothes of expensive silk and satin fabrics. Her meals were the same as those of the other Consorts. She took every opportunity to take personal care of any Consort who was sick.

  On one occasion, Bumbutai was at the receiving end of this tender nursing care and her guard finally came down and she began to love her new daughter-in-law. She was pleased that her son had finally found a woman of virtue to be his true spouse.

  One day the following spring, the Imperial Noble Consort told the Emperor that she was with child. The news invigorated him with uninhibited joy. He kissed every inch of her body and ordered Wu to send three extra palace maids to serve the pregnant Consort. Then he began insidiously to complain about the Empress not being attentive enough to the Empress Dowager’s health. Using that as an excuse, he ordered the Board of Rites to stop sending copies of Court Ministers’ congratulatory messages on ceremonial or festive occasions to the Empress (an Empress was entitled by decree to read such messages). The staff of the Board of Rites, as well as Donggo, knew that this was a precursor to the demotion of the Empress, paving the way for the Imperial Noble Consort to take her place.

  Much alarmed by the Emperor’s apparent plans, Donggo fell to her knees when the Emperor came one evening on his daily visit.

  “Your Imperial Highness,” she pleaded, “I beg you never to think of demoting the Empress. It would hurt your mother’s heart to the core! I will not rise unless you give me your word!”

  “You mustn’t hurt your knees, my love, you’re three months pregnant,” Shunzhi said agitatedly, trying to lift her up. But she was determined not to rise.

  “Please give me your word first. I mean it.”

  “But the fact is that you are already taking care of all the affairs of the Inner Palaces,” he pointed out. “The Empress has shown herself to be indolent and incapable. I just want to be fair.”

  “I know you’ve been good to me, and I am forever indebted to you and to the Empress Dowager,” she said. “No one has loved me like you have. I know how blessed I am. It is exactly because I owe you so much that I cannot let you upset your Inner Palaces. Any anomaly will only bring chaos and will break your mother’s heart. It would be too great a sin for me if I let that happen. I am a woman of humble birth, and I could never be worthy of the Empress title. Please, please, Your Imperial Highness, I would rather die.…” tears gushed forth as she implored him.

  When Shunzhi saw her face streaked with tears, he could stand it no longer. “Alright,” he said, falling to his knees beside her. “It will be as you say.” He had never cared so much about any of his other Consorts’ pregnancies. Three years earlier, Consort Tunggiya had given birth to his third son, Xuanye, and one year prior to that, Consort Ningyi had delivered his second son, Fuquan. His first son had died in infancy. Shunzhi had seldom bothered to visit the mothers during their respective pregnancies. With the issue of her status cleared away, the young couple was able to enjoy each other’s company and further strengthen their bond.

  As satisfying as his emotional life was, Shunzhi’s heavy responsibilities as head of state exhausted both his mind and body. He was desperately seeking a relief valve. At this time, through an introduction from the eunuch Wu, he came to know several Zen Buddhist monks, whose lectures filled him with a spiritual urge to search further for the ultimate peace of mind. He paid a visit to a Zen Buddhist Temple and began to develop a keen interest in Zen Buddhism, which preaches deep meditation as the way to connect with one’s inner self. When Bumbutai learned of her son’s latest interest, she grew concerned that he might be lost on such an escapist path.

  In the tenth lunar month, to the immense pride and joy of the Emperor, Imperial Noble Consort Donggo gave birth to his fourth son. His pride and his joy were not only visible on his face, but also expressed through his reference to the newborn child as “his first-born son” in his conversations with Court Ministers. It was thus that news spread that the Emperor intended for this child to be his heir and successor.

  As Han scholars at Court busied themselves with the search for an appropriate name for the Crown Prince, Shunzhi began to fall under the influence of a Buddhist monk named Mu, who was extremely well versed in the theory of Zen as well as in Chinese literature and calligraphy. The Emperor would often be absorbed in talks with the monk in the evenings until well into the night, in the company of his beloved Donggo.

  It was a common belief that if a couple was blessed with too much happiness, disaster would follow. And as it happened, ill fate did await the happy Imperial couple. After a brisk journey of just one hundred and four days on the wearisome earth, Shunzhi’s newborn son returned quietly to dust.

  On that gloomy, rain-drenched morning, the wet-nurse went into the child’s chamber to offer her tits to his little hungry mouth, only to find in the hanging cot a bluish, lifeless bundle. When she touched the little body with her hand, she was shocked to feel the icy coldness. She put a finger under his nostrils, and could feel no breath. Scared stiff from the discovery, she turned and ran like mad all the way to the neighboring East Palace to deliver the news.

  The child’s young mother was brushing her hair when the wet-nurse dashed into her bed chambers dripping wet, jabbering incoherently. When she mad
e out what the wet-nurse was trying to say, the brush dropped from her hand. The full force of the message hit her like a rock and she would have slumped onto the floor had the wet-nurse not caught her in time. In trembling distress she asked a maid to get Physician Sima to come at once to take a look at her son. Her legs trembled uncontrollably as she staggered to the Princes’ Residence with the wet-nurse supporting her.

  Sumalagu, who had now moved back into Cining Palace along with Siu Fa, was the first one to learn the terrible news. She had been at the Princes’ Residence giving the princes Xuanye and Fuquan their Manchu lessons in the chamber next to the newborn’s nursery, and she had heard the scream. She had raced back to Cining Palace to deliver the news to her mistress. Thus Bumbutai arrived at the scene only a moment after Donggo.

  She was lying prostrate on the floor, screaming hysterically, all sense of self-control gone. She tore at her hair, she crawled on all fours, she laughed like a madman. It was a heartrending, and an all-too familiar sight for Bumbutai. She had seen it before in Mukden twenty years earlier, two days before Fulin’s birth when Harjol had lost her first and only son. Sometimes Eternal Blue Sky had strange ways of suddenly changing people’s fate that would confound the wisest of men. She was twenty years older now, with silvery strands making their rude appearance, but she was none the wiser on the matter of life and death.

  She winced at the thought of how hard a blow the newborn’s death would deal the Emperor.

  “Why does Fulin have to go through the same agony as his father?” she wondered silently. “How come they both had to lose their precious infants born of their most beloved?” She would never have an answer and it would be futile to dwell on such questions. But she also was keenly aware of the deep irony. If Harjol’s son had survived, what would have happened to her and to Fulin? She dared not even think about the possibilities. But in matters of life and death, Eternal Blue Sky was not to be argued with. Experience told her this much.

  Returning to the present scene, she was a little consoled by the thought that Fulin still had two other sons. Besides, Donggo was still young and would be able to conceive again. With that last thought, Bumbutai stepped forward to take the stricken mother into her embrace, soothing and coaxing her like she had done Harjol. But a sense of foreboding brushed over her when she looked at the girl’s haggard face, hollow eyes staring into empty space.

  Twenty-one

  Donggo was so shattered by the death of her son that she was bedridden for some time. Soon after the tragedy, Shunzhi granted a prestigious posthumous title of “First Glorious Prince” to his beloved son, whom he had not even had the chance to name. He ordered a special mausoleum to be built for the little corpse at the foothills right next to the Imperial Mausoleum, and he personally wrote a lengthy and emotional epitaph for him.

  But such exceptional honors for her dead child failed to stanch Donggo’s tears. Shunzhi paid regular visits to her and tried his best to distract her by giving her Zen lectures and chanting prayers together with her, which seemed to calm her down a bit. He gave her a manual of Zen Buddhism, so that she could practice meditation and seek peace from it. To his consolation, she showed a marked uplift in spirits after starting on the meditation ritual. One day when she was feeling a little better, she spoke with Shunzhi.

  “Your Imperial Highness, I know how much you had wished to make our son the Crown Prince,” she said in a feeble voice as her eyes brimmed with tears, “But I urge you to stop fretting over this unfulfilled wish, because sadness and remorse will harm your health, and I do not want our beloved son to be the cause of ill-being to you.”

  “I will do whatever you say, my love,” he replied. “But please, you must not shed another tear. We have to get you back to full health again.” He couldn’t control his tears any better than she. Instinctively, he held her in a tight embrace and patted her back tenderly.

  “Yes, yes, my love, we have to….”

  He gently put her head down on her pillow and bade her to rest up, keeping a close watch on her until she fell asleep.

  Although she was far from feeling well, she insisted on not making known her continuing sickness to the Empress Dowager, lest it should upset her. She struggled every morning to do her hair and put rouge on her cheeks to cover her sickly pallor, and to walk with the other Consorts to Cining Palace to make obeisance. Her frailty and visage of faked health, though, could not escape the eyes of Bumbutai whose heart ached silently for her.

  Since losing his son, Shunzhi’s leanings towards Zen Buddhism became more pronounced. He would often travel to the South Park where the monk Mu was staying as a guest, to hold long talks with him. Mu, with his profound knowledge of Chinese literature and Zen Buddhism, became his spiritual guide and Shunzhi got so carried away that he played with the idea of becoming a monk himself. But Mu staunchly advised against the idea, saying that his station in life was his predetermined fate, and he must not shirk his position or the attendant responsibilities.

  The Emperor seemed receptive to the monk’s argument that he could do more good to all under heaven and to the cause of Buddhism as a ruler rather than serving Buddha in a monastery. After staying as a guest for eight months, Mu bade the Emperor farewell. As a farewell gift, Shunzhi gave several of his painting scrolls to Mu, who was a great admirer of the Emperor’s works. In return, Mu gave the Emperor several scrolls of his calligraphy, which he adored.

  Another monk, Yu Lin, soon appeared to keep Shunzhi company. Yu Lin was a well-traveled but world-weary intellectual from Kunming and his philosophical concepts found an attentive audience in the Emperor, who felt burned out and attracted to the monk’s Taoist idea of passivity. Like Mu, however, Yu Lin advised strongly against the Emperor retreating to a monastery.

  By the middle of the fifteenth year of Shunzhi’s reign, the Ming loyalists based in the far south had rebuilt their strength under the Ming Pretender Yongli and the military leadership of General Zheng Chenggong (also known as Koxinga). Zheng had lived in Japan in his childhood, being born to a Japanese mother and a Chinese merchant father, but when he was seven years old, his father brought him back to China to receive a Confucian education and to serve the Ming loyalists. In 1645, his mother left Japan and joined her husband and son but during a raid on the town of Quanzhou in Fujian Province, the Manchu forces captured her and forced her to commit suicide, while his father defected to the Qing Empire. Zheng swore in a Confucian temple that he would avenge his mother and fight the Manchus to his death.

  He took the port city of Xiamen and Jinmen Island nearby as his base, assembling supplies and Ming loyalists, and pledged his allegiance to Pretender Yongli. Shunzhi on several occasions tried to persuade Zheng to surrender, but he refused. By the summer, Zheng controlled large parts of eastern China and early the following year, his army of over 100,000 was closing in on the city of Nanjing.

  News that Zheng’s fleet was sailing up the Yangtze River to attack Nanjing was announced by the Minister of Defense in the Emperor’s Audience Hall during a morning session of Court in Beijing. Shunzhi immediately broke down in a fit of panic-stricken hysteria and he leaped from his Throne, shouting:

  “If Nanjing falls, it will be the end of us! What shall we do? What shall we do?”

  The Ministers present were more astonished by the Emperor’s reaction than by the news itself and they looked at one another in bewilderment. Since Dorgon’s death, this was the first time that alarming battle news of this kind had been heard in Court.

  Jirgalang, seeing that matters were in a state of flux, advised the Emperor to adjourn the Court session to a meeting of the Private Council in Cining Palace, at which the Empress Dowager could preside. To this suggestion, the Emperor readily agreed. The Private Council now consisted of Jirgalang, Sonin, Suksaha, Oboi and Ebilun.

  Once inside the meeting lounge in Cining Palace, Jirgalang apprised the Empress Dowager of the precarious situation in Nanjing. Bu
mbutai listened intently but made no comment. Her silence made Shunzhi even more anxious and he yelled:

  “We have to leave Beijing and retreat to Mukden at once. We’ll be safe in Mukden. Yes, that’s what we should do….”

  The Private Council members murmured their disapproval. Then Bumbutai, in a grim face and stern voice, spoke.

  “So we are going to desert Beijing and China, and leave our trusting Han subjects to fend for themselves against the self-serving rebels?” she said slowly and loudly.

  His mother’s admonition pierced Shunzhi’s pride.

  “Of course not!” he shouted. “I am not a coward. The Empire needs me… As a worthy ruler of the Hans, Manchus and Mongols, I will personally lead the Army against them!” He snatched a sword from Oboi, who was the only one allowed to carry a weapon inside the Inner Court.

  The Councilors all shook their heads at this outrageous idea and fearing her son might become even more irrational, Bumbutai quietly sent Sumalagu to summon Shunzhi’s wet nurse and the German priest Schall von Bell.

  Shunzhi looked at the disapproving faces around him, and snarled: “I am determined to head the Army and defend Nanjing to my death. If anyone dares oppose me, I will slash his throat, like this!” He raised the sword and in one clean stroke, cut the armrest of his chair in two.

 

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