The History of China - #220 - Ming 12: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Gift Them

Episode Date: July 13, 2021

The treasure Fleet goes on missions 2-4, resulting in increasingly strange, valuable, and even divine gifts being presented to Great Ming. Time Period Covered: 1407-1415 CE Major Historical Figures Ming: Yongle Emperor (Zhu Di) [r. 1402-1424] Admiral Zheng He [1371-1435] Commodore Yang Min  Ma Huan, translator & chronicler [1380-1460] Kingdom of Malacca: King Parameswara [r. 1402-1414] Major Works Cited: Chan, Hok-lam. “The Yung-lo reign” in The Cambridge History of China, vol. 7: The Ming Dynasty, 1368-1644, Pt. I. Dreyer, Edward L. Zheng He: China and the Oceans in the Early Ming Dynasty, 1405-1433. Levathes, Louise. When China Ruled the Seas: The Treasure Fleet of the Dragon Throne, 1405-1433. Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth. “Kéramos” in Keramos and Other Poems: A Book of Sonnets, Part II. U.N. Museum. “Nanjing pagoda – Seven wonders of the medieval world.” www.unmuseum.org Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You're listening to an Airwave Media Podcast. The Civil War and Reconstruction was a pivotal era in American history. When a war was fought to save the Union and to free the slaves. And when the work to rebuild the nation after that war was over turned into a struggle to guarantee liberty and justice for all Americans. I'm Tracy. And I'm Rich. And we want to invite you to join us as we take an in-depth look at this pivotal era in American history.

Look for The Civil War and Reconstruction wherever you find your podcasts. Hello and welcome to the History of China. Episode 220, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Gift Them. And yonder, by non-king behold, the tower of porcelain, strange and old, uplifting to the astonished skies its ninefold painted balconies, with balustrade of twining leaves and roofs of tile beneath whose eaves hang porcelain bells that all the times ring with a soft melodious chime. While the fabric is ablaze with various tints all fused in one,

great mass of color like a maze of flowers illumined by the sun. From Keramos by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1856 We begin today with a brief accounting of the second, and most minor, of the Treasure fleet voyages. Without even the personal command of Admiral Zhang He, busy as he was in duly honoring the sea goddess Tian Fei for their earlier safe passage through the great storm at the tail end of their first journey, it put forth a mere 68 ships under the dual command of Zhang's lieutenant eunuchs Wang Jinghong and Hou Xian. This much-reduced presence in the South Seas is probably due to the apparent understanding that the Ming's warships would not be needed on such a journey. After all, they were first and foremost going where they'd already been, that is, back to Calicut, in order to return those envoys who'd come to the Yongle Emperor's court

to directly pay their respects to the Son of Heaven. And the waters between, though vast, had been thoroughly scoured of pirate activity, such as the likes of the late Chunzui's once terrifying fleet of corsairs. This lesser voyage, if it can be called that, though otherwise straightforward enough in both going and coming, is rather notable for its relatively brief but memorable stopover at the kingdom of Siam, that is, modern Thailand. So as of 1407, the Siamese government, apparently on its own initiative, had sent ambassadors to Nanjing with gifts of elephants, peacocks, and parrots for Yongle, with which he was, by all accounts, delighted. In true imperial fashion, he returned the generosity with number of its products, among them hardwoods, aloe, incense, ivory, kingfisher bird feathers, tin, cardamom, and the oil from the chalamugra seed,

which was used to cure leprosy. And I should note here, you should by now hopefully know that certain aspects of the show do deal with the more carnal aspects of human nature, so consider earmuffing the kids for this next little bit. It's nothing too terribly graphic, but at least give it a listen yourself before sharing. So, here it goes. Very curiously to the Chinese, in Siam it seemed to be the women who ran the society, and conducted trade both at home and with foreigners, and along with such economic independence, enjoyed a rather liberated lifestyle. One of our main direct chroniclers of the Treasure Fleet's voyages and travels, the then 24-25-year-old Muslim translator Ma Juan, wrote with evident astonishment, quote,

It is their custom that all affairs are managed by their wives. Both the king of the country and the common people, if they have matters which require thought and deliberation, punishments light and heavy, all trading transactions great and small, they all follow the decisions of their wives, for the mental capacity of the wives certainly exceeds that of the men. And quote, and as a man, I've got to say, harsh, Ma Huan. Fair, but harsh. He went on to further note that financial transactions weren't all that the Siamese women, married and unmarried alike, were being conducted with their Chinese guests.

He wrote how they would eat, drink, and yes, even sleep with the Ming envoys, and all evidently with their husbands' knowledge and consent, a state of liberation that obviously shocked the rather more conservative Ma and his ilk. He wrote that the husbands did not mind, but rather took it all as a compliment, saying, quote, My wife is beautiful, and the man from the Middle Kingdom is delighted with her, end quote. But it gets even stranger in Mahuan's Chronicles of Siam. He writes that the Chinese were befuddled by a strange sound. Whenever the men of the country moved about, a jingling of tiny bells seemed to accompany him in stride. They'd learn after what can only be imagined must have been the most delicate of inquiries,

that apparently it was the custom of the upper-class men at about the age of 20 or so to have a dozen or so tin or gold-weighted beads surgically inserted into their scrotum as a cosmetic enhancement, which looked, as per Ma Huan, like, quote, a cluster of grapes, end quote. So how exactly Ma determined that specific detail, he does not deign to relate. And perhaps that's for the best. Some things are better left in Bangkok. It would be in the autumn of 1409 when the treasure fleet again assembled at the Liujia harbor for its third voyage across the South Seas. His ceremonial duties to Tianfei duly concluded. Once again, Zheng He would personally command this and subsequent voyages.

This third expedition would number some 48 ships and 30,000 men. They'd make brief stops at first Fujian, the recently renamed harbor there of Taiping, and then on to Champa some ten days later. Thereafter, a further eight days' voyage on, landed the fleet at the city of Temasek, an early name for the modern city-state of Singapore. Two days of sailing after that, the fleet would arrive at its first major destination of this trip, Malacca. Back in 1405, the ruler of Malacca, called Paramazwara, had personally journeyed to the Ming court and paid homage as a vassal to the Yongle Emperor.

For this show of submission, he was awarded with the Ming Seal of Investiture, recognizing him as an independent kingdom under the auspices of Chinese protection. As one might well imagine, this had ruffled some feathers, in particular those of the Siamese, who had long claimed authority over the Malaccan state as their own, and thereafter captured the Ming seal of investiture from the Malaccan ruler upon his return trip. Having learned of this smash-and-grab job as of 1407, it was largely for this reason that Zheng He now made directly for Malacca in 1409, to personally issue a new imperial seal to the Lille ruler of the Malaysian state, thereby once again formally setting its status as co-equal to that of Siam and Java. The wider geopolitical rationale for all this is rather straightforward when we pan back a bit.

Ming China wished to keep these southern kingdoms in a constant state of competition with one another for the affections and support of the Middle Kingdom. Much as it had done for centuries, millennia even, in the Northern Regions, play the regional rulers off one another. Give support to an underdog against a more powerful rival or rivals. And then, if it ever got to the point where that metastability might be thrown out of balance, turn the tables and start supporting the other side. Just whatever kept the whole ballgame rolling. And of course, the heat off your own back. In doing so, it could thereby perpetually forward its own grand strategic

and economic ambitions without anyone being any the wiser. In other words, real major league imperialist strategy that would make even the British proud. It cannot be forgotten, however, that material goods and trade was also ever at the forefront of these missions, and Malacca was certainly no exception. Ebony wood, aloe, a particular type of tree resin called damar, used for both caulking and as a lighter fluid, became mainstays of the Ming trade with the Meili Peninsula, conducted through a permanent fort built on Admiral Zheng's orders, thereby ensuring that no rival would dare attack the kingdom or else risk the Chinese wrath. Several fascinating melee legends and spooky stories were transmitted to the main crew, as translated by the Muslim translator Ma Huan.

One of particular note is that of a so-called corpse-headed barbarian spirit. In the tales, this frightful specter was in fact the spirit of a vengeful mother who had died in childbirth. She would therefore wander the nights as a terrifying disembodied head, with its entrails trailing out behind it like some ghastly train. It preyed on newborns, which the spirits, rather disgustingly, would seek out and eat the feces of, inevitably leading to the baby developing an abdominal infection and dying. Locals would, as a proof against this horrid spirit, plant or otherwise place thorns underneath and around their houses so that the spirit's trailing

guts would get caught in them and deny it entry into their abodes. Another great fear of these locals were skin changers, and in particular, were-tigers, which once again apparently had a particular predilection for pregnant women, especially those undergoing their first pregnancy. Though these werebeasts could smell the sweet blood of such women from miles away, they could nevertheless be kept at bay by invoking special chants. One such invocation went, earth. Take away thy cat. Harm not, nor destroy my body. May my teacher be strong to free me. Ho, mighty and powerful Ali. Bow low and love me. Have love and affection for me. May my teacher be potent. How seriously the sailors of Zheng He's fleet took these local legends and stories is difficult to say. How serious does anyone take the rumors and fairy tales of a foreign people?

On the other hand, sailors do tend to be a particularly superstitious lot. Regardless, it is evident that the main crewmen never strayed too terribly far from the comfort and relative security of their own ships while docked in Malacca, and never seemed terribly keen on exploring much inland, where the were-tigers and vampiric spirits were said to dwell in number. Once having departed the Malaysian kingdom, the fleet sailed onward to Sumatra, where apparently no longer fearful of spirits and changelings, they cut swaths of wood to conduct necessary repairs to their ships. They there likewise traded with the locals for precious woods, such as mahogany, for which the fleet deigned to pay in gold itself, as well as frankincense, camphor, garrowwood, pepper, ginger, and even sulfur, which was considered an important

component in many Chinese medicines. It's well worth pointing out just how critically desired medicines of any and every variety were sought out in China at the beginning of the 15th century. We are, after all, only a few decades out of the absolute hellhole of death and putrefaction that was the great outbreak of the Black Death in the 1430s. And the thing is, that never, ever really goes away. It just sits there on the back burner, decade after decade, killing people by the hundreds of thousands each year as this historically almost invisible background noise to everything else going on right now.

And not just plague, of course, but also all those other little bugs that we typically just chalk up to being acceptable yearly wastage from disease, but really increased in lethality with people being so much more prone to starvation, weakened immune systems, and unhealthy circumstances, you know, such as living in the horrid, filthy, charnel-housed sewers that were medieval cities. In 1407, for instance, in Jiangsu and Fujian provinces alone, it's recorded that more than 78,000 people died from epidemics such as measles and smallpox. The Hongwu Emperor's extreme restriction on foreign trade hadn't helped matters much either. It had meant an extreme shortage on foreign medicinal herbs across the whole empire, which Zheng He was only now even able to begin trying to rectify. It was truly, probably the worst time to ever be alive. Some of the medicines that were sought out and acquired

are to us, even now, perfectly reasonable and useful. Others are rather more esoteric. For instance, rhinoceros horn was particularly valuable as an antivenom for snake bites. Deer antlers were ground into a powder that would strengthen bones and restore sexual potency, because of course they would have a medicine that restored sexual potency. Sulfur was a cure for lung disease. Other aromatic herbs were rendered into incense, not to cure diseases directly, mind you, but rather to keep mosquitoes and other biting insects at bay, thereby driving down infection rates, which is a very good idea that really does work. Once these goods had been

properly preserved and stored to survive the long sea voyage ahead, the Ming fleet sailed on. Their next destination was Ceylon, that is the island of Sri Lanka, which had been so cold and hostile to the Chinese on their last stop. Now, Zheng hoped to make a better impression on the natives of this idyllic paradise of an island, and so brought with him a carved plaque in three languages, Chinese, Tamil, and Persian, that honored the Buddha, as well as a triple tribute, 1,000 pieces of gold, 5,000 pieces of silver, 100 bolts of silk cloth, and 3,000 pounds of perfume oil and ceremonial ornaments for each of the deities known by the Chinese to be worshipped on the island, Buddha, Allah, and Shiva, respectively, the same amount given to each so that none would feel

slighted. As it so happened though, apparently by sheer dumb luck, Zheng He's treasure fleet managed to arrive at Ceylon just as the formerly united island had devolved into a tripartite civil war between those same three religious factions. The nominal authority was governed out of the center of the island, pitted now against the Hindu Tamils, which had carved out a foothold in the north, as well as a Muslim usurper in the south who was now trying to overthrow the regime and install Islam as the state religion. Unsurprisingly, the Salines, never particularly trusting foreigners turning up on their shores uninvited, were even less thrilled than usual to have some Chinese fleet nosing around and

interfering in their internal affairs at this very sensitive moment. The Tamil leader, upon meeting with Zheng He, flatly refused to pay any tribute to the Ming fleet or to bother erecting the proffered tablet, leading the two sides to engage in a brief skirmish, resulting in the Chinese being forced back onto their ships with their tails firmly tucked between their legs. Well, so much for that idea. For the moment then, the treasure fleet departed, making for the mainland Indian ports of Quilong, Cochin, and Calicut to both trade and also drop off their esteemed diplomats from each, before deciding, you know what, that was actually pretty uncool, man, and that dumb little island wasn't about to get away with embarrassing them like that. So diplomats dropped off, they went back to Sri Lanka to avenge their besmirched honor of the golden dragon throne, and, well, how it went? There's actually a couple different versions.

Now, according to the Ming's own records in the Ming Shi Lu, the Prince of Ceylon sent his son to demand gold, silver, and other treasures from Zheng He, and then cut down huge amounts of trees in order to block the Chinese fleet in the harbor until they paid up. Seeing that the island's denizens were all focused on his ships, Zheng He instead took his men and invaded the capital itself, quickly capturing the enemy chieftain, and thereafter imprisoning him until they could all go back to Nanjing, where the Yongle Emperor awaited. From Levithes, quote, Judy, it was reported, finally decided to pardon the king for his ignorance, and ordered one of his wise followers to rule in his place. In the Chinese records, this serves as something of a glorious climax for Zheng He,

and it's recorded in a poem and song, which goes as follows. Straight away, their dens and hideouts we ravaged, and made captive their entire army, bringing back to our august capital their women, children, families, and retainers, leaving not one. Clearing out in a single sweep these obnoxious pests, as if winnowing chaff from the grain, these insignificant worms, deserving to die ten thousand times over,

trembling in fear, did not even merit the punishment of heaven. Thus the august emperor spared their lives, and they humbly kowtowed, making crude sounds and praising the sage-like virtue of the imperial Ming ruler. End quote. Yeah, so it'll probably not surprise any of you too terribly much that the Salonese account of events goes rather differently. In their accounts, it is of course the Chinese who are expertly played by one of the warring kings against his foes, and manipulated into basically doing his dirty work for them, none the wiser. The king in question was then able to meet with his foe after the latter was returned to the island by the Chinese, only to murder him later that night.

He then rebuilt the capital city, which was part of the whole prophecy that he had to complete before being crowned as the actual king of the island. But in classic saga fashion, on his very coronation day nearly a decade later, the 16-year-old son of his murdered foe picked up the ceremonial sword that had anointed the newly crowned king and ran the guy through with it, thereby becoming the king himself, which is, you know, just amazingly epic. So, which version is it? The Chinese curb-stomping the silly little islanders, or the Salineys playing the Chinese like a fiddle to further their own Loki-esque glorious purposes? As ever, it's kind of, eh, probably somewhere in between. In spite of their markedly different lenses of focus, the two tales aren't really that antithetical. Both could be

true-ish, at least from a certain point of view. Regardless, from that time forward, the Ming throne claimed Caesareanty over the island and demanded regular tributary missions, which were ongoing for more than three decades until 1459, when the island, at long last, formally reunited, threw off its Ming imperial yoke and sent the Beijing emissaries packing back to China empty-handed. As it stood, Zheng He and his treasure fleet returned from their third voyage in mid-June of 1411. They were trailed in the weeks and months to follow by a seemingly endless stream of emissaries and ambassadors bearing all kinds of tribute and gifts for the son of heaven atop his dragon throne. All these foreign guests

of the emperor were housed in the imperial compound within Nanjing and issued special wooden identifiers, which were stamped each time they entered or exited the compound. And I gotta say, my own little ID rectangle might be glass and circuitry rather than wood and ink, but otherwise this all feels really rather quite familiar. Quote, envoys were strictly forbidden to go into the streets and mingle with ordinary people, or to trade in the street markets, end quote. Okay, so that part has been nixed at least, which is nice, I've got to admit. I do like to mingle.

All gifts were thoroughly inspected before they were allowed to be presented to the Emperor directly. Wild animals were sent to special facilities to be tamed, or, in the case of the untameable, such as big cats and birds, effectively managed and cared for. Precious items, such as gold and jewels, were examined in front of their bearers before being inventoried and then sent to the Ministry of Revenue. After all this, the envoys would be granted their long-awaited audience with the Lord of All, during which they would receive by his benevolence innumerable gifts, typically far outstripping the value of what they had brought in tribute to their acknowledged liege lord. Further, they would thereafter be issued a special permit

to set up a stall at the capital's public market for between three to five days, in order to offer their foreign goods for sale to the populace, with the best of the best naturally already having been thoroughly picked through and selected for the upper echelons of high society, because obviously. Nevertheless, even for these esteemed guests of the imperial court permitted to do business, this was not some laissez-faire free marketplace. There were stringent rules about when foreign merchants could buy from their Chinese counterparts, and what they could not. Official histories, for instance, since they contained detailed information about sensitive topics such as locations of garrisons, canals, and official storage facilities were prohibited to be sold to foreigners. So too was coinage,

metals, weapons, artisanal tools, medicines, and any other product of a finite or limited supply. Any violators of these edicts who were found to have conspired with foreigners to acquire said prohibited goods would be publicly shackled for an entire month in the city square and then exiled to the borderlands of the empire. The foreigners, if caught engaging in illegal trade, would not face that month of public humiliation, but would have their imperial gifts revoked or at the very least harshly curtailed. 400 years ago, a trio of tiny kingdoms were perched on some damp islands off the coast of Europe. Within three short centuries, these islands would become the centre of an empire which ruled a quarter of the globe and on which the sun never set. I'm Samuel Hume, a historian of the British Empire, and my podcast Pax Britannica follows the people and events that built that empire into a global superpower.

Listen to Season 1 to hear about England's first attempts at empire building, in Ireland, in North America and in the Caribbean, the first steps of the East India Company and the political battles between King and Parliament. Listen to Season 2 to hear about the chaotic years of civil war, revolution and regicide which rocked the Three Kingdoms and the fledgling Empire. In Season 3, we see how Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell ruled the powerful Commonwealth and challenged the Dutch and the Spanish for the wealth and power of the Americas and Asia. Learn the history of the British Empire by listening to Pax Britannica everywhere you find

your podcasts, or go to pod.link slash pax. That summer of 1411, the young emperor received an uncountable number of gifts. The beautiful, the valuable, the bizarre, and the incredible alike. Yet one stood apart from the rest. It was a remarkable mechanism of shaped and tooled metal with bent glass in between. Its bearers, apparently King Parameswara of Malacca himself presented ten of them to the court, calling them by the Arabic name Uayna, which was approximated into Chinese as Ai Dai, meaning eye. When peered through, the magical little devices could make distant objects seem near,

and small writing given much greater detail. They were, of course, early versions of eyeglasses, a creation out of Venice that Arab traders had come into possession of some several decades before in the course of their business affairs, but which were quite new and enthralling to the Ming court. The court ministers, surely after no small amount of discussion, finally decided that the approximate value of these ten sets of spectacles was 1,000 pieces of gold, a kingly sum indeed. This would mark quite possibly the Chinese's first significant encounter with glassblowing as it was known in the West, and it, for obvious reasons, was almost immediately understood to be a total game-changer. Some sources say that as a result of this gift from the King of Malacca, Zheng He would be charged in his future voyages with procuring actual glass blowers from beyond the seas to work for the imperial court and teach

the art form to the Ming. Yongle's fascination and delight with this technological marvel was evident by his unusually generous showering of gifts upon King Parameswara, who received far in excess of what a foreign tributary envoy would expect, including imperial robes bearing embroidered dragon and tilin, jade and gold belts, horses, saddles, hundreds of ounces of gold and silver, 2,600 strings of cash, and bolts upon bolts of fine silks. Moreover, each of his servants were gifted new shoes and clothes straight from the imperial stocks. What sort of treatment could a foreign ambassador or head of state have typically expected upon arrival and over the course of their stay within the Ming palace? They nearly all would have been

thrown at least one grand imperial banquet, often scheduled to coincide with another great holiday or occasion such as the Lunar New Year or the Emperor's Birthday. There would likewise be commensurately smaller feasts to mark both the delegation's arrival and departure, typically from the port of Guangzhou, which had for rather obvious reasons become the de facto port of entry for nearly all foreign trade. Whether grand or subdued, all such imperial feasts would shower their guests with any number of specially prepared delicacies, such that few could ever dream of tasting in their lives. They were, of course, meted out to the guests in portions according to their standing and rank. The highest officials were served five kinds of wine and fruit, soup with translucent bean noodles,

roasts of horse meat, beef and lamb, fried pancakes and steamed bread, and flour tea with Apart from the official banquets, there were numerous services made available to the foreign delegation that could be accessed at their leisure during their stay. Throughout Nanjing, there were no fewer than 16 wine houses where foreigners were welcome to eat and drink their fill. Also within these facilities, to the surprise no doubt of no one, were bordellos, specifically catering to foreign interests. The women of such establishments were known as guangji, or official call girls, and yeah, their lives were pretty much what you'd expect. They'd usually have been purchased, yes, purchased, very young, and for about the price of a pig. They were thereafter trained, much like the famous geishas of Japan, in all of the high arts that unavailing gentlemen might enjoy. Singing, dancing, theater, storytelling, and multitudinous word games. And, lest it even need be said, all forms of sexual pleasure as well.

Great games were often arranged for the most important of the visiting dignitaries. Sports like polo, horse racing, and archery were particular favorites, with lavish awards being given out to the top contestants, to the great cheers of the audience, envoys, and emperor alike. Just how profitable the first three voyages of Zheng He were to the Ming imperial treasury or the markets of the Huitang Hall where the foreigners plied their goods to the local merchants was not officially recorded, or at least any such records did not survive until the present. Nevertheless, there are clear signs of the fact that it was very profitable indeed. By 1411, the Yongle Emperor felt awash enough in cash and prizes

that he ordered the construction of a grand pagoda dedicated to the memory of his ostensible mother, the dearly departed Empress Ma. This would, of course, be no ordinary pagoda of wood and plaster. Rather, it would be something befitting the stature and nobility of Judy's claimed mother, herself. A great octagonal tower, nine stories and some 260 feet in height, one of the tallest buildings in China at that point, and by most accounts, by far the most beautiful, and clad from top to bottom in the finest shimmering, gleaming, green-white porcelain. The finest that money could buy, of course. Exquisitely carved animals adorned every window and door.

Interestingly, every story was constructed with precisely the same number of tiles, so that, as the tower narrowed and shrunk as it ascended, the tiles became smaller and smaller until it got to its crest. This pinnacle was wrought not out of porcelain, but rather a gold-leafed spire, 12 feet in diameter and rising high above the city's skyline, gleaming in the sun. Bedecking this highest point were 152 fine porcelain bells

that chimed in the wind, adding an ephemeral, tinkling music to the whole scene. Surrounding this grand construct were planted large exotic gardens and trees that had all been brought back to the capital by Zheng He's voyages and were carefully cultivated. This facility, known as the Dabawansi or the Great Temple of Gratitude, ultimately involved the labor of more than 100,000 workers, and would, by the time of its completion two decades later, in 1431, eventually come to encompass more than 20 buildings and terraces, in addition to the Pagoda Tower itself. Its ultimate cost was reported to amount to some 2.5 million ounces of silver, which is to say 78 tons of silver. All of it, the whole thing, was paid for by the overflow of wealth

from the first three Treasure Fleet Voyages' profits. The Baowang Porcelain Temple would remain as a jewel of Nanjing for almost four and a half centuries, and indeed was listed as one of the seven wonders of the medieval world, until it was destroyed in the chaos of the Taiping Rebellion in 1856, rather ironically, the very year that Longfellow wrote his poem memorializing the tower, at the top of the show. When the rebels blew it up amidst their evacuation of the city, fearing, probably correctly, that the Qing government would use it as a spotting and artillery position if it were left erect, wars, alas, leave nothing untouched. But fret not, for all is not lost.

Sort of. If you visit Nanjing today, you will find in its proper place an exact one-to-one scale replica of the whole temple, thanks to a private donation of approximately $156 million to the effort in 2010. Of course, they decided to make some upgrades to it. Instead of being made of wooden porcelain, it is now made of steel and glass, and apparently is bedecked with 3D light shows and soundtracks, which seems kind of like a vibe killer for me, but maybe that's just me. Different strokes for different folks. On December 18th, 1412, Yongle issued forth the order that the treasure fleet should set out on its fourth voyage. This would be the largest venture yet attempted, claiming some 28,560 men in total

upon 63 vessels, and would, by virtually every other measure, likewise prove to be the most ambitious to date. After all, why not? The first three voyages had each in their turn proved to be resounding and highly profitable successes, so why not stretch out a bit further? Let's really put the pedal to the metal here and see what this fleet can do. As the emperor would proclaim just a few years later at his 1416 dedication of the Jinghai Temple in Nanjing, quote, The seas had been conquered, and there was quiet in the four corners of the world.

End quote. Now was the time to really get a feel for what these four corners were actually like. And it really does bear repeating, functioned as a distinct and unignorable expression of the Yongle Emperor's lifelong set of daddy issues and accompanying megalomania to somehow outdo the father who had passed him up. One might, were one so inclined, picture Zhu Di standing at Hongwu's tomb in the rain, shouting to seemingly no one, do you love me yet, dad? Am I good enough now? Anyways, though the order was promulgated in 1412, the fleet itself would require some measure of additional time before it was ready to depart.

A bit more than a year, as it turned out. Thus, it was only in January of 1414 that the treasure fleet actually set sail once again, this time aiming to go beyond its furthest previous port of call in India, and make for the Arabian port of Hormuz beyond. It was actually for this voyage in particular that the Arabic-speaking Muslim scholar Ma Huan, from whom I've rather extensively quoted in the last few episodes, was recruited by Zheng He. Ma Huan was a pious and learned man of 25, raised in Hangzhou, and who described himself as the mere son of a woodcutter. Nevertheless, he would come to help us paint some of the clearest pictures available to the great Treasure Flea's voyages across the seas. Quote, his writing reveals a man who abhorred violence and killing,

and who was perhaps a bit gullible, quick to believe stories that he heard in foreign lands of ghosts and vampires and howling banshees. Yet he was always a keen observer of social customs, providing in some cases the first eyewitness accounts of life among the diverse peoples of the Indian Ocean Basin. End quote. But why choose to go to the Persian Gulf and Arabia specifically? It's officially unknown. More than likely, the Yongle Emperor, having long heard of this trading hub and riches, felt that there would be no better place to make an international splash

than by sailing in with his humongous ships and wowing the crowds, as it were. There's also the fact that, as of this period, Yongle was in the midst of preparing Beijing for his eventual move of the capital northward, and with all the staggering expenses that that would entail. If his fleets could do as well at the trade nexus of Western Asia as they'd done in places like Calicut, then he might very well be able to underwrite the whole costly movement of the capital by the voyage's profits themselves. Moreover, they may just be able to procure some rare and costly goods that could be gotten nowhere else in the world just for the under-construction palace in

Beijing. I mean, talk about a feather in the cap. In that case, he'd be a fool not to have them sail to Hormuz. Along the way, the fleet made its by-now customary stops at Champa, Java, Sumatra, Malaysia, the Maldives, Ceylon, and the Indian ports, before at last going for the big reach and sailing even further west to Hormuz. Fair winds shortened the journey from Calicut to just 25 days, during which the fleet covered approximately 61 nautical miles each day. Levithy notes that two decades later in 1432, the same leg of the journey, facing rather less favorable conditions, took 32 days to cover the same distance,

and averaged just 45 miles per day. Ma Juan recorded the Chinese sailor's reactions, as well as his own, at arriving at Hormuz for the first time with evident excitement. He reported that the people of the Arab trading port were very rich and dressed in fashions handsome, distinctive, elegant. He recorded, again, probably rather naively, that there were no poor to be found in the city, because, quote, if a family meets with misfortune resulting in poverty, everyone gives them clothes and food and capital, and relieves their distress, end quote. Yeah, okay, Ma Huan, sure, keep believing that. Both parties were evidently quite eager to partake in the trade of what the other had to offer.

The Chinese, of course, had their usual fare of fine porcelains and silks, which were traded for the Hormo's merchants' stocks of sapphires, rubies, topaz, pearls, coral beads, amber, woolens, and carpets. Moreover, gifts of live animals were presented as nominal tributary gifts for the distant son of heaven, including lions, leopards, and even the proud tall Arabian horse breed. Here as well, new contacts were made with potential trading partners and client states even further afield, including merchants from as far as the great cities of the East African coasts such as Mogadishu, Brauna, and Malindi. These African traders were persuaded by Zheng He to return with him along with the treasure fleet to Nanjing in order to pay tribute to the Ming emperor directly,

and thereby engage their nations in the extremely profitable trade network that it was building. While Zheng He himself yet conducted his business in Hormuz, a splinter of the treasure fleet commanded by Zheng's lieutenant, Yang Min, had acquired something truly extraordinary. Having been put on special assignment to the Bengal region of the Indian subcontinent in order to settle a successional dispute among several warring contenders, Yang had backed and successfully brought to power Saifuddin as the region's new king. In thanks and tribute to the Ming's assistance and friendship, this new Bengalis king had brought with him on his personal tributary mission to the imperial palace, and undoubtedly at Yang Min's behest, a truly fantastic beast.

It was a gentle, graceful creature, in demeanor and even shape not entirely unlike that of a deer. It ate leaves from trees, but had the spots of a leopard, and atop its head rose two fleshy horns. Probably most fascinating of all, though, was the prodigious length of its neck, setting the creature's head at more than three-fold men in height. Yongmin understood this to be a manifestation of one of the truly legendary cryptids of Chinese myth and legend, the Qilin, sometimes, albeit inaccurately, rendered into English as a unicorn. Though in terms of a direct translational sense, that's about as close as we're ever

really likely to get. It really just is its own distinct thing. Like, if you've ever seen Princess Mononoke, the spirit of the forest is almost kind of a Qilin, certainly in terms of its power and holiness and overall gentleness. It's written to, quote, have the body of a musilian, certainly in terms of his power and holiness and overall gentleness. It's written to, quote, have the body of a musk deer, the hooves of a horse, and a fleshy horn like a unicorn. Other descriptions noted that the male animal, called simply Lin, sometimes had two or three horns. The Qilian did not eat meat and avoided treading on any living thing, even grass, and thus became the Chinese symbol of goodness, appearing only on a land well-governed or when a sage was born." The appearance of such a creature was, of course, one of the highest possible achievements an imperial reign could aspire to.

It was the ultimate mark that you were doing an awesome job, and that heaven itself approved. Of course, Yang Min needed that giraffe sent directly to Nanjing. When the gentle creature was presented to the imperial court, the officials are said to have cried out and pleaded with the emperor to allow them to present him with a formal proclamation of their deepest congratulations. But Yongle decided to play this super cool and to perfection. Instead, he replied, quote, let the ministers from early in the morning until late exert themselves in assisting the government for the welfare of the world. If the world is at peace, even without Qilin, there is nothing that

hinders good government. Let congratulations be omitted, end quote. Like a boss. But behind this Han Solo tier no big dealing of this best thing ever, he was no doubt ecstatic. He had a professional calligrapher of the Hanlin Academy, a guy named Shun Du, paint the animal in all of his glory on the finest silk, and then ordered laudatory poems and songs composed to exalt the glory and virtue of, well, him, yeah, but his father Hongwu, too, of course. Naturally. On September 20th, 1414, the Qilin was formally presented before the court, and Sandu's peon declared, quote, All gathered round and gazed, and their joy knew no end. In a corner of the western seas, Leon declared, quote, End quote. And what a giraffe it was.

Here's hoping it had a long and happy life in Nanjing. Zheng He himself wouldn't return to China until the following summer of 1415, bearing with him, in addition to the holds filled to the brim with trade goods, a rather less celestial but nonetheless welcome gift, the person of Sekandar, a rebel leader from Semadura who had been bothering Ming interests in the area for some time. Yongle had the bandit leader quickly put to death. Levithes notes a crucial difference between the Ming policies regarding their trading partners abroad versus those of the Portuguese a century and more later. Quote, Unlike the Portuguese, who a hundred years later bulldozed their way into the South China Seas by

building a string of forts, the Chinese simply arranged to replace unfriendly foreign leaders in countries where they encountered difficulties with someone who was willing to trade on their terms. End quote. All in all, Ming Chinese foreign influence had reached its zenith, with every major port from Japan to Arabia at least nominally bowing to the Caesareanity of the Dragon Throne. With the benefit of hindsight, we could see a path by which the Ming Empire may have consolidated and forged this unusual position into a truly lasting and world-shaping continent-spanning empire, the likes of which would, in reality, only be achieved centuries later, by the eventual European powers who, now in the 15th century,

were still just managing to claw their way out of the Dark Ages. Certainly, a sign from heaven itself as auspicious and holy as the Qilin could surely have been understood as a mandate to do just that, and extend the reach of the Dragon Throne to all four corners of the earth in truth. The time, if ever there was one, seemed ripe with potential and possibility. Yet even at this, what would prove to be the high watermark of Ming fortunes, and indeed those of the Chinese overall in the five centuries to come, the imperial court and even the restless and expansionistic Yongle himself were already turning inward, focusing on the challenges and complexities

that frustrated them within their own borders and to their north, rather than the seemingly limitless possibilities that yet lay beyond to the south and west. This zenith of Ming power and prestige would, in the final tally, barely last more than five years. Nevertheless, we are not yet done with the grand voyages of the treasure fleet, and so next time we set sail to the back half, and ultimately toward the governmental reefs in the post-Yongle years that will ultimately drive hopes of a permanent Chinese hegemony over the deep blue sea aground. Thanks for listening.

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