The History of China - #257 - Qing 3: Lose Your Hair, Or Lose Your Head

Episode Date: September 17, 2023

Manchu occupation of the lands south of the Yangtze River proceed smoothly... right up until Prince Dorgon is convinced by some of his advisors that everyone needs a haircut. Within Southern Ming, multiple princes vie for power - such as it it - at pretty much the worst possible time to be having a throne-fight. Time Period Covered: 1645-1646 CE Major Historical Actors: Qing: Prince Dorgon, Regent of Great Qing [1612-1650] Dodo, Prince of Yu [1614-1649] Bolo, Prince Duanzhong [1613-1652] Hong Chengchou [1593-1665] Southern Ming: Zhu Yujian, Prince of Tang/Longwu Emperor [1602-1646] Zhu Yihai, Prince of Lu, Regent of Great Ming [1618-1662] General Zheng Hongkui [d. 1654] Zheng Zhilong (Nicholas Iquan Gaspard), Marquis of Tong'an [1604-1661] Zheng Chenggong (Koxinga) [1624-1662] Major Works Cited: Dennerline, Jerry. "The Shun-chih Reiegn" in The Cambridge History of China, Volume 9, Part One: The Ch'ing Empire to 1800 Struve, Lynn A. "The Southern Ming, 1644-1662" in The Cambridge History of China, Volume 7 The Ming Dynasty, 1368-1644, part I. Wakeman, Frederic. The Great Enterprise: The Manchu Reconstruction of Imperial Order in Seventeenth-Century China. 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 257, Lose Your Hair or Lose Your Head. Our country complies with your manners and customs with respect to the matter of shaving the head. As of now, in all places occupied by the Grand Army, we will shave the military and not shave the civilians. We will shave soldiers and not shave the people. You all must not fail to observe regulations, and if you are supposed to be shaved, go ahead and shave yourselves. Formerly, there were shameless civil officials who shaved themselves first in order to seek an interview. We have already reviled them.

Special Proclamation From Doruo, Prince of Yu, June 14th, 1645 Those who obey are people of our country. Those who disobey are bandits under rebel command and must be severely punished. From the Donghua Lu To cut off my head is a small matter. command and must be severely punished. From the Donghua Lu. To cut off my head is a small matter. To shave my head is a great matter.

The scholar Yangting Xu, 1647, refusing the Tansha order. He was subsequently beheaded. After those of us in the city cut our hair, it was only the country folk who continued as before. Those who had shaved their hair did not go into the countryside. If they were seen, they were in either case killed. The countryside and the city were blocked off from each other. Report from a citizen of Taichung City, published in Uryukai no Hanran. The Qing army arrived outside Nanjing on June 7th and 8th, and they camped directly in front

of the main gate to the imperial palace. There, in the mud and pouring rain, they accepted the surrender from high-ranking representatives of the military nobles and civil officials. After allegiances were confirmed and peaceful occupation of the city assured, Prince Duoduo entered the southern gate on June 16th. Meanwhile, in Wuhu, the Hongguang Emperor and a few remaining supporters were planning to move to Hangzhou, which had been a capital of China during the Southern Song Dynasty. However, the emperor still had not set out when a Manchu force guided by Liu Liangzhuo arrived. Betrayed by subordinates and mortally wounded, Huang Degong committed suicide as the emperor was turned over to Liu.

On June 17th and 18th, the erstwhile emperor, now dressed as a commoner and reviled by people along the road, was taken into custody back to Nanjing. There, he was subjected to a humiliating banquet with Duoduo and the quote-unquote heir before being confined to a nearby district. Another Qing army of 80,000 men had moved southeast along the Grand Canal to secure Suzhou, and then further south to cut off plans by Ming loyalists to establish another capital at Hangzhou. There, the Prince of Lu first refused and then agreed to act as regent. But no effective measures were taken before a Qing army under the Manchu Prince Boluo made a surprise approach on July 6th. The Prince of Lu then surrendered, as most Ming troops in the area scrambled southeastward across

the Chiantong River, which, together with the Hangzhou Bay, then became a principal boundary between the Ming and Qing armies. Having come this far by military means, the Qing court now turned to the social, political, and economic aspects of pacification in an area where security was recognized as essential to success in future stages of the conquest. Because they believed that the Yangtze Delta region held great stores of rice which could relieve a prolonged drought-induced grain shortage in Beizheli, the Qing Court first took steps to restore service on the Grand Canal, which for the last two years at least had been virtually unused and, much like the Yellow River Dykes, was badly in need of maintenance.

For both symbolic and administrative reasons, it quickly deputed its own officials to various prefectural and district seats, most of which had already been abandoned by their Ming incumbents, in order to collect the local land taxes and secure the tax registers. Some form of civil government was needed in what had been the southern capital and southern metropolitan region of the Ming regime. In mid-August, the Qing court did away with the Ming administrative arrangements and renamed Nanjing Jiangning. Henceforth, it was to be merely the provincial seat of Jiangnan,

which had been the southern metropolitan region. The Nanjing bureaucracy was thus reduced and reorganized, while former Ming military nobles and officers were incorporated into the Qing military hierarchy. To relieve Prince Duoduo after his arduous and successful campaign, the Qing court deputed Lek Dehun, Duoduo's nephew, to assume tactical command, and the infamous but extraordinarily able and dedicated collaborator Hong Cheng-to, as Governor-General to handle political, organizational, and logistical matters. Of greater concern to the populace were 38 items of policy that were to take effect on the 24th of June. Similar to those announced the previous year for the North, these included a general amnesty,

cancellation of all late Ming supernumerary taxes, irregular levies, odd revenue schemes, and arrears accumulated because of these, harsh punishments for official abuses and corruption, tax remissions, especially in areas that submitted obediently to the Qing, judicious employment of good civil and military officials who came to allegiance sincerely, an extension of invitations to other nobles, officials, and talented social leaders of the former dynasty, revival of mercantile trade, care for the destitute and the reunion of families, restoration of properties grabbed by local bosses or bullies, and resettlement of people in their former homes, reinstitution of the government school system and the civil

service examinations, and other pronouncements designed to win compliance to Qing rule. Quote enemies not yet subdued, the Qing offered various inducements, such as leniency to surrendering rebels, employment with no reduction in rank, title, or level of emolument for Ming resistance leaders who might surrender willingly, and dignified treatment, including state subsidization, for Ming princes who presented themselves to the Qing authorities. One of these items departed sharply from previous Qing policy. This was the order issued from Jiang Ning on July 21st, and it stated that all non-clerical adult male citizens had to demonstrate their allegiance to the Qing by adopting the Manchu hairstyle, the shaven pate and long queue,

and by changing to the Manchu style of dress. This order, which was to be enforced on pain of death within ten days of its receipt in each locality, had been temporarily rescinded for civilians in the north, probably because it was too offensive to Chinese conservatism and ethnic sensibilities. And when Bilbao first assumed control in Nanjing, he had made it clear that only Chinese military personnel who joined the Qing armies were to change their hair and dress. The sudden reinstitution and draconian enforcement of this decree in Jiangnan, more than any other factor, inflamed the people's spirit to resist and broke the momentum of Manchu conquest. Initially, upon occupying Nanjing, the Qing authorities had followed the policy established in the north by decreeing that only military

personnel had to follow Manchu customs and shave their heads. But this concession to the sensibilities of southern literati who held self-tauntured collaborators in contempt was fleeting, because two such shameless officials at that very time were persuading the Qing court to change its stance on the issue. At the suggestion of sycophantish Chinese collaborators in Beijing who were eager to enhance their own factional interests by appealing to Manchu nativism, the regent Dorgon decided early in July 1645 to rescind his decision to suspend the hair-cutting order. Wherever the Qing ruled, the word went out that from then on, all Chinese, soldiers and civilians alike, would have to shave their foreheads and plate their hair in a tribal

queue just like the Manchus. And the Chinese authors of this policy of collaboration were well aware of the threat that the hair-cutting order posed to the peaceful cooperation of the two groups. In September of 1645, for instance, Zhuang Zuanduan warned that the effort to attract adherents through local examinations would be undermined by the enforcement of the Tang Shui regulations. Dorgon, however, did not waver. From the Manchus's perspective, the command to

cut one's hair or lose one's head not only brought rulers and subjects together into a single physical resemblance, it also provided them with a perfect loyalty test. Henceforth, as had been the case during the frontier wars, adherents would signal their collaboration by adopting tribal hairstyles. Thus, when the central government formally approved the policy of extending amnesties to former Ming military units in Jiangnan on July 21, 1645, it agreed to Saying, for instance, End quote. officials will be sent to encourage those who wish to surrender peacefully, and if the latter respect our regulations and cut their hair, they can forthwith return to the fold." From the perspective of Han officials, however, this was a humiliating act of degradation. To many, it must have recalled the infamous Edict of 1129, when the Jin had decided to shave the heads of the Southern people after the fall of Kaifeng. Ming men,

once capped, let their hair grow long and wore it in elaborate fashions, under horse hair caps. Long hair and careful attention to it were part of the scholar-official's image and bearing. To cut that hair must have truly seemed a barbaric act, a desecration of civilized manners. And in fact, visitors to China noticed and wrote about this extensively, the Litterati's fascination with their hair stylings. From Father Martin de Rada, he wrote, quote, They are proud to have a great head of hair. They let it grow long and coil it up in a knot on the crown of their head. They then put it in a hair net parted in the center to hold and fix the hair in position, wearing on top of it a bonnet made of horsehair.

This is their ordinary headgear, although their captain's bonnets are of another kind, made of finest thread and underneath a hairnet of gold thread. They take a good time each morning in combing and dressing their hair." For the literati, moreover, cutting one's hair was a degradation of one's dignity as a Confucian scholar or Ruist. Partially, this was because it contravened Mencian injunctions to preserve one's parents' progeny intact. One such example is the Confucian scholar Hua Yuancheng, who immured himself in Wuxi in 1645 rather than cut his hair. Three years later, when he was 61, he was betrayed to the authorities, who took him to Nanjing to be questioned. During his interrogation by both Manchu and Chinese he was 61, he was betrayed to the authorities, who took him to Nanjing to be questioned. During his interrogation by both Manchu and Chinese officials,

Hua, who was formerly a student of the Donglin leader, Gao Panlong, faced south, raised his hands above his head, and addressed his Departed parents, generations of ancestors, and spirits in heaven, saying Yuncheng's hair cannot be cut, nor will his body surrender. Subsequently, he, his grandson, and several servants who had hidden him were all executed. In addition, the act of shaving one's head was also a sort of tonsurel castration, an almost symbolic mutilation of one's integrity and manhood, far more damaging in some ways than physical death. When Gu Gao's friend Yang Tingxu, a famous teacher who had fled from Nanjing to Dongting during Ron Dacheng's purge of the government, was finally arrested on suspicion of involvement

in the 1647 Songjiang Uprising, the prosecutor made it very clear that he would not be arraigned for political crimes and would be treated with deference once his hair was cut. To this, Yang flatly refused, saying, To cut off my hair is a small matter. To shave my head is a great matter. Yang was, of course, beheaded. The command to shave the head not only offended Litterati, or the historically conscious who remembered that of the Jurchen Jin dynasty and their impositions of the same practice upon the Chinese. It also enraged common folk, who viewed the loss of their hair as tantamount to the loss of their manhood. When the new policy was announced, time and again, demagogues aroused peasant mobs by telling

them that if they cut their hair, they would lose their wives. Centuries later, the Q and shaved forehead would be identified by the peasants with their native identity, but when the practice began throughout China in 1645, it represented a betrayal of Han masculinity, and this seemed especially galling to the peasants from the lower Yangtze. Thus, the haircutting order for the mass of commoners beneath the leading scholars was analogous to the order the literati received to demonstrate their allegiance publicly by visiting the magistrate's yamen. The peasants could easily accept new rulers far away in the distant capital, but to have these barbarians, these tartars, order them to change their Han customs was an affront that many swore they would not accept.

Consequently, the rulers' efforts to make Manchus and Han one unified body initially had the effect of unifying upper and lower class natives in central and south China against these interlopers. The conflict between superior and inferior was momentarily overridden, and for once the aristocracy of the mind above and the masses of Jiangnan below stood together, even against many elders, merchants, and retired officials in between who wished to accept the offer of peaceful collaboration. Just as towns and cities had surrendered so, amenably, days and weeks before, so now did the inhabitants rise against the new government. With the successive losses of two Ming capitals, locally prominent families and minor officials in Jiangnan had been sorely pressed to contain a rash of uprisings by various discontented and

lawless elements, mainly tenants, indentured persons, and underground groups, and they now welcomed any authority that could restore the social order to which they were accustomed. Consequently, the first appearance of Han Chinese Qing officials in most locales was relatively uneventful, as social leaders adopted a cooperative wait-and-see attitude. However, as the ultimatum was given in each prefecture to either lose your hair or lose your head, it became clearer that the barbarians really were in charge, and a common cause to oppose the Qing was forged among social elements that otherwise would have been at odds. This resistance became most pronounced in four areas. First, the highly commercialized northeastern side of the Susong Delta. Second, the Tai and Mao Lake regions to the west and southeast of Suzhou,

an area of rapid mobility and easy concealment. Third, the intermontane corridor between Ningguo and Xioning, southwest of Nanjing. And fourth, northeastern Jiangxi, where members of the Ming imperial clan resided in large numbers. Resistance in these areas took many forms. Holding cities against Qing sieges, trapping Qing forces or beating them back from strategic places in rural areas, raiding cities or military posts already occupied by the Qing, and triggering urban insurrection and assassinating Qing officials. The social elements that supported and sometimes took over

these resistance efforts were extremely varied. The group comprised incumbent or retired Ming civil and military officials, members of the district yamen or constabulary staffs, Ming imperial clansmen, local landowners and merchants, leaders of political and literary societies, regular Ming military units, local sea and land militia, freelance military experts, armed guards from private estates, peasant self-defense corps, martial monks, underground gangs, secret societies, tenant and slave insurrectionary forces, and even pirate and bandit groups. So diverse and conflicting were the interests of these strange bedfellows, and so uncertain their vision of what order, if any, would be to their advantage, that cohesive and sustained resistance proved very difficult to maintain.

Moreover, although many of the resistance leaders received formal commissions and titles from southern Ming governments that had been set up in Zhejiang and Fujian, any effect of Ming governmental presence had dissolved in Nanzali, and there was no structure through which to coordinate action in various places. Even the shared repugnance towards submission to barbarian ways was vitiated when resistors were set upon by armies composed almost entirely of ethnic Chinese, who, as we've seen, were often even more barbarous than their Manchu masters. The Qing policy of ruthlessly massacring realcitrant communities also deterred resistors. In all, the loss of life and property was staggering.

Widespread resistance throughout what had become the Qing's secondary base area was not the only reason why the Manchus did not immediately press further southward. Banner units and generals had to be rotated and relieved. Moreover, the Qing not only had to supply armies occupying Jiangnan, but also had to support units holding out tenuously in the devastated Huguang province, an area that usually shipped surplus grain eastward. And the general situation needed to be reassured by the new chief official in the south, Hong Chengchou. It's probably true that the anti-Qing resistance in the lower Yangtze region slowed the Qing momentum, thus allowing the Ming resistance more time for organization and preparation in other parts of the South. However, it's doubtful that time was on the Ming's side.

Hi everyone, this is Scott. If you want to learn about the world's oldest civilizations, find out how they were rediscovered, follow the story of Mark Antony and Cleopatra's descendants over ten generations, or take a deep dive into the Iron Age or the Hellenistic era, then check out the Ancient World Podcast. Available on all podcasting platforms or go to ancientworldpodcast.com. That's the Ancient World Podcast. During the Hongguang period, a number of refugee Ming princes from the north had been assigned to new residential locations in the south. The Prince of Lu, Zhu Yihai, moved from Shandong to southeastern Zhejiang, and the Prince of Tang, Zhu Yujian, whose estate had been in Henan,

had been passing through Suzhou on the way to Guangxi when Nanjing fell to the Qing. The Prince of Tang had continued southward. When Hangzhou fell, he in turn withdrew up the Qiantang River under the protection of a retreating general, Zheng Hongkui. After having received the requisite three letters of persuasion from the Minister of Rights, he announced his decision to assume the Ming regency at Chuchou on July 10th, 1645. He then proceeded along the usual land route between Zhejiang and Fujian, through the northeastern corner of Jiangxi and over the Xianxia Mountains along the way, making specific plans for the establishment of his court. He arrived at the outskirts of Fuzhou on July 26th. Three days later,

he entered the city and formally received the title of regent. A familiar debate then ensued between those who felt it would be more prudent for the prince to remain a regent and to ascend the throne only after he had regained substantial territories outside of Fujian, and others who felt that in such chaotic conditions, only the charisma of an emperor could rally the people and organize their support. The latter argument won the day, and regentang became the Longwu Emperor in Fuzhou on August 18, 1645. Meanwhile, in the north, Qing advance agents and new local officials had moved rapidly into the prosperous region commonly referred to as Eastern Zhejiang. Popular reaction to this irrigation of authority, and to the easy

submission of many local powerholders, began with an uprising in Yuyao on July 31st. Under the leadership of gentry leaders, displaced local officials, and regular Ming commanders, neighboring districts responded within days. Qing officials and collaborators were executed or imprisoned, a variety of auxiliary fighting units were established, and Qing forces were chased back to the western bank of the Qiantang River. The leaders of these uprisings immediately added their support to others in Taizhou, who were urging the Prince of Lu to bolster popular resistance by assuming the regency in eastern Zhejiang. To this, he readily acceded, and he formally became the regent in Shaoxing late in August.

Although several of his supporters had considerable experience as imperial officials, virtually all leading figures of the Lu regime were natives of eastern Zhejiang. Other figures carried weight in the regime because of their initiative and perseverance in leading district volunteer organizations and auxiliary corps, and they were strongly motivated by local pride and concern. This parochialism had important consequences. It accounts for the level of regional popular support, which was higher than that enjoyed by any other southern Ming regime. It also allowed for the rapid deployment of fighting men at key defense points, where they took good advantage of their familiarity with local conditions. With admirable dispatch, a frontal arc was established all along the eastern banks of

the Chentang River and the southern shore of Hangzhou Bay. Some efforts were made to link up with resistance activity in northern and western Zhejiang and in the lakes regions of the Yangtze Delta. However, little thought was given to extending the court's sway beyond this small area. Although it had a preponderance of Fujian appointees, the Longwu regime was broader in scope than the Lu regime. The court's most prominent official, Grand Secretary Huang Daozhou, was a native of Fujian, but he had achieved widespread fame as an outspoken advocate of righteous causes during the Tianqi and Chongzhen reigns. Moreover, the Longwu Emperor was especially determined to

attract and employ able men from outside Fujian. He was very ambitious in making contact with, and conferring Longwu titles on, main resistance leaders in Zhejiang, Jiangxi, Huguang, and in the hundreds of stockades in the Dabye Mountain Range north of the Yangtze. He expected obedience from civil and military officials in Guangdong and Guangxi, and received reports from the officials as far away as Sichuan. In the end, however, actual control over the provinces was thwarted by the limitations of Fujian, both topographical and economic, and by the self-protective outlook of the most important Longwu supporters,

whose interests were limited to Fujian, the Cheng brothers Honggui and Zilong. Zheng Zilong, known to foreigners of the day as Nicholas Yichuan, began his career as an assistant and interpreter in the competitive overseas trade between China and Japan. Despite restrictions imposed by the governments of both countries, he gradually became a mogul of Chinese southeastern ports and coastal waters. He achieved notoriety first as an uncommon brigand who had exceptional organization and disciplinary capabilities, an evident desire to exercise social leadership, and a related tendency to cooperate intermittently with

governmental authorities. In 1628, the Ming court succeeded in obtaining his surrender. Thereafter, he increased his power under the aegis of the Ming military establishment, eventually rising to the post of regional commander. The Hongguang Emperor elevated him to the rank of Earl, and the Longwu Emperor awarded both Chong Honggui and Zheng Zilong the ranks of Marquis for their role in setting up his court. Moreover, in recognition of Zheng Zilong's large measure of de facto control over fiscal matters in Fujian, the Emperor gave him extensive powersong's large measure of de facto control over fiscal matters in Fujian, the emperor gave him extensive powers to coordinate the affairs of the ministries of revenue, works, and war. At first, the Longwu emperor was grateful to have the support of such a figure,

and he indulged Zheng by filling many civil and military posts with his relatives and hangers-on. Being childless, the emperor even went so far as to adopt Zheng Zilong's eldest son, Zheng Sun, as his own, bestowing on him the imperial surname, a new given name, Cheng Gong, the rank of an imperial son-in-law, and many special responsibilities and privileges. The Longwu emperor's close relationship with the lord of the imperial surname, Koxinga, best known in Chinese history as Zheng Changgong, had far-reaching consequences for the southern Ming cause. Not until early in October 1645 did the Longwu court learn that a rival court had been established

in Zhejiang. An emissary carrying a copy of the Longwu Emperor's Accession Proclamation was immediately dispatched to Shaoxing. His arrival late in October disconfided and divided Liu official ranks. At first, Liu was willing to step down in favor of the older Prince of Tang, his august uncle in Fujian. Several respected figures urged that the court in Zhejiang subordinate itself to the larger cause. However, Grand Secretary and Minister of War Zhang Guowei passionately stated the opposing argument, quote, The heroic resistance movement in eastern Zhejiang was fragile and would collapse if the regent withdrew,

and a transfer of loyalties at this point would constitute a rupture of trust between the sovereign and his ministers. Regent Liu was persuaded by such pleading. Other officials were constrained to show unanimity in rejecting the Longwu Proclamation, and emissaries were sent back to Fujian with a restatement of Zhang's position. Consequently, although many Liu officials and generals secretly requested or accepted appointments and titles from the Longwu Emperor, the Lu court never sought to work with the Longwu court, and a fire-and-water relationship developed between the two regimes. In February 1646, the Longwu Emperor sent a moving personal letter to his nephew prince, imploring him to cooperate in the goal of restoration and pledging non-belligerence. He earnestly stated his unselfish reasons for claiming the prior right to rule, as well as strategic reasons why he could not avoid planning

military action in Lu territory. But it is not known whether this letter ever even reached the Lu court at Shaoxing. Later that spring, a censorial official who had been sent by the Longwu Emperor with a large amount of silver to reward and encourage military units stationed on the Chantong River, received no protection from Lu authorities and was killed by unruly troops. And early in the summer, a Lu emissary to Fujian was imprisoned and then executed by the Longwu Emperor, probably because he was suspected of seditious collusion with Zheng Zilong. To explain this sad sequence of events, one must look to geography, to the personalities of the two princes concerned, and to the apprehensive temper of the time. First, several broad ranges of mountains block direct travel between the populous areas of Fujian and Zhejiang, and rapid communication between Fuzhou and Shaoxing had never been possible, even in the best of times. In fact, as a bit of an aside here, that has only been recently overcome first

with air travel and then more recently through the high-speed rail system of modern China, which has just drilled holes through the mountains in order to provide rail systems. But up until that point, if you look at those mountains, it's no wonder at all why communication and cooperation was so difficult between those two regions, even though they are relatively geographically close. Anyways, getting back to this. Secondly, both the Prince of Tang and the Prince of Lu were disposed by opposite traits of character to hold onto their ruling positions. Regent Lu was kind in mild mannered. He confined himself largely to the proper execution of court formalities and allowed his ministers and generals to take the initiatives. But he was very determined and sincere in his willingness to act as a figurehead for men who wanted to fight for

the Ming cause, and he probably felt that he simply could not desert his supporters. The Prince of Tang, on the other hand, who was now in his mid-forties, had suffered severe hardships and had spent fully half of his life incarcerated. He'd passed his entire boyhood and early adult years accompanying his father, who'd been unjustly imprisoned by his grandfather, the then Prince of Tang. In 1636, he was degraded for illegally leading troops from his fief to assist in the defense of Beijing against a threatened Manchu attack. Until his pardon, release, and restoration to princely status by the Hongguang court in 1644, he'd barely survived the rough treatment he received in the prison for members of the imperial clan at Fengyang. Now liberated from such confinements, he showed even more of the determination and initiative that had elicited

disapproval from the Chongzhen Emperor. Ascetic, diligent, and singly devoted to his able wife, Lady Zheng, who had shared in his troubles of the previous decade, he feared no physical sacrifice. Remarkably learned, especially in history and Ming institutions, and proud of his heritage, which he had suffered to claim, he now believed that his time had come and that he was the only prince who could restore the dynasty. Although he treated Liu delicately, the Longwu Emperor dealt quite differently with the Prince of Jingjiang, Zhu Hongjia, after the latter was defeated in his attempt to take the imperial title in Guilin, Guangxi, in the fall of 1645. This hapless prince was transported to Fujian, reduced to commoner status, and allowed to die in prison as an example to other imperial clansmen in the region.

Clearly, the Longwu Emperor had a strong, visceral sense of mission and was not inclined to share leadership, even with his own ministers. Third, neither regime was secure enough to sustain cooperation with another power center. Tensions, animosities, and partisanship invited charges of sedition against competitors for imperial favor. Moreover, many of those who took appointments under both the Liu and Longwu regimes did so in a self-serving manner, discrediting what could have been a noble practice. Both the Liu and Longwu regimes began in defensive postures. The reason why neither regime gained an offensive advantage differ in detail, but are in general the same. Inadequate bases of supply, logistical difficulties compounded by animosities between

civil and military officials, reliance on righteous spirit over solid military organization, discipline, and training, and the two princes' different approaches to rulership. To these, one can add for Fujian the widespread outbreak of various social disturbances. Both faced the unquestionable land superiority of the Manchu cavalry, but this was not the case until a year had elapsed, during which time both regimes had grown weaker instead of stronger. The forces of Regent Liu, roughly estimated at about 200,000, were supplied entirely from those eastern Zhejiang districts which bordered directly on the Chiantong River and Hangzhou Bay. Owing to the grassroots nature of the regime's support, the passive ruling style of Regent Liu, and the general tendency toward decentralization in finance and military supply,

no central ministry of revenue was established. Operations began under the loose principle that Ming regulars were to draw their pay from the tax proceeds of the prefectures in which they were based, while auxiliary and volunteer forces, which is to say troops under various quote-unquote righteous leaders, were to be supported by voluntary contributions from the districts in which they had originated. The professional military men found this arrangement unsatisfactory, and pressed to have all monies and materials accrued for the war effort placed under their control for allocation according to strategic need. However, leaders of the righteous soldiers, mistrustful of the militarists, refused to go along with this proposal. The compromise plan that all units, regular or volunteer, should draw any support, tax proceeds,

or patriotic contributions from locales nearest to them was followed more on expedience than on principle. No logistical plan ever truly resolved the controversy over dividing supplies and dividing territories. This order led to chaos through the winter of 1645-46, when increasingly severe shortages incited regular troops to steal provisions meant for volunteer units. As starvation among loot troops became common, many righteous soldiers simply disbanded and went home, while regular troops turned to looting and distortion. In the absence of any central logistical control, no central command structure could be affected. Moreover, little could be done when desperate, disruptive Ming naval forces descended on Lu territory after having been

defeated in the Yangtze Delta region. There were disagreements on tactical matters as well. Among the generals, some favored quick offensive strikes against Hangzhou, while others placed priority on building a strong defense for Shaoxing. Several remarkably successful drives across the Chiantong threatened Hangzhou. Moreover, Ming forces penetrated western Zhejiang almost to Lake Tai and isolated Qing forces in the area for a while. However, these drives always failed because of poor coordination and communication, both among the Lu units and between them and the resistance groups with which they hoped to join forces behind Qing lines. Righteous units led by literati figures were inclined to take independent action,

heedless of others' plans or the risks involved. This continued to be the case after the failure of another campaign against Hangzhou in February 1646. Liu commanders had to concede the land west of the Chiantong River to the Qing forces. Hopes then rested on using Ming superiority on the water to counter Qing naval attacks or to cross Hangzhou Bay, and spur fifth-column insurrectionary activities from Haining northwestward to the back of the enemy. Troops, money, and supplies for the Longwu regime were drawn mainly from Fujian, and secondarily from Guangdong and Guangxi, but there was never enough of anything. Shortly after the court was established,

it was recognized that even minimal military expenses would run far in excess of current tax receipts for Fujian and the Liangguang regions combined. This problem was approached on the one hand by trying to squeeze ever more from the fiscal base. Miscellaneous revenues were sought from bridge and harbor tolls, fees levied on shop owners, and from the salt monopolies were assiduously collected. Local treasuries were scoured for surplus stores, official titles were sold, and patriotic contributions were levied on landowners according to acreage, on gentry according to examination degree, and on officials according to rank. On the other hand, expectations of what could be achieved in troop deployment gradually shrank. In May 1646, Zheng Zilong reported that the expenditure required

for supplying and arming all the troops then defending Fujian would be some 1.56 million taels, a sum still far beyond the regime's capacity. The emperor then agreed to limit the use of Fujian revenues strictly to the support of Fujian. This optimistic plan called for 30,000 troops at the passes and 10,000 troops for internal security in the prefectures, at a yearly cost of 862,000 taels. Military action in southwestern Zhejiang, Jiangxi, and Huguang had to be financed wholly from resources in those areas. Actual troop levies at the passes never approached the projected numbers, however, and the few thousand troops that were deployed often received allocations at rates well below

standard. Guangdong delivered some revenues directly to southern Jiangxi and also to the Longmu Court in Fujian, but these sums represented only a fraction of the normal revenues, and scarcely met the depressing needs of the court. Several factors combined to limit the flow of revenues to the Longmu Court and the flow of supplies to the front. One was geographical. Transport facilities on the upper reaches of Fujian's principal river system, which passed through very rugged terrain to the most important passes, simply could not bear the sudden burden of serving a major war effort. Other factors related to widespread social unrest were the character and motivations of Zheng

Zilong. As previously noted, the successive losses of two Ming capitals and the concomitant disorientation of provincial and local governments had brought outlawry and latent social conflicts rapidly to the surface. In the far southeast, trouble developed in the mountainous region where the provinces of Fujian, Jiangxi, and Guangdong intersected. The great difficulty in controlling outlaws of that region had long justified the stationing of special bandit suppression forces in southern Gan, in southern Jiangxi around Ganzhou, where the populace was also skilled in self-defense. Now, large bandit gangs raided districts in eastern Guangdong and southwestern Fujian, not only necessitating the diversion of

resources to combat them, but also endangering overland communication and transportation routes. In adjacent locales, tennis rose up against their landlords who made unfair use of grain measures in receiving land rents. As the months went by, raids by mountain bandits occurred in all parts of Fujian. Highway robbery became commonplace, local altercations went unchecked, and because the Zheng's attentions had been diverted, even some piracy recurred. Under such conditions, when people were not sure whether new officials and levies were legitimate, individuals and locales naturally hoarded whatever resources that they had in order to ensure their own survival. Moreover, many civil officials and gentry in Fujian regarded the former pirate Zheng

Zhaolong as nothing more than a poacher now turned gamekeeper. They were suspicious of his schemes to raise more money from them and their districts. Not only did many not respond to calls for patriotic contributions, they also held back their regular tax shipments. Traditional historiography is so biased against Zhang Zhaolong that it's difficult to assess the man objectively. Certainly, he was able, cunning, ambitious, and powerful, at least within a certain sphere. Certainly, he hoped that by supporting the Longwu Emperor, he could extend the scope and depth of his sway in Fujian. Yet, it also seems clear that he was unwilling to sap or sacrifice his hard-won, lucrative maritime power base for an inland

campaign that might carry the court into another province. Probably, his repeated protests that supplies and preparations were inadequate for the emperor's zealous personal campaign beyond the passes were based on fair-minded appraisals of the situation. But Zheng Zilong's procrastination, which earned him the scorn of the court's most prominent civil officials and the guarded disdain of the emperor as well, was due in large measure to a basic conflict between his own long-range plans and those of his sovereign. Leading civil officials wished to deliver the emperor from his confines in Fujian and its satrap, so they argued for a quick offensive that would take advantage of the spirit of resistance amongst the people in Zhejiang and Jiangxi, who just felt the heel of conquest. Leading military officials,

especially the Zhengs who wished to conserve and protect their gains, argued instead for caution and gradual self-strengthening. They balked at the suggestion of fighting beyond the outer approaches to the major passes leading into Fujian. This conflict was epitomized in the friction between Huang Daozhou and Zheng Zilong's obtrusiveness, in November of 1645, Huang requested that he be allowed to lead a personal campaign to aid the recently defeated Ming resistance groups in northeastern Jiangxi. Having received no assistance from the Zhengs, he left Fujian with only a small ragtag army of enthusiastic volunteers and one month's provisions. He was confident that he could raise along the way all the men and supplies that he would need purely from loyalty and righteousness. Responses to Huang's campaign both in Fujian and Jiangxi were heartening,

but his forces remained too disparate and poorly trained to counter the formidable Qing presence in the southern tip of Jiangnan. Huang was easily defeated there by the Qing early in February 1646. He was thereafter executed with his closest associates in Nanjing two months later. This was a terrible blow to the Longwu Emperor, who had relied on Huang's help to achieve some balance between civil and military officials within his court. The Longwu Emperor's strong temperament showed many contradictory tendencies, which in less turbulent times might have been reconciled, but which instead were exacerbated by the frustrating circumstances of his reign. He had hoped to follow the example of the first century Han Emperor, Guangwu, who had restored the Han Dynasty through excellent generalship,

and he responded favorably to officials who encouraged him in this capacity. Just one week after becoming emperor, he announced plans to lead a personal campaign and he responded favorably to officials who encouraged him in this capacity. Just one week after becoming emperor, he announced plans to lead a personal campaign beyond the passes, and he designated his younger brother, Zhu Yu Yue, the new prince of Tang, to handle the affairs in Fuzhou during his absence. However, for reasons that we already have discussed, he wasn't able to leave Fuzhou until January of 1646, when he set up an imperial campsite at Jianning, and announced his intent to proceed directly from there into the wilder areas of the lower Yangtze region. At the same time, he placed great emphasis on the emperor's role as model and patron in the literary arts, usually composing his own public pronouncements with speed and skill,

receiving most warmly as gifts hundreds of volumes of books, and insisting stubbornly that civil service examinations be held even under very inhibiting conditions. He repeatedly admonished troops to not disturb the civilian population, but he watched helplessly as armed conflict overtook the whole society and lamented that militarism and militancy could no longer be checked by civil power. In utilizing men, the Longwu Emperor also behaved in a contradictory manner. His zeal led him to welcome men from far and near who at least seemed to share his purpose. As a result, many glib-tongued incompetents were given important assignments in the field, while at court the Emperor tried to do too much himself and failed to utilize several

men of true ability in his idle, overstaffed Grand Secretariat. The Longwu Emperor was most erratic in strategic matters. This arose in part from his inclination to respond actively to any news, good or bad, that came from the contested provinces of Zhejiang, Jiangxi, or Huguang, and to give his orders first and consider those orders' feasibility later. But even the most steady helmsmen of state would have been fraught with indecision under such circumstances. First, there was the attitude of the Zhengs, who were overtly aggressive but covertly dilatory. Their preparations never seemed to be complete, their supplies never adequate, and they never followed through on their assignments to strike out west and north

when they shone in feng shui passes. Thus, the emperor was never able to proceed further than Jianning. Second, it was difficult to get accurate information about the strength of the Qing forces on the upper Qiantang. The possibility of successful naval strikes at Hangzhou and Suzhou areas, the extremely fluid situation in Jiangxi, or the complex state of affairs in distant Huguang. These circumstances thwarted the emperor's strategies. First, he planned to drive down the Qiantang and recapture Hangzhou on the way to Nanjing. Then he hoped to gather under his leadership Ming units from Fujian, northern Jiangxi,

and central Huguang, and from a point east of Lake Poyang to descend by river on Nanjing. Lastly, as Qing pressure on Fujian's southwestern passes increased, he considered taking his campaign to Ganzhou, whence he might lead a restoration of northern Jiangxi or move his court into relatively well-defended areas of southern Huguang. In any case, as it became more likely that he would move to or through Jiangxi rather than head for Zhejiang or Jiangnan, in March of 1646, the Longwu Emperor transferred his imperial campsite southward to Yanping, where he renewed his pledge to go through the passes and never retreat to Fuzhou. The Longwu Emperor had long been especially concerned to maintain the Ming hold on southern Jiangxi, because the

conquest of that entire province by the Qing would block off all the major land routes in and out of Fujian and would expose Guangdong to attack as well. He'd bestowed high office on Ming officials who were active in the resistance, and had sent some of his most able ministers, including Grand Secretary Xu Guangsheng and Guo Weicheng, to help defend the area. Late in May 1646, when news arrived that Ganzhou was under siege, a real crisis faced the Longwu court, and every effort was made to save the situation. Ming troops in Ganzhou Prefecture eventually totaled about 40,000, but these were a disorderly hodgepodge of Ming regulars, many very recently recruited,

from Fujian, Jiangxi, Guangdong, and Huguang, aboriginal mercenaries from Jiangxi and Guizhou, former river pirates, and armies of mountain bandits who'd made marriages of convenience with the Ming cause. Even though the Qing Jiangxi command was in disarray at this time, the Qing troop morale was low, the Ming command was unable to concentrate its disparate forces to drive the Qing armies away from Ganzhou, and the city became more and more isolated. Meanwhile, in Zhejiang, the Qing had been gradually strengthening its position west of the Chiantong River, even though the territory between Nanjing and Hangzhou was not completely secured. In April 1646, the Manchus designated Prince Bolo as Generalissimo of the Southern Campaign. He arrived in Hangzhou with Manchu reinforcements on June 14th. Preparations were

made to move the Qing forces from the dikes south of Hangzhou across the Chantong River to the Ming side, but drought persisted in the southeast, causing an unusually low water level, slow current, and increasing silting in the river. A crossing on Horseback Up River at some point not too distant from Shaoxing became feasible. On July 10th, the Qing cavalrymen rode across the river at Tonglu. The defending army collapsed and fled in disarray towards Shaoxing. The Qing cavalry pushed them and converged on the Shaoxing area with other Qing troops that had been ferried from Hangzhou across the mouth of the Chianting. Regent Liu fled Shaoxing when he heard that Fang Guoan and his men were retreating toward the city. He apparently feared that this army would sack the city and that he would be taken captive and used by Fang to bargain with the Manchus for favorable

terms of surrender. The regent traveled swiftly overland back to Taizhou, but there he narrowly escaped being kidnapped by an agent of Fangguo An, so I guess he was pretty much right about that, who was also retreating in that direction. So he instead took to sea from Haimun and found refuge with Zhang Mingzhen, a Ming naval commander, who subsequently transported him to the Zhou Shan Islands. The Longwu court at Yanping in western Fujian heard of the Chantang Crossing in the last week of July. Shortly thereafter, Zheng Zhelong, claiming that he had to deal with pirate raids on the coast, deserted Yanping. He was soon followed by the few troops under his banner who were still stationed at the northwestern passes. Although the Longwu emperor tried to aid southeastern Zhejiang and to reinforce

Fujian's northern border, a defeatist attitude pervaded his court. Efforts to rekindle a loyal spirit among his supporters failed to forestall the dissolution of his government. Reports of an emergency at Xianxia Pass finally induced the emperor to begin his southwestern quote-unquote campaign toward Ganzhou, and his entourage left Yanping in orderly fashion on the 29th and 30th of September, 1646. But two days later, news that the Qing had already taken Yanping through the imperial party into panic. Many members scattered and became lost, while some tried to follow the emperor, who had galloped at full speed with a small guard to Tingzhou. There,

he was finally overtaken by a Qing contingent and summarily executed along with his empress on October 6th. When Manchu noblemen entered Fuzhou unopposed on October 17th, 1646, the city was almost deserted. Zheng Zilong had probably been negotiating with the Qing side for some time. Still uncertain about the terms of his submission, he had destroyed his arsenal at Fuzhou and had withdrawn to his main base further south. But one month later, heedless of protestations from his son and many of his commanders, Zheng Zilong formally surrendered to the Qing at Fuzhou, having been promised the position of viceroy for Fujian and Guangdong.

However, he was soon taken north on the pretext of going to quote-unquote see his new emperor, and was subsequently kept under close watch in Beijing. Other Longmu officials and commanders who surrendered were allowed to redeem themselves by assisting in the Qing conquest of Guangdong.

And that is where we are going to end off today. Next time, we will be getting further into the early Qing period as well as the further trials and tribulations of southern Ming that's already been dealing with a significant amount of pain,

suffering, and collapse as we've seen here today. Regardless, as always, thanks for listening. History isn't black and white, yet too often it's presented as such. Grey History, The French Revolution is a long-form history podcast dedicated to exploring the ambiguities and nuances of the past. From a revolution of hope and liberty to the infamous reign of terror, you can't understand the modern world without understanding the French Revolution. So search for the French Revolution today.