Thunderous applause greeted this announcement (though what they had to cheer about wasn't clear to me), and the Bearer of Heavenly Decrees handed her scroll to a grovelling minion, smiled graciously, shot me another reproving look, and made her stately way back to the palace, twitching her shimmering rump as she went. Observing this, and reflecting on the new decree, which all present were hailing with enthusiasm, I made a mental salute to the Taiping Rebellion—like all revolutionary movements (and for that matter all governments) it was plainly designed to ensure the rulers an abundance of fleshpot, while convincing the ruled that austerity was good for the soul. But barring the Papists, I couldn't think of a regime that had the business so nicely in hand as this one.14
Needless to say, I kept the thought to myself, although I couldn't resist trying to draw Lee gently when he came to bear me off to dinner at his own palace, apologising that it wasn't completed yet, in spite of the efforts of a thousand coolies who were slaving like beavers on it. I remarked that it was a fine system where the workers were content to live like pigs while providing their rulers with luxury—and not getting a penny piece for it. He just. shrugged, and says: "You English believe in paying for work. We know better—are we not a great empire?" It wasn't even cynical, just a plain philosophy, like his apparently sincere religious lunacy, and left me wondering harder than ever about him.
His was a modest enough spread, a mere gold and white bijou residence set in two or three acres of magnificent garden, with fantastically-dressed boys and girls swarming round us like gilded butterflies and ushering us to a charming little pavilion surrounded by a miniature rock and tree garden. Here a tiny child in yellow silk was waiting on the steps, and I was taken right aback when he bowed, held out a hand to me, and says in perfect English: "Good afternoon, sir."
I recovered enough to say: "Well, hollo yourself, young shaver, and see how you like it," and at that there was a burst of laughter from the pavilion, and out comes a jolly-looking Chinese, all portliness in a rather faded blue dragon robe. He patted the lad on the head and gave me an inclination that was half-nod, half-bow.
"My dear sir," says he, "you remind me that my own English is too correct, and that if my son is to master the language he must go to school to you." He chuckled and lifted the boy up in a muscular arm. "Eh, young shaver?"
This was astonishing, but now Lee came up and presented me, reciting the titles of the stout party, who stood listening with a quizzy grin: "… Founder of the Dynasty, Loyal Chief of Staff, Upholder of Heaven, Adjudicator of the Court of Discipline —"
"- and former secretary of the Artisans Christmas Club at Hong Kong!" cries the stout chap merrily.
"- His Excellency Hung Jen-kan, First Minister of the Heavenly Kingdom," concluded Lee, and I realised that this cheery, plump-faced man, bouncing the child on his shoulder, was the power behind the throne, the reputed brain of the Taiping, second only to the Tien Wang himself. They were setting out the best crockery for Flashy, weren't they just? As Lee ushered us into the pavilion, I was trying to remember what I'd heard of Jen-kan—that he'd spent his life mostly in Protestant Missions (which accounted for his excellent English), that he was the Heavenly King's cousin, but had taken no part in the revolution until a year ago, when he'd turned up suddenly at Nanking. Since then he'd risen like a rocket to Supreme Marshal (Generalissimo, they call it); I wondered how Lee and the other Wangs felt about being so suddenly outstripped.
Four little tables, one apiece, had been set out for dinner in the pavilion. The small boy addressed me, airing his English, ceremoniously helped me to my place, and Jen-kan, grinning with proud delight, winked at me—a thing I'd never seen a Chinese do before.
"Forgive my son," says he, "but to speak English to an Englishman is for him a dream come true. I encourage him, for without English how can he hope to reap the benefit of Western education, which is the best in the world? Every child in China must learn English," he added gravely, "if only so that they may understand the jokes in Punch." And he roared with laughter, shaking in his chair.
It was extraordinary, from a Chinese—but as I soon learned, Jen-kan was an extraordinary man. He knew the world, and had his feet on the ground; the bright brown eyes, which vanished in the fat, good-natured face when he laughed, were deep and shrewd, and he thought more like a Westerner than any Oriental I ever knew. Here's one that matters, I thought, listening as he gassed non-stop, mostly in Chinese for Lee's benefit, but now and then forgetting himself into English, with splutters of mirth. Lee sat impassive, being the perfect host, inviting me to dishes, deprecating the food—which was superb, I may say. It came in nine little petal-shaped dishes to each table, the petals fitting together to form a perfect rose as the meal progressed. No chopsticks, either, but Sheffield knives and silver forks and spoons; several of the dishes were Western, in politeness to me, I fancy. There was wine in gold cups held in enamelled silver cases—sherry, if you please, from bottles with wrapped paper plugs instead of corks. I had thought liquor was forbidden in the Taiping; Jen-kan pealed with mirth.
"So it is! But I told the Tien Wang, if I cannot drink, I cannot eat. So he gave me a special dispensation. Unlike this law-breaker." And he nodded at Lee, who surveyed him in silence and poured more sherry.
When the meal was done, and the servants had brought hot Chinese wine and cheroots, Jen-kan nodded to his son, who rose, bowed to me, and piped: "Sir, I take my leave, charmed by your conversation and by the courtesy with which you have tolerated my clumsy attempts at your glorious language."
"My son," says I, "you speak it a dam—a great deal better than most English boys twice your age." At which he shot his father a delighted glance before composing himself and marching out. Jen-kan proudly watched him go, sighed contentedly, bit a cheroot, glanced at Lee, and then at me. Business, thinks I, and braced myself. Sure enough, Lee asked if I had given thought to what he'd said at our first meeting: what was the likely British reaction to a Taiping march on Shanghai?
I was starting to say that as a humble traveller from the London Missionary Society I could only speculate, when Jen-kan broke in.
"We can dispense with that … Sir Harry." He chuckled at my expression of dismay. "If Mr Bruce wishes his intelligence chief to pass incognito, he should choose one whose likeness has not appeared so frequently in the picture papers. I acquit him of trying to impose on us, but he should remember that the Illustrated London News may not be unknown in Pekin. Now, may I say how delighted I am to make your acquaintance? I have been an admirer for years—ever since you dismissed Felix, Pilch and Mynn … in '42, was it not?" He beamed jovially on this reminder of how Englified he was, and since there was no use beating about, I shrugged modestly, and he put his elbows on the table, Western fashion.
"Good. Now we can talk plainly. The Loyal Prince has already given you reasons why you should welcome us at Shanghai. This may have led you to suppose that our arrival depends on Britain's attitude. It does not. We shall come when we are ready, in August, with or without British approval." He drew on his cheroot, regarding me benevolently. "Obviously we hope for it, and I am confident that when Mr Bruce realises that our occupation is inevitable, he will decide to welcome it. He will he in no doubt of our invincibility once you have reported to him; you have seen our army, and you will observe it in action when the Loyal Prince goes presently to expel the Imps from Soochow."
That was uncomfortable news, but I didn't let on.
"Mr Bruce will see that our final victory over the Manchoos is only a matter of time, and that opposition from Britain at Shanghai would be not only futile but impolitic. You will also inform him that, as an earnest of good will to Her Majesty's Government, our first act in Shanghai will be to place an order worth one million dollars for twenty armed steamships, which will greatly hasten the destruction of the Imperial forces."