On July 2, 1857, just after Shi Dakai has left the Heavenly Capital forever, and while Hong Xiuquan is hard at work with his revisions of the Bible, James Bruce, eighth earl of Elgin and twelfth earl of Kincardine, steams into Hong Kong harbor on the Shannon, steam frigate of Her Majesty’s navy. The Shannon is a magnificent ship, not only one of the swiftest sailing vessels afloat when the wind is fair, but also equipped with a powerful steam-driven propeller that will enable her to travel five days under full steam against the wind on a single hold of coal. She is also the most massively armed ship in Far Eastern waters, carrying no fewer than sixty 68-pounder guns, as well as a complement of 24-pounders, and a large company of well-trained and armed Royal Marines. To Lord Elgin, viewing her among the massed sails of smaller Asian ships is like looking at “a triton among the minnows.”1
Lord Elgin has been sent from England with a comprehensive assignment as special plenipotentiary of Her Majesty the Queen. He carries instructions from his government either to negotiate with the Qing government or to fight against it if no negotiation seems feasible. Either way, he is to make five “demands”: for “reparations of injuries” suffered by British subjects in China and for compensation of financial losses during the recent destruction of the foreign factories outside Canton; for Chinese compliance with the treaties of 1842; for permission to allow the British ambassador to reside in Peking, and communicate directly with Chinese ministers there in writing; and for an increase in trade with China and in Chinese trade with Hong Kong. He is also empowered to explore the Qing government’s interest in legalizing the trade in opium in return for the payment by foreign traders of a fixed tariff, and to see if the Qing will agree to allow unrestricted emigration of Chinese women as well as men from her shores, so that Chinese laborers settling overseas could lead a normal family life. Should the Qing be unwilling to discuss these points, then a “measure of coercion” should be adopted, by blockading China’s northern ports, blocking the Grand Canal at its Yellow River or its Yangzi River junction, and occupying either Canton itself or other suitable ports and islands.2
Lord Elgin—whose father, the seventh earl, had been both praised and execrated for removing the friezes from the Parthenon and selling them to the British Museum—is a proud and talented man. A brilliant classical scholar at Oxford in his youth and later a successful public servant, he has already served as governor of Jamaica and governor-general of Canada by the time he receives his posting to China.3 Distracted from his assignment during 1857 by the crises of the Indian mutiny, and by diplomatic maneuvering with Japan, in the summer of 1858 he returns to southern China to resume his mission. When the Qing fail to respond to his demands to open up the city of Canton, he shells it thoroughly, attacks and occupies Canton, capturing the governor and shipping him off to imprisonment in Calcutta. Like a wrathful presence he then steams northward with the British fleet, blasting his way past the Dagu forts that protect the approaches to Peking, and forcing the Qing to negotiate terms of abject surrender. Flushed with his string of victories, in October 1858 he returns to Shanghai with his fleet, determined to be the first representative of the British crown to sail the whole way up the Yangzi River to Wuchang, to assert his country’s newly won treaty rights, wrested by force from the Qing emperor Xianfeng, and to open trade with China’s interior ports.4
Ten years before this time, in the Thistle Mountain region, when Jesus descended for the second time to speak to his younger brother Hong Xiuquan through the mouth of the West King, Xiao Chaogui, Hong asked him a simple question: “Heavenly Elder Brother, when the time of the Taiping comes, who will be the commanding generals of our armies?” The Elder Brother replied, “Feng Yunshan, Yang Xiuqing, Xiao Chaogui all shall be commanding generals. . . . And one of your commanding generals will come from a foreign country.” Hong Xiuquan asks, “What is his name?” And Jesus replies, “His name is Cai.” Hong asks, “Has he come to China yet or not?” And Jesus answers, “At the present time he is still in his foreign land.”5
Almost two months later there is a related dialogue: Hong has had a dream that demons with guns attacked him, and he is rescued by angels and heavenly generals. Recounting the dream to Jesus, he asks if it is accurate or not. Indeed it is, says Jesus. Those were troops and generals sent by Heaven who rescued him. And what is the name of that general? Hong asks. “We will let you know later,” Jesus replies.6
None of the foreign visitors to Nanjing on the Hermes, Cassini, or Susquehanna seems a fitting candidate for the designation of the foreign general to be sent by God. And certainly neither the Irishman known as Canny, the Boston mercenaries, nor even the tough Italian Antonio is quite of general’s stature. But based on his record of destruction of the Qing, Lord Elgin just might be the one.
Steaming with his armed fleet of five warships past Nanjing on November 20, 1858, “on a lovely evening” as “the sun was sinking rapidly,” having sent a smaller gunboat ahead to alert the Taiping to his peaceful intent, Elgin has his vessels mistakenly fired on by Taiping gunners, leaving one British sailor dead, and two badly wounded, one losing an arm and another a leg.7 Elgin’s view on this matter is, as he later tells the foreign secretary in Whitehall, “that no human power, and no physical obstacle which could be surmounted, should arrest my progress. It was obviously essential to the prestige of England, that a measure of this description, if undertaken at all, should be carried out; I could not, therefore, recognize in the rebels a right to stop me, nor could I take any step which they might construe into such an admission.” Instead therefore of echoing the comparative restraint of the Hermes in 1853, Elgin orders the fire returned.8
As Elgin explains his state of mind in a journal entry that night, “We have passed the town, but I quite agree with the naval authorities, that we cannot leave the matter as it now stands. If we were to do so, the Chinese would certainly say they had had the best of it, and on our return we might be still more seriously attacked. It is determined, therefore, that tomorrow we shall set to work and demolish some of the forts that have insulted us. I hope the Rebels will make some communication, and enable us to explain that we mean them no harm; but it is impossible to anticipate what these stupid Chinamen will do.”9 Elgin’s secretary, in his own journal, records his own thoughts somewhat differently: “It is accordingly arranged that at daylight tomorrow we drop down abreast of the batteries, and hammer them into ruins and their garrisons into submission.”10
At dawn on November 21, the weather “shrill and biting,” the British ships slip silently downriver through the mist to their allotted battle stations. Moving, in some cases, to within fifty yards of the Taiping gun emplacements on both the left and the right banks of the river, the British vessels “pour such a storm of shot, shell, grape, and rockets into the batteries, that our fire of the previous evening seemed mere child’s play.” From his vantage point up in the “topgallant crosstrees,” Elgin’s secretary can look right down into the Taiping forts, and “see the men in bright dresses clustering round the guns” and watch the effects of the newly invented “Moorsum shells” as they burst amidst the Taiping troops, scattering their deadly fragments. After an hour and a half, the last Taiping batteries fall silent.11 Late that same evening, impressed by this startling show of force, a Taiping commander of the Heavenly King’s “gun vessels” writes to “Your Excellencies the Foreigners” asking them to help him with their fleet, so that he can destroy the Qing naval forces; in exchange for these services, he would petition the Heavenly King to grant them Taiping noble rank.12
In his own message to Lord Elgin, written on yellow silk in the vermilion ink reserved for the Heavenly King’s proclamations, Hong greets Lord Elgin in his own way. His message, addressed to “Our foreign younger brother of the Western Seas,” consists of 172 lines of seven-character verse, arranged into stanzas, but with the names for God and Jesus raised, as in Taiping practice, two spaces above the text, and Hong’s own name raised one. It is true that Elgin’s Chinese name is Lai, not Cai, but Hong lives his life by coded rhymes. To set the scene, Hong first offers to Lord Elgin a summary of the Taiping revelation, and a description of Hong’s role as Jesus’ younger brother and his founding of the Heavenly Capital in Nanjing. The suffering and death of Yang Xiuqing—who always dealt with foreigners in the past—is then spelled out in graphic detail:
The Father and the Elder Brother led me to rule the Taiping [dynasty]. The Father has deputed the East King to redeem sickness. Thus he was blind, deaf, and dumb, and suffered infinite misery, and while fighting the demons, he was wounded in the neck and fell. The Father had declared beforehand in his sacred decree that when our warriors went forth, [Yang Xiu-] qing would be afflicted, and that when they arrived at the court [Nanjing], he would be assassinated. [The words] of the Father’s sacred decree were all accomplished. The Elder Brother gave his life to ransom sinners, so that he became a substitute for myriads and myriads of people of the world. The East King, in ransoming the sick, suffered equally with the Elder Brother, and when he fell with the pestilence he returned to his spirit-nature to thank the Father for his goodness.13
Almost casually, Hong mentions, “The sacred decrees are numberless. I select one or two of them for declaration,” for it is always “impossible to know exactly what is in the hearts of the Father and the Elder Brother.” For forty-four lines, without identifying them, so familiar are they to him, Hong recalls for Elgin God’s prophecies and decrees from the far-off days of Thistle Mountain and Yongan. All these decrees have proved truthful, writes Hong. “Come soon to Heaven, and you will be aware of this.” In the realm of prophecy, “the First Elder Brother, Jesus, is the same as the Father,” and therefore “not a sentence of his sacred decrees shall be changed.”14
Still in a verse form of seven-character lines, at line 119 the Heavenly King comes to the heart of his message:
Foreign younger brother from the Western Sea, heed my royal proclamation:
Let us together serve God and our Elder Brother, and destroy the hateful insects.
All that happens on earth is controlled by God, or Elder Brother, and myself.
My brother, join us joyfully, and earn incalculable rewards.
In former days, when I traveled in Guangdong,
I gave a proclamation to Luo Xiaoquan [Roberts] in his chapel.
On that occasion I proclaimed my ascent to Heaven
Where my Heavenly Father and Elder Brother conferred great powers on me.
At this time, has [Luo] Xiaoquan accompanied you or not?
If he has come, let him visit my court and confer with me. . . .
The Kingdom of Heaven is near at hand, yea it is come!
Foreign younger brother from the Western Sea, be of good heart.
When I traveled up to Heaven, I saw my Father’s plan:
That the myriad nations would help me mount the altar of Heaven.
What the Father foretold has now come to pass.
On Heaven’s behalf put forward all your strength, for it is destined to be so.
For our Father and our Elder Brother, slay the demon devils,
And thus requiting your Father who gave life to you, return victorious from your battles.15
How could Hong be clearer on the need to work together to exterminate the Qing demons, as Elgin has so spectacularly done already? As to the British also firing on the Taiping positions, that was under provocation, and the Taiping gunners responsible have all been executed. Besides, the Taiping casualties have not been as great as it seemed to the observers on the British ships—only three officers and some twenty men have died.16 Hong’s message is sent upriver, to reach Lord Elgin as soon as possible; but since Elgin’s flotilla is under full steam, the message fails to reach him before he has passed beyond the areas of the Yangzi River controlled by Taiping forces, and has entered territory recaptured by the Qing. Here the Taiping emissaries with their yellow scroll cannot hope to follow him.17
It is only in late December 1858, as Elgin returns from his upriver explorations and his state visits to Qing officials in Wuchang, and reenters Taiping waters, that the Heavenly King’s message is presented to him, in an envelope now marked “To our Elder Brother Lai, Special Commissioner from the Great Nation.” In a covering note, the senior Taiping official delivering the message says it was entrusted to him by the Heavenly King himself, for delivery to Lord Elgin.18 Elgin, who has passed bleak days of sleet and snow jammed with all his staff in one of the small gunboats after his flagship ran aground, finds it a “strange document,” written “on a roll of yellow silk, about three fathoms long,” “a sort of rhapsody, in verse, with a vast infusion of their extraordinary theology.”19 It would, he feels, “be awkward for me to have any intercourse with the rebel chiefs, so I do not, as at present advised, intend to land.” Though a missionary has indeed accompanied him, the man is Alexander Wylie, and not Issachar Roberts, so there is no need to respond to Hong’s query over that.
Elgin notes privately that those of his party who do go ashore in Nanjing find the city a scene of desolation, through which one can ride as through a “great park.” Most of the guards at the gates seem to be unarmed, women roam freely within the streets, and though no shops are open supplies seem plentiful. The senior Taiping officer they meet, a Guangxi man named Li, promises the British that if they will stay the night ashore they “can then visit the court of the Heavenly Kingdom.” But no one in the British party follows up on the invitation, and the moment passes. Lord Elgin himself does not go ashore, and gives no answer to the Heavenly King.20