Restoration of the Great Ming: A Tianqi Timeline
- Thread starter RexSueciae
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Don't worry, ITTL there are all sorts of novels and miniseries and films about the events depicted herein that fully explore a lot of those possibilities (although, audiences being what they are, you can expect most of the possibilities explored to be dramatic or prurient).
Dunno...but this chapter gives me the FEELS and "what could have been". I always pitied poor Yuan Chonghuan...dude was a loyal and capable commander and def did NOT deserve his OTL fate. Poor man, reminds me of the Warring States Zhao state general Li Mu who was murdered by his King because of false rumours of treachery.
Which is probably why no one has written a TL about a more successful Emperor Pupienus.
He certainly did deserve it--at least according to modern historians. He executed Mao Wenlong, a commander with the same rank as he did without permission from the emperor--which caused Ming forces under Mao Wenlong's adopted sons to later defect to the Qing Dynasty and introduced firearms to them. The death of Mao Wenlong also removed pressure to the Qing from the Eastern flank, allowing them to attack Beijing. The man was at best slightly above average as a commander and lied to the emperor about the feasibility of retaking Liaodong within five years--the lie was finally exposed when the Manchus bypassed his forces and directly attacked Beijing--during which he did very little to relieve the siege. His attempt to negotiate with Qing forces without knowledge of the emperor was the final straw, which led the emperor to kill him.
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Ehh. That's...certainly one interpretation of what happened. Kenneth Swope has certainly written on the "revisionist" perspective (at least, among English-language sources that I can find) but in his entry for Yuan in The Berkshire Dictionary of Chinese Biography (ed. Kerry Brown) he gives a much more balanced view (raising the possibility that Yuan was overconfident in his actions but presenting the issue as a disagreement between Mao's and Yuan's supporters and eventually noting in the end that the Chongzhen Emperor's execution of Yuan Chonghuan was an unforced error and a key factor in the fall of the Ming dynasty).
Point is that executing Mao Wenlong without permission alone was high treason. Commanders of his rank could not be executed without permission from the emperor, especially when he was also given a sword of state, which meant that Mao Wenlong was kind of his peer. That's usually the kind of stuff you do when you intend to rebel. When you take into account of the other factors, it's not that surprising that Yuan himself ended up being executed. Even a good number of his own contemporaries thought that Yuan got what he deserved and was personally responsible for Beijing being attacked by killing Mao. It's not really something that's well tolerated by any ruler.
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On the question of whether or not it was high treason, the entry in the Berkshire Dictionary says: "Though Yuan indeed had the authority to do it (contrary to what some opponents at court claimed later), the execution was not carried out upon the command of the emperor, as Yuan told Mao at the time." And it does look like that Mao Wenlong was acting super suspicious (which doesn't mean executing him was necessarily the best idea), and that Yuan's execution IOTL was done mostly as the result of scheming on the part of political factions in court and cloak-and-dagger intrigues from the Later Jin.
If you have other sources available to you, I'd love to read them -- of course, it's a little bit of a moot point since ITTL Mao Wenlong is still alive (having also had the chance to somewhat redeem himself from the charges against him) and so far nobody's made any ill-advised executions of their colleagues or their top generals. Would you like me to throw in an execution or two to liven things up? (I do actually have a few thoughts in that direction but not for awhile yet, and in a somewhat different context.)
The Bershire Dictionary statement is completely wrong. Even Yuan's former superior officer Wang Zaijin(王在晉) once wrote in his book (三朝遼事實錄) that "although Yuan's accomplishment should not be forgotten, he died as a result of breaching the law"(袁崇焕虽然死于国法，但是其在宁远之战等战绩功劳不应埋没). The author of 明季北略(a primary source) outright claimed that Yuan's killing of Mao was the same as Qin Hui's killing of Yue Fei(崇焕捏十二罪，矫制杀文龙，与秦桧以十二金牌矫诏杀武穆). During the process of killing Mao itself, Yuan also falsely claimed that he had permission from the emperor, it’s why Mao did not resist. Again, this is another crime that’s punishable by death.
One of the more damning things about the whole affair was that technically Mao outranked Yuan. Mao was the Left Commander in Chief(左都督), a Rank One Primary post whereas Yuan's rank at the time was Secretary of Defence, a Rank Two Primary post. He killed an officer two ranks higher than he was without requesting permission from the emperor and feigned he had permission while doing so! The most ridiculous thing was that in his official letter to the emperor, his excuse for killing Mao was not that Mao was acting suspicious but that he was insubordinate to Yuan himself(even though Mao outranked him and was outside the theatre Yuan managed)!
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Concerned Brazilian
Gone Fishin'
In the 1920s, Chinese peasant movements supported restoring the Ming Dynasty
Damning indeed. Well -- fortunately for all concerned, that series of events did not happen ITTL, and so far the most insubordinate thing that Yuan Chonghuan has done is (possibly) show up unannounced at the imperial palace in the middle of the night (offset by the fact that the current emperor is indifferent to social mores and has more reason to trust him).
So I've heard -- I've wondered at the plausibility of doing something re: the Marquis of Extended Grace -- alas, that'd bring us up against the "before 1900" benchmark, unless we got started considerably before the final collapse.
And that’s not getting into modern controversies regarding re-examinations of his conduct as a commander. He is now seen by many as a largely overrated commander due to the fact that he never fought a single pitched battle against the Manchus. In otl he only won a couple of minor sieges by abandoning multiple fortresses, food supply and thousands of civilians(who got butchered or enslaved) without a fight in order to consolidating resources around the actual fortress he was in despite outnumbering or being equal in force to the Manchus. Mao Wenlong’s forces on the other hand were noted to be quite pro-active in confronting the Manchus in the field and even counter-raiding Manchu territory even if they often suffered defeats.Strategically, his elimination of Mao Wenlong meant that Ming forces of Dongjiang, now without a leader could no longer attack the Manchus from the flank, allowing them free movement to conquer Mongolia and to attack Beijing(both events which Yuan did little to nothing to stop). The worst of his detractors outright claimed that he colluded with Hong Taiji, although I don’t buy that crap.
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1631
Pope Urban VIII, c. 1631
A man whose impact on China will be non-zero but still very low
In Rome, Pope Urban VIII is not having a good time. All of Christendom seems to be at odds; the fields of Germany are soaked with blood, as the conflict that shall later be known as the Thirty Years’ War rages on without end. His own personal military forces have so far done a pretty good job at muscling Rome’s neighboring city-states into obedience, but maintaining an active papal military is proving ruinously expensive.[1] He’s starting to get the impression that his old friend, Galileo Galilei, wasn’t being entirely truthful when he promised not to get involved in that heliocentrism nonsense. It’s all terribly annoying. Why, it seems like he won’t have time to do the really important things, like informing all good Catholics that using tobacco is a sin![2]
The letter he receives from the Jesuit mission in China is a welcome distraction from his many troubles. Although ostensibly written by Nicolò Longobardo -- who, if no longer the Superior General of the China mission, is certainly the most learned and venerable member of the Jesuits in the Ming court -- modern historians agree that a large portion of its text may have been contributed by Nicolas Trigault. (Computer-assisted textual analysis remains inconclusive.)[3]
According to the Jesuits, their mission in China is going remarkably well. In fact, the letter continues, the Emperor of China is entirely sympathetic to their cause. While the letter doesn’t outright say so, it is heavily implied that the man is a Christian in the making -- emphasis is laid upon his simplicity, his good nature, and (sigh) the fact that he is a tremendously skilled amateur carpenter. Reading the letter, one might easily get the impression that the emperor, his wife, members of his court, et cetera are practically champing at the bit to get baptized.
This is some good news that Pope Urban VIII gladly receives. He’s already disposed to think well of the Jesuits -- he was educated by them, he signed the paperwork canonizing Ignatius of Loyola and Francis Xaviar (who had been officially canonized by his predecessor), and he was already a strong supporter of the Jesuit missions in South America, despite political pressure from the Spanish and Portuguese. Thus, he issues the papal bull Fraternitas regia, a document which praises the Jesuits for their herculean efforts, highlighting in particular their mission in China. The pope walks back his earlier idea of removing the Jesuit monopoly on missionary activity in China, as while he does not prohibit other organizations from entering the region, he makes it very clear that the Jesuits will ultimately be the ones calling the shots. Finally, he makes sure to publicize both the bull and the original letter from the Jesuits all over Europe. Or, at least, those parts of Europe not currently preoccupied with depopulating other parts of Europe.
The effects will be delayed a little by the war, but eventually polite society will go through a bit of a fascination with all things China, particularly in the cultural realm.
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In Formosa, Hans Putmans is not having a good time. His career in the Dutch East India Company had been going pretty well, until now. Batavia was a nice enough place. He’d been happy to be appointed Governor of Formosa. There was the possibility of advancement! But no, a massive fleet of Chinese pirates just picked the worst possible moment to show up. And now they’re shooting at him.[4]
For Putmans, a lot is going wrong. The way the island is shaped, there’s some nice flat land where agriculture can be more or less easily done on the southern coast (and along the coast in general, including at the northern end, where those damned Spanish have set up shop), but the further you go inland the worse things get, with all sorts of hostile people in the central highlands and highly irregular terrain. Which isn’t to say the coastal people are particularly friendly, either, and so when the first pioneers from the East India Company had arrived, they’d thrown together a quick set of fortifications around their main base in the south to protect the Dutch settlement from potential attacks. Fort Zeelandia is...well, it’s a serviceable enough place to live, surrounded by brickwork, but it had been built under a series of assumptions. First of all, the Dutch had assumed that any threats would be coming out of the jungles, and so Fort Zeelandia had been built on a very large sandbank just offshore, where they could control the natural harbor that the Dutch use for trade. Second, the Dutch had assumed that they would be able to rely on reinforcements from Batavia (or even from their other outposts, like their trading post in Japan), which, under the current circumstances, does not look like a good bet. Any reinforcements would have to fight their way through a surprisingly large pirate fleet.
Putmans and his men bunker down for a fight and curse whatever idiot built the fort on a sandbar offshore, because all their reliable freshwater sources are on the mainland, and getting a resupply is going to be risky verging on impossible.
Zheng Zhilong, for his part, is happy enough. He’s sent a bunch of his men to blockade the fort while the rest are dispatched to the countryside. Most of the Chinese who’ve settled here are ready to play ball -- they’re mostly pirates, but he’s got a blank cheque with the imperial pardons, and in any case, he actually knows a lot of the guys here already -- many of them are men who sailed with his old colleague, Yan Shiqi! The fellow had been slightly more experienced in the trade, but had quit the business to settle down on land and set up a little pirate kingdom. Then he had to go and die of a fever, which really goes to show that retiring from the pirate life on a tropical island is really overrated. Death comes for everyone, so you might as well go out like a badass.
Anyways, the Chinese settlements know of Zheng and trust him more than they trust the Dutch. The Spanish up in the north, well, they’re suspicious, but Zheng’s representatives swear on their honor that there will be no killing or maiming unless taxes aren’t paid on time -- plus some Jesuits from Beijing have come down to play translator, explaining that these guys are actually decent folks (unlike the Dutch, who are heretics and pirates) (okay, fine, a lot of Zheng’s forces are also pirates but whatever religion they hold, at least they’re not Protestants).
That leaves the indigenous peoples, who seem mostly content to live and let live, but they are definitely suspicious of a sudden massive influx of people, and they’d prefer not to get caught in the crossfire. In fact, they’d rather be the ones doing the shooting.
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In Shaanxi, Hong Chengchou is not having a good time. The Yellow Tiger had “surrendered” and then promptly went around doing bandit stuff again. So, another army was summoned, and they kicked the bandit leader’s ass, and he surrendered (again) and promised not to do anything bad (again). Then Hong took his army off to stomp another bandit and the Yellow Tiger got his gang back together and started doing the same exact things all over again.
It’s becoming worryingly apparent that his army of peasant levies is probably not the best tool for stomping on bandits -- after all, there’s rumors that the Yellow Tiger himself had once been a soldier -- and while the bandits are a barely-trained mob, his own forces are...well, they’re a barely-trained mob. This shouldn’t be taken as an insult to Hong’s veterans and the professional core of the Ming army, but they’re really leaning on the population to make up the numbers here, and given the choice between hiring more expensive professionals (often from other regions) versus calling up several times that number of local peasants...
Hong’s not worried just yet. The peasants might not be very motivated, but they’re getting steady employment and decent rations, and for now, that’s enough.
For now.
Footnotes
[1] This is OTL. Pope Urban VIII was the last pope to expand his territory by force of arms, and he directed military campaigns in Italy during both the early and later parts of his reign.
[2] IOTL around 1642 he eventually put out a papal bull threatening tobacco users with excommunication.
[3] They’re stretching the truth a little, but IOTL the Jesuits reported similar things about his brother, the Chongzhen Emperor, whom they were attempting to convert (they failed). ITTL they’re a little more enthusiastic, the Tianqi Emperor is a little more stable than his brother, and Trigault can’t quite conceal the fact that he is fanboying hard.
[4] IOTL Putmans ended up fighting with Zheng Zhilong around this time, destroying a portion of his fleet in a surprise attack but later getting defeated in a pitched battle anyways. Here, it’s Zheng who’s the one pulling the surprise attack, and ITTL Putmans isn’t going to have the chance to retaliate.
There is a joke to be made here about the Little Ice Age but I'm too lazy to find it.
The author is having a decent enough time!