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Post by ieshima on May 27, 2020 11:23:09 GMT -6
It is indeed strange to think of providence as a man. The divine power, the Heavenly Mandate once believed by my ancestors and those who ruled before them become flesh and blood. Such ideas are perhaps quaint crutches to fall upon when it is difficult to understand or explain how events occurred. I myself, now at the twilight of my reign, having long ago given up such notions as rather foolhardy endeavors to be told in stories and poems. But even I, with long decades of experience, with the finest education in both the East and the West, find myself falling upon those same crutches to explain the impossibility that became reality. For, on the actions of one man, history chose a different path. -From Emperor to Citizen, The Autobiography of Zaitian Guangxu, Peking Printing House, 1953
Tianjin, Imperial China, September 20th, 1898
The evening rain pattered softly on the roof of the building, doing little to cut the fading heat of the day as the sun hung low over the city. The tea had long grown cold, the cups robbed of their warmth by the air around them. It was replaced by tension, for the meeting taking place had not gone as expected and the fate of the empire hung in the balance.
Ronglu, Grand Secretary, Overseer of the Ministry of Justice, Secretary of Imperial Defense, Governor General of Zhili Province, High Minister of Trade and Favored of Empress Dowager Cixi, stared across the table at the man he once considered a friend. It was a foolish mistake on his part, he reasoned quietly. He was born of the Guwalgiya clan under the Plain White Banner, one of the highest families in the Empire. His clan held ties to the Imperial dynasty, consorts to divine blood since the time of the Ming. It was an unreasonable fault to have befriended the son of a minor, rural clan from Henan. No, he realized, it was disgraceful to have even become associated with a man who failed the Examinations not once, but twice! “What you have said, Grand Secretary, is worrying.” Stated his acquaintance. “For it has confirmed much of what I have found on my own.” The bald general sipped from his cooling tea. “There are indeed elements of the court who are threatening the Empire. Many of them in positions of power, in positions of influence. They seek to undermine the strength of our people for their own gains.” The cup clinked on the saucer. “They must be stopped.” “Then you understand what must be done?” Asked Ronglu, between his own sips, the cold tea having gone bitter. A poor choice of leaves, most likely cheap ones. A shame. Thankfully, the chilled drink helped counter the humid air that surrounded them in sweaty embrace. “Your army is the best in Empire. It would ensure our success.”
“Yes. The Emperor’s reforms are failing. He is attempting too much too quickly, and he shall fail.” The taste of cheap tea was still on his tongue. Longjing, perhaps. There was a poor harvest of that variety recently, his compatriot must have acquired some of it by mistake. He pursed his lips, trying to drive it away as the general finished his own. Maybe more honey with the next cup. “So you will help?” He asked, as the servant filed the empty porcelain with the steaming pale drink. The general gave a slight smile, his eyes not quiet matching the expression. “My men are readying to leave as we speak. By morning the capital will be secure.” Ronglu fumbled slightly with the honey spoon as he replied, “Then I shall travel with you. Tomorrow will see our Empire restored.” Good man, seeing the way the fates lit for them.
Both men raised their cups in salute to each other. “For the Empress.” Ronglu stated, drinking deeply. His counterpart nodded, saying nothing as he followed suit and drained his cup. They stood, pins and needles running down Ronglu’s legs as he stretched them awake, the sudden rush of trapped blood setting the room spinning as the servant quietly gathered the tea set. That tea must have been very bad indeed, he thought as his stomach rolled. The older man moved to join his new ally by the window, only for his leg to give out on the first step. Yelping was not a very dignified sound to make, even if it did capture the pain of his shin meeting the chair on the way down “Our Empire is troubled indeed, Grand Secretary.” Murmured the general, ignoring his sudden collapse in favor of looking out over the city. “Corruption and rot infest it to the core. We remain stagnant as the world moves away from us.” The servant whispered from the room, not helping as he struggled to his knees. “The Emperor’s attempts to fight against it will fail without help. He does not have the power to see them through.” Ronglu fell to all fours, his attempt to stand failing as the contents of his stomach emptied onto the floor. “What did you do?” He panted, spitting bile from his lips. “Poison. From Nepal. An excellent choice, as you can tell.”
“The tea?” He hissed, as the feeling of numbness washed over him. “You poisoned yourself too?” “The honey.” The general replied, not looking away from the balcony. “As I said, corruption, rot and stagnation. It is best if it gets cut out quickly.” Ronglu collapsed, his strength failing as the poison spread. “Tomorrow I will secure the capital in the name of the Emperor. Your coup will fail. His reforms will succeed. Our people will be led into a new golden age, under our guidance.”
He couldn’t move his hands! He couldn’t move at all! The light was fading rapidly, and not because of the setting sun. His breaths came in short, sharp gasps, each failing to give the air that he needed to live. “It is time for change, Ronglu. I am sorry, truly. But there is no place for you anymore. May the Jade Emperor welcome you to his court.” The old man gave one last gasp, and then lay still. Yuan Shikai ignored his former friend’s demise, and instead looked down into the courtyard of the garrison. His men, over 7,000 of them, all trained to the exacting standards of the Western powers, bustled hurriedly from one place to another in preparation of their march. Tomorrow they would storm the Summer Palace and capture the Empress Dowager and her coconspirators. The Emperor would remain on the Dragon Throne and China would take its rightful place in the world.
Yuan Shikai
Excerpts from Year of the Earth Dog, An Examination of Modern China’s First Year, Chapter 15: The Fall of Change
The sudden rapid social and political upheavals sparked from the Guangxu Emperor’s reforms had the unintended consequences of turning General Shikai into the kingmaker who would decide the fate of the Empire. His iron control over the reformed and modernized New Army stationed in the critical port city of Tianjin, less than an hour’s journey by train from Peking, meant that his support of either side in the growing conflict would all but assure their victory. Because of this, both the Loyalists and the Conservatives made increasingly desperate overtures to sway him to their side. Interestingly, the final attempt made by the Conservatives would lead to their downfall.
Hoping to finally guarantee the support of the critical wild card that the New Army represented, Grand Secretary Ronglu, close advisor and confidant of the Empress Dowager and defacto head of the dissatisfied elements of the court, traveled from Peking to Tianjin on the evening of the 20th of September, 1898, due to communications from the General suggesting of his support of the Conservative faction. In reality, Shikai had already declared his loyalty to the Emperor, and seized the opportunity presented by Ronglu’s journey to assassinate the Grand Secretary before beginning his march on Peking. The fate of Ronglu cannot be understated, as the successful political maneuvering he had done in order to ensure his near total command over the Conservatives meant that his subsequent death resulted in an almost complete paralyzation of the rebellious faction at the most critical moment in Chinese history. The sudden arrival of 7,000 highly trained and modernized soldiers loyal to the Emperor on the grounds of the Forbidden City was an unprecedented and unexpected move. Many of the plotters were unaware of the shift in power right up until the moment they were dragged out of their offices, palaces, and quarters at rifle point. A brief engagement between the Loyalist New Army forces and a segment of the Conservatively aligned Kansu Braves at the gates of the Summer Palace, the home of the Empress Dowager, represented the only escalation of the otherwise bloodless takeover. Her capture and subsequent imprisonment in a heavily guarded palace within the Forbidden City, as well as the beheadings of several of the more influential members of her faction, signified the end of anti-reformist control over the Empire. While the direct threat to the Guangxu Emperor had been largely dealt with, there still existed problems within and without the capital. Many of the court eunuchs, whose roles largely consisted of very little work in exchange for positions of influence, power, a hefty salary and access to conveniently pocket-sized items of immense worth, had openly supported the Empress Dowager as one of the Emperors reforms aimed to curtail much of their ill-earned authority. An attempt by one of the more courageous, or foolhardy, of their number to strangle the sovereign in his sleep was answered by the mass beheading of several hundred of his fellows, with the punishments of the survivors ranging from blinding to the relatively lucky prospect of permanent banishment to the freezing mountains of Tibet. Shikai personally oversaw the administration of the fate dealt to the failed assassin, the details of which are perhaps best left as thankfully unconfirmed, though very gruesome, rumors. Unfortunately, the massively influential and intensely conservative Eight Banners would remain a long-lasting thorn in the side of the Reformist’s efforts. Normally the eight power blocks could be played off one another due to the inherent hatred that five centuries of competition created. However, the danger that the reforms posed to their traditional authority had successfully accomplished what no ruler could ever hope to achieve, that being the unification of the Banners against an outside threat. With the calcified giant that they represented posing a problem that even the New Army could not handle, the Loyalists carefully sidestepped around the prospect of an immediate confrontation and conceded that, yes, the clans’ long history of mostly suspect loyalty and largely dubious service to the Dragon Throne did, in fact, entitle them to certain exceptions under the new reforms. The possibility of a catastrophic civil war being kicked slightly further down the road, efforts were made to reinforce the Emperor’s partially modified, no longer quite as comprehensive and now rather porous reforms, the first of which being the simple task of converting the thoroughly gutted Imperial Court into a functioning constitutional monarchy. Four months, three more assassination attempts, one peasant revolt, and an abortive invasion made by Imperial Russia into Northern Hebei being met by a General Shikai who was completely done trying to be civil later, the first elections under the new Imperial Constitution were held. The subsequent charges of voter fraud, ballot stuffing, destruction of at least two voting halls and threats of bodily harm against those who complained of the presence of New Army soldiers overseeing the collection of ballots are unconfirmed.
Needless to say, few were surprised by the election of Yuan Shikai to the position of Grand Secretary. The changes, appointments and decisions made by the former general are among the most influential, and controversial, in the history of the Empire. Chief among them being Order 89903, now known as the Modern Military Bill, calling for the complete and total modernization of the Chinese armed forces. This bill authorized the hiring of foreign advisors from the Western powers, the construction or expansion of five arsenals, the appointment of General Wang Yingkai as Secretary of the Army, as well the expansion and modernization of the Jiangnan Shipyard and the creation of a modern naval academy at Shanghai staffed by Western advisors, all being overseen by the newly appointed Secretary of the Navy Sa Zhenbing…
Game Information and Set Up: In the late summer of 1898, the Guangxu Emperor initiated a series of reforms with the intention of westernizing China along similar lines to that of the Japanese Meiji Restoration. These reforms, had they succeeded, would have ended the calcified Confucian Examinations, modernized the Chinese armed forces, revolutionized Chinese industry, implemented nationwide education, and established a constitutional monarchy like that of Great Britain. They failed. Corrupt officials, with everything to lose if the Emperor continued his reforms, persuaded Empress Dowager Cixi and her ‘confidant,’ Grand Secretary Ronglu, to stage a coup d’état against the Emperor in order to undo his progress.
The Emperor and his supporters were aware of the plots existence and sought the aid of General Yuan Shikai, with his modernized army, to preempt the coup and imprison the plotters. Shikai was to kill Ronglu and then capture the Empress and the remaining conspirators. Instead he betrayed the Emperor, meeting with the Grand Secretary in secret and revealing the Emperor’s knowledge of the attempt to overthrow him. The Emperor lived out the rest of his life as a figurehead while Empress Dowager Cixi and Yuan Shikai controlled the Empire in his name. He was poisoned by the Empress the day before her own death to ensure he would never take the throne again. But what if this never happened? Dragons Roar is a Narrative After-Action Report of Rule the Waves 2 set in an Imperial China where Yuan Shikai remained loyal to the Guangxu Emperor. Utilizing a modified version of the Chin China custom nation and starting from the Point of Divergence, September 20th 1898, and running forwards hopefully to the 1955 end date, I will attempt to answer the question of how the existence of a resurgent, modernized China could have shaped the world.
Changes: This AAR will be using a modified version of the Chin China Custom nation. Below is a list of all the changes made to the game in order to make this happen, with the minor ones first:
General Name Changes and Graphical Tweaks: Changed the name of the nation in all AAR writings from the Romanized ‘Chin’ to the more accurate ‘Qing’, still pronounced the same. Changed the Leader’s title from ‘Empress Dowager’ to ‘Grand Secretary’, for obvious reasons. Changed the national turret style from ‘neutral 1’ to ‘German 2’, to reflect the fact that most of China’s important early ships came from German yards. Reworked the names of battleships to be Chinese provinces and added a list of Chinese dragons to serve as names for battlecruisers. Names for armoured and heavy cruisers have been changed to province capitals and protected, scout and light cruisers have been changed to defunct towns and cities. Names for destroyers are historical names for Chinese gunboats, corvettes, frigates and destroyers.
Added oil to the Liaotung Peninsula Province: Some of the largest oil fields in the world are located in Manchuria, now known as Liaoning, Jilin, and Heilongjiang. While Manchuria is not a map location in game, the Liaotung peninsula, in Liaoning province, is close enough and has its own real-world oil deposits. Yes, this is a very convenient location for oil to be, but it is accurate. Adjusted National Traits: Traits for the nation are:
Intelligence=1 Sigint=0 GGP=1 RGP1=0 RGP2=1 NightFighting=0 NavalAcademy=1 Cautious=0 GlobalNavalPower=0 AttentionToDetail=0 TechnicalExcellence=0 EfficientShipbuildingIndustry=0 UndevelopedShipbuildingIndustry=1 ShipDesign=0 PoorEducation=1 Autocracy=1 Bombastic=1 Colonies=0 InconsistentNavalPolicy=1 DesignPriority=0 TurretStyle=2 BaseResources=11000 Corruption=100 HBR=6
Changes have been made to reflect the very tumultuous nature of the China at this time (Autocracy, Bombastic and Poor Education have all been turned on) as well as the addition of Inconsistent Naval policy, which is a straightforward trait to give to a nation that bought ships from France, Russia, Japan, Germany, Britain, Italy, Spain, America and Austria-Hungary. These negative traits have been tempered by the addition of Delayed Economic Growth, which begins sometime around 1916. This was done for two reasons: One, it lessens the pain that all the negative traits have created, and two, the Chinese economy really did take off in the late 1920’s. This was mainly because the nominally Republican (read, dictatorial) government at the time was finally able to start modernizing the nation as a whole. I’m just jumpstarting that growth a bit. Added Research Advantages and Bonus Techs: Gave China a research advantage in ‘Light forces and Torpedo Warfare’ as well as 600 ton and 700 ton DD bonus techs to reflect the fact that for close to six decades the only ships that China built domestically were destroyers and gunboats, and they got pretty good at it too. Also gave China a research advantage for ‘Naval Aviation, Lighter than Air’, mainly because I was unable to give them the advantage in armored trains that they historically got from Germany, Austria-Hungary, and White Russia post WWI. Note: No changes have been made to dockyard size, budget, or the models of guns available, as these are surprisingly accurate to the historical situation China was in at the time.
Set Up: I will be using Version 1.20 of Rule the Waves 2.
Fleet size will be set to Super Large, Historical resources is on, Research Rate is set to 70 (I find that the normal tech progression is far too fast), Maximum Airbase Size is set to 100 and Manual Legacy fleet is active.
I have made it a personal rule that I must start my legacy fleet with the five protected cruisers, the two ship Hai Qi class from Britain and three ship Hai Yung class from Germany, that China had historically ordered prior to the Point of Divergence, replicated as closely as possible in the Ship Designer.
For those of you wondering what happened to my Confederate AAR on the original forum, I have posted an explanation in that thread, but in short: I lost the drive that had the AAR on it, it will hopefully be rewritten on the RtW2 forum, until then enjoy a new AAR set in the amazing clusterf*ck that is late imperial China.
That seems to cover everything. Shall we begin?
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Debaka
New Member
shipping ships
Posts: 12
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Post by Debaka on May 27, 2020 12:12:11 GMT -6
Very interesting scenario. I really enjoyed this one already.
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Post by garrisonchisholm on May 27, 2020 14:53:14 GMT -6
"The possibility of a catastrophic civil war being kicked slightly further down the road,..."
What a delightful turn of phrase. Excellent backstory production too, I see there will be much to learn for me here!
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Post by mycophobia on Jun 1, 2020 3:31:03 GMT -6
Out of curiosity, what about the default Qing China's inability to domestically produce aircraft. Do you plan to keep it or get rid of it?
I'd imagine a properly reformed China under emperor Guangxu could well begin its own domestic aviation industry with some foreign assistance at first. If the AAR is to go to the 30s/40s, the inability to domestically develop aircraft can be a pretty serious game changer.
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Post by garrisonchisholm on Jun 1, 2020 15:27:15 GMT -6
I asked the team and aeson advised the following; "Looks like adding aircraft manufacturers and aircraft names to Chin ChinaShipNames.dat enables a domestic aircraft industry for Chin China." Thank you Aeson!
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Post by ieshima on Jun 2, 2020 20:36:32 GMT -6
Out of curiosity, what about the default Qing China's inability to domestically produce aircraft. Do you plan to keep it or get rid of it? I'd imagine a properly reformed China under emperor Guangxu could well begin its own domestic aviation industry with some foreign assistance at first. If the AAR is to go to the 30s/40s, the inability to domestically develop aircraft can be a pretty serious game changer.
As garrisonchisholm stated above, adding a series of manufacturer and aircraft names has solved this problem. Good catch though, I was unaware of the fact that China doesn't have the natural ability to produce domestic aircraft. Thanks for the heads up.
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Post by thefleetofoceans on Jun 3, 2020 3:40:00 GMT -6
He has returned, the king of the AAR has returned. If this is even half as good as the Confederate AAR then this is going to have me clinging on tooth and nail.
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Post by ieshima on Jun 3, 2020 8:30:53 GMT -6
He has returned, the king of the AAR has returned. If this is even half as good as the Confederate AAR then this is going to have me clinging on tooth and nail. Please, I would not consider my work to be worthy of being designated as royalty, let alone a ruling monarch. Thank you for the support, here's hoping I don't disappoint.
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Post by ieshima on Jun 3, 2020 8:44:17 GMT -6
Few men define a period in time. It is not for lack of effort. Each man who has ever lived and will ever live has desired to leave their mark. Be it a monument, a battle, a war, a job well done or simply a child. Their marks make history. Some are simply more successful. The legacies of two such men have vied for the title of China’s Bismarck for nearly a century. Li Hongzhang, master statesman and brilliant diplomat, and his protegee Yuan Shikai, General and Grand Secretary. Their decisions and actions guided the ancient empire back to its place as a power on the stage of the world. Asia revolved around them. These two men were China. But every Bismarck must have his Tirpitz. -Hai Long, The Man who Led China’s Fleet, Penguin Group, 2001
Shanghai, Imperial China, January 18th, 1900 The light dusting of snow was quickly melting in the morning sun, the ground of the construction yard slowly churning into mud. Frost dripped off the bamboo scaffolding surrounding the steel framed cranes crouching by the slowly deepening pits at the river’s edge. With a cough of black smoke, a steam shovel snorted into life and began its lurching crawl to the site of the new drydocks. Grey clouds scuttled overhead, the iron grey sky warning of future downfalls.
A mile to the northeast, in a squat, rectangular building made of bricks that had yet to fade from brilliant clay red to dull orange, a man sat his new desk. The scent of new bamboo flooring, ink, and fresh paper was overshadowed by the overwhelming smell of salt on the sea air that permeated everything on the island. The scratch of a gold pen tip echoed faintly in the still sparse room, the formal hanzi flowing out onto the page in stark black. Swarthy, weather-beaten skin speaking of his distinct non-Han ancestry, he gently placed the dark jade pen back in its stand. A quick thump of his personal seal against the paper followed by the seal of his new office, the latter’s dark blue contrasting with the formers stark red. The first of many documents and papers that he had to get through today. Sa Zhenbing was a man who had welcomed the new age with open arms. Born to ethnically Turkic parents in the coastal city of Fuzhou, he had spent his entire life connected to the sea. At ten, he was admitted to his home city’s newly built naval academy, where he dedicated three years of his life to learning the lessons taught by the French, German and British officers who had come to teach. His rock-solid work ethic and brilliant mind served him well, and he joined the first group of young officers to travel Greenwich and study at the Royal Naval College. His career was long and painful. He had been witness to the destruction wrought of Fuzhou, his home, by the French during the First Sino-French war. Unlike many of his classmates he survived the attack on the Nanyang fleet and the subsequent bombardment of the Fuzhou anchorage. His transfer to the Beiyang fleet saved him from the stagnation that followed the near total annihilation of his former unit, and his promotion to captain, the youngest in the fleet, showed his continued dedication. As he grew older and his face became permanently set in a grim scowl, his reputation as capable commander and skilled officer grew. It was those skills that allowed him to live through the First Sino-Japanese war. Leading a scratch detachment of sailors and cadets, Zhenbing led the successful, ten-day defense of a island fort in Weihaiwei harbor despite constant bombardment. When Admiral Ding Ruchang chose defiant suicide over betrayal, and when his fellow captains died scuttling their ships to prevent their capture, it fell Zhenbing, the last surviving native born officer of the defense, to surrender to the Japanese. With the destruction of his fleet, the war was over.
The following three years were spent in reclusion. China did not have a navy, and there was no need for a captain without a ship for him to command. He spent that time drifting from post to post, never remaining in one place for too long. Until, one day, a messenger from Peking arrived at his door. In a rapid upheaval, the last captain of Weihaiwei found himself accepting the position of Secretary of the Navy under Yuan Shikai’s government. The months that followed were a blur of meetings, voyages, and arguments. Agreements were reached with several of the western powers. Ships, advisors, materials, and licenses in exchange for hundreds of thousands of taels of silver. It was something he could work with. Now he sat, behind his new desk in his empty, new office. In a new building built with western bricks on a windswept island of the coast of Shanghai. Filling out paperwork while a mile to the southeast his navy was being born.
Sa Zhenbing
Excerpts from The Imperial Chinese Navy, Volume 8, The Constitutional Qing Navy, Chapter 4: 1898 to 1903
Following the questionable election of Yuan Shikai to the position of Grand Secretary, marking the official start of the Constitutional Qing state, the new leader moved quickly to rebuild much of the destruction caused by the First Sino-Japanese war. Chief among his efforts was the appointment of Admiral Sa Zhenbing to the position of Secretary of the Navy. Zhenbing was tasked with overseeing the restoration of the Imperial Navy, much of which had been lost during the conflict, and its continued growth and expansion. Moving quickly, the former admiral ordered a complete inventory of all of the assets and personnel of the navy, which had been largely defunct following the dissolution of the Admiral Board at the end of the war. Leveraging the support, and finances, of the newly established liberal government, Zhenbing was able to acquire the island of Changxing of the coast of Shanghai. After evicting the majority of the farming and fishing settlements from the island, work was begun on the construction of a new shipyard and accompanying arsenal. Ground was also broken for the establishment of the new naval headquarters, the old headquarters in Weihaiwei being unavailable due to the British control of the city. Further to the west was to be built a proper naval academy, where aspiring officers and cadets would be trained to western standards by British and German instructors. However, a navy without ships command was of little use. Before the events of September 1898 took place, the Qing Court had commissioned the construction of five protected cruisers from shipyards in Europe. The British yard of Armstrong Whitworth would build the two ship Hai Qi class while the German AG Vulcan company would construct the three ship Hai Yung class. All five ships would enter Chinese service before the turn of the century. While the Hai Qi and her sister ship were capable warships, their armament, armor, and speed being comparable to that of vessels found in western navies, the Hai Yung class was looked upon less favorably as their small size restricted what could be fit onto their hulls.
Above: the German built Hai Yung Below: the British built Hai Qi
The new cruisers provided a center from which Zhenbing would build the rest of his navy. Several domestic yards, including the recently restored Fuzhou Shipyard, were granted contracts for a new, unified class of torpedo-boat destroyers. The fourteen ships of the composite Hai Lung class demonstrated the slowly growing potential of the nation’s industry. That said, the local manufacturers were still incapable of building any capital warships. Those would have to be ordered from foreign yards.
The domestically built Hai Lung composite class The newly formed John Brown and Company was approached with the intention of ordering a three-ship class of armoured cruisers based on the hulls of the British Cressy class under construction at their Clydebank yards. In exchange for the staggering cost of 120 million taels of silver, as well as a further 30 million slid under the table as incentive, the three hulls of the Chengdu class were launched and engined in a record time of just under nine months from their lay down date in late February, the swiftness of their construction earning John Brown much acclaim. While still lacking their armaments and much of their upper works, it was decided that it was better to have the hulls in China as soon as possible, the fear being that Japan or another foreign power would act before they could be delivered. As such, the start of the century saw the three ships being completed in Chinese hands, a process that would last until mid-1900.
The Chengdu class of armored cruisers, started in British yards but finished by Chinese hands Thankfully, the situation regarding the acquisition of modern battleships was a much simpler affair. Several attempts had been made by the Qing to purchase replacements following the loss of the ironclads Dingyuan and Zhenyuan during the war with Japan, with orders going to AG Vulcan and Vickers, Sons & Maxim. Unfortunately, these efforts had been stymied by the Empress Dowager and her supporters, with payments for the construction being delayed or reduced resulting in the halting of construction in both yards shortly after the launch of the first hulls. The financial problems were resolved by simple matter of Shikai removing most of the conservative faction from power, with China taking possession of the British built Guizhou and the German built Henan in late 1899 and the remaining ships set to be delivered over the next two years.
Above: the British built Henan Below: The German built Guizhou
While nowhere near the size of the Royal Navy or its western contemporaries, the fledgling Chinese fleet had risen to contest the power of its former enemies, Japan and Czarist Russia. While the empire might not have been able to produce modern warships domestically it was more than capable of utilizing its vast, if horribly corrupt and inefficient, economic might to persuade those who could. Overtime, the Chinese economy would grow to become one of its greatest strengths.
Note on the Author’s Note:
The text found below and in all future Author’s Notes is going to be a mix of further information on some of the stuff covered above and some things that didn’t make it into the writing. Please note that I am not an expert on this issue, and that everything written below suffers from my personal biases. Take everything with multiple grains of salt and do your own reading the subject.
Author’s Note: Stagnation
Nearly all the problems that China faced coming into the 19th and 20th centuries can be traced directly back to the overwhelming stagnation, conservatism, and willful blindness that gripped the nation during those periods. Prior to the early 1800’s China actually benefited from this continued status qou as the nation was largely self-sufficient. This self-sufficiency led to the Imperial Court ignoring most of western powers and their offers of trade, with China largely dismissing anything not domestic as worthless. This coupled with initial efforts of missionaries and the actions of overzealous merchants in the interior of China, and the recognition of the threat that they posed to the stability of his empire, led to the Kangxi Emperor confining nearly all foreign activity and presence in the country to the ports of Canton and Macau. These efforts, and the incredibly effective western counter of introducing opium to China in biblical proportions, resulted in the First Opium War, which saw the relatively small British expeditionary forces kick the snot out the much larger Chinese military.
The war and the subsequent Treaty of Nanking that ended it opened the floodgates of Western imperialism. It was rare that a decade went by that didn’t see a European army destroy the Chinese forces sent to oppose it, with the resulting treaties demanding more and more concessions from the Imperial Court. All the while the nobility, bureaucracy, and elites of China continued to bury their collective heads in the sand and insist that the old ways of doing things would eventually win out over western barbarism. Attempts made to modernize were hampered by these same conservative elements as well as the periodic wars that would destroy much of the progress, requiring them to basically be restarted from the ground up every time that China was defeated. This continued refusal to accept that China was no longer a dominant power on the world stage persisted until roughly the late 1920’s, when President (read dictator) Chiang Kai-Shek decided that it was time for the kid gloves to come off and finally started dragging China, kicking and screaming, into the 20th century. Just in time for the Japanese to decide that they also wanted to join the “I’ve got an Empire too” club and invade. When that horrifying slaughter was concluded the subsequent civil war saw the rise of Communist China under Mao, whose ham-fisted attempts at continuing the modernization stalled the country’s growth for nearly three decades (no, dumping kitchen utensils into a campfire in your backyard will not get you steel, and killing nearly every educated intellectual who might oppose you won’t get you any favors either). The early communist attempts at catapulting China’s largely still undeveloped and agriculture-based economy into mass industrialization had lasting negative effects that continue to plague the nation to today.
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Post by ieshima on Jun 10, 2020 10:10:31 GMT -6
They have come to destroy our lands. They give their poisons willingly, good men cut down by the seeds of the foreign poppy. They whisper lies and promises that fester in the ears the court. They have torn down our homes to make room for their factories and workshops that spew smoke into our air and fill our rivers with mud and death. They tear up our fields for their new metal roads, starving us as they laugh at our plight. They spread the word of their false god, telling of his mercy and kindness while stabbing us in the gut. No more. The westerner and the traitors who follow them are destroying our nation. The rìběn invaders stole our land and killed our brothers. The Manchu dogs who rule over us have lost the Mandate. No more. Down with the Qing! Destroy the foreigners! -Speech given by a Boxer leader before his followers in western Hebei, early 1900
Excerpts from Xuè Xīng de Quán Tou, The Fight Against the New, Chapter 9: The League of Harmony and Justice
The Secret Societies of China were arguably the least secret secret organizations to ever exist. Having been in existence since the ancient Shang Dynasty in the 1000’s BC, the Societies formed distinct microcosms compared to the rest of China. The majority of these groups were normally formed around religious, ethnic, or philosophical minorities who were unable to openly practice their beliefs. Shielding themselves from persecution through elaborate hidden ceremonies and their distance from the capital and its Imperial oversight, these organizations were able to not only survive but thrive in the rural countryside’s of China for centuries despite efforts to quell their activities. However, this is not to say that they were peaceful or well intentioned.
It would be exceedingly rare to find a Society that, if it existed today, would not richly deserve the designation of terrorist organization. The least guilty of these groups limited themselves to widespread banditry and the various crimes that can be associated with large groups of armed, amoral men willing to do whatever they wanted with no one to stop their indulgences. Those who were less concerned about their public perception committed far worse crimes. Assassinating Imperial officials, spreading corruption, bribes, drug rings, piracy, organized crime, extensive black marketeering, slave trafficking, sabotage of military equipment or property, the attempted assassination of at least four Emperors, multiple rebellions, and several civil wars. To state that these Societies and the Dragon Throne clashed frequently would be a serious understatement. It is further suspected that despite extensive crackdowns on the part of President Shikai and his successors that those groups who managed to survive the governmental efforts went on to become the modern criminal Triads. That said, what eventually became of the Societies is best kept for later, in favor of talking about what impact they had on new China that was slowly taking shape. The Wuxu Reforms instituted by the Emperor and carried out by the new government under Shikai largely avoided affecting the general populace. Few peasant farmers or village craftsmen would be affected by combating the rampant corruption found in the capital and other major cities. Some with relatives in the military would hear tales and receive letters telling about new training and equipment, but it would not really concern them. If they lived near Peking or traveled there to sell their crops, they might see the new constructions rising around the Litigation Quarter, a massive new university being built brick by brick. A handful would be somewhat upset by the news of new, modern workshops and factories being built in the coastal cities of Shanghai and Fuzhou. But, in general, the effects of the reforms were contained to the coast and big cities. It was the implementation of provincial schools and agricultural colleges, all of which were to be staffed in part by Europeans teaching math’s and sciences at the cost of traditional teachings passed down from parent to child for generations. The surveyors and engineers who began marking off fields for demolition in order for new railroads and mines to be built. The court focusing on the politics and intrigues of Peking instead of the droughts, flooding, and following famine that killed millions It was the total and permanent abolishment of the Confucian examinations, the cultural touchstone of China, the center of the entire country, and the only feasible way for a peasant born man to ever rise above his station and become a member of the coveted educated elite. These were the things that gave the Societies the fuel they needed to feed the fires of revolt. While the Societies were criminal organizations or rebellious factions at their hearts, the relation that they had with the average peasant was very different to the conflict they had with the Imperial government. If a farmer or a villager was smart and kept their head down and did not miss the regular payments made for protection, they were generally left alone or unbothered. Furthermore, in much the same way that the infamous American mafias of the 1930’s and 1940’s operated, if a family or village fell on hard times or struggled with the harvest it was not the Court that would arrive on their doorstep with bags of food carried by strong backs willing to work in the fields. Just like a shepherd protecting his flock, his source of profit and food, the Societies helped and shielded their own livelihoods. This protection bred an ill gained loyalty among the more rural parts of the country. It began slowly and quietly. Groups began to move secretly from province to province, spreading rumors and offering training to those dissatisfied or angered with the new reforms. Shipments of new weapons went missing, stolen by bandits or sold by unscrupulous quartermasters. Contact was made with the Banner Clans, granting access to the palaces of the capital itself. The new government didn’t see it coming until it broke down the door.
A rare photo of Chinese Boxers
Peking, Imperial China, June 9th, 1900
The hammer slammed down on the last occupied chamber, the concave .455 Webley slug jetting out across the blood smeared table to meet the forehead of a very unfortunate assassin. His body, missing the top half of its skull and dressed in an ill-fitting servant’s smock, fell across the corpse of Secretary of Education Lin Xu, the assassin’s blade still jammed in the former poet’s neck. Shikai dropped the Webley, letting it bounce on the lanyard as he drew the not quite ceremonial liuyedao from his hip just in time to catch the spear thrusting at his stomach. The narrow sabre deflected the razor-sharp tip up and away, cutting a thin furrow across his left shoulder that promptly began staining the arm of his jacket.
The new conference room was awash with blood, the scent of gun smoke and voided bowls mixing into air already full of the sounds of steel on steel and distant gunfire. It was unexpected, rumors of yet another attempt on his life just starting to filter in from the countryside when a handful of the servants and aids standing at the edges of the room pulled weapons from within their robes and fell upon the cabinet meeting, shouting slogans and chants as they attacked with more traitors pouring in from the doors. Lin Xu was not the only secretary to die. Nor, Shikai thought as he grimly swept the spear aside and replaced its wielder’s tongue with three feet of steel, would he be the last, if the screams and shouts from the courtyards below were any indication.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Zhenbing bring the heavy and well-worn nandao, so out of place in his otherwise immaculate finery, crashing down on a bannerman’s hastily raised block. The massive broadsword, meant for boarding actions and still bearing the scratches and scars of Japanese blades, barely slowed as it shattered the rusty jian and buried itself in the face of the attacker. The naval secretary, no novice at close quarters combat thanks to the bastard rìběn, wrenched the sword free just as soldiers in the dark blue-grey of the New Army rushed into the room. “General.” Barked one of the men over the shouts of his soldiers, the brass pins in his woven red shoulder boards marking him as a lieutenant, his sword flashing as it caught the assassin’s dao on its hilt guard. “Attackers have struck across the Complex, as well as the barracks’, the Foreign Quarter, and the rail station.” “The Emperor?” Shikai yelled back, using the poor training of his opponent to his advantage, running the sword though his gut. The still breathing corpse stiffened in shock before slumping off the blade. At his back, Zhenbing punched out with the hilt of his glorified axe, sending bloodied teeth scattering. “Secure. No assassins made it to his quarters.” Came the reply, as a knot of blue-grey crouched and unleashed a volley back out the doorway they had charged through. “General Yingkai has dispatched the 2nd and 3rd divisions to the Inner City.” Continued the lieutenant as he ground his sabre against his enemy’s short sword, the apparent deadlock ending as the revolver in his offhand pumped two rounds up under the bannerman’s ribcage. The Manchu dropped, the remaining attackers in the room following him shortly as the soldiers mercilessly slaughtered them. Shikai wiped his sword across the brilliant silk robes of what had been a clan member of high rank as the younger officer approached him, carefully stepping around the bodies that littered the room. “What is the current situation?” Questioned Shikai as Zhenbing joined them at the head of the table, the soldiers checking to see if anyone not standing showed signs of life. Those who did received calls for medical attention or a bayonet, depending on which side they were on. “The Outer City is in open revolt. There are mobs of peasants and Bannermen in the Inner City, mostly around the Foreign Quarter and the Cathedral. It is suspected that the western soldiers are fighting back, but we haven’t been able to confirm it.” The lieutenant glanced to the side as the naval secretary cleaned what he suspected was brain matter of his blade with a rag he had pulled from somewhere. “General Yingkai has sent the 2nd and 3rd divisions into the Inner city to try and restore order while the 1st division secured the Imperial City.” “Good.” Muttered the former general, staring out the shattered window to the towering columns of black smoke in the south. “We are currently too spread out here. It would be best if we moved ourselves and the Emperor to Yingkai’s headquarters. I trust you know where that is, captain?”
“Yes, General.” Replied the officer, brow furrowed. “But I’m not a captain, sir.”
“You are now.”
Foreign marines heroically defended the Litigation Quarter from repeated fanatic assaults until elements of the New Army arrived
Author’s Note: Swords and Societies
I have a feeling that I’ve left some people behind with the various kinds of bladed weapons in this chapter, so a brief rundown on Chinese swords is probably in order. To keep it short, a jian is a two-edge straight sword while a dao is a single-edged sword, usually curved though by how much varies. Jian’s were similar to medieval European straight swords and were about as commonplace, but by the late Qing dynasty they had become somewhat of a symbol for elites and nobles. The dao is similar to European sabers but had much more variation in their shapes and sizes. Shikai’s liuyedao, or willow leaf sabre, was one of the more commonplace and a standardized version had been adopted by the late Qing as a general-purpose military sword in the 1880’s. Zhenbing’s nandao is more of an oddity, as these sabers were normally only found in southern China and are considered to have been a recent (subjective, mid-1700’s) development. Generally shorter than most sabers their 2-2 ½ foot blades were incredibly wide, 4-5 inches from edge to spine, and heavily weighted towards the point. This, coupled with their long handles being able to accommodate two hands if needed, turned them into machetes on steroids, capable of massive, shattering blows, perfect for boarding actions since it combined the properties of a sword and axe.
As for sword combat, while western militaries had decided sometime around the American Civil war that dueling was stupid and mostly gave up on sword drills, China didn’t really have the luxury of choice. Mid to Late 1800’s China was one of the few places in the world that still had somewhat organized piracy and banditry, so sword duels in combat were still relatively frequent, and with their semi-traditional enemy of Japan having an almost fanatic opinion about bladed weapons in modern combat, China stuck with equipping and training soldiers and sailors with swords until the 1950’s. I figured that Zhenbing being a southern boy and a naval officer with experience fighting the Japanese and pirates, he would probably go with the nandao as his sword of choice.
As for the Societies, it is really difficult to paint them in a positive light. While generalized, effectively everything I’ve wrote about them is true and while not every single one of them was a rebellious, bandit led, crime ring, nearly all of them were and if I tried to list every group and their personal beef with the Imperial Court this chapter would rival the Bible in terms of size. Yes, some were made up of ostracized minorities of Chinese society, some of these groups were largely pacifistic and only wanted to be left alone to practice whatever they thought or believed, and some of these pacifistic groups were unfairly persecuted by the Court. However, most of the Societies were bandit groups or organized crime syndicates, they were responsible for several dozen rebellions, they did act similar to the Italian mafia, they did lead an attempted revolt in 1900 against the western powers and modernized portions of the country (with the backing of Empress Dowager Cixi’s government no less), and they did eventually go on to become the Triads that still plague modern China. Making them look good would be like praising Al Capone and his mob.
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Post by ryan201 on Jun 12, 2020 1:21:02 GMT -6
Greetings from China, and hats off for an accurate and gripping depiction of the huge maelstrom that marked the twilight of the Qing - or should I say what should have been the twilight of the Qing. One thing I will note is that in lieu of "bastard rìběn", a more common derogatory term used would be 倭寇 "Wōkòu" (a reference to 13th to 16th century Japanese pirates), or "Dongyangren" (lit. People of the East Sea) for a more neutral tone. Still, that's just me nitpicking - eagerly awaiting the next chapter!
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Post by ieshima on Jun 17, 2020 18:07:25 GMT -6
It is uncertain if this message will reach you, or if any reply will be allowed to return. The situation here in the capital has gone beyond serious. Imperial troops have driven off the attackers around the Litigations, but it is uncertain what the city outside is like. All Europeans have been confined within the Quarter, which has been surrounded by soldiers of the Chinese New Army, ostensibly for our protection. Communication with President and the Emperor has been stilted. I am formally requesting that you dispatch relief forces to Peking at once. Any delay may be too late. God save the Queen. -Telegraph from Sir Claude Maxwell MacDonald, British Minister to China, to Admiral Sir Edward Seymour, June 13th, 1900
Peking, Imperial China, June 16th, 1900
“The attacks and restrictions upon His Majesty’s citizens will not stand, President Shikai.” Grumbled the German diplomat sitting across the desk. He had been the second ambassador to demand an audience with the Emperor, after the British, and was the second to be firmly rebuffed and sent to the President instead. Unlike the British minister, who had been cold and stiffly formal during their meeting, Baron Clemens von Kettler was effectively the opposite, entering the meeting with a bit in his mouth. If there wasn’t a list of potential demands in the briefcase his aid had placed next to his chair, Shikai would eat his shoes.
“I whole heartedly agree with your feelings on these unjustifiable attacks, Minister.” Replied the former general grimly, the guttural German uncomfortable in his mouth. “Those responsible for them will be brought to justice. However, until the rebellion has been put down, I must insist that all German citizens remain within the Quarter for their own safety. You have my word that the restrictions will be lifted soon.” “Your word does nothing to prevent the fact that your government allowed these rabid peasants to attack and kill His Majesty’s subjects. Their deaths, and the destruction of the Empire’s property, must be answered for, President Shikai.” Claimed the baron haughtily, his image slightly ruined by the bandage wrapped loosely around his head. It was both lucky and unfortunate that the blow to his skull hadn’t killed the man, Shikai mused. On the one hand, it would have permanently removed a persistent annoyance. On the other, the death of the ambassador would have led to even further demands being made by Berlin, as well as a replacement worse than the arrogant nobleman.
Baron Clemens von Ketteler “I have been granted the authority to enter negotiations with your government regarding suitable reparations for the injuries suffered by my nation.” Smirked the German as he reached down and opened his briefcase. A sheaf of papers appeared and thank the Jade Emperor for that, boot leather was certainly not the most palatable thing to come from a cow. “These,” The paper crinkled softly as it was indulgently tossed onto the desk. “Are the Kaiser’s requests.”
Shikai looked down briefly, a lifetime of absorbing battlefield information at a glance serving him well. Expansion of the German concessions in Shandong. Total control over all railroads between Qingdao and Peking. Establishment of a permanent military base outside the walls of Peking, to be built and paid for by the Court. A massive sum of silver, to be paid in installments over the next 50 years. Nothing that he hadn’t expected. More importantly, nothing that the British hadn’t already demanded, which meant that he could repeat exactly what he had done to them. The ex-general carefully picked up the documents, flipped through the top few pages in a show of reading them, and then unceremoniously dumped the lot into the wastebin. “China,” Stated Shikai, returning the smirk to the gobsmacked nobleman. “Will not be making any concessions or reparations now, or ever again, baron. You may inform your government of that. Now, get the hell out of my office.”
Excerpts from The Dragon Defiant, Imperial China from 1900 to 1915, Chapter 3: The Summer of 1900
The Rebellion against the West, as it became known, existed in two parts. The first part was the violent and bloody uprising against the new, constitutionalist government and the simultaneous attacks against the many foreigners living in China. Despite the devastation wrought by the peasant revolt was not quite as extensive as it could have been, thanks in large part to the swift and brutal campaign waged by the expanded New Army, it was still widespread and damaging, particularly as much of the attacks were targeted against foreigners and Christian converts. While the deaths of over 600 westerners was shocking, those suffered by the rapidly growing Chinese Christians may never be known. Conservative estimates place the deaths at over twenty-five thousand, while some authors on the subject argue that the toll may be closer to forty thousand. Mass graves are still being found to this day.
The second part of the Rebellion followed on the heels of the revolt. President Shikai’s refusal to concede any demands of concessions or reparations for the damages wrought upon the foreigners was a stunning reversal of decades of precedence. Prior to this, China was repeatedly forced to make increasingly humiliating concessions to the dominant western powers after every misdeed or act of violence against a foreign citizen. Attempts to fight back against this treatment were swiftly put down, the archaically equipped Imperial forces being no match for modern armies. However, this situation was different, for the balance of power had shifted suddenly and sharply in favor of the Chinese.
Unlike previous incidents, China was now in possession of both a modern navy and a modern army. While the expanded New Army was still small compared to its western contemporaries, it had the advantages of recent, hard won experience in modern combat against Russia and Japan, a leadership comprising of some of the best generals China had to offer, and, most important of all, it was actually in China. Local western forces were greatly outnumbered, and any reinforcements would take weeks to arrive. Likewise, the Chinese navy, now headed by the brand-new battleships Henan and Guizhou, was certainly smaller than the giant Royal Navy or Kreigsmarine fleets. But its size was enough to guarantee its dominance over even the combined strength of the local western squadrons on station in or near China. This newfound military strength was Shikai’s ace in the hole. Reasoning that the westerners hadn’t realized just how far China had progressed in the past two years, the President risked everything and made a statement that would change the face of the world. China’s sudden act of defiance sent shockwaves across the globe, as the major powers of the world woke up to find that it was no longer a toothless, aged dragon, but had, in fact, found a reasonable pair of dentures. The response of the ever-volatile Kaiser Wilhelm II is already known the world over, and bares little need for repetition. It is still uncertain how Chancellor Viktor zu Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst managed to restrain his monarch’s attempt at open warfare, but it can be assumed that the cost was high for the elderly statesman, given his rather forced retirement in October of the same year. Needless to say, Sino-German relations were not improved by the blatant, and downright dismissive, refusal. Amazingly, no actions were taken to halt the construction of the three battleships still being built in AG Vulcan’s yards despite massive outcry among the German public. While is cannot be confirmed as fact, it is suspicious that a surprising amount of unexplained debts in the Chinese Navy’s accounting books line up quite neatly with a sudden influx into AG Vulcan’s coffers.
The British reaction was somewhat more measured, largely due to the steady buildup of the German Navy, Queen Victoria’s steadily decreasing health, and the continued difficulties the nation was facing in the Second Boer War. While certainly annoyed by Shikai’s refusal to of any reparations, this was tempered by the equal treatment given to all the powers. In an uncharacteristic display of restraint, the normally volatile Prime Minister Salisbury adopted a more reasoned attitude towards the affair. Britain would not pressure China into acceding to its demands, on the principle that opening a second confrontation on the other side of the world wasn’t a good idea and that a wary if friendly China was better than a resentful one. However, the Royal Navy would increase the number of ships serving on the China Station, just in case. France, Russia, and Japan, all of whom had forced concessions from China in the past over similar issues, reacted quite predictably over the sudden change of events. Diplomacy became chilled, with extremely formal requests made through the various litigations and embassies suggesting that President Shikai was perhaps overstepping his bounds and that he should reconsider his stance on the lack of reparations. The equally frosty replies stating that the matter was not up for discussion, signed and sealed with the Emperor’s personal mark alongside that of Shikai’s, effectively finished that particular line of questioning. The United States, surprisingly, was the only major power to not raise a fuss over China’s refusals. Content with their recent gains in the Spanish-American war and the booming economy under President McKinley’s reforms, the USA sleepily grunted a few, halfhearted demands and then rolled back into its bed of isolation at their rejection. If anything, trade between the States and China increased, with hundreds of scholars, businessmen, and fortune seekers arriving in coastal ports to make their living in the new China. However, documents in the Library of Congress that were recently unrestricted reveal just how close the United States came to ordering a military intervention into the country. It was only thanks to a flare up in the still broiling Philippine Rebellion that permanently shelved the idea, despite the urging of Vice-President Roosevelt. As for the revolt, while the capital and the majority of the cities in northern provinces had been quickly cleared of the rebellion, much of the countryside had not. Wang Yingkai, High General and a former protegee of Shikai, was ordered to take the new Grey Standard Army, the now greatly expanded and renamed New Army, and quash the rebellion. The resulting campaign showed the world just how far China had come in such a short time, with foreign observers stating that, aside from some local differences and a few minor faults, the Grey Standard army could have easily been in the service of Germany or France. At the forefront of these efforts was a new, special unit handpicked by Shikai, their flag of pitch black often leading assaults against the strongholds of the rebellion. The Societies quickly learned that when the Black Banner was on the field it was better to surrender than to fight, as the elite troops who marched under it would not accept prisoners once the battle started. Baring a handful of rebel cells who escaped into Czarist Mongolia, the attempted revolution was put down by late November.
Troops of the Grey Standard Army’s 3rd Division, 1st Corps, on drill parade, August 18th, 1901
With the immediate threat having been handled, Shikai was able to breathe a sigh of relief and continue with his plans for China. Thanks to the blazes started by the rebels, extensive parts of Peking’s Inner and Outer cities had been destroyed. Using this to their advantage, the new government hired dozens of western architects with explicit orders to turn the capital into the envy of Europe. While much of the city was still ashes and charred beams or endless stretches of empty foundations and construction yards, the future skyline of Asian inspired Haussmann architecture would become one of the most distinct in the world. The massive Parisian style boulevards had the added benefit of being too wide for anyone to build barricades or roadblocks, the Court having learned from the slogging urban combat that took place during the revolt.
Like its imperial neighbor, the port city of Tientsin had also suffered at the hands of fire and rebellion, losing large portions of its urban center. It would become the home of massive industry, as taels of silver were poured into it. Expansion and modernization of the ancient Ming harbor at the mouth Hai river of the was taken in hand, and the largely abandoned Grand Canal that had once connected Peking to Shanghai was given new life as modern steam-dredgers began chewing their way through the sludge that choked it. All along its banks, factories and workshops began to shoot up into the sky. The new Changxing Naval Base was declared completed in March, its official opening being graced by the Guangxu Emperor himself in one of his rare, though rapidly becoming more commonplace, excursions from the Imperial City. Also in attendance was the newly commissioned battleship Anhui, having just arrived from Germany, her officers fresh from classes in Britain. In all, China was thriving as the summer of 1901 arrived. The rebellion was finished, the army and navy were strong and growing stronger, the initial reforms were beginning to pay off as the economy started to expand, and while relations with the west were certainly cold it was better than nothing. There was only one concern. In the confusion of the attacks on the Imperial City, the Empress Dowager had vanished.
Author’s Note: Baron von Kettler and the Rebellion A minor noble from Eastern Germany, von Kettler was the head of the German Litigation (not quite an embassy, about one step below it, it’s complicated and has to do a lot with global politics and international standing at the turn of the century) to Imperial China in 1900. His personality can be summed up as hotheaded, arrogant, impulsive, and socially blind. After recommending Berlin militarily intervene in China just prior to the Boxer Rebellion, he took things a little bit further by personally torturing and executing a Chinese kid who was caught running messages for the Boxers, shooting the boy in the back of the head in the street in front of the German Litigation complex. This sparked riots across the capital. He received his comeuppance a few days later when he was dragged from his carriage on route to the Imperial City by a group of Chinese soldiers. They beat the Prussian out of him, then promptly cut off his head and stuck it on spear. Can’t say I blame them. I’ve opted to keep him alive, mainly because having a historical self-righteous jerk with some authority and a massive ego is a convenient story device.
The Boxer Rebellion was, arguably, simultaneously the most warranted, the most brutal, and the most confusing rebellion in history. There is no single issue that resulted in most of northeastern China revolting against the Western Concessions and spreading Christianity, but the origin can be roughly narrowed down to China’s defeat in the Sino-Japanese war and the famine that started in its aftermath. The various secret Societies scattered through the northeast used the (mostly) warranted anger of the general populace to their advantage, molding it into a firestorm directed at the western powers, their ministers, and the new Chinese Christians. This erupted into a general peasant uprising, which then began attacking westerners and western property. They also massacred thousands of Chinese Christians, burning entire towns to the ground with people barricaded in their houses. The death toll wasn’t an exaggeration. Neither were the mass graves. We still don’t know how many innocent converts were killed.
Eventually the revolt marched on Peking with Empress Dowager Cixi, seeing an opportunity to finally remove the Europeans from China, declaring war on the various foreign powers in response to a pre-emptive attack on a series of Chinese forts at Taku. This was answered by the formation of the Eight Nation Alliance, the only time that Germany, Great Britain, the USA, Japan, Austria-Hungary, Italy, Spain, and Russia ever agreed on anything, landing expeditionary forces that quickly began marching on Peking. Adding further insult to approaching obliteration, all of the Imperial governors in southern China took one look at the sheer amount of hurt that was heading the Empress Dowager’s way and promptly declared neutrality for the duration of the conflict, shattering the country’s faith in the Qing. This little act of self-preservation indirectly led to a revolt that finally overthrew the dynasty for good in 1912, creating the Chinese Republic. The Eight-Nation Alliance captured Peking, rescuing the defenders of the Litigation Quarters, which had been under a very complicated siege for nearly two months (when the general you put in charge of killing the westerners you outnumber 50 to 1 doesn’t want to kill the westerners, you screwed up somewhere in job delegation). They then forced the Empress Dowager to sign the Boxer Protocols, which basically gave Europe free reign to do whatever it wanted in China.
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Post by thefleetofoceans on Jun 20, 2020 14:24:59 GMT -6
And the excellence continues, keep up the good work sir!
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Post by ieshima on Jun 20, 2020 20:00:47 GMT -6
ryan201: Glad to see that most of my horrific attempts at Romanized Chinese are working out. Thanks for the tip with the derogatory insults, and for the kind words about the work so far.
thefleetofoceans: Thank you for the support, chapter five should go up this coming Wednesday.
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Post by ieshima on Jun 24, 2020 11:24:18 GMT -6
The Black Banner troops were nominally China’s elite forces in the new Grey Standard army, in much the same way that grenadiers were a century before. They headed countless assaults against rebel strongholds in the later months of 1900, earning the respect of the European observers for their tenacity and ruthlessness. They were the new Imperial Guard of the revitalized Chinese Empire, the ideal that thousands of young recruits aspired to be. In reality, they were personal army of Yuan Shikai, formed of soldiers and officers entirely loyal to the former general, and heaven have mercy on you if you crossed him, for the Black Banner would not. -A Legacy of Rome, Dictators through History, Random House, 1989
Excerpts from The Dragon Defiant, Imperial China from 1900 to 1915, Chapter 5: The Eight Banners
The difficulty in explaining the Eight Banners of the Qing Dynasty is that there is no comparable western counterpart that comes close to the complexity that they had. To a member of the Imperial court, the Banners represented eight distinct power blocks of ever-changing, shifting, and twisting alliances of endless betrayals and intrigue. To the average Chinese citizen, the Banners were nobles and elites, so far above them in power, influence, rank, and cruelty that they might as well be on the moon. To the military, the Banners were fat, lazy shysters, forever resting on the laurels of their distant warrior ancestors and about half as capable as said laurels in combat. To the foreigners, the Banners represented both the greed and the hedonistic stagnation of China, more than willing to sell their country or their souls to maintain their lives of luxury and power. To Yuan Shikai, they were a massive roadblock in his path and annoying thorn in his back, one that had pricked him one too many times but was impossible to remove painlessly.
The original Eight Banners came about in the early 1600’s in the area that is known as Manchuria, now the northeastern-most part of China. At that point in time, Manchuria was the home of the Jurchin tribes, dozens of semi-nomadic farming clans with a favored pastime of raiding the northernmost Chinese provinces, often to devastating effect. The only reprieve that the Ming Dynasty had from these constant attacks was the fact that the Jurchin tribes had fierce internal rivalries, meaning that they were just as likely to attack each other. This changed in 1593.
One Jurchin chieftain, Nurhaci, had managed to gain dominance over large swaths of land near the Yalu River. This shift in the normally balanced intertribal conflict resulted in several other Jurchin tribes banding together in a coalition to destroy Nurhaci and his tribe. Despite being outnumbered, Nurhaci successfully defeated and conquered the coalition tribes, adding them to his steadily growing Khanate. By 1619, Nurhaci had successfully gathered the Jurchin people under his control but was unable to maintain stability due to the continuing skirmishes between tribes. He quickly realized that it would be impossible to truly unify the Jurchins as they were, and gave orders that would continue to impact Asia centuries later. The tribes were to be broken apart at the family level and then thoroughly mixed with one another, forming new clans of roughly 300 households each. These clans were then grouped by fives in battalions, with ten battalions forming each of the four banners: Yellow, White, Red, and Blue.
It is impossible to describe just how important and massive this upheaval was for the Jurchins. In an instant, Nurhaci had destroyed centuries of tribal rivalries. Within a few years the old tribes were gone, scattered and mixed and shuffled so thoroughly that it was impossible to revert them. Cousins who had lived in the same village together for decades found themselves part of entirely different clans, often separated by hundreds of miles and now surrounded by those who just months before would have been enemies. There was every reason for this to fail, for a massive uprising to remove Nurhaci and reform the tribes. Yet, somehow, it worked. The new clans bonded over shared traditions and struggles, unifying into group and one people.
To further cement this national unity, Nurhaci commissioned a new language, mixing Mongolian and Mandarin Chinese, and forged a name for his people: Manchus. In just two decades, one man had taken a handful of disparate warring tribes and turned them into a single nation under his total control. The four banners grew and expanded until Nurhaci was forced to split them further, creating four new bordered banners, with the original colors now ensconced in bands of red or white. These Eight Banners made up everything in Manchurian society, with every Manchu belong to one of the Banners. They dictated who you lived with, who you married, who you rode into battle with, and which factions at court you supported or apposed. Everything in a Manchurian’s life revolved around the Banners, including war, which rapidly came over the horizon.
While Nurhaci was reshaping an entire society, the Ming Dynasty to his south was in the process of imploding into a series of pathetically weak emperors and increasingly numerous revolts. The Manchu Khan used this turmoil to his advantage, raiding into northern China to expand his growing empire. Here the Banners played another important role, for when Nurhaci wanted to raise his troops for war, they marched, camped, and fought as banners. While Nurhaci never lived to see his people rise to their greatness, dying in 1626, his descendants would continue to build upon his legacy and, with the Eight Banners forming their army, conquered the Ming to establish their own dynasty, the Qing.
Under Qing rule, the clans of the Eight Banners thrived, with positions of power, wealth, and influence granted to them in exchange for service as the elite bodyguard army of the Emperors, protecting them in their campaigns in the west and south. This continued expansion of the Qing Empire saw a further division of the Banners, this time based on their military leadership. When the early Emperors marched to battle, they took personal command of three of the Banners: Plain Yellow, Plain White, and Bordered Yellow. This divided the Banners into the three Upper Banners and the five Lower Banners, the logical hierarchy of this spreading to the standing of the individual clans. A clan from one of the Upper Banners was inherently better than a clan from one of the Lower Banners.
However, by 1900 the Banners glory had long since faded into tattered, muddy browns. As time progressed and extended campaigns became less and less prevalent compared to periods of peace, the once fearsome military power of the Banners dwindled to nothing. After categorically failing to stand up to the British expeditionary forces during the First Opium War and proving embarrassingly unable to put down a pair of peasant revolts that were eventually quashed by local militia, the Banners were completely dismissed as an effective fighting force. A Banner warrior, or bannerman, was considered above average if he knew which end of a sword to grab and was elite if he could draw a bow once a week. The true power of the Banners now lay in their inherited wealth, authority, and courtly influence, all of which they used to their own ends.
Unfortunately for the Guangxu Emperor, his reforms and efforts to modernized threatened that wealth and authority. Confiscation of unused military land, the abolition of the Confucian examinations, the elimination of sinecure positions, and the establishment of western education as the new standard, all attacked of his work the Banners. To the Banners, this was a direct assault on the very heart of Manchurian society, something that the Emperor, as a Manchu himself, should have known. To the Emperor, the Banners represented almost everything that was wrong with Chinese society and everything that he was trying to fix. Corruption, cronyism, laziness, and greed, with all of it achieved at the detriment of China. Conflict was inevitable.
Ronglu, Grand Secretary and leader of the plot to overthrow the Emperor, was a respected and high-ranking member of the Plain White Banner. His leadership convinced hundreds of other highly influential Banner elites to support or join his machinations. His subsequent death at the hands of Yuan Shikai, as well as the deaths of dozens of his fellow plotters at the general’s order, and Shikai’s following enforcement of the Emperor’s reforms ensured that the Banners would never compromise with him. Their normally divided state, the constant feuding and Court politics usually ensuring that any conflict was kept as a largely internal affair, was immediately overturned in favor of a unified front of resistance against the new government’s efforts.
The situation that followed Shikai’s destruction of the planned coup was tenuous, to say the least. Thanks to the thorough gutting of most of the Imperial Court and the inherent instability that came with restructuring the government, the Emperor and Shikai deliberately refused to confront the eventual problem that the Banners posed. A single misstep could have plunged the country into an open civil war. Therefore, the blatant guilt of the Banners was ignored, and massive concessions and loopholes were made in order to ensure that they remained placated until Shikai was ready to deal with them on his terms. Unfortunately, the Banners were not placated for long.
The rebellion of 1900 was directly supported by the remaining conservative holdouts in the Imperial Court, the Banners chief among them. The sprawling clan estates surrounding Peking became secret encampments for the uprising, with hundreds of Society members and peasants squirreled away in basements and behind palace walls. The clans supplied them with food, equipment, money, warriors, and, most importantly of all, access into the Imperial City in the heart of Peking. This allowed the revolt to erupt literally in the cabinet room of the new government, attempting to cut the head off the snake before it could react and bite them. The attempt failed, and in doing so ensured that the world would realize just what would happen if you crossed Yuan Shikai.
Black Banner troops on the move
Near Peking, Imperial China, June 14th, 1901
The wall burst apart in a hail of lethal splinters, spear-sized chunks of wood mowing down anyone unfortunate to be close by. Through the smoking rubble came a shouting hoard of soldiers, bayonets gleaming. They were met with a scattered hail of arrows, bolts, and bullets. Dozens fell, cut down by the heavy slugs, the poison on the bolts and arrows dropping them slightly slower. It wasn’t enough, and the black-uniformed troops slammed into the barricades with a smash of blades and buttstocks. The melee was fierce, but the old armor dragged up from the storerooms proved its worth and turned dozens of thrusts, giving the defenders the advantage to drive off the attack. It was the fourth attempt in the last hour.
Tasiha wiped the sweat and grime from his face, looking over his few remaining men with accepted defeat. The hastily built walls of furniture and debris were draped with the corpses of both sides, bannermen and Black Banner troops alike. The assault had begun at dawn the day before, the bombardment shattering the outer walls of the estate and cratering the courtyards and gardens. There was no element of surprise. Not only was the attack expected, the Black Banner forces had, in their arrogance, deliberately surrounded the estate in full view of the defenders, daring them to attack. Now, as dusk was fading, Tasiha, head of the Gūwalgiya Clan of the Plain White Banner, was left to stand amidst the ruins of his ancestral home.
The dao in his hand was slick with blood, having been unsheathed since the first assault on the inner courtyard of the imposing stone bathhouse. It was the last holdout of resistance in the estate compound, the few dozen men still standing representing all of the clan that was still within China. In the distance, Tasiha could see the towing columns of smoke from other estates as they, too, burned and fell to the government forces. Only his clan, Gūwalgiya, one of the Eight High clans of the empire, was graced by the presence of the Black Banner. It was an honor earned by his clan’s outright resistance to the destruction wrought by the traitorous Emperor and his puppet master Shikai. His cousin, Grand Secretary Ronglu, had been the first to fall at the hands of the new regime, and his youngest sons had died in the devastating street battles that raged through Peking the summer before. Now it was his turn to join the heavenly court.
It would not be the end of his clan. His heir had led the rest of his clan, his wife, consorts, and daughters included, out of China and deep into the vast emptiness of Russian Siberia. They, and the other surviving clans, would ensure that the Banners would not fall this day. He, on the other hand, would make this final stand against the seemingly endless black-clad soldiers alongside the last true Manchurians. He was far too old and far too important to make the journey, and he knew that if his body was not dragged before Shikai, the former general would never stop hunting his clan. Better to take as many enemies with him as he could.
There was a shout, then a roar as a fifth wave of soldiers flooded into the courtyard from the gapping holes blown in the walls. The shower of arrows and bullets did nothing to slow them, the few dozen defenders unable to stem the tide before it broke over and through the barricades. Tasiha met the bayonet of one of the attackers with his dao, the long, curved sword whipping the rifle down before darting up to gut the unfortunate soldier. A second took his place and met a similar fate with his throat slashed by the older bannerman. A third was stabbed through the heart, the sword becoming stuck in the corpse’s ribs. A fourth attacked before the blade could be freed, his bayonet punching though the armor at the left shoulder.
Tasiha growled, ripping his sword free and bashing the pommel into his attacker’s face repeatedly. He felt the bones crunch inwards, the body collapsing and dragging the bayonet out with a grinding screech against his armor. Tasiha howled as the razor-sharp blade left his shoulder. Clutching a hand to his wound, he whirled as someone grabbed his arm. It was one of his men, dragging away from the barricade towards a small knot of their companions, barely a dozen, holding an alcove on the near wall. The last survivors.
Twice they were stopped. Twice they cut down the annoyances. They reached their fellow clan members, a ragged cheer rising from parched throats as the clan head made it to safety. Their small bubble of calm, an indented overhang cut into the bathhouse wall that normally held decorative vases and low chairs, was surrounded. Less then twenty feet away stood Black Banner soldiers, rifle barrels reflecting the fires and dying sunset. One man, a sneering officer, his sparkling new golden rank boards designating him as a captain, stepped forward.
“Duke Tasiha.” He stated, contempt evident in every silky word. “His Imperial Majesty has deigned to grant you an offer of mercy. Surrender yourself to his judgement now and you will be shown leniency for your crimes.”
Tasiha glared back. “And what of my men?”
The captain’s grin turned rictus. “The Emperor said nothing of them.”
The bannermen at the clan head’s back stiffened, hands tightening on their weapons. He straightened, staring the grinning officer in the eye. “Then you may tell the Emperor that his offer has been rejected.”
“A shame,” the captain simpered back. “Your traitorous sons said the same thing at Peking.” The solder lifted his blood covered sword, his men taking aim. “On my command.”
“No.” Tasiha growled back. “On mine.”
The clan head charged forward, his handful of men alongside him, as the sword slashed down and rifles roared out into the night.
Author’s Note: The Eight Banners
This has been the most difficult chapter to write so far. I didn’t cover a tenth of what I wanted too, but if I did it could be published as a 300-page history book. Now. The Banners. Where to start?
The Eight Banners are probably the most complicated societal construct ever created by humanity. In effect, they were the Manchu people in their entirety. If you were a Manchu, you were from a clan under one of the Eight Banners. The only exceptions were the Imperial Family and anyone unfortunate enough to be cast out and banished from their clan. The Manchu identity so closely revolved around the Banners that the Chinese word for Manchu, Romanized to manju, fell out of favor and the word qiren, literally meaning bannerman, took its place. Even so, the Banners weren’t just limited to Manchus but included Han Chinese, Mongols, Russians, Turks (not the Ottoman Turks, the central Asian Turks they are descended from) and even a few Japanese and Koreans. All of them were eventually referred to and treated as Manchus (with a very big eventually tacked on there. It took a lot of Imperial decrees and a few reforms to get there, but it happened).
Each of the Banners had a High Clan that led them. They were considered almost untouchables, the elite of the elite of high society. The Gūwalgiya were the High Clan of the Plain White Banner and were considered to be the second-most-important family in the Empire after the Qing Dynasty’s own Aisin Gioro clan. Unfortunately, any accurate lists of clan members are either not available online, are not available outside of China, or have been lost. Therefore, Tasiha is an entirely fictional character.
I can’t really explain just how important the Banners were, not only to the Manchus but to Chinese society. They were everything.
And Shikai just curb-stomped them. With his own brand-new Banner taking care of the biggest problem. Yikes.
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