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September 10, 210 B.C.:  The Emperor Qin Shi Huang died…but for how long?

How would you react if I said that George Washington was a vampire, Charlemagne a demon and  Peter the Great an extra-terrestrial?  You would think that I was joking or psychotic (although the two are not mutually exclusive).  But what if I made all those aspersions against Qin Shi Huang, the first Emperor of China?  You could say, “Yes, I saw that in a movie.”  He has been a featured villain in “My Date With a Vampire” and “Stargate.”  A  computer-animated version of him recently threatened mankind in “The Mummy:  Tomb of the Dragon Emperor.”  Don’t worry, Brendan Fraser saved you.

So why does Hollywood and the West so hate this Chinese leader who forged feuding states into a great empire, unified his realm with a common language, and built the Great Wall as well as that fabulous tomb with a life-sized terra cotta army to guard him in the afterlife?  Actually, we don’t.  From our perspective, he was so cool that we named the country for him.  Yes, the western pronunciation (equal parts error and arrogance) used to say “Chin” instead of the correct Qin.  We now know better although we have to yet call the country Qina.

He was born in 259 BC and with the less exalted name of Ying Zheng; Qin Shi Huang was a title he would bestow upon himself .  At the time, there was no China but rather seven vying kingdoms.   Qin was one of these kingdoms, and considered a rather backward state.  If dismissed as a barbarian, Ying Zheng embraced the role.  Ascending at the age of 13 to the throne, Zheng made war his study and policy.  His army was better-armed and trained than his rivals, and he eschewed the etiquette that had governed warfare among the kingdoms.  Traditional war had been waged as a ritualized mass duel.  Zheng did not believe in a fair fight; he preferred to be a victorious barbarian than a dead gentleman.  In 221 B.C., by the time he was 38, he had conquered the other six kingdoms.  With no modesty but complete accuracy, he proclaimed himself the First Emperor of Qin:  Qin Shi Huang.

There had been Chinese emperors before him, but they were kings with more pretense than power, asserting a degree of precedence over the other rulers.  But Qin Shi Huang was the real–and unrivaled–sovereign of an empire, and he was going to rule every bit of it.  To govern over this large and diverse realm, he established a centralized bureaucracy.  The empire was divided into provinces, the provinces into prefectures; the corps of administrators had limited powers, sufficient to do the emperor’s will but not challenge it.   The former kingdoms were to be integrated into one.  Where there had seven different systems of weights and measures, there now would only be one uniform system.  Where there had been seven different dialects, now there would be just one  language unifying the educated of China.  Of course, the peasants could maintain their idiomatic garble, so long as they obeyed commands in the official Chinese.  In fact, Qin Shi Huang  had a project for them.  In the north, nomadic tribes threatened China, and the Emperor did not like any barbarians but himself.  He assigned 300,000 laborers to build a wall along the northern border.  I don’t think that particular wall needs a formal introduction.

The Emperor died in 210 B.C..   His tomb, surrounded  by 8000 terra cotta warriors, now commands the tribute of  the world’s tourists.  Unfortunately, the emperor’s  heirs seemed unnaturally eager for their own tombs.  They proceeded to kill off each other without gaining control of the empire.  The provinces revolted and China collapsed into 18 kingdoms.  The last of  Shi Huang’s dynasty abdicated in 207 B.C., hoping to avoid execution.  He only delayed it for a year, but his captor was to establish a dynasty that would last four centuries: the Han.  While  Qin rule may have lasted scarely 20 years, the example of Shi Huang has been followed for 2000 years.  The subsequent imperial dynasties would reestablish Shi Huang’s empire and most of his methods.

So how did Qin Shi Huang acquire the  diabolical  reputation that Hollywood loves to exploit?  However forceful and dynamic we might think him, the Chinese intellectuals hated him.  History, while often written by the victor, is always written by the literate.  These Chinese intellectuals condemn the Emperor for suppressing the teachings and writings of Confucius.  Shi Huang’s new empire had no place for the values and ideas of the old kingdoms; he regarded their contemplative nature and reverence for tradition as weaknesses.  The writings of Confucius were burned; on a number of occasions, so were Confucian scholars.  The suppression was so relentless that only incomplete works of Confucius now survive.  Of course, subsequent generations of Chinese scholars revered Confucius and so they reviled Shi Huang, condemning him for what he actually did as well anything they could imagine.

Their version of the Emperor was of shameful birth, the son of a pregnant concubine foisted upon a naive king.  And that duplicitous start was the portent of an evil life.  A demon in human form, he immersed himself in the black arts, aspiring to immortality.  (Given the quality of his heirs, an immortal emperor would have been preferable.)  According to one tale, Shi Huang took doses of mercury to attain eternal life.  Well, mercury certainly would stop him from getting any older.  He was all of 50 when he took up residence in his palatial tomb.

But could such a fiend stay dead?  He is still plotting crimes and avoiding assassination in Chinese films,  and Hollywood certainly keeps his supernational version vicariously alive.    But has China actually seen the return of the ruthless, dynamic, perhaps even charismatic tyrant?  Mao Zedong seems a likely reincarnation.

August 29th  On this day in 1842:  the Treaty of Nanking

At midnight, July 1, 1997, in an elaborate pageant that marked the end of a historical epic, the sovereignty of Hong Kong was transferred from Great Britain to China. Concluding their 156-year rule of the colony, the British departed with pomp and ceremony: splendid uniforms, regimental bands, and formal banquets. It is a British art. However, the Chinese were in business suits, and showed no nostalgia for the Victorian relics. Britain’s Prince Charles and China’s President Jiang Zemin stood on the same dais, the personifications of their countries in this historical act: the old empire was giving ground to the new world power.

Ironically, that was how the history of Hong Kong began. In the early 19th century, however, China was the old empire and Britain the new world power. China had become the relic of a great nation. When Europe was stirring from the Middle Ages, China’s might, culture and wealth were unmatched. In the 15th century an emperor had disbanded the Chinese navy. The outside world could not threaten his empire and had nothing to offer it. His arrogance would become China’s policy for the next four centuries. The Chinese civilization acclaimed by Marco Polo, the culture that invented gunpowder, the printing press and eyeglasses became complacent and stagnant. The Chinese had the first cannons but they had not improved them since the 16th century. Against the encroaching powers of Europe, China could not even defend herself. Foremost of these new powers was Great Britain.

In the 18th century, British ships were plying China’s shores, eager to trade for silk, porcelain and especially tea. This trade, however, was one way. China was selling but not buying. The imperial government regulated commerce, restricting European imports into the empire. Furthermore, China would only accept silver bullion as legal payment. (The Chinese had invented paper money but evidently did not trust anyone else’s.) This trade deficit with China–and the drain on bullion–was undermining Britain’s economy. British merchants, however, eventually found a way to reverse the trade imbalance: selling opium.

Smoking opium was a vice long known to China, and the opium poppy was easily cultivated in British-controlled India. (The local rajahs did not care, so long as the opium was only for export.) A ready supply of the drug increased the Chinese demand for it. In the 1770s, the British were importing 75 tons of opium a year into China; the imperial officials initially overlooked it. By the1830s, the opium traffic had grown to 1400 tons a year. Now, China was running a trade imbalance with Britain; worse, an estimated 4 million Chinese men were opium addicts. Confronted with this crisis, China sought to stop the opium trade.

In 1839 an imperial viceroy confiscated 1200 tons of opium from British merchants. He further threatened prosecution of traders and sailors involved in the drug traffic. The viceroy even wrote an open letter to Queen Victoria, criticizing her for permitting her barbarians to poison the Chinese people with opium. Her Majesty may never have seen the letter, but the British press certainly did. You can imagine the headlines: “Heathen Chinee Insults Our Queen”; “Opium Fiends Call Us Barbarians.” (Rupert Murdoch had his role models.) While the British government could hardly condone the specific opium trade, it could champion the general principles of the Free Market. Furthermore, it would never allow British subjects to be tried by a foreign power, especially one that insulted the Queen. So, for such impeccable causes as free trade, sovereignty and royal dignity, Britain went to war with China.

Britain had a population of 26 million; China had over 400 million people. Yet, it was China that proved hopelessly outmatched. Britain had the best navy in the world and her army was equipped with modern weapons. This conflict, known as the First Opium War lasted from 1839 until 1842 but only because the British were in no hurry. “I say, shall we take Canton this afternoon or would you rather play cricket?” With their unchallenged mobility and superior firepower, the British were free to blockade, raid and conquer at their leisure. In 1841, the British seized a large island a mile off the Southern coast of China. With its deep-sea anchorage this island–Hong Kong–made an excellent base. The war ended with the Treaty of Nanking, signed August 29, 1842; the humiliated Chinese basically turned over their ports and customs enforcement to the British, they paid for the confiscated opium, and ceded Hong Kong to its conquerors.

So, you can understand if, 156 years later, China’s President did not seem nostalgic for the departing British. Indeed, if he had a sense of whimsy, he was imagining a different history; with the fleet of Imperial China anchored in the Thames as Chinese merchants exploited the British addiction to tea.

“Hello, I’m Bob Costas, with Matt Lauer. We welcome you to our coverage of the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in Beijing, China.”

Matt: Thanks Bob. Our viewers would be interested to know that China is the most populous country in the world. It has 1.3 billion people. That is one fifth of the world’s population. China is approximately the same size as the United States, but it has four times the population. If you piled 1.3 billion Chinese people, one on top of the other…

Bob: This is fascinating but….

Matt: That would be 1,321,060 miles, which is the equivalent of three round trips to the moon.

Bob: Why don’t you calculate the number of teeth in China while I tell the viewers about the Opening Ceremonies. The opening ceremonies for this, the 29th Olympic Games of the modern era, will feature a spectacular pageant of theatre, art, dance, and history. It is the part of the Olympics for people who don’t like sports.

You will also see a procession of athletes from more than 400 nations. That actually is more than twice the number of real countries, but the Chinese are shamelessly padding the list. You will see Olympic delegations from the Shriners Club, the Church of Scientology, Carthage, and the Klingon Empire–which is made up entirely of finance majors at the University of Chicago.

Matt: China has approximately 41,600,000,000 teeth.

Bob: That’s great. Now calculate that in Fahrenheit. In the meantime, to explain China’s history, we have Eugene Finerman.

Eugene: Thank you, Bob. When China last had this many foreign delegations, it was in 1900 and called the Boxer Rebellion. At that time, Chinese nationalists wanted to express their appreciation of European and Japanese exploitation by massacring the “foreign devils.” I don’t know if history is going to repeat itself, but the Opening Ceremony has commenced with 2008 soldiers pounding drums.

Bob: This is a countdown to a massacre? Wouldn’t the world be appalled?

Eugene: If this turned out to be a sequel to the Boxer Rebellion, I think that two-thirds of the world would call it “payback.” Don’t overestimate Latin America’s, Africa’s and Asia’s sympathy for European imperialism.

Bob: But the leaders of the world are here. President Bush and Brian Williams. Wouldn’t the United States avenge their deaths?

Eugene: President Cheney would use it as a justification for war with Iran. The countdown is ending; we’ll see if the massacre begins.

Bob: Three, two, one….Nothing is happening.

Eugene: Well, they still may butcher us in our sleep. But at least we’ll die having first enjoyed a fabulous tableau of Chinese history.

Matt: Wait, Fahrenheit doesn’t make any sense.

Bob: Then calculate it in metric.

Eugene: China’s foremost film director Zhang Yimou conceived and produced this opening ceremony. Ironically, this may be Zhang’s introduction to the Chinese public. Most of his films are not permitted to be shown in China; his stories of societal hypocrisy, a corrupt oligarchy and an incompetent bureaucracy just lack that “feel-good” spirit the Chinese government expects in a movie.

And keeping with that “cheerful or die” spirit, I see that the tableau of Chinese history has just skipped from the Ming Dynasty to life after Mao. A tactful omission of five centuries. No Chinese stagnation, no foreign exploitation, no Opium Wars, no civil wars, no Japanese rampage, no Cultural Revolution. Most Americans won’t notice the difference, although they will miss a tribute to Charlie Chan.

Bob: The march of the Olympic delegations is about to begin. What should we look for?

Eugene: I would be curious to see what obscene gestures that President Bush will make.

Bob: Perhaps there is something hyperallergenic about the Russians, but he does seem to be rubbing his face with just one finger.

Eugene: But I think that crotch gesture may be a tribute to Italy.

Bob: And the Iranians just saw President Bush’s moon program.

Eugene: Is the FCC going to fine you?

Bob: Probably not. Janet Jackson was not the President. And now we going to Matt Lauer with an exclusive interview.

Matt: I am here with the President of the International Olympics Committee Jacques Rogge. Mr. President, as the world watches the opening ceremonies of these games, tell us your feelings about John Edward’s confession of adultery.

Topic I: The Depths of My Depravity

This weekend I attempted to corrupt an innocent mind by telling her that John Wesley had founded the Methodist School of Acting. I even offered her a famous example of Methodist acting:

“I couldah been a contendah–which would notah been possible if we was subject to predestinarian determinism. So my one-way ticket to palookaville was a mattah of Free Will.”

Topic II: What is Chinese for Aquitaine?

I recently discovered that China has a recycling policy. No, I am not referring to the use of human waste for fertilizer or packing material. (And keep in mind, the “compost’ on your Walmart purchases may not all be from China; Walmart rarely gives its employees washroom breaks.) My revelation occurred while watching the Chinese costume epic “Curse of the Golden Flower.”

Set in Medieval China (of course, that could be only 70 years ago), the film depicts a web of palace intrigues. The Empress and the Emperor are plotting against each other; their three sons are exploited as pawns but those young princes have machinations of their own. In the first 30 minutes, I saw one poisoning, one of those marvelously choreographed martial arts duels, and two seductions (one verging on incest). For all this hectic activity, something about the film seemed remarkably familiar. Suddenly, I recognized what it was: a Chinese version of “The Lion in Winter.”

As Mr. and Mrs. Tang, Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine have lost their sense of humor but gained a much better wardrobe. Tenth century China was richer and more sophisticated than twelfth century Europe. The Tangs’ casual opulence surpassed the best that the Plantagenets had to offer. But the Tang dynasty also seems more disfunctional than the Plantagenets. At the end of “The Lion in Winter”, Eleanor is going back to prison, the princes are in rebellion, but everyone is alive and in a comparatively good mood. As “The Curse of the Golden Flower” ends, the Emperor is still cheerful, but he has beaten to death one son, forced another to suicide, and driven the Empress mad. Spare the rod…

And I am looking forward to more Chinese recycling. I anticipate an epic about a headstrong if footbound heroine during the Taiping Rebellion: “Gong with the Yin”.

At midnight, July 1, 1997, in an elaborate pageant that marked the end of a historical epic, the sovereignty of Hong Kong was transferred from Great Britain to China. Concluding their 156-year rule of the colony, the British departed with pomp and ceremony: splendid uniforms, regimental bands, and formal banquets. It is a British art. However, the Chinese were in business suits, and showed no nostalgia for the Victorian relics. Britain’s Prince Charles and China’s President Jiang Zemin stood on the same dais, the personifications of their countries in this historical act: the old empire was giving ground to the new world power.

Ironically, that was how the history of Hong Kong began. In the early 19th century, however, China was the old empire and Britain the new world power. China had become the relic of a great nation. When Europe was stirring from the Middle Ages, China’s might, culture and wealth were unmatched. In the 15th century an emperor had disbanded the Chinese navy. The outside world could not threaten his empire and had nothing to offer it. His arrogance would become China’s policy for the next four centuries. The Chinese civilization acclaimed by Marco Polo, the culture that invented gunpowder, the printing press and eyeglasses became complacent and stagnant. The Chinese had the first cannons but they had not improved them since the 16th century. Against the encroaching powers of Europe, China could not even defend herself. Foremost of these new powers was Great Britain.

In the 18th century, British ships were plying China’s shores, eager to trade for silk, porcelain and especially tea. This trade, however, was one way. China was selling but not buying. The imperial government regulated commerce, restricting European imports into the empire. Furthermore, China would only accept silver bullion as legal payment. (The Chinese had invented paper money but evidently did not trust anyone else’s.) This trade deficit with China–and the drain on bullion–was undermining Britain’s economy. British merchants, however, eventually found a way to reverse the trade imbalance: selling opium.

Smoking opium was a vice long known to China, and the opium poppy was easily cultivated in British-controlled India. (The local rajahs did not care, so long as the opium was only for export.) A ready supply of the drug increased the Chinese demand for it. In the 1770s, the British were importing 75 tons of opium a year into China; the imperial officials initially overlooked it. By the1830s, the opium traffic had grown to 1400 tons a year. Now, China was running a trade imbalance with Britain; worse, an estimated 4 million Chinese men were opium addicts. Confronted with this crisis, China sought to stop the opium trade.

In 1839 an imperial viceroy confiscated 1200 tons of opium from British merchants. He further threatened prosecution of traders and sailors involved in the drug traffic. The viceroy even wrote an open letter to Queen Victoria, criticizing her for permitting her barbarians to poison the Chinese people with opium. Her Majesty may never have seen the letter, but the British press certainly did. You can imagine the headlines: “Heathen Chinee Insults Our Queen”; “Opium Fiends Call Us Barbarians.” (Rupert Murdoch had his role models.) While the British government could hardly condone the specific opium trade, it could champion the general principles of the Free Market. Furthermore, it would never allow British subjects to be tried by a foreign power, especially one that insulted the Queen. So, for such impeccable causes as free trade, sovereignty and royal dignity, Britain went to war with China.

Britain had a population of 26 million; China had over 400 million people. Yet, it was China that proved hopelessly outmatched. Britain had the best navy in the world and her army was equipped with modern weapons. This conflict, known as the First Opium War lasted from 1839 until 1842 but only because the British were in no hurry. “I say, shall we take Canton this afternoon or would you rather play cricket?” With their unchallenged mobility and superior firepower, the British were free to blockade, raid and conquer at their leisure. In 1841, the British seized a large island a mile off the Southern coast of China. With its deep-sea anchorage this island–Hong Kong–made an excellent base. The war ended with the Treaty of Nanking; the humiliated Chinese basically turned over their ports and customs enforcement to the British, they paid for the confiscated opium, and ceded Hong Kong to its conquerors.

So, you can understand if, 156 years later, China’s President did not seem nostalgic for the departing British. Indeed, if he had a sense of whimsy, he was imagining a different history; with the fleet of Imperial China anchored in the Thames as Chinese merchants exploited the British addiction to tea.