Mao: The Unknown Story

Her nurse also advised the new secretary that “she is particularly frightened of seeing strangers. If she sets eyes on you now, there will be big trouble.” For more than three months, the secretary lurked in his office. Then his predecessor left — in fact for prison. Next day, the new man was summoned: “I went into her office trembling with fear. I saw her reclining on a sofa, with her feet on a soft footstool, reading some documents in a languid manner.” After a few exchanges, “She raised her head, opened her eyes, and fixed me with a peevish, dissatisfied stare. She said: ‘You can’t talk to me standing. When you talk to me, your head can’t be higher than mine. I am sitting, so you should crouch down and talk to me. Didn’t they even tell you this rule?’ … So I crouched down …”

After the secretary answered one or two of her questions, Mme Mao snapped: “ ‘… You speak so loud, so fast, it’s like firing a machine-gun. It gives me a headache, and makes me sweat. If I fall ill because of your carelessness about the volume and rate of your speech, your responsibility will be too gigantic.’ She pointed at her forehead and said in a loud voice: ‘Look, you look, I’m sweating!’

“I lowered my voice and said: ‘Please forgive me. I will take care with my voice and speed.’

“Jiang Qing knitted her eyebrows … and shrieked loudly and impatiently: ‘What are you saying? I can’t hear you. Now your voice is too low. If I can’t hear you clearly, I will also become tense, and will also sweat …’ ” The secretary was waved away.

Life at close quarters with Mme Mao was a nightmare, as everyone around her whom we interviewed testified. She would send servants to jail at the drop of a hat for phantom crimes. When Chou En-lai went to her place, his entourage preferred to sit in their cars and freeze rather than go into her villa, in case they bumped into her, which could land them in disaster. Chou’s chief bodyguard, Cheng Yuan-gong, was in charge of security at a meeting she was coming to in 1968. Her staff asked him to have some food ready, so he invited her to eat first. He described what happened next: “She burst in on the premier and said: ‘Cheng Yuan-gong wanted to stop me from coming in. What’s going on here? What sort of meeting are you having?’ She yelled and screamed at the premier.” Chou had to spend hours straightening things out. Two days later she told Chou: “Cheng Yuan-gong is a scoundrel. He had a shady past. And he has always been trying to prevent me from seeing the premier …” The bodyguard had been with Chou for twenty-three years, but Chou had to get rid of him, and the man was packed off to detention, and then to a camp.

Mao knew what a monumental, time-consuming pain his wife was, as some people occasionally grumbled to him; and he knew that her behavior interfered with the smooth functioning of his regime. But for him it was worth it to keep everybody off balance and maintain a climate of insecurity and capriciousness, and to keep things on the paranoid track. With Mao himself, of course, she was as meek and quiet as a mouse. She feared him. Only he could do her harm.

IN 1969, WHEN Mao’s reconstructed regime was set up, Mao wound up the Small Group, keeping Mme Mao on as his attack dog. She had no administrative role. While on standby for Mao, she spent a lot of time playing cards, amusing herself with her pets, including a monkey (when pets were banned for everyone else), and riding in Beihai Park in the center of Peking, formerly a public park, now closed to the public. She watched foreign films practically every night — all, naturally, prohibited for ordinary Chinese.

Her lifestyle was the acme of extravagance. One of her hobbies was photography. For this she would get warships to cruise up and down, and anti-aircraft guns to fire salvos. Her swimming pools had to be kept permanently heated, and for one of them built exclusively for her, in Canton, mineral water was channeled from dozens of kilometers away. Roads were built specially for her to scenic mountain spots, often requiring extraordinary means. In one case, because her villa was nearby, the army engineers building the road were forbidden to use dynamite in case the explosions alarmed her, and they had to break the rocks manually. Planes were kept on tap for her every whim, even to fly a particular jacket that she suddenly felt like wearing from Peking to Canton, or a favorite chaise longue. Her special train, like Mao’s, would stop at will, snarling up the transport system. Far from feeling ashamed, she would say: “In order for me to have a good rest, and a good time, it is worth sacrificing some other people’s interests.”