upon both Empresses. Each character in these titles represents a grant
from the public funds of 100,000 taels per annum (say, at that time,
£20,000). Thus the Empress Consort became known by the title of Tzŭ
An (Motherly and Restful) while Yehonala became Tzŭ Hsi (Motherly and
Auspicious), one being the Empress of the Eastern, and the other of
the Western Palace. At various subsequent periods, further honorific
characters, in pairs, were added unto them, so that, on her seventieth
birthday, Tzŭ Hsi was the proud possessor of sixteen. On that occasion
she modestly and virtuously refused the four additional characters
with which the Emperor Kuang-Hsü (not unprompted) desired to honour
her. Tzŭ An lived to receive ten in all; both ladies received two on
their thirtieth birthdays, two on the Emperor T’ung-Chih’s accession,
two just before his death in recognition of their “ministrations”
during his attack of small-pox, and two on their fortieth birthdays.
Tzŭ Hsi received two more on her fiftieth birthday, two on Kuang-Hsü’s
marriage, and two on her sixtieth birthday. Tzŭ Hsi’s complete official
designation at the end of her life was not easy to remember. It ran,
“Tzŭ-Hsi-Tuan-yu-K’ang-yi-Chao-yu-Chuang-ch’eng-Shou-kung-Ch’in-hsien-
Ch’ung-hsi-Huang Tai-hou,” which, being translated, means “The Empress
Dowager, motherly, auspicious, orthodox, heaven-blessed, prosperous,
all-nourishing, brightly manifest, calm, sedate, perfect, long-lived,
respectful, reverend, worshipful, illustrious and exalted.”
At the beginning of the Regency it suited Yehonala to conciliate and
humour Prince Kung. In conjunction with her colleague, she therefore
bestowed upon him the titles of “I-Cheng Wang,” or Prince Adviser to the
Government, and by special Decree she made the title of “Ch’in Wang,”
or Prince of the Blood (which had been bestowed upon him by the late
Emperor), hereditary in his family for ever.[11] Prince Kung begged to
be excused from accepting the former honour, whereupon ensued a solemn
parade of refusal on the part of the Empresses, one of whom, as events
proved, certainly wanted no adviser. Eventually, after much deprecation,
Their Majesties gave way as regards the hereditary title, but on the
understanding that the offer would be renewed at a more fitting season.
Yehonala who, in her better moments of grateful memory, could scarcely
forget the brave part which Prince Kung had played for her at Jehol, made
amends by adopting his daughter as a Princess Imperial, granting her the
use of the Yellow palanquin. The influence of this Princess over Tzŭ Hsi,
especially towards the end, was great, and it was strikingly displayed
in 1900 on behalf of Prince Tuan and the Boxer leaders.
Ignorant at the outset of many things in the procedure of Government
routine, feeling her way through the labyrinth of party politics and
foreign affairs, afraid of her own youth and inexperience, it was but
natural that Tzŭ Hsi should have recourse to the ripe wisdom of the
late Emperor’s brother and be guided by his opinion. But as time went
on, as her knowledge of affairs broadened and deepened, her autocratic
instincts gradually asserted themselves in an increasing impatience
of advice and restraint. As, by the study of history and the light of
her own intelligence, she gained confidence in the handling of State
business and men, the guidance which had previously been welcome became
distasteful, and eventually assumed the character of interference.
Despotic by nature, Tzŭ Hsi was not the woman to tolerate interference in
any matter where her own mind was made up, and Prince Kung, on his side,
was of a disposition little less proud and independent than her own. When
the young Yehonala began to evince a disposition to dispense with his
advice, he was therefore not inclined to conceal his displeasure, and
relations speedily became strained. As Tzŭ Hsi was at no pains to hide
her resentment, he gradually came to adopt a policy of instigating her
colleague, the Empress of the East, to a more independent attitude, a
line of action which could not fail to produce ill-feeling and friction
in the Palace. In the appointment of officials, also, which is the chief
object and privilege of power in China, he was in the habit of promoting
and protecting his own nominees without reference to Yehonala, by direct
communications to the provinces. Eye-witnesses of the events of the
period have recorded their impression that his attitude towards both
Empresses at the commencement of the Regency was somewhat overbearing;
that he was inclined to presume upon the importance of his own position
and services, and that on one occasion at audience, he even presumed to
inform the Empresses that they owed their position to himself, a remark
which Tzŭ Hsi was not likely to forget or forgive.
At the audiences of the Grand Council, it was the custom for the
two Empresses to sit on a raised daïs, each on her separate Throne,
immediately in front of which was suspended a yellow silk curtain;
they were therefore invisible to the Councillors, who were received
separately and in the order of their seniority, Prince Kung coming first
in his capacity as “adviser to the Government.” Beside their Majesties
on the daïs stood their attendant eunuchs; they were in the habit of
peeping through the folds of the curtain, keeping a careful eye upon the
demeanour of the officials in audience, with a view to noting any signs
of disrespect or breach of etiquette. Strictly speaking, no official,
however high his rank, might enter the Throne room unless summoned by the
chief eunuch in attendance, but Prince Kung considered himself superior
to such rules, and would enter unannounced. Other breaches of etiquette
he committed which, as Her Majesty’s knowledge of affairs increased,
were carefully noted against him; for instance, he would raise his voice
when replying to their Majesties’ instructions (which were always given
by Tzŭ Hsi), and on one occasion, he even ventured to ask that Tzŭ Hsi
should repeat something she had just said, and which he pretended not to
have understood. His attitude, in short (say the chroniclers), implied an
assumption of equality which the proud spirit of the young Empress would
not brook. Living outside the Palace as he did, having free intercourse
with Chinese and foreign officials on all sides, he was naturally in
a position to intrigue against her, did he so desire. Tzŭ Hsi, on the
other hand, was likely to imagine and exaggerate intrigues, since nearly
all her information came from the eunuchs and would therefore naturally
assume alarming proportions. There is little doubt that she gradually
came to believe in the possibility of Prince Kung working against
her authority, and she therefore set herself to prove to him that his
position and prerogatives depended entirely upon her good will.
She continued watching her opportunity and patiently biding her time
until the occasion presented itself in the fourth year of the Regency
(April, 1865). In a moment of absent-mindedness or bravado, Prince Kung
ventured to rise from his knees during an audience, thus violating
a fundamental rule of etiquette originally instituted to guard the
Sovereign against any sudden attack. The eunuchs promptly informed their
Majesties, whereupon Tzŭ Hsi called loudly for help, exclaiming that
the Prince was plotting some evil treachery against the persons of the
Regents. The Guards rushed in, and Prince Kung was ordered to leave
the presence at once. His departure was speedily followed by the issue
of an Imperial Decree, stating that he had endeavoured to usurp the
authority of the Throne and persistently overrated his own importance to
the State. He was accordingly dismissed from his position as adviser to
the Government, relieved of his duties on the Grand Council and other
high offices in the Palace; even his appointment as head of the Foreign
Office, or Tsungli Yamên, was cancelled. “He had shown himself unworthy
of their Majesties’ confidence,” said the Edict, “and had displayed
gross nepotism in the appointment of high officials: his rebellious and
usurping tendencies must be sternly checked.”
A month later, however, Tzŭ Hsi, realising that her own position was
not unassailable, and that her treatment of this powerful Prince had
created much unfavourable comment at Court and in the provinces, saved
her face and the situation simultaneously, by issuing a Decree in the
name of herself and her colleague, which she described as a Decree of
explanation. In this document she took no small credit to herself for
strength of character and virtue in dealing severely with her near
kinsmen in the interests of the State, and pointed to the fact that
any undue encouragement of the Imperial clansmen, when inclined to take
a line of their own, was liable, as history had repeatedly proved,
to involve the country in destructive dissension. Her real object
in inflicting punishment on the Prince for treating the Throne with
disrespect was to save him from himself and from the imminent peril of
his own folly. But now that several Memorials had been sent in by Censors
and others, requesting that his errors be pardoned, the Throne could have
no possible objection to showing clemency and, the position having been
made clear, Prince Kung was restored to the position of Chamberlain, and
to the direction of the Foreign Office. The Prince, in fact, needed a
lesson in politeness and, having got it, Her Majesty was prepared to let
bygones be bygones, it being clearly understood that, for the future,
he should display increased energy and loyalty as a mark of his sincere
gratitude to their Majesties.
A week later, Tzŭ Hsi, in order to drive the lesson home, issued the
following Decree in the name of the Empresses Regent.
“We granted an audience this morning to Prince Kung in order
to permit him to return thanks for his re-appointment. He
prostrated himself humbly and wept bitterly, in token of his
boundless self-abasement. We naturally took occasion to address
to him some further words of warning and advice, and the Prince
seemed genuinely grieved at his errors and full of remorse for
misconduct which he freely acknowledged. Sincere feeling of
this kind could not fail to elicit our compassion.
“It is now some years since we first assumed the burden of
the Regency and appointed Prince Kung to be our chief adviser
in the Government; in this position his responsibility has
been as great as the favour which we have bestowed upon him.
The position which he has occupied in special relation to the
Throne, is unparalleled; therefore we expected much from him
and, when he erred, the punishment which we were compelled to
inflict upon him was necessarily severe. He has now repented
him of the evil and acknowledged his sins. For our part we
had no prejudice in this matter, and were animated only by
strict impartiality; it was inconceivable that we should desire
to treat harshly a Councillor of such tried ability, or to
deprive ourselves of the valuable assistance of the Prince.
We therefore now restore him to the Grand Council, but in
order that his authority may be reduced, we do not propose to
reinstate him in his position as ‘adviser to the Government.’
Prince Kung, see to it now that you forget not the shame
and remorse which have overtaken you! Strive to requite our
kindness and display greater self-control in the performance of
your duties! Justify our high confidence in you by ridding your
mind of all unjust suspicions and fears.”
In the autumn of this year, 1865, took place the burial of the late
Emperor, Hsien-Feng, the preparation of whose tomb had been proceeding
for just four years. With him was buried his consort Sakota, who had
died in 1850, a month before her husband’s accession to the Throne; her
remains had been awaiting burial at a village temple, seven miles west
of the capital, for fifteen years. As usual, the funeral ceremonies and
preparation of the tombs involved vast expenditure, and there had been
considerable difficulty in finding the necessary funds, for the southern
provinces, which, under ordinary circumstances would have made the
largest contributions, were still suffering severely from the ravages
of the Taiping rebellion. The Emperor’s mausoleum had cost nominally
ten million taels, of which amount, of course, a very large proportion
had been diverted for the benefit of the officials of the Household and
others.
The young Emperor, and the Empresses Regent proceeded, as in duty bound,
to the Eastern Tombs to take their part in the solemn burial ceremonies.
Prince Kung was in attendance; to him had fallen the chief part in the
preparation of the tomb and in the provision of the funds, and Her
Majesty had no cause to complain of any scamping of his duties. The body
of the Emperor, in an Imperial coffin of catalpa wood, richly lacquered
and inscribed with Buddhist sutras, was borne within the huge domed grave
chamber, and there deposited in the presence of their Majesties upon its
“jewelled bedstead,” the pedestal of precious metals prepared to receive
it. In the place of the concubines and eunuchs, who in prehistoric days
used to be buried alive with the deceased monarch, wooden and paper
figures of life size were placed beside the coffin, reverently kneeling
to serve their lord in the halls of Hades. The huge candles were lighted,
prayers were recited, and a great wealth of valuable ornaments arranged
within the grave chamber; gold and jade sceptres, and a necklace of
pearls were placed in the coffin. And when all was duly done, the great
door of the chamber was slowly lowered and sealed in its place.
Next day the Empresses Dowager issued a Decree in which Prince Kung’s
meritorious acts are graciously recognised, and their Majesties’ thanks
accorded to him for the satisfactory fulfilment of the funeral ceremonies.
“Prince Kung has for the last five years been preparing the
funeral arrangements for his late Majesty and has shown a due
sense of decorum and diligence. To-day, both the late Emperor
and his senior consort have been conveyed to their last resting
place, and the great burden of our grief has been to some
extent mitigated by our satisfaction in contemplating the
grandeur of their tombs, and the solemn ceremonies of their
burial. No doubt but that the spirit of His Majesty in Heaven
has also been comforted thereby. We now feel bound to act in
accordance with the fraternal affection which always animated
the deceased Emperor towards Prince Kung, and to bestow upon
him high honours. But the Prince has repeatedly declined to
accept any further dignities, lest perchance he should again
be tempted to arrogance. His modesty meets with our approval,
and we therefore merely refer his name to the Imperial Clan
Court, for the selection of a reward. But we place on record
the fact that as Grand Councillor he has been of great service
to us, and has of late displayed notable circumspection and
self-restraint in all matters.
“The Decree which we issued last Spring was caused by the
Prince’s want of attention to small details of etiquette, and
if we were obliged to punish him severely, our motives have
been clearly explained. No doubt everyone in the Empire is
well aware of the facts, but as posterity may possibly fail to
realise all the circumstances, and as unjust blame might fall
upon the memory of Prince Kung, if that Decree were allowed to
remain inscribed amongst the Imperial Archives, thus suggesting
a flaw in the white jade of his good name, we now command that
the Decree in which we announced Prince Kung’s dismissal from
office be expunged from the annals of our reign. Thus is our
affection displayed towards a deserving servant, and his good
name preserved untarnished to all time.”
The Empress Dowager was essentially a woman of moods, and these Imperial
Decrees simply reflect the fact, at the beginning of her autocratic
rule, as they did until its close. Four years later Prince Kung was to
incur her deep and permanent dislike by conspiring with her colleague to
deprive her of her favourite, the chief eunuch An Te-hai.
V
TSENG KUO-FAN AND THE TAIPING REBELLION (1864)
The first years of Yehonala’s Co-Regency, during which she was steadily
acquiring the arts and crafts of Government, and gradually relegating
her easy-going colleague to the background, were joyfully associated
in the minds of her subjects with the decline and final collapse of
the great rebellion which had devastated the best part of the Empire
since 1850. Chinese historians (a body of writers who depend largely
on each others’ writings for material) agree in attributing the final
deliverance from this scourge to the ability and courage of the famous
Viceroy Tseng Kuo-fan,[12] and for once their praises are well-deserved,
for this military scholar like his fellow provincial and colleague, Tso
Tsung-t’ang,[13] was a man of the heroic breed of philosophers which,
with all its faults, the Confucian system has always produced, and
continues to produce, to the great benefit of the Chinese people, a man
whose name ranks high among China’s worthies, a household word for
honesty and intelligent patriotism.
It was one of the secrets of Tzŭ Hsi’s success as a ruler that she
recognised and appreciated merit whenever she found it, and especially
the merit of a military commander: it was only when she allowed her
superstitious tendencies to outweigh her judgment that she failed. For
the character and talents of Tseng Kuo-fan she had the highest respect,
due, no doubt, in the first instance to the effect of his military
despatches, stirring tales of camp and siege, on her imaginative mind,
but later to personal acquaintance with his sterling qualities. With the
single exception of Jung Lu, probably no high official ever stood so
high in her affectionate esteem, and Jung Lu was a Manchu kinsman, while
Tseng came from one of the proverbially independent gentry families of
Hunan. From a Chinese narrative of the Taiping rebellion, we are able
to obtain a very clear impression, not only of Tseng’s character and of
his conception of patriotism but also of the remarkable and undisputed
position of autocratic power already at that time enjoyed by the youthful
Empress Tzŭ Hsi. Before turning to this narrative, however, certain
points in connection with the final defeat of the Taipings deserve to
be noted, events with which Englishmen were prominently identified, but
which, as recorded by British eye-witnesses, confirm our doubts as to the
historical value of Imperial Edicts and Chinese official despatches.
The Emperor Hsien-Feng had died in exile and defeat at Jehol in August
1861. The Summer Palace had been destroyed by the British and French
forces, peace had been restored, and the Co-Regency of the Empresses
Dowager had commenced. One of the first acts of Prince Kung, in his
capacity as “Adviser to the Government” after the conclusion of the
Peace Convention of October 1860, was to invoke the aid of his country’s
conquering invaders against the Chinese rebels, whose strong position
on the Yangtsze was causing the Court ever increasing anxiety. It is
an illuminating example of Chinese methods of government, not without
parallels and value to-day, that even while the British and French
forces were concentrating at Shanghai for their invasion of north China,
high Chinese officials in the Yangtsze provinces had not hesitated to
invoke their aid against the rebels, and had been chagrined at a refusal
which appeared to them unwise since it ignored the interests of British
trade at its most important centre. The history of the “Ever-Victorious
Army” need not be referred to here. It kept the rebels in check in the
province of Kiangsu throughout the year 1862, and in February 1863 the
British Government sanctioned the lending of “Chinese Gordon” to take
command of that force, which was speedily to turn the tide of war in
favour of the Imperialists and effectively to pave the way for Tseng
Kuo-fan’s final restoration of law and order. Soochow, the provincial
capital, was regained in December 1863, and in the following July the
fall of the rebel capital (Nanking) and the death of the rebel “King”
practically ended the insurrection. A considerable number of Europeans,
including a French Admiral, had given their lives to win back China
for the Manchu Dynasty, although at the outset public opinion was in
favour of strict neutrality and there were many, even then, who thought
China would be well rid of her degenerate rulers: nevertheless, the
triumphant Edict in which is recorded Tseng Kuo-fan’s capture of Nanking
contains no word of reference to Gordon and the invaluable help which he
rendered, and, as will be seen, Tseng’s only reference to the British
Commander is to accuse him of having recommended the inhuman treatment
of a defenceless prisoner. In accordance with the invariable classical
tradition, he ascribes his success to “the consummate virtue and wisdom”
of the late Emperor Hsien-Feng; the tradition represents, in conventional
phraseology, the Oriental conception of the divine right of kings,
and their infallibility (a conception which we find reproduced almost
verbatim in the modern Japanese Generals’ modest reports of their
greatest victories), and it is incompatible in China with any reference
to the existence, much less the services, of foreign barbarians. The
fact is worth noting, for Tseng was an exceptionally intelligent and
courageous man who could, sooner than most men, have ventured on a new
departure; and he knew full well that this same Gordon, who had steadily
driven the rebels before him, cane in hand for over a year, had come
hot-foot to the task from the sacking of the Manchu sovereigns’ Summer
Palace!
But Yehonala’s joy at the fall of Nanking was unfeignedly great, and the
Decree in which, in the name of the boy Emperor, she records the event
and rewards the victors, is a brilliant example of her literary style. We
take the following extracts from this document, as of permanent interest
and throwing light on the character of Tzŭ Hsi.
_Decree on the Fall of Nanking._
“An express courier from Tseng Kuo-fan, travelling two hundred
miles a day, has just arrived, bearing the red banner of
decisive victory and a Memorial describing the capture of
Nanking, the suicide by burning of the rebel Prince, the
complete destruction of the Taiping host and the capture of
two of their leading commanders. Perusal of this Memorial
fills us with the deepest joy and gratitude, which all our
people will share. The leader of the long haired rebels[14]
Hung Hsiu-ch’uan first raised his standard of revolt in the
thirtieth year of Tao-Kuang (1850); from Kuangsi the movement
spread gradually through Hunan, Hupei and the Yangtsze
provinces to Chihli itself and Shantung, until scarcely a
spot in the whole Empire but bore the footprints of the rebel
armies. In the third year of Hsien-Feng (1853) they took
Nanking and there established the seat of their Government.
Uncounted thousands of our subjects have fallen victims to
their savage crimes. The cup of their guilt has indeed
overflowed. Gods and men alike hold them in abhorrence.
“Our Imperial father, in the majesty of his wrath, and in all
reverence to Heaven, began a punitive campaign against them and
named Kuan Wen, the Viceroy of Wu-Ch’ang, to be his Imperial
Commissioner for the war. This officer successfully cleared
the Hupei region of rebels and then marched eastwards towards
Kiangsu in order to extirpate them there also. Later, Tseng
Kuo-fan was made Viceroy of Nanking and Imperial Commissioner
for the campaign in Kiangsu and Anhui, and he achieved great
results, proportionate to his high responsibility.
“On the death of our late father (1861), half the cities of
Kiangsu and Chekiang had been retaken by our forces, and it was
a source of grief to His Majesty, recorded in his valedictory
Decree, that he could not have lived to see the end of the
rebellion. Upon our succeeding to the goodly heritage of the
Throne, obeying our late father’s commands and listening to the
sage counsel of the Empresses Regent, we promoted Tseng Kuo-fan
to be an Assistant Grand Secretary and gave him full powers as
Commander-in-Chief over the four provinces of Kiangsu, Kiangsi,
Anhui and Chekiang, so as to secure an undivided plan of
campaign.