to have little or no effect, for his conduct from the outset was
undutiful, not to say disrespectful, to his mother. Nor was this to be
wondered at, when we remember that since his early boyhood he had shown
a marked preference for the Empress Dowager of the East (Tzŭ An) and
that he was well aware of the many dissensions and intrigues rife in the
Palace generally, and particularly between the Co-Regents. He had now
attained his seventeenth year, and, with it, something of the autocratic
and imperious nature of his august parent. He was encouraged in his
independent attitude by the wife whom Tzŭ Hsi had chosen for him, the
virtuous A-lu-te. This lady was of patrician origin, being a daughter of
the assistant Imperial tutor, Ch’ung Ch’i. In the first flush of supreme
authority, the boy Emperor and his young wife would appear to have
completely ignored the danger of their position, but they were speedily
to learn by bitter experience that Tzŭ Hsi was not to be opposed, and
that to live peacefully with her in the Palace was an end that could
only be attained by complete submission to her will. The first trouble
arose from the Emperor’s refusal to submit State documents for his
mother’s inspection, but there were soon other and more serious causes
of friction. But above and behind all lay the ominous fact that, in the
event of an heir being born to the Emperor, A-lu-te would from that day
become Empress mother, and in the event of the Emperor’s subsequent
decease, to her would belong by right the title of Empress Dowager,
so that, come what might, Tzŭ Hsi would be relegated to a position of
obscurity and insignificant authority. It is impossible to overlook this
fact in forming our opinion of subsequent events, and especially of the
motives which actuated the Empress Dowager when, after the death of
T’ung-Chih, she insisted on the election of another infant Emperor at all
costs and in violation of the sacred laws of Dynastic succession. Apart
from her inability to brook any form of opposition and her absolutely
unscrupulous methods for ridding herself of anything or anyone who stood
in the path of her ambition, no impartial estimate of her action at this
period can deny the fact that it was entirely to her interest that the
Emperor T’ung-Chih should not have an heir, and that his Consort should
follow him speedily, in the event of his “mounting the Dragon chariot,
and proceeding on the long journey,” All commentators agree that Tzŭ
Hsi encouraged the youthful Emperor’s tendencies to dissipated habits,
and that, when these had resulted in a serious illness, she allowed it
to wreck havoc with his delicate constitution, without providing him
with such medical assistance as might have been available. One of the
members of the Imperial Household, by name Kuei Ching,[26] deploring the
Emperor’s licentious habits and foreseeing his early death, took occasion
to urge that the deplorable influence exercised over him by disreputable
eunuchs should be removed, and that greater care should be taken of his
manners, morals and health. He even went so far, in his zeal, as to
decapitate several of the offending eunuchs, but in so doing he incurred
not only the displeasure of the Empress Dowager, but of the Emperor
himself, who desired neither criticism nor assistance from anyone around
him. The unfortunate Kuei Ching was therefore compelled to resign his
post, and to leave the Emperor to his fate. His colleagues, the Ministers
of the Household, Wen Hsi and Kuei Pao, men of a very different stamp,
and open partisans of the Empress Dowager, not only did nothing to
restrain the Emperor from his vicious courses, but actually encouraged
him, so that it became a matter of common knowledge and notorious in the
capital that they and the Emperor together were wont to consort with
all the evil characters in the worst localities of the Southern City.
It became cause for scandal in the Palace itself that His Majesty would
return from his orgies long after the hour fixed for the morning audience
with his high officers of State. He was mixed up in many a drunken
brawl and consorted with the lowest dregs of the Chinese city, so that
it was no matter for surprise when he contracted the germs of disease
which speedily led to his death. Already in 1873 it was apparent that
the Dragon Throne would soon be vacant. In December 1874, he contracted
smallpox and during his illness the Empresses Dowager were called upon to
assume control of the Government. Towards the end of the month, he issued
the following Decree.
“We have had the good fortune[27] this month to contract
smallpox, and their Majesties, the Empresses Dowager, have
shown the greatest possible tenderness in the care for our
person. They have also consented to peruse all Memorials and
State papers on our behalf, and to carry on the business of
the State, for which we are deeply grateful. We feel bound
to confer upon their Majesties additional titles of honour,
so as to make some return, however small, for their infinite
goodness.”
The Emperor’s enfeebled constitution was unable to resist the ravages of
his combined diseases, and his physical condition became in the highest
degree deplorable; at 8 P.M. on the 13th January 1875, in the presence
of the Empresses Dowager and some twenty Princes and Ministers of the
Household, he “ascended the Dragon” and was wafted on high. Amongst
those present at his death-bed were the Princes Kung and Ch’un, as well
as Tzŭ Hsi’s devoted henchman and admirer Jung Lu. After the Emperor’s
death, a Censor, bolder than his fellows, impeached the two Ministers of
the Household who had openly encouraged the Emperor in his dissipated
courses, and Tzŭ Hsi, having no further use for their services, dismissed
them from office. As further proof of her virtuous admiration for
faithful service and disinterested conduct, she invited Kuei Ching
to resume his appointment, praising his loyalty; but he declined the
invitation, having by this time formed his own opinion of the value of
virtue in Her Majesty’s service.
The Emperor having died without issue, all would have been plain and
meritorious sailing for Tzŭ Hsi and her retention of supreme power, had
it not been for the unpleasant fact, known to all the Court, that the
Emperor’s consort, A-lu-te, was _enceinte_ and therefore might confer an
heir on the deceased sovereign. In the event of a son being born, it was
clear that both A-lu-te and Tzŭ An would _ipso facto_ acquire authority
theoretically higher than her own, since her title of Empress Mother had
lapsed by the death of T’ung-Chih, and her original position was only
that of a secondary consort. As the mother of the Emperor, she had by
right occupied a predominant position during his minority, but this was
now ended. It was to her motherhood that she had owed the first claims to
power; now she had nothing but her own boundless ambition, courage and
intelligence to take the place of lawful claims and natural ties. With
the death of her son the Emperor, and the near prospect of A-lu-te’s
confinement, it was clear that her own position would require desperate
remedies, if her power was to remain undiminished.
Among the senior members of the Imperial Clan, many of whom were jealous
of the influence of the Yehonala branch, there was a strong movement
in favour of placing on the Throne a grandson of the eldest son of the
venerated Emperor Tao-Kuang, namely, the infant Prince P’u Lun, whose
claims were excellent, in so far as he was of a generation lower than the
deceased T’ung-Chih, but complicated by the fact that his father had been
adopted into the direct line from another branch. The Princes and nobles
who favoured this choice pointed out that the infant P’u Lun was almost
the only nominee who would satisfy the laws of succession and allow of
the proper sacrifices being performed to the spirit of the deceased
T’ung-Chih.[28]
Tzŭ Hsi, however, was too determined to retain her position and power
to allow any weight to attach to sentimental, religious, or other
considerations. If, in order to secure her objects, a violation of
the ancestral and House-laws were necessary, she was not the woman to
hesitate, and she trusted to her own intelligence and the servility
of her tools in the Censorate to put matters right, or, at least, to
overcome all opposition. At this period she was on bad terms with her
colleague and Co-Regent, whom she had never forgiven for her share in the
decapitation of her Chief Eunuch, An Te-hai; she hated and mistrusted
Prince Kung, and there is hardly a doubt that she had resolved to get
rid of the young Empress A-lu-te before the birth of her child. The
only member of the Imperial family with whom she was at this time on
intimate terms was her brother-in-law, Prince Ch’un, the seventh son of
the Emperor Tao-Kuang. This Prince, an able man, though dissolute in his
habits, had married her favourite sister, the younger Yehonala, and it
will, therefore, be readily understood that the reasons which actuated
her in deciding to place this Prince’s infant son upon the Throne were of
the very strongest. During his minority she would continue to rule the
Empire, and, should he live to come of age, her sister, the Emperor’s
mother, might be expected to exert her influence to keep him in the path
of dutiful obedience. Tzŭ Hsi’s objection to the son of Prince Kung was
partly due to the fact that she had never forgiven his father for his
share in the death of the eunuch, An Te-hai, and other offences, and
partly because the young Prince was now in his seventeenth year, and
would, therefore, almost immediately have assumed the Government in
his own person. Tzŭ Hsi was aware that, in that event, it would be in
accordance with tradition and the methods adopted by the stronger party
in the Forbidden City for ridding itself of inconvenient rivals and
conflicting authorities, that either she should be relegated to complete
obscurity here below, or forcibly assisted on the road to Heaven. It was
thus absolutely necessary for her to put a stop to this appointment, and,
as usual, she acted with prompt thoroughness, which speedily triumphed
over the disorganised efforts of her opponents. By adroit intrigues,
exercised chiefly through her favourite eunuch, she headed off any
attempt at co-operation between the supporters of Prince P’u Lun and
those of Prince Kung, while, with the aid of Jung Lu and the appearance
on the scene of a considerable force of Li Hung-chang’s Anhui troops, she
prepared the way for the success of her own plans; her preparations made,
she summoned a Council of the Clansmen and high officials, to elect and
appoint the new Emperor.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE YANG HSIN TIEN. (Palace of “Mind Nurture.”)
The Emperor T’ung-Chih used this Palace as his residence during the whole
of his reign.
_Photo, Ogawa, Tokio._]
This solemn conclave took place in the Palace of “Mind Nurture,” on the
western side of the Forbidden City, about a quarter of a mile distant
from the palace in which the Emperor T’ung-Chih had expired. In addition
to the Empresses Regent, those present numbered twenty-five in all,
including several Princes and Imperial Clansmen, the members of the Grand
Council, and several of the highest metropolitan officials; but of all
these, only five were Chinese. Prince Tsai Chih, the father of Prince P’u
Lun, was there, as well as Prince Kung, both representing the proposed
legitimate claims to the Throne. The approaches to the Palace were
thronged with eunuchs, and Tzŭ Hsi had taken care, with the assistance
of Jung Lu, that all the strategical points in the Forbidden City should
be held by troops on whose loyalty she could completely depend. Amongst
them were many of Jung Lu’s own Banner Corps, as well as detachments
chiefly composed of members and adherents of the Yehonala clan. By Tzŭ
Hsi’s express orders, the newly-widowed Empress A-lu-te was excluded from
the Council meeting, and remained dutifully weeping by the bedside of
her departed lord, who had already been arrayed in the ceremonial Dragon
robes.
In the Council Chamber Tzŭ Hsi and her colleague sat opposite to each
other on Thrones; all the officials present were on their knees.
Taking precedence as usual, and assuming as of right the _rôle_ of
chief speaker, Tzŭ Hsi began by remarking that no time must be lost in
selecting the new Emperor; it was not fitting that the Throne should
remain vacant on the assumption that an heir would be born to His late
Majesty. Prince Kung ventured to disagree with this opinion, expressing
the view that, as A-lu-te’s child would shortly be born, there should
be no difficulty in keeping back the news of the Emperor’s death for a
little while; the child, if a boy, could then rightly and fittingly be
placed on the Throne, while in the event of the posthumous child being
a daughter, there would still be time enough to make selection of the
Emperor’s successor. The Princes and Clansmen appeared to side with this
view, but Tzŭ Hsi brushed it aside, observing that there were still
rebellions unsuppressed in the south, and that if it were known that
the Throne was empty, the Dynasty might very well be overthrown. “When
the nest is destroyed, how many eggs will remain unbroken?” she asked.
The Grand Councillors and several senior statesmen, including the three
Chinese representatives from the south, expressed agreement with this
view, for they realised that, given conditions of unrest, the recently
active Taiping rebels might very easily renew the anti-Dynastic movement.
The Empress Dowager of the East then gave it as her opinion that
Prince Kung’s son should be chosen heir to the Throne; Prince Kung,
in accordance with the customary etiquette, kowtowed and professed
unwillingness that such honour should fall to his family, and suggested
that the youthful Prince P’u Lun should be elected. P’u Lun’s father in
turn pleaded the unworthiness of his offspring, not because he really
felt any qualms on the subject, but because custom necessitated this
self-denying attitude. “That has nothing to do with the case,” said Tzŭ
Hsi to the last speaker, “but as you are only the adopted son of Yi Wei”
(the eldest son of the Emperor Tao-Kuang) “what precedent can any of you
show for placing on the Throne the heir of an adopted son?” Prince Kung,
called upon to reply, hesitated, and suggested as a suitable precedent
the case of a Ming Emperor of the fifteenth century canonised as
Ying-Tsung. “That is a bad precedent,” replied the Empress, who had every
precedent of history at her finger ends. “The Emperor Ying-Tsung was not
really the son of his predecessor, but was palmed off on the Emperor
by one of the Imperial concubines. His reign was a period of disaster;
he was for a time in captivity under the Mongols and afterwards lived
in retirement at Peking for eight years while the Throne was occupied
by his brother.” Turning next to her colleague she said, “As for me, I
propose as heir to the Throne, Tsai Tien, the son of Yi Huan (Prince
Ch’un), and advise you all that we lose no time.” On hearing these words
Prince Kung turned to his brother and angrily remarked: “Is the right
of primogeniture[29] to be completely ignored?” “Let the matter then be
decided by taking a vote,” said Tzŭ Hsi, and her colleague offered no
objections. The result of the vote was that seven of the Princes, led by
Prince Ch’un, voted for Prince P’u Lun, and three for the son of Prince
Kung; the remainder of the Council voted solidly for Tzŭ Hsi’s nominee.
The voting was done openly and the result was entirely due to the strong
will and dominating personality of the woman whom all had for years
recognised as the real ruler of China. When the voting was concluded,
Tzŭ An, who was always more anxious for an amicable settlement than for
prolonged discussion, intimated her willingness to leave all further
arrangements in the hands of her colleague. It was now past nine o’clock,
a furious dust-storm was raging and the night was bitterly cold, but
Tzŭ Hsi, who never wasted time at moments of crisis, ordered a strong
detachment of Household troops to be sent to the residence of Prince
Ch’un in the Western City, and with it the Imperial yellow sedan chair
with eight bearers, to bring the boy Emperor to the Palace. At the same
time, to keep Prince Kung busy and out of harm’s way, she gave him charge
of the body of the dead Emperor, while she had the Palace surrounded and
strongly guarded by Jung Lu’s troops. It was in her careful attention to
details of this kind that lay her marked superiority to the vacillating
and unbusinesslike methods of those who opposed her, and it is this
Napoleonic characteristic of the woman which explains much of the success
that her own people frequently attributed to luck. Before midnight the
little Emperor had been duly installed in the Palace, weeping bitterly
upon his ill-omened coming to the Forbidden City. With him came his
mother (Tzŭ Hsi’s sister) and several nurses. The first event of his
reign, imposed upon him, like much future misery, by dynastic precedent,
was to be taken at once to the Hall where his deceased predecessor
was lying in State, and there to kowtow, as well as his tender years
permitted, before the departed ruler. A Decree was thereupon issued in
the names of the Empresses Dowager, who thus became once more Regents,
announcing, “that they were absolutely compelled to select Tsai Tien
for the Throne, and that he should become heir by adoption to his uncle
Hsien-Feng, but that, so soon as he should have begotten a son, the
Emperor T’ung-Chih would at once be provided with an heir.”
By this means the widowed Empress A-lu-te was completely passed over,
and the claims of her posthumous son ignored in advance. Once more Tzŭ
Hsi had gained an easy and complete victory. It was clear to those who
left the Council Chamber after the issue of this Decree, that neither the
young widowed Empress nor the unborn child of T’ung-Chih were likely to
give much more trouble.
For form’s sake, and in accordance with dynastic precedents, a Memorial
was submitted by all the Ministers and Princes of the Household, begging
their Majesties the Empresses to resume the Regency, who, on their part,
went through the farce of acceding graciously to this request, on the
time-honoured ground that during the Emperor’s minority there must be
some central authority to whom the officials of the Empire might look
for the necessary guidance. It was only fitting and proper, however,
that reluctance should be displayed, and Tzŭ Hsi’s reply to the Memorial
therefore observed that “the perusal of this Memorial has greatly
increased our grief and sorrowful recognition of the exigencies of the
times, for we had hoped that the Regency was merely a temporary measure
of unusual expediency. Be it known that so soon as the Emperor shall
have completed his education, we shall immediately hand over to him the
affairs of the Government.”
The infant Emperor was understood to express “dutiful thanks to their
Majesties for this virtuous act” and all the formalities of the tragic
comedy were thus completed. The Empress Dowager gave orders that the
repairs which had been begun at the Lake and Summer Palaces should now be
stopped, the reason given being that the Empresses Regent would have no
time nor desire for gaiety in the years to come; the real reason being,
however, that the death of the Emperor removed all necessity for their
Majesties leaving the Forbidden City.
Tzŭ Hsi’s success in forcing her wishes upon the Grand Council and
having her sister’s infant son appointed to the Imperial succession, in
opposition to the wishes of a powerful party and in violation of the
dynastic law, was entirely due to her energy and influence. The charm
of her personality, and the convincing directness of her methods were
more effective than all the forces of tradition. This fact, and her
triumph, become the more remarkable when we bear in mind that she had
been advised, and the Grand Council was aware, that the infant Emperor
suffered from physical weaknesses which, even at that date, rendered it
extremely unlikely that he would ever provide an heir to the Throne.
Those who criticised her selection, knowing this, would have been
therefore in a strong position had they not been lacking in courage
and decision, since it was clear, if the fact were admitted, that Her
Majesty’s only possible motive was personal ambition.
From that time until the death of the Emperor and her own, on the 14th
and 15th November 1908, the belief was widespread, and not infrequently
expressed, that the Emperor, whose reign began thus inauspiciously, would
not survive her, and there were many who predicted that his death would
occur before the time came for him to assume supreme control of the
Government. All foretold that Tzŭ Hsi would survive him, for the simple
reason that only thus could she hope to regulate once more the succession
and continue the Regency. The prophets of evil were wrong, as we know,
inasmuch as Kuang-Hsü was allowed his years of grace in control of
affairs, but we know also that after the _coup d’état_ it was only the
fear of an insurrection in the south that saved his life and prevented
the accession of a new boy Emperor.
The designation of the new reign was then ordered to be “Kuang-Hsü,”
meaning “glorious succession”; it was chosen to emphasise the fact
that the new Emperor was a direct lineal descendant of the last great
Manchu Emperor, Tao-Kuang, and to suggest the hope that the evil days
of Hsien-Feng and T’ung-Chih had come to an end. The next act of the
Empresses Regent was to confer an honorific title upon the late Emperor’s
widow; but the honour was not sufficient to prevent her from committing
suicide on the 27th of March as an act of protest at the grievous
wrong done to her, to the memory of her husband and to the claims of
his posthumous heir. This was the unofficial explanation current, but
opinions have always differed, and must continue to differ, as to the
truth of the suicide, there being many who, not unnaturally, accused
Tzŭ Hsi of putting an end to the unfortunate woman. Against this the
Empress’s advocates observe that, having succeeded in obtaining the
appointment of Kuang-Hsü to the Throne, and the matter being irrevocably
settled, there existed no further necessity for any act of violence:
but few, if any, suggest that had circumstances necessitated violent
measures they would not have been taken. The balance of evidence is
undoubtedly in the direction of foul play. But, however administered,
it is certain that the death of the Empress A-lu-te influenced public
opinion more profoundly than she could ever have done by living; as a
result, thousands of Memorials poured in from the Censorate and the
provinces, strongly protesting against the selection of the infant son
of Prince Ch’un for the Throne, as a violation of all ancestral custom
and the time-honoured laws of succession. It is significant that all
these protests were clearly directed against Tzŭ Hsi, her colleague’s
nonentity being practically and generally recognised. For a time Tzŭ
Hsi’s popularity (and therefore the position of the Yehonala clan) was
seriously affected, and when, four years later, the Censor, Wu K’o-tu,
committed suicide near T’ung-Chih’s grave to emphasise the seriousness of
the crime and to focus public attention on the matter, the Empress was
compelled to bow to the storm and to give a second and more solemn pledge
that the deceased Emperor should not permanently be left without heirs
to perform for him the sacrifices of ancestral worship. It will be seen
hereafter how she kept that pledge.
Prince Ch’un, in the capacity of father to the new Emperor, submitted
a Memorial asking leave to be permitted to resign his various offices,
because, as an official, he would be bound to kowtow to the Emperor,
and as a father he could not kowtow to his own son. In the course of
this Memorial, which reminds the reader unpleasantly of Mr. Pecksniff,
the Prince observes that when first informed of his son’s selection as
heir to the Dragon Throne, “he almost fainted and knew not what to do.
When borne to his home, his body was trembling and his heart palpitating
severely; like a madman, or one who walks in dreams, was he, so that
he incurred a serious recurrence of his liver trouble and the state of
his health became really a matter for anxiety. He would prefer that
the silent tomb should close forthwith over his remains rather than to
continue to draw the breath of life as the useless son of the Emperor
Tao-Kuang.”