nineties, and when Li and Weng were appointed to the Grand Council, in
1894, the Court itself became involved in their strife, the Empress
siding with the north and the Emperor with the south. At that time people
were wont to speak of the Li faction and the Weng faction, but later they
came to be known as the Empress Dowager’s party, irreverently nicknamed
the “Old Mother set,” and the Emperor’s party, or “Small Lad’s set.” Both
P’an and Li died in 1897. It was after the latter’s death that Hsü T’ung
began to instigate secret and sinister designs against the Emperor, whom
he called a Chinese traitor. Hsü T’ung, having been tutor to T’ung-Chih,
naturally enjoyed considerable influence with the Empress, but Kuang-Hsü
flatly refused to have him on the Grand Council. So great was his
dislike for the old man that he only received him once in audience
between 1887 and 1898. Hsü had a valuable ally in Kang Yi, who hated all
Chinese, southerners and northerners alike, and whose influence was used
effectively to sow dissension between Tzŭ Hsi and the Emperor. In 1897,
Kang Yi urged the Emperor to give orders that the Manchu troops should
be efficiently trained and equipped. Kuang-Hsü replied: “You persist, it
seems, in the exploded idea that the Manchu soldiery are good fighting
men. I tell you that they are absolutely useless.” Kang Yi, highly
incensed, promptly informed the Old Buddha and the Iron-capped Princes
that the Emperor was the enemy of all Manchus, and was plotting to
appoint Chinese to all high offices, a statement which naturally created
a strong feeling against His Majesty at Court.
Even the foreign policy of the Empire felt the effects of this rivalry
of the opposing parties in the capital. The Empress, the Manchus, and
the Chinese Bannermen were in favour of coming to an understanding with
Russia, while the Emperor, Weng, and the southern Chinese, inclined to a
_rapprochement_ with Japan, with a view to imitation of that country’s
successful reforms. Li Hung-chang counted for little at the time, the
fact being that, owing to his alleged responsibility for the war with
Japan, his opinions were at a discount; but such influence as he had
was used against the Emperor’s party. Prince Kung, the _doyen_ of the
Imperial family, to whose ripe judgment the Empress herself would yield
at times, was the only high Manchu to maintain friendly relations with
the Chinese party. A fine scholar himself, he had always admired Weng
T’ung-ho’s literary gifts; the war with Japan had been none of his
seeking, and he had been recalled to the Grand Council, at the same time
as Weng, after a retirement of fourteen years.
The fact is not generally known that Weng T’ung-ho was most anxious at
this time to be sent as Special Envoy to the coronation of the Czar,
for the reason that, realising the Empress Dowager’s growing hostility
towards himself, he wished to be out of harm’s way in the crisis which
he felt to be impending. By a Decree of 1895, Weng had been “excused
from further attendance to instruct His Majesty at the Palace of Happy
Education,” so that he could no longer influence His Majesty, as
heretofore, at all times and seasons, and his rivals were thus enabled
successfully to misrepresent him.
Prince Kung, the head of the Grand Council, went on sick furlough at the
beginning of 1898, afflicted with incurable lung and heart complaints.
The Emperor accompanied the Empress Dowager on three occasions to visit
him at his residence, and ordered the Imperial physicians to attend him.
On the 10th day of the 4th Moon he died, and the following Decree was
issued by Tzŭ Hsi:—
“Prince Kung (Yi Hsin) was my near kinsman; for many years he
has assisted in my Privy Councils. When, with my colleague,
the deceased Empress Tzŭ An, I assumed the Regency at the
beginning of the late Emperor’s reign, the coast provinces
were in rebellion and the Empire in danger, Prince Kung ably
assisted me in restoring order; and I then bestowed upon him
high honours commensurate with his services. For over thirty
years he has supported me with unswerving loyalty, although
for part of that time he took no part in the business of the
State. Again I recalled him to the Council, where he has ever
done yeoman service, despite many and great difficulties. Of
late his old sickness came upon him again, and I therefore
went repeatedly with the Emperor to visit him, hoping for his
fortunate recovery. Of a sudden, yesterday, he passed away, and
thus, at this time of need, a trusty adviser is lost to me.
How describe my grief? To-day I have visited his residence,
there to make oblations. In the remembrance of bygone days I am
completely overcome. I now bestow on him the posthumous title
of ‘Loyal,’ I command that seasonal sacrifices be offered to
his spirit in the Temple of the Virtuous and Good, and I ordain
that the care of his grave shall be a charge on the public
funds. Thus I manifest my sincere regard for my worthy kinsman
and deep sorrow at the loss of my trusted Councillor.”
The above Decree clearly reflected the immediate effect on the Empress
of party factions and intrigues in the Palace, and showed that, though
nominally retired from control of the Government, she was still, whenever
she chose, the autocratic ruler of the Empire and ready to assert herself
in that capacity. The Emperor on this occasion issued a Decree on his own
account, entirely subordinate to Tzŭ Hsi’s, and this in turn was followed
by another, which called upon the Ministers of State to imitate Prince
Kung’s devoted loyalty. It concluded with the significant announcement
that the Prince’s valedictory Memorial had advised the Emperor to follow
the Empress Dowager’s advice in all things, to organise an efficient army
and to purify the administration.
Prince Kung’s death was a serious matter. On the one hand the Manchu
party lost in him its senior representative, an elder whose wise
counsel had guided them, and a statesman whose influence had been
steadily exercised against their tendencies towards an anti-Chinese and
anti-foreign policy. As the last survivor of the sons of Tao-Kuang, he
held, _vis-à-vis_ the Empress Dowager, a position very different from
that of the other princes, his contemporaries. It is probable that, had
he survived, there would have been no Boxer rising. On the other hand,
the Emperor had always deferred to Prince Kung’s advice, and it was not
until after his death that he embarked headlong on the reform schemes
of K’ang Yu-wei and his associates, many of which the Prince, though no
bigoted Conservative, would certainly have condemned. To Weng T’ung-ho
also the loss was serious, as well he knew, for Prince Kung had been his
best friend.
It was shortly after the Prince’s death that Weng recommended K’ang
Yu-wei to the Emperor’s notice, informing His Majesty that K’ang’s
abilities were far superior to his own. Weng undoubtedly hoped that K’ang
would gain the Sovereign’s favour and use it to assist the southern
party against the Manchus, and especially against his arch enemies, Kang
Yi and Hsü T’ung; but he certainly never anticipated that K’ang would go
so far as to advise the Emperor to defy the Old Buddha herself, and to
plot against her sacred person. His idea was simply to gain kudos and to
strengthen his own position and that of his party. The Emperor accepted
his recommendation of K’ang, and summoned the latter to audience on the
28th of the 4th Moon (14th June, 1898).
Weng told his friend and colleague, Liao Shou-heng, that he would await
the result of this audience before coming to a decision as to his own
future movements. If K’ang Yu-wei made a good impression, he would remain
in office; if not, he would resign. He added that if the usual gifts of
the Dragon Festival were sent him by the Emperor, he would feel that
there was no immediate danger in his position. All he asked was that
he might escape the open hostility of the Empress Dowager, such as had
fallen upon the Cantonese Vice-President, Chang Yin-huan, whose dismissal
was expected at any moment. As it happened, however, K’ang Yu-wei and his
friends persuaded the Emperor to insist on retaining Chang Yin-huan in
office, and for the next hundred days he became Kuang-Hsü’s right-hand
man, playing his part, foredoomed, while in the “deep seclusion of her
Palace” the Old Buddha bided her time.
On the 20th of the 4th Moon, Weng T’ung-ho applied for a week’s sick
leave, a face-saving device which showed that he was aware of the
impending storm. On the 23rd, His Majesty issued the first of his Reform
Decrees. He had duly conferred on the subject with the Empress at the
Summer Palace, and had accorded a special audience to Jung Lu. Tzŭ Hsi
assured him that she would raise no obstacles to his proposed policy,
provided that the ancient privileges of the Manchus were not infringed;
at the same time, she insisted on his getting rid of Weng T’ung-ho
without delay, as he was instigating an anti-Manchu movement which, if
it gained headway, might involve the Dynasty in ruin. Jung Lu strongly
recommended to His Majesty a notable progressive, the son of Ch’en
Pao-chen, Governor of Hupei. The fact is of interest because of the idea
prevalent among Europeans, that Jung Lu was ever opposed to reform.
Subsequent events compelled him to turn against the very man whom he
now recommended, but this was not so much on account of a change in his
views, as because the policy of the reformers had developed on unexpected
and dangerous lines. The first Reform Decree was as follows:—
“Of late years many of our Ministers have advocated a policy of
reform, and we have accordingly issued Decrees which provide
for the institution of special examinations in political
economy, for the abolition of useless troops and the old form
of examination for military degrees, as well as for founding
Colleges. No decision has been taken in these matters without
the fullest care, but the country still lacks enlightenment,
and views differ as to the course which reform should follow.
Those who claim to be Conservative patriots consider that all
the old customs should be upheld and new ideas repudiated
without compromise. Such querulous opinions are worthless.
Consider the needs of the times and the weakness of our Empire!
If we continue to drift with our army untrained, our revenues
disorganised, our scholars ignorant, and our artisans without
technical training, how can we possibly hope to hold our own
among the nations, or to cross the gulf which divides the weak
from the strong? It is our belief that a condition of unrest
creates disrespect for authority and produces friction, which
in turn leads to the formation of factions in the State,
hostile to each other as fire and water. Under such conditions,
our Government would find itself confronted by the abuses
and errors of the Sung and Ming Dynasties, to its imminent
peril. The virtuous rulers of remote antiquity did not cling
obstinately to existing needs, but were ready to accept change,
even as one wears grass-cloth garments in summer, and furs in
winter.
“We now issue this special Decree so that all our subjects,
from the Imperial family downwards, may hereafter exert
themselves in the cause of reform. The basis of education will
continue to rest on the canons of the Sages, but at the same
time there must be careful investigation of every branch of
European learning appropriate to existing needs, so that there
may be an end to empty fallacies and that by zeal efficiency
may be attained. Parrot-like plagiarisms of shallow theories
are to be avoided, and catchwords eschewed. What we desire to
attain is the elimination of useless things and the advancement
of learning which, while based on ancient principles, shall
yet move in harmony with the times. The Peking University is
to be made a model for the Empire, and all officials of the
rank of Board Secretaries, officers of the bodyguard, expectant
Magistrates, sons of high officials and Manchus of hereditary
rank, are to be entitled to enter upon a college course in
order that their talents may be trained to meet the needs
of these critical times. No procrastination or favouritism
will be tolerated, nor any disregard of these, the Throne’s
admonitions.”
On the following day was proclaimed the result of what the Emperor fully
intended to be the last examination under the old classical-essay system.
The candidate originally selected for the high honour of _Optimus_
was again a Kiangsu man, but the Empress herself altered the list and
conferred the coveted distinction upon a native of Kueichou province,
to mark her displeasure against the province which had given birth to
Weng T’ung-ho. At the same time a Decree advised members of the Imperial
Clan to seek education in Europe; even Princes of the Blood were to be
encouraged to go abroad and to investigate political conditions. Among
the Manchus, the sensation created by these Decrees was very great; they
felt that, for the first time in history, fundamental things were being
challenged, the ancient bulwarks of the Dynastic privileges in danger.
Had not Mencius himself said: “We have heard of Chinese ideas being
employed to convert barbarians, but have never heard of China being
converted by barbarians.”
On the morning after the issue of the second Decree, Weng T’ung-ho, on
return from his week’s leave, proceeded as usual at 4 A.M. to the Summer
Palace to attend the audience of the Grand Council. He was met by one
of the Secretaries to the Council who, handing him an Imperial Decree,
informed him of his dismissal. It was Tzŭ Hsi’s first open move on behalf
of the Manchu party, and a clear admission of tutelage on the part of the
Emperor. This was the Decree:—
“A Vermilion Rescript.—We have recently had occasion more than
once to observe that the Grand Secretary Weng T’ung-ho has
failed in the proper performance of his duties, and that he is
the object of very general criticism. He has frequently been
impeached, and when questioned by ourselves at audience, he
has allowed his manner to betray his feelings, even daring to
express approval or displeasure in our presence. His conduct
has gradually revealed a wild ambition and a tendency to usurp
our authority: it is no longer possible to retain him on the
Grand Council. Strictly speaking, his conduct merits close
scrutiny and punishment, but bearing in mind that for years he
has served us as our tutor, we are averse to inflicting any
severe penalty. Weng T’ung-ho is ordered forthwith to vacate
his post on the Council, and to return to his native place.
Thus is our clemency made manifest.”
Another Decree proved even more plainly that the Emperor was completely
under Tzŭ Hsi’s orders; it directed that all officials above the second
rank should thenceforward return thanks to Her Majesty in person upon
receiving appointments. This was a new departure, for, since the war with
Japan, she had ceased to hold daily audiences, receiving officials only
on her birthday and other State occasions. Another Decree of the same
day transferred Jung Lu to Tientsin as Viceroy of Chihli. He and K’ang
Yu-wei were received in audience next morning. To Jung Lu the Emperor
gave orders to reorganise the forces in Chihli, adding that he looked to
him for loyal co-operation in the reform movement. The audience to K’ang
Yu-wei, first of many similar interviews (but the only one recorded
in the official Gazette), lasted several hours. K’ang deeply disliked
and feared Tzŭ Hsi, and from the outset he did his best to prejudice
the Emperor against her. He reiterated his opinion that her sympathy
for reform was merely a feint, and he roundly denounced her wanton
extravagance and dissipated life at the Summer Palace. He described
the unpopularity of the Manchu rule in the south as chiefly due to the
people’s contempt for Her Majesty, and compared her private life to that
of the notorious Empress Wu of the T’ang Dynasty. He advised Kuang-Hsü to
relegate her permanently to retirement, she being the chief obstacle to
reform. The Emperor fell speedily and completely under K’ang’s influence,
and none of his subsequent Edicts was issued without K’ang’s assistance.
In the light of later knowledge, and of almost universal Chinese opinion
on this subject, it is difficult to acquit K’ang Yu-wei of personal and
interested motives, of a desire to wield power in the State as the result
of his influence over the Emperor, whose emotional pliability he made to
serve his own ends. Looked at in this light, his denunciations of the
Empress Dowager and Jung Lu were evidently less the outcome of patriotic
indignation than of his recognition of the fact that, so long as Tzŭ Hsi
remained in power, his ambitions could never be achieved, nor his own
position secured.
XIII
THE HUNDRED DAYS OF REFORM
Immediately following upon K’ang Yu-wei’s first audience, reform Decrees
followed one another in rapid succession. The old examination system
which had been in force, with one brief intermission (in K’ang-Hsi’s
reign), since the days of the Sung Dynasty, was definitely abolished.
For the future, said the Emperor, papers on practical subjects were
to be set at the public examinations, and while the classics were to
remain as a basis for the literary curriculum, candidates for the public
service would be expected to display a knowledge of the history of other
countries and of contemporary politics. It was at this juncture that the
President of the Board of Rites, Hsü Ying-k’uei (who, though a Cantonese,
was a stalwart Conservative), was denounced by the Censors Sung Po-lu
and Yang Shen-hsiu for obstructing the decreed reforms. They begged the
Emperor to “display his divine wrath by immediately reducing Hsü to the
rank of a fourth class official as a warning to other offenders.” “We
have noted,” they said, “Your Majesty’s zeal in the cause of reform and
your gracious desire to promote improved education and friendly relations
with foreign Powers. The Board of Rites is in charge of all the colleges
in the Empire and the Tsungli Yamên directs our policy. Hsü Ying-k’uei,
President of the Board of Rites and a Minister of the Tsungli Yamên,
is a man of second-rate ability, arrogant, ignorant, and hopelessly
obstinate. Your Majesty, being deeply conscious of the vital need for
permanent and radical reform, and anxious to encourage men of talent, has
instituted a special examination in political economy, but Hsü Ying-ku’ei
has dared to cast disparagement on your Majesty’s orders and has openly
stated that such an examination is a useless innovation. It is his
intention to allow as few candidates as possible to pass this examination
so as to render it unpopular. He is similarly opposing every one of your
Majesty’s proposed reforms. He vilifies western learning in conversation
with his _protégés_, and is the sworn foe of all progressive scholars.
Your Majesty’s chief complaint is that such scholars are too few in
number, but Hsü Ying-ku’ei’s chief hope is to suppress the few there are.”
“In the Tsungli Yamên a single phrase wrongly expressed may well
precipitate a war; so important are the duties there to be performed
that no one unacquainted with foreign affairs, and the ways of those
who seek to injure us, can possibly render effective service to the
State. Hsü Ying-ku’ei is far from being a distinguished Chinese scholar;
nevertheless he despises European learning. His boundless conceit is a
menace to our country’s interests and dignity. It seems to us a monstrous
thing that a man of this stamp should be employed at the Tsungli Yamên,
and that his removal from the Board would be of incalculable benefit. He
deserves to be removed from office for blocking reform and impeding the
execution of your Majesty’s plans, if only as a warning to reactionary
officials, who are all a danger to their country. If your Majesty will
reduce him to the fourth official rank we shall escape the ridicule of
foreign nations, and the cause of reform will be greatly advanced.”
On receipt of the above Memorial, Kuang-Hsü commanded Hsü Ying-ku’ei
to submit a personal explanation of his conduct. The following is the
text of his Memorial in reply, which shows K’ang Yu-wei in a light less
favourable than that in which his admirers represented him:—
“I feel that because of my uprightness I have made myself
enemies, and I am grateful to your Majesty for thus allowing
me to defend myself. The Censors accuse me of thinking
disparagingly of your Majesty’s orders. How can they know what
is in my mind? Their accusations are evidently worthless. Li
Hung-chang and myself were strongly in favour of the original
scheme for instituting an examination for political economy.
I observed, however, that great care must be exercised in
carrying out this new idea, and that the selection for office
of too many successful candidates might endanger the main
object of the reform. While in no way desiring to make the
standard prohibitively high, I was determined not to court
popularity by consenting to making the path of these candidates
too easy. How can these Censors know that we are opposed to the
proposals of reform before our Memorials have seen the light?
Their remarks are based on pure conjecture and prejudice.
Moreover, many of your Majesty’s Decrees in no way concern the
Board of Rites, _e.g._, the contemplated reform of military
examinations and the abolition of sinecures in the army. Again,
the Memorialists accuse me of vilifying western learning in
conversation with my _protégés_, and of being the sworn foe
of progressive scholars. As a native of Canton province, I
have had no little experience of foreign affairs, and have
constantly had occasion to recommend for employment men well
versed in the arts and sciences of the west; for instance, Hua
T’ing-chun, for his knowledge of marksmanship, and Fang Yao for
his skill in the manufacture of guns. With all my _protégés_
my constant object has been to encourage them to acquire a
thorough knowledge of current politics and to eschew forms of
learning that are ornamental and useless.
“When the Censors accuse me of being the foe of scholars, they
evidently refer to K’ang Yu-wei. As a native of my province
K’ang was well known to me in his youth as a worthless fellow.
After taking his degree and returning to his home, he was for
ever inciting people to litigation; his reputation was evil.
On coming to Peking he made friends with the Censors and
intrigued with certain persons in high office, making great
capital of his alleged knowledge of European science, in the
hope of obtaining a lucrative post. On three occasions he tried
to secure an interview with me, but I knew the man too well,
and declined to receive him. He then founded a society at the
Canton Guild-house, enrolling over two hundred members; but I
caused it to be suppressed, fearing that disturbances would
come of it. Hence K’ang’s hatred of me. When your Majesty
summoned him to audience, he boasted to his fellow-provincials
that high promotion was in store for him; he was keenly
disappointed at getting nothing higher than a clerkship in
the Tsungli Yamên. He has been spreading lies about me and
inciting the Censors to attack me in the hope of ousting me,
one of his chiefs, from my position. That is quite in keeping
with his character. The Grand Secretary, Li Hung-tsao, used to
say that the flaunting of western knowledge was used only too
often by persons who had no real education therein; persons who
hoodwinked the public and were accepted at their own valuation.
K’ang Yu-wei has got hold of many wild and fantastic ideas,
and is trying to make a reputation for himself by plagiarising
hackneyed articles from European newspapers and disparaging
our country’s ancient institutions. His proposals are utterly
unpractical, and his motives will not bear investigation. If he
is retained at the Tsungli Yamên, instead of being cashiered
and sent back to Canton, as he deserves, he will inevitably
bring about complications by the betrayal of State secrets. If
he remains in Peking he and his associates will assuredly plot
together for evil, their only object being to promote party
strife and to foment intrigues.
“The danger with which his revolutionary tendencies threaten
the State is indeed a most serious matter, and the Censors are,
for once, quite right in describing me as his sworn foe.