to see the New Year and thereafter to regain his strength, a result
due in some degree to the Empress Dowager’s genuine fear of foreign
intervention, but chiefly to her recognition of the strength of public
opinion against her in the south of China and of the expediency of
conciliating it. In the Kuang provinces there was no doubt of the
bitterly anti-Manchu feeling aroused by the execution of the Cantonese
reformers: these turbulent southerners were fierce and loud in their
denunciations of the Manchus and all their works, and it would not have
required much to fan the flames of a new and serious rebellion. The south
was well aware, for news travels swiftly in China, that the Emperor’s
life was in danger and that the close of the year was the time fixed for
his death, and from all sides protests and words of warning came pouring
from the provinces to the capital, addressed not only to the metropolitan
boards but to the Throne itself. Amongst these was a telegram signed by
a certain Prefect of Shanghai named Ching Yüan-shan, who, in the name of
“all the gentry, scholars, merchants and public of Shanghai,” referred to
the Edict which announced the Emperor’s illness and implored the Empress,
the Clansmen and the Grand Council to permit his sacred Majesty to resume
the government “notwithstanding his indisposition,” and to abandon all
thoughts of his abdication. He described the province of Kiangsu as being
in a state of suppressed ferment and frankly alluded to the probability
of foreigners intervening in the event of the Emperor’s death. Tzŭ Hsi
was much incensed with this courageous official, not because he actually
accused her of premeditating murder, but because he dared threaten her
with its consequences. She gave orders that he be summarily cashiered,
whereupon, fearing further manifestations of her wrath, he fled to Macao.
But his bold words undoubtedly contributed to saving the Emperor’s life.
Of all the high provincial authorities, one only was found brave and
disinterested enough to speak on behalf of the Emperor; this was Liu
K’un-yi, the Viceroy of Nanking. He was too big a man to be publicly
rebuked at a time like this and Tzŭ Hsi professed to admire his
disinterested courage; but she was highly incensed at his action, which
contrasted strongly with the astute opportunism of his colleague, the
scholarly magnate Chang Chih-tung, Viceroy of Wuch’ang, who had been an
ardent advocate of the reformers so long as the wind blew fair in that
quarter. Only six months before he had recommended several progressives
(amongst them his own secretary, Yang Jui) to the Emperor’s notice, and
just before the storm burst he had been summoned to Peking by Kuang
Hsü to support His Majesty’s policy as a member of the Grand Council.
No sooner had the Empress Dowager declared herself on the side of the
reactionaries, however, and the Emperor had failed in his attempt to win
over Yüan Shih-k’ai and his troops, than Chang telegraphed to the Old
Buddha warmly approving her policy, and urging strong measures against
the reformers. The advice was superfluous; Tzŭ Hsi, having put her hand
to the plough, was not the woman to remove it before her work was well
done.
On the 11th day of the 8th Moon, she summoned Jung Lu to the capital to
assist her in stamping out the reform movement. The Board of Punishments
had just sent in a memorial urging the appointment of an Imperial
Commission for the trial of K’ang Yu-wei’s colleagues. Tzŭ Hsi, in reply,
directed them to act in consultation with the Grand Council and to
cross-examine the prisoners “with the utmost severity.” At the same time
she ordered the imprisonment in the Board’s gaol of Chang Yin-huan,[61]
the Emperor’s trusted adviser and friend who, she observed, “bears
an abominable reputation.” This Edict took occasion to state that the
Throne, anxious to temper justice with mercy, would refrain from any
general proscription or campaign of revenge, “although fully aware that
many prominent scholars and officials had allowed themselves to be
corrupted by the reformers.”
The Empress’s next step, advised by Jung Lu, was to issue a Decree, in
the name of the Emperor, in which she justified the policy of reaction
and reassured the Conservative party. The document is an excellent
example of her methods. While the Emperor is made to appear as convinced
of the error of his ways, all blame for the “feelings of apprehension”
created by the reform movement is relegated to “our officials’ failure to
give effect to our orders in the proper way,” so that everybody’s “face”
is saved. The following abridged translation is of permanent interest,
for the same arguments are in use to-day and will undoubtedly be required
hereafter, when the Manchus come to deal with the impending problems of
Constitutional Government:—
“The original object of the Throne in introducing reforms
in the administration of the government was to increase the
strength of our Empire and to ameliorate the condition of our
subjects. It was no sudden whim for change, nor any contempt
for tradition that actuated us; surely our subjects must
recognise that our action was fully justifiable and indeed
inevitable. Nevertheless, we cannot shut our eyes to the fact
that feelings of apprehension have been aroused, entirely
due to the failure of our officials to give effect to our
orders in the proper way, and that this again has led to the
dissemination of wild rumours and wrong ideas amongst the
ignorant masses of the people. For instance, when we abolished
six superfluous government boards, we did so in the public
interest, but the immediate result has been that we have been
plagued with Memorials suggesting that we should destroy and
reconstruct the whole system of administration. It is evident
that, unless we explain our policy as a whole, great danger
may arise from the spread of such ideas, and to prevent
any such result we now command that the six metropolitan
departments which we previously abolished be re-established
exactly as before. Again, our original intention in authorising
the establishment of official newspapers, and allowing all
and sundry of our subjects to address us, was to encourage
the spread of knowledge and to improve our own sources of
intelligence. Unfortunately, however, the right of addressing
the Throne has been greatly abused, and the suggestions which
have reached us in this way have not only been trivial and
useless on many occasions, but have recently shown a tendency
towards revolutionary propaganda. For this reason the right
to memorialise the Throne will in future be strictly reserved
in accordance with the established and ancient custom. As for
official newspapers, we have come to the conclusion that they
are quite useless for any purposes of the government, and
that they only lead to popular discontent; they are therefore
abolished from this day forth. The proper training grounds for
national industry and talent are Colleges, and these are to go
on as before, it being the business of the local officials,
acting upon public opinion in their respective districts, to
continue the improvement of education on the lines laid down;
but there is to be no conversion of temples and shrines into
schools, as was previously ordered, because this might lead to
strong objection on the part of the people. Generally speaking,
there shall be no measures taken contrary to the established
order of things throughout the Empire. The times are critical,
and it behoves us, therefore, to follow in government matters
the happy mean and to avoid all extreme measures and abuses.
It is our duty, without prejudice, to steer a middle course,
and it is for you, our officials, to aim at permanence and
stability of administration in every branch of the government.”
Jung Lu was now raised to membership of the Grand Council, and given
supreme command of the northern forces and control of the Board of
War; he thus became the most powerful official in the Empire, holding
a position for which no precedent existed in the annals of the Manchu
Dynasty. He had once more proved loyal to the Empress and faithful to
the woman whom he had served since the days of the flight to Jehol; and
he had his reward. It was natural, if not inevitable, that the part
played by Jung Lu in the crisis of the _coup d’état_ should expose him
to severe criticism, especially abroad; but, from the Chinese official’s
point of view, his action in supporting the Empress Dowager against her
nephew, the Emperor, was nothing more than his duty, and as a statesman
he showed himself consistently moderate, sensible, and reliable. The
denunciations subsequently poured upon him by the native and foreign
Press at the time of the Boxer rising were the result, partly of the
unrefuted falsehoods disseminated by K’ang Yu-wei and his followers,
and partly of the Legations’ prejudice (thence arising) and lack of
accurate information. As will hereafter be shown, all his efforts
were directed towards stemming the tide of that fanatical outbreak
and restraining his Imperial mistress from acts of folly. Amidst the
cowardice, ignorance and cruelty of the Manchu Clansmen his foresight and
courage stand out steadily in welcome relief; the only servant of the
Throne during Tzŭ Hsi’s long rule who approaches him in administrative
ability and disinterested patriotism is Tseng Kuo-fan (of whose career
a brief account has already been given). From this time forward until
his death (1903) we find him ever at Tzŭ Hsi’s right hand, her most
trusted and efficient adviser; and her choice was well made. As will be
seen in a later chapter, there was a time in 1900, when the Old Buddha,
distraught by the tumult and the shouting, misled by her own hopes, her
superstitious beliefs and the clamorous advice of her kinsfolk, allowed
Prince Tuan and his fellow fanatics to undermine for a little while Jung
Lu’s influence. Nevertheless (as will be seen by the diary of Ching Shan)
it was to him that she always turned, in the last resort, for counsel
and comfort; it was on him that she leaned in the dark hour of final
defeat,—and he never failed her. She lived to realise that the advice
which he gave, and which she sometimes neglected, was invariably sound.
Amidst all the uncertainties of recent Chinese history this much is
certain, that the memory of Jung Lu deserves a far higher place in the
esteem of his countrymen and of foreigners than it has hitherto received.
Unaware himself of many of the calumnies that had been circulated about
him at the time of the Court’s flight, he was greatly hurt, and his sense
of justice outraged, by the cold reception given him by the Legations
after the Court’s return to Peking. Thereafter, until his death, he was
wont to say to his intimate friends that while he would never regret the
stand he had taken against the Boxers, he could not understand or forgive
the hostility and ingratitude shown him by foreigners. “It was not for
love towards them,” he observed, on one occasion recorded, “that he had
acted as he did, but only because of his devotion to the Empress Dowager
and the Manchu Dynasty; nevertheless, since his action had coincided with
the interests of the foreigner, he was entitled to some credit for it.”
The Empress Dowager consulted long and earnestly with Jung Lu as
to the punishment to be inflicted upon the reformers. He advocated
strong measures of repression, holding that the prestige of the Manchu
Dynasty was involved. The six prisoners were examined by the Board of
Punishments, and Jung Lu closely questioned them as to K’ang Yu-wei’s
intentions in regard to the Empress Dowager. Documents found in K’ang’s
house had revealed every detail of the plot, and upon the Grand Council
recommended the execution of all the prisoners. There being no doubt
that they had been guilty of high treason against Her Majesty, it seemed
clearly inadvisable to prolong the trial, especially as there was
undoubtedly a risk of widening the breach between Manchus and Chinese by
any delay in the proceedings, at a time when party spirit was running
high on both sides. The Old Buddha concurred in the decision of the
Grand Council, desiring to terminate the crisis as soon as possible;
accordingly, on the 13th day of the Moon, the reformers were executed.
They met their death bravely, their execution outside the city being
witnessed by an immense crowd. It was reported that amongst the papers
of Yang Jui were found certain highly compromising letters addressed to
him by the Emperor himself, in which the Empress Dowager was bitterly
denounced. There was also a Memorial by Yang impeaching Her Majesty for
gross immorality and illicit relations with several persons in high
positions, one of whom was Jung Lu; this document had been annotated in
red ink by the Emperor himself. It quoted songs and ballads current in
the city of Canton, referring to Her Majesty’s alleged vicious practices,
and warned the Emperor that, if the Manchu dynasty should come now to
its end, the fault would lie as much with Tzŭ Hsi and her evil deeds as
was the case when the Shang dynasty (of the 12th Century B.C.) fell by
reason of the Emperor Chou Hsin’s infatuation for his concubine Ta Chi,
whose orgies are recorded in history. Yang Jui had compared the Empress
Dowager’s life at the Summer Palace with the enormities committed by this
infamous concubine in her palace by the “Lake of Wine”; small wonder
then, said Tzŭ Hsi’s advocates in defence of drastic measures, that,
having seen for herself, in the Emperor’s own handwriting, that these
treasonable utterances met with his favour and support, Her Majesty was
vindictively inclined and determined to put an end, once and for all, to
his relations with the Reform party.
The edict which ordered the execution of the Reform leaders was drafted
by the Empress Dowager herself with the aid of Jung Lu, but with cynical
irony it was issued in the name of the Emperor. It was written in red
ink as an indication of its special importance, a formality usually
reserved for decrees given by the Sovereign under his own hand. After
laying stress upon the necessity for introducing reforms in the country’s
administration, and on the anxiety felt by the Throne in regard to the
increasing difficulties of government, this Decree proceeded to state
that K’ang Yu-wei and his followers, taking advantage of the necessities
of the moment, had entered into a rebellious conspiracy, aiming at the
overthrow of the Throne itself; fortunately, their treacherous intentions
had been disclosed, and the whole plot revealed. The Decree continued as
followed:—
“We are further informed that, greatly daring, these traitors
have organised a secret Society, the objects of which are to
overthrow the Manchu dynasty for the benefit of the Chinese.
Following the precepts of the Sages, We, the Emperor, are
in duty bound to propagate filial piety as the foremost of
all virtues, and have always done so, as our subjects must
be fully aware. But the writings of K’ang Yu-wei were, in
their tendency, depraved and immoral; they contain nothing
but abominable doctrines intended to flout and destroy the
doctrines of the Sages. Originally impressed by his knowledge
of contemporary politics, we appointed him to be a Secretary
of the Tsungli Yamên, and subsequently gave him charge of the
establishment of the proposed official newspaper at Shanghai;
but instead of going to his post, he remained for the purposes
of his evil conspiracies at Peking. Had it not been that,
by the protecting influences of our ancestors, his plot was
revealed, appalling disasters must undoubtedly have followed.
K’ang himself, the moving spirit in this conspiracy, has
fled from justice, and we rely upon the proper authorities to
see to it that he be arrested, and that capital punishment be
inflicted upon him.”
The Decree then proceeded to award the death penalty to K’ang Yu-wei’s
colleague, Liang Ch’i-ch’ao, a scholar of the highest repute, who
subsequently found a refuge in Japan, and there edits a newspaper of
high and well-deserved reputation. Next in order of importance were the
three Secretaries of the Grand Council, who were awaiting the result of
their trial in the Board of Punishments. The Edict added that any delay
in their execution might, in the opinion of the Grand Council, lead to
a revolutionary movement, and for this reason further formalities of
justice in regard to all six prisoners were dispensed with, and their
summary decapitation ordered.
After disposing of K’ang Yu-wei’s followers and accomplices, the Decree
once more emphasises the heinous guilt of their leader:—
“Our dynasty,” it says, “rules in accordance with the teachings
of Confucius. Such treason as that of K’ang Yu-wei is abhorred
by gods and men alike. Surely the elemental forces of nature
must refuse to protect such a man,[62] surely all humanity must
unite in the extermination of such noisome creatures. As to
those of his followers who, for the most part, were led away by
his immoral doctrines, their number is legion, and the Throne
has taken note of their names, but the Imperial clemency is
all-abounding, and we have decided to go no further with our
enquiries into these treasonable plottings. Let all concerned
now take warning by K’ang’s example. Let them conscientiously
follow the doctrines of the Sages, and turn their hearts to
wisdom in devotion to the Throne.”
Despite the Throne’s “all abounding clemency” and Tzŭ Hsi’s declared
intention to take no steps beyond the execution of the six reform
leaders, her “divine wrath” continued to be stirred up by the
recollection of the personal attacks that had been made against her.
Following immediately upon the Decree above quoted, came another whereby
Chang Yin-huan was sentenced to banishment to the New Dominion on a
vague charge of the usual classical type. His real offence lay in that
he had denounced the Empress Dowager for extravagance, and she was the
more embittered against him because the British Minister had presumed to
intervene with a plea for his life.
In another Decree the proposed visit to Tientsin was cancelled, at the
earnest request of Jung Lu, who dreaded the possibility of an attempt
on the life of the Empress Dowager. Her feminine curiosity had been
stirred by the prospect of a visit to the Treaty port and a change
from the seclusion of Peking, but she yielded to the advice of the
Commander-in-Chief. At the same time military reorganisation was pressed
forward with the greatest energy, and the occasion was taken to bestow
_largesse_ on the Chihli troops.
Upon Jung Lu coming to Peking Yü Lu was appointed to succeed him as
Viceroy of Chihli. This bigoted official enjoyed in a large measure
the confidence of the Empress Dowager. Unusually ignorant, even for a
Manchu, and totally devoid of ability, he was subsequently responsible
for the growth of the Boxer movement in and around Tientsin. At this
particular crisis, however, distrust of the Chinese was rife, and the
Old Buddha felt that the presence of a Manchu Viceroy to control the
Metropolitan Province was necessary to prevent any organised movement by
the revolutionaries.
There now remained unpunished in Peking only one high official who
had been in any way publicly associated with the reformers, _i.e._,
Li Tuan-fen, President of the Board of Ceremonies. After waiting a
few days and finding that his case was not referred to in any of the
Edicts, he applied in a Memorial to the Throne that the offence which
he had committed (in recommending K’ang Yu-wei and other reformers
for government employment) should be suitably punished. The Memorial
is in itself a most interesting document, as it throws light on
several characteristic features of the internal economy of the Chinese
Government. The writer, after admitting his guilt, and expressing
astonishment that it has not been brought home to him, placed on record
his gratitude for the clemency thus far exercised, and asked that, as his
conscience gave him no peace, Her Majesty might be pleased to determine
the penalty for his guilt, “to serve as a warning to all officials who
may be led to recommend evil characters to the notice of the Throne.” Tzŭ
Hsi’s reply was equally interesting, and was issued, as usual, in the
name of the Emperor:—
“We have read the Memorial of Li Tuan-fen. This official
has enjoyed our special favour; nevertheless, it was he who
recommended to our notice that base traitor, K’ang Yu-wei, and
he repeated his recommendations at more than one subsequent
audience. His present action in admitting his guilt after
the conspiracy has been exposed indicates a certain amount
of low cunning on his part, which makes it quite impossible
for us to treat him with further leniency. He is therefore
to be cashiered forthwith and banished to the New Dominion,
where he will be kept under close observation by the local
authorities.”[63]
The whole episode and correspondence are strongly suggestive of the sport
of a cat with a mouse.
By this time the violent measures of the reactionary party had aroused
a storm of indignation in the South, where societies were being
organised in support of His Majesty Kuang-Hsü. Newspapers published
in the foreign settlements at Shanghai repeated daily the wildest and
bitterest denunciations against Her Majesty and Jung Lu, the latter
being specially singled out for attack. The writers of these articles,
evidently inspired by the fugitive reform leaders, declared that the
movement in Peking was essentially anti-Chinese, and that it would
undoubtedly end in the appointment of Manchus to all important posts in
the Empire. On the other hand, anti-foreign disturbances were fomented
in several provinces by those who believed that the Empress Dowager
would be gratified by these manifestations of public feeling. This
state of affairs was undoubtedly fraught with serious danger, to which
the attention of the Empress Dowager was drawn in a very plain-spoken
Memorial by a Censor and Imperial Clansman named Hui Chang.
The memorialist congratulated the Throne upon the energetic and
successful suppression of K’ang Yu-wei’s treason, an achievement which
would redound for ever to the fame of the Old Buddha. He then referred to
the position of affairs in South China as follows:—
“Of late many rumours have been in circulation, due to the
fact that the criminals executed by order of the Throne are
all Chinese, and your Majesties are therefore accused of
desiring to promote the interests of Manchus at the expense of
your Chinese subjects. Although it should be well known and
recognised that our dynasty has never held the balance unevenly
between Manchus and Chinese, yet the followers of K’ang Yu-wei
are undoubtedly taking advantage of these rumours, and the
result threatens the State with danger.”
The writer, after referring to the general futility of Edicts, then
advised that special honours should be accorded to a few selected Chinese
of undoubted loyalty and orthodoxy, by which means public opinion would
be reassured. He justly observed that, if those who had been guilty of
high treason had been made to suffer the penalty, those who had been
consistently loyal should be suitably rewarded. He advised that all those
who, during the past few months, had sent in Memorials denouncing the
reform movement and rebuking the corrupt tendencies of the so-called new
scholarship, should be advanced in the public service. Finally, he made
the significant observation, that loyalty and patriotism when displayed
by Chinese subjects are of greater value to the integrity of the Empire
than these virtues when displayed by Manchus, an indication of statecraft
likely to appeal to the acute intelligence of the Old Buddha. The Empress
Dowager’s reply, while ostensibly in the nature of a rebuke, was marked
by unusual evasiveness on the subject actually at issue. She laid stress
only on the strict impartiality of the Throne’s decision, professing to
be animated by feelings of abstract justice, and to be free from all
manner of prejudice, whether against Manchus or Chinese. The Memorialist
was, however, shortly afterwards promoted, and as a proof of her
impartiality, the Empress Dowager proceeded, on the same day, to dismiss
half-a-dozen high officials, one of whom was a Manchu; and on the ground
that Jung Lu himself had recommended one of the reformers for employment,
she ordered that he too be referred to the Board of Civil Appointments
for the determination of a suitable penalty. This was merely “saving
face.”
Stirred, as usual, to activity by anything in the nature of criticism,
Her Majesty now issued Decrees in rapid succession. One of these declared
the necessity for adequate protection of foreigners in the interior
and for the Legations in Peking; another took the form of a homily to
the Provincial Authorities in regard to the selection of subordinate
officials. A third called for advice from the Provincial Viceroys and
Governors, but they were told, at the same time, to avoid criticising on
party grounds because “the Throne was fully aware of the motives which
usually inspire such attacks.”
Subsequently, the Empress Dowager took occasion in a homily on the whole
art of government, to place on record a defence of her policy as head of
the Manchus in China. The following extract from this Decree is worth
quoting:—