bodies of their troops; the heaviest artillery is now being
brought swiftly to our shores. Has China the forces to meet
them? Does she possess a single leader capable of resisting
this invasion? If the foreign Powers send 100,000 men, they
will easily capture Peking, and Your Majesties will then find
escape impossible. You will no doubt endeavour once more to
flee to Jehol, but on this occasion you have no commander
like Sheng Pao to hold back the enemies’ forces from pursuit;
or, perhaps, you may decide to hold another Peace Conference,
like that at Shimonoseki, in 1895? But the conditions to-day
existing are in no way similar to those of that time,
when Marquis Ito was willing to meet me as your Minister
Plenipotentiary. When betrayed by the Boxers and abandoned
by all, where will your Majesties find a single Prince,
Councillor, or Statesman able to assist you effectively? The
fortunes of your house are being staked upon a single throw;
my blood runs cold at the thought of events to come. Under
any enlightened Sovereign these Boxers, with their ridiculous
claims of supernatural powers, would most assuredly have been
condemned to death long since. Is it not on record that the Han
Dynasty met its end because of its belief in magicians, and in
their power to confer invisibility? Was not the Sung Dynasty
destroyed because the Emperor believed ridiculous stories about
supernatural warriors clad in miraculous coats of mail?
“I myself am nearly eighty years of age, and my death cannot
be far distant; I have received favours at the hands of four
Emperors. If now I hesitate to say the things that are in my
mind, how shall I face the spirits of the sacred ancestors of
this Dynasty when we meet in the halls of Hades? I am compelled
therefore to give utterance to this my solemn prayer, and to
beseech Your Majesties to put away from you at once these vile
magic workers, and to have them summarily executed.
“You should take steps immediately to appoint a high official
who shall purge the land of this villainous rabble, and who
shall see to it that the foreign Ministers are safely escorted
to the headquarters of the Allied Armies. In spite of the great
heat, I have hurried northwards from Canton to Shanghai, where
your Majesties’ Decrees urging me to come to Peking have duly
reached me. Any physical weakness, however serious, would not
have deterred me from obeying this summons, but perusal of your
Decrees has led me to the conclusion that Your Majesties have
not yet adopted a policy of reason, but are still in the hands
of traitors, regarding these Boxers as your dutiful subjects,
with the result that unrest is spreading and alarm universal.
Moreover, I am here in Shanghai without a single soldier under
my command, and even should I proceed with all haste in the
endeavour to present myself at your Palace gates, I should meet
with innumerable dangers by the way, and the end of my journey
would most probably be that I should provide your rebellious
and turbulent subjects with one more carcass to hack into
mincemeat. I shall therefore continue in residence here for
the present, considering ways and means for raising a military
force and for furnishing supplies, as well as availing myself
of the opportunity of ascertaining the enemies’ plans, and
making such diplomatic suggestions as occur to me to be useful.
As soon as my plans are complete, I shall proceed northwards
with all possible speed.”
The plain-spoken advice of Li Hung-chang was not without effect on the
Empress Dowager. The Decrees issued by her in the name of the Emperor
from Huai-lai on the 19th and 20th of August are the first indications
given to the outside world that she had definitely decided on a policy
of conciliation so as to render possible her eventual return to the
capital—an event which, as she foresaw, would probably be facilitated
by the inevitable differences and jealousies already existing among the
Allies.
In the Edict of the 19th of August, after explaining that the whole Boxer
crisis and the attack on the Legations was the result of differences
between Christian and non-Christian Chinese, she querulously complains
that the foreign Powers, although doubtless well meaning in their
efforts to “exterminate the rebels,” are behaving in a manner which
suggests aggressive designs towards China, and which shows a lamentable
disregard of proper procedure and friendliness. She naively observes
that the Chinese Government had been at the greatest pains to protect
the lives and property of foreigners in Peking, in spite of many
difficulties, and expresses much surprise at such an evil return being
made for her invariable kindness and courtesy. If it were not for the
unbounded capacity of foreign diplomats, fully proved in the past, in the
matter of credulity where Chinese statecraft is concerned, it would be
difficult to regard utterances like these as the work of an intelligent
ruler. But Tzŭ Hsi was, as usual, justified, for at the very time
when these Decrees were issued, Russia was already using very similar
arguments, and making excuses for the Chinese government, in pursuance of
her own policy at Peking.
In the conclusion of the Decree above referred to, Her Majesty orders
Jung Lu, Hsü T’ung and Ch’ung Ch’i to remain in Peking to act as peace
negotiators, but she admits that, in dealing with foreigners supported
by troops and flushed with success, it may be difficult for them at the
outset to determine on a satisfactory line of procedure. She leaves it to
these plenipotentiaries, therefore, to determine whether the best course
would be to telegraph to the respective Foreign Offices of the countries
concerned, or to consult with the Consuls-General at Shanghai (_sic_),
with a view to obtaining friendly intervention! It could not escape so
shrewd a person as Tzŭ Hsi that the atmosphere of Peking at this juncture
was not likely to be favourable to her purposes, and that it would be
easier to hoodwink the Foreign Offices and the Consuls at Shanghai than
those who had just been through the siege.
A Decree of the following day, also in the name of the Emperor, is
couched in a very different strain—a pathetic admission of the Throne’s
guilt, a plea for the sympathy of his people, and an exhortation to
return to ways of wisdom. “Cleanse your hearts, and remove all doubt
and suspicion from your minds, so as to assist us, the Emperor, in our
shortcomings. We have been utterly unworthy, but the time is at hand when
it shall be for us to prove that Heaven has not left us without sense of
our errors and deep remorse.” The whole document reads with an unusual
ring of sincerity, accepting, in the name of the Emperor, full blame for
all the disasters which had overtaken the country, while reminding the
official class that the first cause of these calamities dates back to
the time when they learned and adopted habits of inveterate sloth and
luxury. From depths of contrition, the Edict admits fully the Throne’s
responsibility, “We, the Lord of this Empire, have failed utterly in
warding off calamities from our people, and we should not hesitate for
one moment to commit suicide, in order to placate our tutelary deities
and the gods of the soil, but we cannot forget that duty of filial piety
and service which we owe to our sacred and aged mother, the Empress
Dowager.”
The policy of reform is now clearly enunciated and outlined as an
essential condition of the future government of the Empire. Provincial
and metropolitan officials are ordered to proceed at once to join the
Court, in order that the reform programme may be speedily initiated; the
Yangtsze Viceroys are thanked for preserving order in accordance with
“treaty stipulations,” and Chinese converts to Christianity are once more
assured of the Throne’s protection and good-will.
These utterances of the Throne, which lost nothing in their presentation
to the respective Powers by Prince Ch’ing and his colleagues, soon
produced the desired effect, and reassured the Throne and its advisers as
to their personal safety. Accordingly, early in September, we find all
the Viceroys and high officials of the Provinces uniting in a Memorial,
whereby the Court is urged to return at once to the Capital, advice
which would never have been given had there been any question of violent
measures being taken by the Allies against the Empress Dowager. At this
time the question of the future location of the Chinese Capital was
being widely discussed at Court, and there was much conflicting advice
on the subject. The Viceroys’ Memorial was drafted by Yüan Shih-k’ai
and forwarded by him to Liu K’un-yi, at Nanking, for transmission; it
definitely blames the Boxers and their leaders for the ruin which had
come upon China, and rejoices at the thought that “the perplexities
which embarrassed your Majesties in the past have now given place to a
clearer understanding of the situation.” Noting the possibility of the
Court’s leaving T’ai-yüan fu and making “a further progress” westwards to
Hsi-an, the Memorialists deplore the idea and proceed to show that such
a step would be unwise as well as inconvenient. As an example of the way
in which Chinese Ministers of State deal with questions of high policy
and strategy, the following extract from this Memorial is not without
interest:—
“It is true that, in times past, our Capital has been shifted
on more than one occasion of national danger, but in those
days our enemies were not able to push their armies far into
the interior of our country for indefinite periods, and were
compelled to withdraw after brief expeditions. The position
of affairs to-day, however, is very different, so that we can
obtain no reliable guidance from precedents of history. As
regards the province of Shensi, it has always been a centre of
wars and rebellions; its people are poverty stricken, and there
is no trade there. Seven centuries ago, Hsi-an was an Imperial
city, but is now anything but prosperous. Its vicinity to Kansu
and the New Dominion territories, infested with Mahomedan
rebels and adjoining the Russian Empire, renders it most
unsuitable as a site for your Majesties’ Capital. Supposing
that the Allies, flushed with success, should determine on an
advance westwards, what is there to prevent them from doing so?
If ten thousand miles of ocean have not stopped them, are they
likely to be turned back from a shorter expedition by land?”
After referring to the fact that the cradle of the Dynasty and the tombs
of its ancestors are situated near Peking, and that it is geographically
best fitted to be the centre of Government, the Memorialists remind
the Throne that the foreign Powers have promised to vacate Peking, and
to refrain from annexing any territory if the Court will return. These
ends, they say, will not be attained should the Court persist in its
intention to proceed further westwards, since it is now the desire of
the foreign Ministers that China’s rulers should return to Peking. In
the event of a permanent occupation of Peking by the Allies, the loss
of Manchuria would be inevitable. The Memorialists predict partition
and many other disasters, including financial distress, and the
impossibility of furnishing the Throne with supplies at Hsi-an or any
other remote corner of the Empire. If the Court’s decision to proceed to
Hsi-an is irrevocable, at least a Decree should now be issued, stating
that its sojourn there will be a brief one, and that the Court will
return to Peking upon the complete restoration of peaceful conditions.
“The continued existence of the Empire must depend upon the Throne’s
decision upon this matter.” The Memorial concludes by imploring their
Majesties to authorise Prince Ch’ing to inform the foreign Ministers
that the withdrawal of the allied armies will be followed by a definite
announcement as to the Court’s return.
In a further Memorial from the Viceroys and Governors, it is stated that
the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs had suggested to the Chinese
Minister in St. Petersburg, that the location of the Capital at Hsi-an
would certainly prove undesirable, in view of the poverty-stricken
condition of the province, and that their Majesties would no doubt,
therefore, proceed to Lan-chou fu, in Kansu. Referring to this
interesting fact, the Memorialists observe:—
“Those who are in favour of establishing the Capital at Hsi-an
profess to claim that the Yellow River and the T’ung Kuan Pass
constitute natural and impassible frontiers against attack.
They forget, however, that foreign nations possess artillery of
very long range. At T’ung Kuan the Yellow River is less than
two miles wide, and their guns will easily carry twice that
distance. Your Majesties have nothing but the native artillery,
and a few inferior foreign guns, and would never be able to
hold the position. The foreigners would undoubtedly penetrate
far into the interior, and control all the waterways, thus
preventing transport and supplies. Even if one foreign Power
were to find it difficult, there is no doubt that it would be
easy for several of them acting together.
“Moreover, friendly Powers are entitled, by the law of
civilised nations, to send their diplomatic representatives
to our Capital. If peace be made, and the foreign Powers
assent to the proposed change of capital, they will surely
insist upon sending their envoys into Shensi. After their
recent experiences, they will require to have foreign troops
to guard their Legations, whose numbers must necessarily be
large, in proportion to the distance from the coast. Foreign
garrisons would thus have to be established at points in
Honan, Shansi and Chihli, in order to maintain their line of
communications, so that China would eventually be overrun by
foreign troops. It is, therefore, plainly out of the question
that the Court should leave Peking. In times of peace it might
have been suggested, but to think of it after a disastrous
war is impossible. The foreigners are acting in unison;
China is completely disorganised. They have ample resources
and reinforcements; China has none. If we have thoughts of
fighting any foreign Power we must first form alliances with
several others; in any case nothing can be done before an ample
supply of ordnance and munitions of war has been accumulated.
This is no time for considering such possibilities. We, your
Memorialists, venture to suggest that Your Majesties have
failed to take into consideration all these facts, and in
impressing them upon you, we earnestly beg that you may now
come to a wise decision.”
Before coming to a decision, however, Tzŭ Hsi required to be fully
assured that the foreign Powers would not insist on her abdicating the
supreme power as one of the conditions of peace. Convinced on that point,
the hesitation which she had previously shown in regard to returning to
Peking dropped from her like a garment. It had been freely predicted by
conservative officials and the _literati_ that the Old Buddha would never
again wish to see her desecrated capital or to visit the polluted shrines
of her ancestors. In spite of her superstitious nature, however, she was
far too level-headed and far-seeing a woman to attach supreme importance
to sentimental considerations, or to allow them to weigh heavily in
the balance when the question of her own rulership was at stake. The
hesitation which she had shown and the attention which she had paid to
the advice of those who, like Chang Chih-tung, desired her to establish
a new capital in Central China, were primarily a question of “face.” She
would only return to Peking if guaranteed the full dignity and power of
her former position. But as the peace negotiations proceeded, and as
it became clear to her that along the well-worn path of international
jealousies she might return unpunished, and even welcomed, to Peking, she
proceeded to make preparations for an early return. Fully informed each
day by Prince Ch’ing of the progress which her plenipotentiaries were
making towards the completion of the Peace Protocol, and overjoyed at
its terms, she waited only until the condition of the roads, always more
or less impassable after the summer rains, had sufficiently improved to
permit of comfortable travelling. During the delay necessitated by the
collecting and packing of the enormous quantity of “tribute” collected
by Her Majesty and the Court during their stay at Hsi-an, she received
definite confirmation of the good news that her treasure vaults in the
capital had not been plundered by the foreign troops—good news which
increased her anxiety to return as quickly as possible to superintend
its removal before any pilfering by the eunuchs should take place.
It was on the 24th day of the 8th Moon (20th October, 1901) that the
long procession started from Her Majesty’s temporary residence in the
Governor’s Yamên; followed by an enormous retinue, she commenced her
journey by sacrificing to the God of War, the guardian spirit of her
Dynasty (and, it may be added, patron of the Boxers), at a small temple
outside the city gates. From this onward the Court advanced northward by
easy stages of about twenty-five miles a day, resting first at Ho-nan fu;
thence on to K’ai-fêng, where her sixty-sixth birthday was celebrated
and where she remained for some weeks. The travelling lodges and other
arrangements for her comfort and convenience along the whole line of her
route were in striking contrast to the squalor and privation which the
Court had endured in the flight from Peking.
It was during her stay at K’ai-fêng that the Peace Protocol was signed at
Peking. It was also before her departure from that city, at the end of
the 9th Moon, that Li Hung-chang died. His knowledge of foreign affairs
and remarkable ability in negotiations had been of the greatest service
to his Imperial mistress, and there is no doubt that the liberal terms
granted to China by the victorious Allies were very largely due to his
efforts. Her Majesty, while fully appreciating his ability, had never
treated him with marked favour, and had always refused to appoint him to
the Grand Council, giving as her excuse that she could not understand his
dialect. Upon his death, however, she conferred upon him an honour which
had never before been granted to any Chinese subject under the Dynasty,
namely, that of having a shrine built to his memory at the capital
itself, in addition to those erected in the provinces where he had borne
office.
It was significant of her impartial and intelligent rulership that,
although she had blamed him as originally responsible for the Japanese
War and its disastrous results, she had never approved of the Emperor’s
hasty and vindictive action in removing him from the Viceroyalty of
Chihli. Upon the signing of the Peace Protocol she conferred additional
posthumous honours upon him, taking occasion at the same time, in an
Imperial Decree, to congratulate and thank Prince Ch’ing, Yüan Shih-k’ai
and others, who assisted in bringing about the settlement of peace terms.
In particular she praised the loyalty of Jung Lu, “who had earnestly
advised the annihilation of the Boxers, and who, in addition to other
meritorious services on the Grand Council, had been chiefly instrumental
in protecting the Legations.”
After a series of magnificent theatrical entertainments in honour of
her birthday, the Court left K’ai-fêng and continued its journey to the
capital. On the eve of her departure Her Majesty took occasion sternly
and publicly to rebuke the Manchu Prefect, Wen T’i,[121] who had dared
to advise her against returning to the capital, and to predict that the
treacherous foreigners would certainly seize her sacred person—a useful
piece of play to the gallery.
At the crossing of the Yellow River, which took place in beautiful
weather, she sacrificed to the River God, in expiation and thanksgiving.
The local officials had constructed a magnificent barge, in the form
of a dragon, upon which she and the ladies of the Court crossed the
stream. It was noticed from this point onwards that wherever foreigners
happened to be amongst the spectators of the Imperial cortège, she made
a point of showing them particular attention and civility, and before
her arrival in Peking she issued a Decree commanding that Europeans
should not be prevented from watching the procession upon her arrival,
and this in spite of the fact that, in accordance with the usual custom,
the Legations had issued notices forbidding their nationals to appear
in the streets during the passage of the Imperial cortège. Everything
indicated, in fact, that Her Majesty now desired to conciliate the
European Powers by all possible means, and if it be borne in mind that
it was part of her deliberate policy thus to ingratiate herself with
foreigners as a means of furthering her own future policy, her actions
lose nothing of interest, while they gain something from the humorous
point of view.
On crossing the borders of the Province of Chihli, Her Majesty issued a
Decree, couched in almost effusive terms of friendliness, proclaiming
that the Emperor would receive the foreign Ministers in audience
immediately upon his return to the Palace, and that the reception would
take place in the central Throne Hall of the sacred enclosure. Chinese,
reading this Decree, and ignorant of the terms of the Peace Protocol
which provided for this particular concession to the barbarian, would
naturally regard it as a spontaneous mark of the Imperial clemency and
goodwill. In the same Edict Her Majesty proclaimed her intention of
receiving the Ministers’ wives in person, intimating that she cherished
most pleasant memories of past friendly intercourse with them. Here,
again, we note fulfilment of a plan, deliberately conceived and formed
upon the best classical models, “for dealing with strong and savage
people.”
At noon on the 6th of January, 1902, the Imperial party arrived by
special train at the temporary station which had been erected close to
the Southern walls of Peking, and adjoining the old terminus at Ma-chia
pu. Large pavilions, handsomely decorated, had been erected near the
station, in which the Old Buddha and the Emperor were to be received;
they were furnished with a throne of gold lacquer, cloisonné altar
vessels and many valuable pieces of porcelain. Several hundreds of the
highest metropolitan officials were in attendance, and a special place
had been provided for foreigners. As the long train of over thirty
carriages drew up at the station, the keen face of the Old Buddha was
seen anxiously scanning her surroundings from one of the windows of
her car. With her were the young Empress and the Princess Imperial,
while the chief eunuch, Li Lien-ying, was in attendance. Recognising
Her Majesty, every official fell upon his knees, whilst Chi Lu, chief
officer of the Household, officiously shouted to the foreigners to remove
their hats (which they had already done). The first to emerge from the
train was the chief eunuch, who proceeded forthwith to check the long
list of provincial tribute and treasure, mountainous loads of baggage
which had travelled with the Court from the start and under Her Majesty’s
close personal supervision. After the eunuch came the Emperor, evidently
extremely nervous, who, at a sign from Her Majesty, hurried into his
sedan-chair and was swiftly borne away, without a word or a sign of
recognition to any of the officials in attendance. After his departure,
the Empress came out and stood upon the platform at the end of her
carriage. “Quite a number of foreigners are here, I see,” she was heard
to observe. She saluted them in accordance with the etiquette observed
by Chinese women—bowing and raising her crossed hands. Prince Ch’ing
then advanced to greet Her Majesty, and with him Wang Wen-shao (who had
succeeded Li Hung-chang as Peace Plenipotentiary). They invited Her
Majesty to enter her chair: “There is no hurry,” she replied. She stood
for some five minutes in full view of the crowd, talking energetically
with the bystanders, and looking extremely well and youthful for her age,
until the chief eunuch returned and handed her the list of baggage and
treasure, which she scanned with close attention and then returned to him
with an expression of satisfaction.