of your Majesty the Empress Dowager, and had hoped that Heaven
might grant me length of days, wherein to display my utmost
endeavour in your Majesty’s service. Respectfully I recall
the fact that I began my career of service as an Imperial
guardsman, and was on duty with H.M. Hsien-Feng in his
excursion to the hunting park at Mulan (Jehol) in the tenth
year of his reign. At that time the situation of the Empire was
one of great danger; within there was the grave peril of the
rebellion, while from without the English and French barbarians
had captured our sacred capital. We witnessed the violation of
the Imperial shrines and saw the sacred chariot of His Majesty
leave Peking, in accordance with the principle laid down by
Mencius that a sovereign should leave his capital when it is
threatened by invasion of barbarians.
“After the Court’s arrival at Jehol, I had the honour of
attending on your Majesty the Empress Dowager as Chamberlain,
and when His Majesty Hsien-Feng lay on his deathbed, I had the
honour to warn your Majesty and the Empress Consort that the
Princes Cheng and Yi were conspiring against the State. After
the death of His Majesty, those wicked Princes usurped the
Regency and for many days your Majesty was in danger so great
that it may not be spoken of by any loyal subject. Happily,
your Majesty, acting on your own firm initiative and by the
favour of Heaven, dealt with those abominable traitors in the
twinkling of an eye and rescued the State from its dire peril.
For years thereafter you carried on the Regency, rebellions
were suppressed and peace reigned within the four seas.
“Your slave received many marks of the Imperial favour and
rose to be Minister of the Household; I was thus constantly in
attendance on your Majesty. When the late Emperor T’ung-Chih
mounted the dragon and ascended on high, it was to me that
your Majesty confided the duty of bringing the present Emperor
Kuang-Hsü to the Palace. Favours vast as the universe have I
received, and for these I have made no return.
“While acting as Captain General of the Peking Gendarmerie,
I incurred your Majesty’s displeasure; thereafter for seven
years I awaited, without incurring, the fitting penalty for
my offence. Later, when His Majesty came to his majority
and you were pleased to hand over to him the reins of
government, you conferred on me the post of Tartar General
at Hsi-an. Subsequently I was recalled to my former position
at the capital. In the 24th year of Kuang-Hsü (1898) your
Majesties determined on the introduction of European methods
of government and the Emperor summoned me to audience and
conferred on me the post of Viceroy of Chihli at Tientsin
where I was ordered to select and introduce reforms based on
foreign methods in order to remedy the weakness of China’s
administration. But who could then have believed that the
damnable treasons of K’ang Yu-wei should be the means of
thwarting your Majesties’ great plans? His Majesty the
Emperor, by giving ear to the lying inventions of that traitor
and his associates, if only for a little while, undoubtedly
allowed his filial piety to suffer temporary decline. This was
particularly the case when he wrote with his own Imperial hand
a Decree stating that his reform proposals were being blocked
by your Majesty and that, as you were opposed to the spirit of
progress, your interference in State affairs was a danger to
the nation. Towards me also His Majesty displayed his divine
wrath, so that once more had your slave deserved the penalty of
‘axes and halberds.’ But when I sought your Majesty in secret
audience and laid before you the details of the plot, once more
did your Majesty, without a moment’s hesitation respond to our
prayer and resume the control of affairs, swiftly visiting upon
evildoers of that treacherous crew the might of your august
displeasure.
“In the 26th year of Kuang-Hsü, certain Princes and Ministers,
statesmen deficient in virtue, gained your Majesty’s ear, and
even your divine wisdom was misled to believe in the unholy
arts and magic of the Boxers until the ancestral shrines were
the centre of cataclysmic disaster and the destinies of the
Empire trembled in the balance. Again and again I besought your
Majesty to put an end to these traitors, but could not gain
your consent. I incurred at that time your censure on more
than one occasion, and for forty days waited in my house fully
expectant of doom. But even so your Majesty repeatedly sought
my advice, and though it was not always followed, I was able to
avert the crowning misfortune which would have resulted from
the killing of the foreign Ministers. For this service your
Majesty has since deigned frequently to express gratitude.
“When your Majesties left the city on your tour of inspection
to Hsi-an, you decided upon punishing those evil-minded Princes
and Ministers, and thereafter to introduce a policy of gradual
and effective reform in every branch of the administration.
Already, during the past two years, considerable progress has
been made. By your return to the capital the sun has been
restored to our firmament, and even the barbarians of the
east and west have acclaimed your Majesty’s benevolence and
impartial solicitude for all, Chinese and foreigners alike.
“For the past year I have been continually ill, but until
two months ago was able to continue in the performance of my
arduous duties. Since then I have been compelled to apply for
sick-leave and have sought permission to resign my offices,
but your Majesty sent eunuchs to me with gracious messages and
presents of ginseng[124] and commanded that I should make all
haste to recover and resume my duties.
“But even the beneficent protection of your Majesty has failed
to avert from me the last ravages of illness. Repeated attacks
of asthma, with increasing difficulty in breathing, have now
brought me to the last stage of weakness and the very point
of death. With my last breath I now entreat your Majesty
vigorously to continue in the introduction of reforms, so that
gradually our Middle Kingdom may attain to a condition as
prosperous as that of the great States of Europe and Japan.
During my tenure of the office of Grand Councillor I have seen
many men appointed to offices for which they were by no means
fitted; herein lies a source of weakness, but above all it is
necessary that a radical change should be made in the selection
of District Magistrates and in the methods by which taxation
is levied and collected. It were well if the good example of
economy which your Majesty is setting were more generally
followed. In the seclusion of the Palace it is impossible
for your Majesty to know the truth as to the condition of
your subjects, and were it not for the prohibitive cost of
transporting your enormous retinues, I should advise that the
Throne should make regular tours of inspection in various
parts of the Empire. His Majesty Ch’ien-Lung made several
such tours, and among the wise sovereigns of ancient times
the custom was regularly observed. At this moment my mind is
becoming confused; I can say no more. Humbly do I pray that
your Majesty’s fame may continue to grow, and that all my good
wishes on your Majesty’s behalf may be fulfilled. Then, even
though I die, yet shall I live.
“I have dictated this, my valedictory Memorial, to my
adopted son, Liang Ku’ei, for transmission to your Majesty,
in temporary residence at Pao-ting fu. Though conscious of
its numerous shortcomings, for which I beg forgiveness, I
reverently entreat your Majesty to peruse it. Prostrate before
the Throne, with my dying breath, I, Jung Lu, now conclude my
Memorial.
“(_Dated the 10th April, 1903._)”
XXVI
HER MAJESTY’S LAST DAYS.
In the summer of 1908 Tzŭ Hsi’s generally robust health showed signs of
failing, a fact which is recorded in her valedictory Decree, and one of
no small importance in considering the coincident fact of the illness
of the Emperor. Of the causes and manner of the latter’s death, nothing
will ever be definitely known; they lie buried with many another secret
of the Forbidden City, in the hearts of Li Lien-ying and his immediate
satellites. Even among the higher officials, Manchu and Chinese, of the
capital, opinions differ, and many conflicting theories are current
to account for the remarkable coincidence of the death of Tzŭ Hsi and
her unhappy nephew on successive days. For those who seek it there is
no lack of circumstantial evidence to justify the conclusion that the
long-threatened Emperor was “removed” by the reactionaries, headed by
the chief eunuch, who had only too good cause to fear his unfettered
authority on the Throne. At the same time it is conceivably possible
that many of the plots and proceedings of the Summer Palace at that time
might have been unknown to Tzŭ Hsi, and that she was purposely kept in
ignorance by those who foresaw the possibility of her early death and
took their precautions accordingly, after the Oriental manner. Indeed,
in the light of much trustworthy evidence of eye-witnesses, this seems
a rational explanation of events to which any solution by theories of
coincidence is evidently difficult. Most of the following account of Her
Majesty’s last days is derived from the statements of two high officials,
one Manchu and the other Chinese, who were at that time on duty with the
Court. Their testimony and their conclusions coincide, on the whole, with
those of the best-informed and most reliable Chinese newspapers, whose
news from the capital is also generally from official sources. We accept
them, naturally, with all reserve, yet with an inclination to give the
Empress Dowager, on this occasion, the benefit of their good opinions and
our own doubts. The simultaneous deaths may possibly have been due to
natural causes, but it is to be observed by the most sympathetic critic,
that the account given by Her Majesty’s loyal servants of her behaviour
immediately after the Emperor’s death, is by no means suggestive of
sorrow, but rather of relief.
It was in the previous autumn that the Emperor became very ill, so much
so that he was gradually compelled during the last year of his life to
desist from performance of the usual sacrifices, which entail no small
expenditure of physical energy through their genuflections and continual
prostrations. The impression gradually gained ground that His Majesty
was not likely to live much longer, and it was remarked, and remembered
as a significant fact, that the Old Buddha had some time before given
orders for the engagement of special wet-nurses for the infant son of
Prince Ch’un, born in February, 1906. It was understood that these orders
implied the selection of this infant Prince to succeed Kuang-Hsü, but
although many attempts were made to induce her to declare herself on this
subject, she declined to do so on the ground that her previous experience
had been unlucky, that her selections had been the cause of much
misunderstanding, and that, moreover, it was a house-law of the Dynasty
that the heir to the throne could only be lawfully selected when the
sovereign was _in extremis_, a rule which she had completely disregarded
in the nomination of Prince Tuan’s son in 1900.[125]
In this connection, there is every reason to believe that Tzŭ Hsi’s
superstitious nature, and the memory of the prophecies of woe uttered
by the Censor Wu K’o-tu at the time of his protesting suicide, had
undoubtedly led her to regret the violation of the sacred laws of
succession which she committed in selecting Kuang-Hsü for the Throne. On
more than one occasion in recent years she had endeavoured to propitiate
the shade of the departed Censor, and public opinion, by conferring
upon him posthumous honours. Towards the end of her reign, after the
humiliations inflicted on China in successive wars by France, Japan and
the coalition of the Allies, she was frequently heard to express remorse
at having been led into courses of error which had brought down upon
her the wrath of Heaven. In 1888, when the Temple of Heaven was struck
by lightning, and again, when the chief gate of the Forbidden City took
fire and was destroyed, she interpreted these events as marks of the
Supreme Being’s disapproval of her actions. The Emperor’s subsequent
conspiracy with K’ang Yu-wei and his associates of 1898, became in
her eyes another judgment and visitation of Heaven. It may therefore
reasonably be assumed that when the Boxer Princes persuaded her of the
efficacy of their magic arts and of their ability to drive the foreigner
into the sea, she seized upon the hope thus offered as a means of
regaining the favour of the gods and atoning for past errors. Although
in selecting the son of Prince Tuan to be heir to her son, the Emperor
T’ung-Chih (thus passing over Kuang-Hsü), she had once more violated the
house-laws of the Dynasty, there is no doubt that she took her risks in
the certain hope that further prestige must accrue to her house and to
herself, by the fact that the boy Emperor’s father, next to herself
in power, would be hailed by the Chinese people as the Heaven-sent
deliverer, the conqueror of the hated barbarian, and the saviour of his
country. In other words, recognising that the mistakes she had committed
had seriously injured her in the eyes of the nation, she determined to
endeavour to retrieve them by one last desperate throw. Later, after
the return from exile, when she realised that this heroic venture had
been as misguided in its inception as any of her former misdeeds, she
showed her splendid courage and resource by a swift _volte-face_ in the
adoption of those very reform measures which she had formerly opposed,
and by annulling the appointment of Prince Tuan’s son as Heir to the
Throne. She thus cut herself adrift from all connection with the Boxer
leaders as completely and unhesitatingly as she wiped out from the
annals of her reign all reference to the Edicts which she had issued in
their favour. The present-day result brought about by this change of
policy, and of the succession of Prince Chun’s infant son to the Throne,
has been to establish more firmly than ever that junior branch of the
Imperial family. It is now believed, if not accepted, at Court, that
the first Prince Ch’un, the father of Kuang-Hsü and grandfather of the
present sovereign, will eventually be canonised with the title of “Ti”
or Emperor, which would practically make him, by posthumous right, the
founder of a new Dynastic branch. The problem of the direct succession,
even in Chinese eyes, is not simple, and it was generally supposed
(_e.g._ by the _Times_ correspondent at Peking in October 1908) that the
Empress Dowager would nominate Prince P’u Lun to succeed Kuang-Hsü, thus
restoring the succession to the senior branch of the family. This would
certainly have appealed to orthodox and literary officials throughout
the Empire, and, as a means of appeasing the distressed ghost of the
protesting Censor, would have been more effective than the course she
actually adopted. Doctor Morrison, discussing this question of the
succession before the event, expressed the general opinion that the
appointment of another infant to succeed the Emperor Kuang-Hsü (involving
another long Regency) would be fraught with great danger to the Dynasty.
There is no doubt that the present situation, lacking that strong hand
which for half a century has held together the chaotic fabric of China’s
Government, suffers from the fact that for many years to come the supreme
authority must remain in the hands of a Regent, and a Regent whose
position is _ab initio_ undermined by the powerful influences brought
to bear by the senior branch of the Imperial Clan. Tzŭ Hsi was fully
aware of the position which would be created, or rather prolonged, by
the selection of Prince Chun’s son, and for this reason, no doubt, the
selection of Kuang-Hsü’s successor was postponed until the very day of
her death. When, at last, confronted by the imperative necessity for
action, she had to make up her mind, there were two things that chiefly
weighed with her. These were, firstly, the promise that she had made to
Jung Lu, and, secondly, her unconcealed dislike for Prince Ch’ing, who
had made himself the chief spokesman for the claims of Prince P’u Lun.
It was also only natural that she should wish to leave to her favourite
niece (the Consort of Kuang-Hsü) the title and power of Empress Dowager,
if only in reward for years of faithful and loyal service to herself. In
other words, the claims of the human equation and her own inclinations
outweighed, unto the end, the claims of orthodox tradition and the qualms
of her conscience.
Throughout the winter of 1907 and the following spring, the Empress
enjoyed her usual vigorous health. In April she went, as usual, to the
Summer Palace, where she remained all through the hot season. With the
heat, however, came a recurrence of her dysenteric trouble and in August
she had a slight stroke of paralysis, as the result of which her face,
hitherto remarkably youthful for a woman of seventy, took on a drawn
and tired appearance. In other respects her health seemed fairly good;
certainly her vigour of speech remained unimpaired, and she continued to
devote unremitting attention to affairs of State. She was wont frequently
to declare her ambition of attaining to the same age as Queen Victoria, a
ruler for whom she professed the greatest admiration; she would say that
she could trace, in the features of the English Queen, lines of longevity
similar to those in her own. The Taoist Abbot, Kao, whom she used to
receive in frequent audiences, and who possessed considerable influence
over her, had prophesied that she would live longer than any former
Empress of the Dynasty; but his prophecy was not fulfilled, for she died
younger than three of her predecessors.
In the summer of 1908 the Old Buddha took a keen interest in the
impending visit of the Dalai Lama, which had been arranged for the
autumn. The chief eunuch, Li, begged her to cancel this visitation on
the ground that it was notoriously unlucky for the “Living Buddha” and
the Son of Heaven to be resident in one city at the same time. Either
the priest or the sovereign would surely die, he said.[126] To this
Tzŭ Hsi replied that she had long since decided in her mind that the
Emperor’s illness was incurable, and she saw no reason, therefore, to
stop the coming of the Dalai Lama. Nevertheless, in July, she summoned
certain Chinese physicians, educated abroad, to attend His Majesty,
who had become greatly emaciated and very weak. They reported that he
was suffering from Bright’s disease. Their examination of the august
patient and their diagnosis of his symptoms were necessarily perfunctory,
inasmuch as etiquette prevented the application of the proper tests, but
they professed to have verified the fact that the action of the heart was
very weak. On the other hand, writers in the newspapers of the south did
not hesitate to assert that the whole medical performance was a farce
and that the death of the Emperor would undoubtedly take place so soon
as the powers about the Throne had made up their minds that the Empress
Dowager was not likely to live much longer.
According to the general consensus of opinion in the capital, the
relations between the Old Buddha and His Majesty were not unfriendly at
this period. It was said that shortly before his illness became acute
the Empress Dowager had encouraged him to take a more active part in
affairs of State, and to select candidates for certain high offices: she
certainly renewed the practice of showing him Decrees for the formality
of his concurrence. When the reformer Wang Chao returned from flight,
and gave himself up to the police, she, who had vowed the death of this
man in 1898, invited His Majesty to decide what punishment should now
be inflicted upon him. The Emperor, after long reflection, suggested
that his life be spared. “By all means,” replied the Old Buddha, “I had
fully intended to forgive him, but desired to hear your opinion. Full
well I know your sincere hatred of fellows like K’ang Yu-wei and his
associates, and I was afraid, therefore, that you might insist on the
immediate decapitation of Wang Chao.” She evidently believed that she
had completely eradicated from His Majesty’s mind all opposition to her
wishes.
As the Emperor’s health grew worse, the eunuchs were instructed not to
keep him waiting when calling upon the Empress Dowager and he was also
excused at the meetings of the Grand Council from awaiting her arrival
and departure on his knees. A Manchu holding a high position at Court
testifies to the truth of the following incident. One morning, after
perusal of a Censor’s Memorial, which contained several inaccurate
statements, His Majesty observed to the Grand Council, “How little of
truth there is in common rumour. For instance, I know myself to be really
ill, yet here it is denied that there is anything the matter with
me.” The Empress Dowager here broke in:—“Who has dared to utter such
falsehoods? If caught, he will certainly be beheaded.” Kuang-Hsü then
proceeded to say:—“I am really getting weaker every day, and do not see
my way to performing the necessary ceremonies on the occasion of Your
Majesty’s approaching birthday.” Compassionately the Old Buddha replied:
“It is more important to me that you should recover your health than that
you should knock your head on the ground in my honour.” The Emperor fell
on his knees to thank her for these gracious words, but collapsed in a
fainting fit. Prince Ch’ing thereupon advised that a certain doctor, Chü
Yung-chiu, trained in Europe, should be called in, but his advice was
not followed till later. On the following day His Majesty enquired of
the Court physicians in attendance, whose medical training is the same
as that which has been handed down since the days of the T’ang Dynasty,
whether his disease was likely to be fatal. “The heart of your Emperor is
greatly disturbed,” said he. Dr. Lu Yung-pin replied:—“There is nothing
in Your Majesty’s present condition to indicate any mortal disease. We
beseech Your Majesty to be calm: it is for us, your servants, to be
perturbed in spirit.”
After Tzŭ Hsi’s stroke of paralysis, the wildest rumours were circulated
as to her condition, so much so that, realising the excited state of
provincial opinion, and its relation to the question of the Constitution
which was to have been granted, Her Majesty decided to carry out without
further delay the promise she made in 1906. On the 1st of the 8th
Moon, she therefore promulgated a Decree, showing signs of the same
spirit of lofty statesmanship as was displayed by the rulers of Japan,
and evidently based on their example, whereby it was promised that
a constitutional form of government would be completely established
within a period of nine years. At the same time it was decreed that
every branch of the government should institute the changes necessary
to facilitate the introduction of the new dispensation. On issuing this
Decree she expressed her hope of living to witness the convening of the
first Chinese Parliament, and added that if Prince Tuan’s son had proved
himself worthy, and had remained Heir Apparent, he would by now have
been of age to carry on the government after the Emperor’s death. Age
was creeping upon her, and she would be glad to retire to the Summer
Palace for her declining years. As long as matters remained in their
present state, it would be necessary to refer important questions for her
decision, but she greatly wished that the period of her Regency should
not be indefinitely prolonged.