Yüan Shih-k’ai, while the Court was still in residence at the Summer
Palace. The Old Buddha showered costly gifts upon her trusted Minister,
and almost every high official in Peking attended the birthday ceremonies
to present congratulations and gifts. Conspicuous by his absence,
however, was the Emperor’s brother, Prince Ch’un (the present Regent),
who had applied for short leave in order to avoid being present, and who
offered no presents.
A significant incident occurred in connection with the birthday
ceremonies. Among the many complimentary scrolls, presented by friends
and hanging on the walls, were a pair which attracted much attention,
until they were hurriedly removed. One contained the following
inscription:—“5th day of the 8th Moon of the Wu Shen year” (this was the
date of the crisis of the _coup d’état_ when Yüan Shih-k’ai warned Jung
Lu of the plot, and thus brought about the practical dethronement of the
Emperor), and on the other were the words:—“May the Emperor live ten
thousand years! May Your Excellency live ten thousand years.”
The words “_wan sui_,” meaning “ten thousand years,” are not applicable
to any subject of the Throne, and the inner meaning of these words was,
therefore, interpreted to be a charge against Yüan of conspiring for the
Throne. It was clear that some enemy had sent the scrolls as a reminder
of Yüan’s betrayal of his Sovereign ten years before, and that they had
been hung up either as the result of connivance or carelessness on the
part of Yüan’s people. Four months later, when the great ex-Viceroy fell,
this incident was remembered and inevitably connected with Prince Ch’un’s
non-appearance at the birthday ceremonies.
In September, the Dalai Lama reached Peking, but owing to a dispute on
certain details of ceremonial, his audience was postponed. It was finally
arranged that the Pontiff should kowtow to the Throne, and that the
Emperor should then rise from his seat and invite the Lama to sit beside
him on a cane couch. This ceremonial was most reluctantly accepted,
and only after much discussion, by the Dalai Lama, who considered his
dignity seriously injured by having to kowtow. He had brought with him
much tribute, and was therefore the more disappointed at the Old Buddha’s
failure to show him the marks of respect which he had expected. His
audience was held early in October, when Her Majesty requested him to
offer up prayers regularly for her long life and prosperity.
In October, the foreign Ministers were also received at the Summer
Palace, and on the 20th of that month the Court returned to the Lake
Palace for the winter. On this, her last State progress, the Empress
Dowager approached the city as usual in her State barge, by the canal
which joins the Summer Palace Lake with the waters of the Winter Palace,
proceeding in it as far as the Temple of Imperial Longevity, which is
situated on the banks of this canal. It was observed that as she left
the precincts of the Summer Palace she gazed longingly towards the lofty
walls that rise from the banks of the lake, and from thence to the hills
receding into the far distance. Turning to the “Lustrous” concubine who
sat at her feet, she expressed her fears that the critical condition of
the Emperor would prevent her from visiting her favourite residence for
a long time to come.
[Illustration: VIEW, FROM THE K’UN MING LAKE, OF THE SUMMER PALACE.]
The Old Buddha sat in a cane chair on the raised deck of her magnificent
barge adorned with carved dragons and phœnixes; she was surrounded by her
favourite eunuchs, and half a dozen of the chief ladies of the Court. As
she descended from the barge, supported by two eunuchs, and entered the
sedan chair which bore her to within the temple precincts, her vivacity
and good spirits formed a subject of general comment. She performed the
usual sacrifices at the Temple of Imperial Longevity, a shrine which
she had liberally endowed; but it was remembered after her death, as an
unfortunate omen, that the last stick of incense failed to ignite. Upon
leaving the temple she begged the priests to chant daily liturgies and to
pray for her longevity, in view of her approaching birthday.
After leaving the temple precincts she proceeded with her
ladies-in-waiting to the Botanical and Zoological Gardens, which lie just
outside the “West-Straight gate” of the city. On arrival at the gates,
she insisted upon descending from her sedan chair, and made the entire
round of the gardens on foot. She expressed interest and much pleasure at
the sight of animals which she had never seen before, and announced her
intention of frequently visiting the place. She asked numerous questions
of the keepers, being especially interested in the lions, and created
much amusement amongst her immediate entourage by asking the director of
the gardens (a Manchu official of the Household) for information as to
where the animals came from, a subject on which he was naturally quite
uninformed. “You don’t seem to know much about zoology,” she observed,
and turned from the crestfallen official to address one of the keepers
in a most informal manner. The chief eunuch, Li Lien-ying, wearied by
such unwonted exercise, implored Her Majesty not to tire herself, but
the Old Buddha took pleasure, clearly malicious, in hurrying him round
the grounds. The occasion was unusual and remarkably informal, and the
picture brings irresistibly to the English mind memories of another
strong-minded Queen and her inspection of another garden, where heads
were insecure for gardeners and Cheshire cats. Eye-witnesses of that
day’s outing commented freely on their Imperial Mistress’s extraordinary
spirits and vitality, predicting for her many years of life.
Her Majesty, whose memory on unexpected subjects was always remarkable,
referred on this occasion to the elephant which had been presented to
her by Tuan Fang upon his return from Europe, and which, together with
several other animals for which she had no fitting accommodation in the
Palace grounds, was the first cause and first inmate of the Zoological
Gardens. The elephant in question had originally been in charge of the
two German keepers who had accompanied it from Hagenbeck’s establishment;
these men had frequently but unsuccessfully protested at the insufficient
rations provided for the beast by the Mandarin in charge. Eventually
the elephant had died of slow starvation, and the keepers had returned
to Europe, after obtaining payment of their unexpired contracts, a
result which brought down upon the offending official Her Majesty’s
severe displeasure. She referred now to this incident, and expressed
satisfaction that most of the animals appeared to be well cared for,
though the tigers’ attendant received a sharp rebuke.
After Her Majesty’s return to the Winter Palace, everything was given
over to preparations for the celebration of her seventy-third birthday
on the 3rd of November. The main streets of the city were decorated, and
in the Palace itself arrangements were made for a special theatrical
performance to last for five days. A special ceremony, quite distinct
from the ordinary birthday congratulations of the Court, was arranged for
the Dalai Lama, who was to make obeisance before Her Majesty at the head
of his following of priests. The health of His Majesty did not permit
of his carrying out the prescribed ceremony of prostration before Her
Majesty’s Throne in the main Palace of Ceremonial Phœnixes; he therefore
deputed a Prince of the Blood to represent him in the performance of
this duty, and those who knew its deep significance on such an occasion
realised that the condition of his health must indeed be desperate. This
impression was confirmed by the fact that he was similarly compelled to
abandon his intention of being present at a special banquet to be given
to the Dalai Lama in the Palace of Tributary Envoys. The high priest, who
had been compelled to kneel outside the banquet hall to await the arrival
of His Majesty, was greatly incensed at this occurrence.
[Illustration: THE EMPRESS DOWAGER, WITH THE CHIEF EUNUCH, LI LIEN-YING.]
At eight in the morning of the birthday His Majesty left his Palace in
the “Ocean Terrace” and proceeded to the Throne Hall. His emaciated
and woe-begone appearance was such, however, that the Old Buddha took
compassion upon him, and bade his attendant eunuchs support him to his
palanquin, excusing him from further attendance. Later in the day she
issued a special Decree praising the loyalty of the Dalai Lama, and
ordering him to return promptly to Thibet, “there to extol the generosity
of the Throne of China, and faithfully to obey the commands of the
Sovereign power.” The Empress Dowager spent the afternoon of her birthday
in the congenial amusement of a masquerade, appearing in the costume
of the Goddess of Mercy, attended by a numerous suite of concubines,
Imperial Princesses, and eunuchs, all in fancy dress. They picnicked on
the lake, and Her Majesty appeared to be in the very highest spirits.
Unfortunately, towards evening, she caught a chill, and thereafter,
partaking too freely of a mixture of clotted cream and crab apples, she
had a return of the dysenteric complaint from which she had suffered all
through the summer. On the following day she attended to affairs of State
as usual, reading a vast number of Memorials and recording her decision
thereon, but on the 5th of November neither she nor the Emperor were
sufficiently well to receive the Grand Council, so that all business of
government was suspended for two days. Upon hearing of Her Majesty’s
illness, the Dalai Lama hastened to present her with an image of Buddha,
which, he said, should be despatched forthwith to her mausoleum at
the hills, the building of which had just been completed under the
supervision of Prince Ch’ing.[127] The high priest urged all haste in
transmitting this miracle-working image to her future burial-place; if it
were done quickly, he said, her life would be prolonged by many years,
because the unlucky conjunction of the stars now affecting her adversely
would avail nothing against the magic power of this image. The Old Buddha
was greatly reassured by the Dalai Lama’s cheerful prognostications,
and next morning held audience as usual. She commanded Prince Ch’ing to
proceed without delay to the tombs, and there to deposit the miraculous
image on the altar.[128] She ordered him to pay particular attention to
the work done at the mausoleum, and to make certain that her detailed
instructions had been faithfully carried out. Prince Ch’ing demurred
somewhat at these instructions, inquiring whether she really wished him
to leave Peking at a time when she herself and the Emperor were both ill.
But the Old Buddha would brook no argument, and peremptorily ordered him
to proceed as instructed. “I am not likely to die,” she said, “during the
next few days; already I am feeling much better. In any case you will do
as you are told.” On Monday, November 9th, both the Empress Dowager and
the Emperor were present at a meeting of the Grand Council, and a special
audience was given to the Educational Commissioner of Chihli province,
about to leave for his post. At this audience the Old Buddha spoke with
some bitterness of the increasing tendency of the student class to
give vent to revolutionary ideas, and she commanded the Commissioner of
Education to do all in his power to check their political activities.
Shortly afterwards four more physicians, who had come up from the
provinces, were admitted to see His Majesty. That same afternoon he had
a serious relapse, and from that day forward never left his palace. On
the following morning he sent a dutiful message (or it was sent for him)
enquiring after the Empress Dowager’s health, she being also confined
to her room and holding no audiences. The Court physicians reported
badly of both their Imperial patients: being fearful as to the outcome,
they begged the Comptroller-General of the Household to engage other
physicians in their place. The Grand Council sent a message to Prince
Ch’ing, directing him to return to Peking with all haste, his presence
being required forthwith on matters of the highest importance. Travelling
night and day, he reached the capital at about eight o’clock in the
morning of the 13th, and hastened to the palace. He found the Old Buddha
cheerful and confident of ultimate recovery, but the Emperor was visibly
sinking, his condition being comatose, with short lucid intervals. His
last conscious act had been to direct his Consort to inform the Empress
Dowager that he regretted being unable to attend her, and that he hoped
that she would appoint an Heir Apparent without further delay. Whether
these dutiful messages were spontaneous or inspired, and indeed, whether
they were ever sent by the Emperor, is a matter upon which doubt has been
freely expressed.
Immediately after the arrival of Prince Ch’ing, an important audience
was held in the Hall of Ceremonial Phœnixes. Her Majesty was able to
mount the Throne, and, although obviously weak, her unconquerable courage
enabled her to master her physical ailments, and she spoke with all her
wonted vehemence and lucidity. A well-informed member of the Grand
Council, full of wonder at such an exhibition of strength of will, has
recorded the fact that she completely led and dominated the Council.
There were present Prince Ch’ing, Prince Ch’un, the Grand Councillor Yüan
Shih-k’ai, and the Grand Secretaries Chang Chih-tung, Lu Ch’uan-lin and
Shih Hsü.
Her Majesty announced that the time had come to nominate an Heir to the
Emperor T’ung-Chih, in accordance with that Decree of the first day
of the reign of Kuang-Hsü, wherein it was provided that the deceased
Sovereign’s ancestral rites should be safeguarded by allowing him
precedence over his successor of the same generation. Her choice, she
said, was already made, but she desired to take the opinion of the Grand
Councillors in the first instance. Prince Ch’ing and Yüan Shih-k’ai then
recommended the appointment of Prince P’u Lun, or, failing him, Prince
Kung. They thought the former, as senior great-grandson of Tao-Kuang,
was the more eligible candidate, and with this view Prince Ch’un seemed
disposed to agree. The remaining Grand Councillors, however, advised the
selection of Prince Ch’un’s infant son.
After hearing the views of her Councillors, the Old Buddha announced
that long ago, at the time when she had betrothed the daughter of Jung
Lu to Prince Ch’un, she had decided that the eldest son of this marriage
should become Heir to the Throne, in recognition and reward of Jung
Lu’s lifelong devotion to her person, and his paramount services to the
Dynasty at the time of the Boxer rising. She placed on record her opinion
that he had saved the Manchus by refusing to assist in the attack upon
the Legations. In the 3rd Moon of this year she had renewed her pledge
to Jung Lu’s widow, her oldest friend, just before she died. She would,
therefore, now bestow upon Prince Ch’un as Regent, the title of “Prince
co-operating in the Government,” a title one degree higher than that
which had been given to Prince Kung in 1861, who was made “Adviser to
the Government” by herself and her co-Regent.
[Illustration: THE SON OF HEAVEN. H.M. HSÜAN-T’UNG, EMPEROR OF CHINA.]
Upon hearing this decision, Prince Ch’un arose from his seat and
repeatedly kowtowed before Her Majesty, expressing a deep sense of his
own unworthiness. Once more Yüan Shih-k’ai courageously advanced the
superior claims of Prince P’u Lun: he was sincerely of opinion that the
time had come for the succession to be continued along the original lines
of primogeniture; it was clear also that he fully realised that Prince
Ch’un was his bitter enemy. The Old Buddha turned upon him with an angry
reprimand. “You think.” she said, “that I am old, and in my dotage,
but you should have learned by now that when I make up my mind nothing
stops me from acting upon it. At a critical time in a nation’s affairs a
youthful Sovereign is no doubt a source of danger to the State, but do
not forget that I shall be here to direct and assist Prince Ch’un.” Then,
turning to the other Councillors, she continued:—“Draft two Decrees at
once, in my name, the first, appointing Tsai-feng, Prince Ch’un, to be
‘Prince co-operating in the Government’ and the second commanding that
P’u Yi, son of Prince Ch’un, should enter the palace forthwith, to be
brought up within the precincts.” She ordered Prince Ch’ing to inform the
Emperor of these Decrees.
Kuang-Hsü was still conscious, and understood what Prince Ch’ing said
to him. “Would it not have been better,” he said, “to nominate an
adult? No doubt, however, the Empress Dowager knows best.” Upon hearing
of the appointment of Prince Ch’un to the Regency, he expressed his
gratification. This was at 3 P.M.; two hours later the infant Prince
had been brought into the Palace, and was taken by his father to be
shown both to the Empress Dowager and the Emperor. At seven o’clock
on the following morning the physicians in attendance reported that
His Majesty’s “nose was twitching and his stomach rising,” from which
signs they knew that his end was at hand. During the night, feeling that
death was near, he had written out his last testament, in a hand almost
illegible, prefacing the same with these significant words:—
“We were the second son of Prince Ch’un when the Empress
Dowager selected Us for the Throne. She has always hated Us,
but for Our misery of the past ten years Yüan Shih-k’ai is
responsible, and one other” (the second name is said to have
been illegible). “When the time comes I desire that Yüan be
summarily beheaded.”
The Emperor’s consort took possession of this document, which, however,
was seen by independent witnesses. Its wording goes to show that any
conciliatory attitude on the part of the Emperor during the last year
must have been inspired by fear and not by any revival of affection.
Later in the day a Decree was promulgated, announcing to the inhabitants
of Peking and the Empire that their sovereign’s condition was desperate,
and calling on the provinces to send their most skilful physicians
post-haste to the capital so that, perchance, His Majesty’s life
might yet be saved. The Decree described in detail the symptoms, real
or alleged, of Kuang-Hsü’s malady. It was generally regarded as a
perfunctory announcement of an unimportant event, long expected.
At 3 P.M. the Empress Dowager came to the “Ocean Terrace” to visit the
Emperor, but he was unconscious, and did not know her. Later, when a
short return of consciousness occurred, his attendants endeavoured to
persuade him to put on the Ceremonial Robes of Longevity, in which
etiquette prescribes that sovereigns should die. It is the universal
custom that, if possible, the patient should don these robes in his
last moments, for it is considered unlucky if they are put on after
death. His Majesty, however, obstinately declined, and at five o’clock
he died, in the presence of the Empress Dowager, his consort, the two
secondary consorts, and a few eunuchs. The Empress Dowager did not remain
to witness the ceremony of clothing the body in the Dragon Robes, but
returned forthwith to her own palace, where she gave orders for the issue
of his valedictory Decree and for the proclamation of the new Emperor.
The most interesting passage of the Emperor’s valedictory Decree was
the following:—“Reflecting on the critical condition of our Empire, we
have been led to combine the Chinese system with certain innovations
from foreign countries. We have endeavoured to establish harmony between
the common people and converts to Christianity. We have reorganised the
army and founded colleges. We have fostered trade and industries and
have made provision for a new judicial system, paving also the way for
a Constitutional form of government, so that all our subjects may enjoy
the continued blessings of peace.” After referring to the appointment
of the Regent and the nomination of a successor to the Dragon Throne,
he concludes (or rather the Empress concluded for him) with a further
reference to the Constitution, and an appeal to his Ministers to purify
their hearts and prepare themselves, so that, after nine years, the
new order may be accomplished, and the Imperial purposes successfully
achieved.
The Old Buddha appeared at this juncture to be in particularly good
spirits, astonishing all about her by her vivacity and keenness. She
gave orders that a further Decree be published, in the name of the new
Emperor, containing the usual laudation of the deceased monarch and an
expression of the infant Emperor’s gratitude to the Empress Dowager for
her benevolence in placing him on the Throne.
It will be remembered that the Censor Wu K’o-tu committed suicide at the
beginning of Kuang-Hsü’s reign, as an act of protest at the irregularity
in the succession, which left no heir to the Emperor T’ung-Chih, that
monarch’s spirit being left desolate and without a successor to perform
on his behalf the ancestral sacrifices. The child, P’u Yi, having now
been made heir by adoption to T’ung-Chih, in fulfilment of the promise
made by Tzŭ Hsi at the time of this sensational suicide, it appeared as
if the irregularity were about to be repeated, and the soul of Kuang-Hsü
to be left in a similar orbate condition in the Halls of Hades, unless
some means could be found to solve the difficulty and meet the claims of
both the deceased Emperors. In the event of Kuang-Hsü being left without
heir or descendant to perform the all-important worship at his shrine,
there could be but little doubt that the feelings of the orthodox would
again be outraged, and the example of Wu K’o-tu might have been followed
by other Censors. The Empress Dowager, realising the importance of the
question, solved it in her own masterful way by a stroke of policy which,
although without precisely applicable precedent in history, nevertheless
appeared to satisfy all parties, and to placate all prejudices, if only
by reason of its simplicity and originality. Her Decree on the subject
was as follows:—
“The Emperor T’ung-Chih, having left no heir, was compelled to
issue a Decree to the effect that so soon as a child should be
born to His Majesty Kuang-Hsü, that child would be adopted as
Heir to the Emperor T’ung-Chih. But now His Majesty Kuang-Hsü
has ascended on high, dragon-borne, and he also has left no
heir. I am, therefore, now obliged to decree that P’u Yi, son
of Tsai Feng, the ‘Prince co-operating in the Government,’
should become heir by adoption to the Emperor T’ung-Chih, and
that, at the same time, he should perform joint sacrifices at
the shrine of His Majesty Kuang-Hsü.”
To those who are acquainted with the tangled web of Chinese Court
ceremonial and the laws of succession, it would seem that so simple (and
so new) an expedient might suitably have been adopted on previous similar
occasions, since all that was required was to make the individual living
Emperor assume a dual personality towards the dead, and one cannot help
wondering whether the classical priestcraft which controls these things
would have accepted the solution so readily at the hands of anyone less
masterful and determined than Tzŭ Hsi.