CHINA UNDER THE EMPRESS
DOWAGER

The “Holy Mother,” Her Majesty Tzŭ Hsi.

(From a Photograph taken in 1903.)

CHINA UNDER THE
EMPRESS DOWAGER

BEING THE HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND
TIMES OF TZŬ HSI

COMPILED FROM STATE PAPERS AND THE
PRIVATE DIARY OF THE COMPTROLLER OF
HER HOUSEHOLD

BY
J. O. P. BLAND and E. BACKHOUSE

ILLUSTRATED

PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
London: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
MCMX

Printed in England

NOTE

The thanks of the Authors are hereby gratefully expressed to Miss Katharine A. Carl, for permission to reproduce the photograph of her portrait of the Empress Dowager; to Mr. K. Ogawa, art publisher of Tokyo, for the use of his unique pictures of the Palace at Peking; to Mr. Geo. Bronson Rea, of the Far Eastern Review, for permission to reproduce illustrations originally published in that journal; to Messrs. Betines, of Peking, for the right to publish their views of the capital; and to the Editor of The Times, for his courtesy in permitting the inclusion in this volume of certain articles written for that paper.

London, September 10th, 1910.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

INDEX TO NUMBERED MAP OF PEKING

MAP OF PEKING.

(1) Tung Hua Men, the East Gate Glorious. This is the usual entrance to the Forbidden City for officials attending audience when the Court is there resident. (It was here that was suspended in a basket the head of the foreigner captured by the Boxers on 20th June.)

(2) Huang Chi Tien, or Throne Hall of Imperial Supremacy. In this Hall the Empress Dowager, after the return of the Court from exile, was accustomed to receive her officials in audience on the rare occasions when she lived in the Forbidden City. It was here that her remains lay for nearly a year awaiting the day of burial.

(3) Ning Shou Kung, or Palace of Peaceful Longevity. Here the Old Buddha resided during the siege; here she buried her treasure. She returned hither after the days of exile and lived in it pending the restoration of the Lake Palace, desecrated by the foreign occupation.

(4) Chien Ching Kung, or Palace of Heavenly Purity. The Hall in which China’s Emperors were accustomed to give audience to the Grand Council. After the Boxer rising, in accordance with the new ceremonial laid down by the Peace Protocol, the Diplomatic Body were received here. In this Hall the Emperor Kuang Hsü discussed and decided with K’ang Yu-wei the reform programme of 1898, and it was here that his body lay awaiting sepulture between November 1898 and February 1909.

(5) Shen Wu Men, or Gate of Divine Military Genius. Through this, the Northern gate of the City, the Old Buddha fled in the dawn of the 15th August, 1900.

(6) The Rock-garden in which Her Majesty used to walk during the days of the siege of the Legations and from which she witnessed the burning of the Hanlin Academy.

(7) Yang Hsin Tien, or Throne Hall of Mental Growth. In this Palace the Emperor T’ung-Chih resided during the whole of his reign.

(8) Hsi Hua Men, or West Gate Glorious. One of the main entrances to the Forbidden City.

(9) Tai Ho Tien, Throne Hall of Exalted Peace. Used only on occasions of High ceremony, such as the accession of a new Emperor, an Imperial birthday celebration, or the New Year ceremonies.

(10) Shou Huang Tien, or Throne Hall of Imperial Longevity. In this building the reigning sovereign unrolls on the day of the New Year the portraits of deceased Emperors, and pays sacrifice to them.

(11) Hsi Yüan Men, Western Park Gate. It is through this that the Grand Council and other high officials pass to audience when the sovereign is in residence at the Lake Palace.

(12) At this gate the Emperor was wont to await, humbly kneeling, the arrival of the Old Buddha on her way to or from the Summer Palace.

(13) The Altar of Silkworms, at which the Empress Consort must sacrifice once a year, and where the Old Buddha sacrificed on occasion.

(14) A Lama Temple where the Old Buddha frequently worshipped.

(15) Ta Hsi Tien. The Temple of the Great Western Heaven. A famous Buddhist shrine built in the reign of the Emperor Kang Hsi.

(16) The Old Catholic Church built within the Palace precincts by permission of the Emperor Kang-Hsi. It was converted by the Empress Dowager into a Museum in which was kept the collection of stuffed birds made by the missionary Père David. Eye-witnesses of the siege of the French Cathedral in 1900 have stated that the Empress and several of the ladies of the Court ascended to the roof of this building to watch the attack on the Christians; but it is not likely that they exposed themselves for any great length of time in what must have been a dangerous position.

(17) Tzu Kuang Ko: Throne Hall of Purple Effulgence. The building in which the Emperor is wont to receive, and entertain at a banquet, the Dalai and Panshen Lamas and certain feudatory chiefs. Before 1900, Foreign Envoys were also received here.

(18) Ching Cheng Tien, or Throne Hall of Diligent Government. Used for the audiences of the Grand Council when the Court was in residence at the Lake Palace.

(19) Li Yüan Tien: Throne Hall of Ceremonial Phœnixes. Part of the Empress Dowager’s new Palace, built for her in the early years of Kuang Hsü’s reign. Here she received birthday congratulations when resident at the Lake Palace, and here she gave her valedictory audience, just before her death.

(20) Ying Tai, or Ocean Terrace, where the Emperor Kuang Hsü was kept under close surveillance after the coup d’état in 1898, and which he never left (except on one occasion when he attempted to escape) between September 1898 and March 1900. By means of a drawbridge, this Ocean Terrace was made a secure place of confinement. After the return of the Court in 1902, His Majesty lived here again, but under less restraint, and it was here that he met his death.

(21) At this point stood the high mound which Her Majesty is reported to have ascended on the night of 13th June, 1900, to watch the conflagrations in various parts of the city.

(22) The White Pagoda, built in the time of the Yüan dynasty (circa 1290 A.D.), when the artificial lake was also made.

(23) Wan Shou ssŭ, the Temple of Imperial Longevity. Here the Empress was accustomed to sacrifice on her journeys to and from the Summer Palace.

(24) The residence of Ching Shan, where the Diary was written.

(25) The residence of Wen Lien, Comptroller of the Household and friend of Ching Shan.

(26) Residence of Jung Lu.

(27) Place of the Princess Imperial, the daughter of Prince Kung, whom the Empress Dowager adopted.

(28) Birthplace of the present infant Emperor, Hsüan T’ung, son of Prince Ch’un and grandson of Jung Lu. In accordance with prescribed custom, it will be converted into a shrine.

(29) Birthplace of H.M. Kuang Hsü. Half of this building has been converted into a shrine in honour of His Majesty, and the other half into a memorial temple to the first Prince Ch’un, grandfather of the present infant Emperor.

(30) Pewter Lane, where Yehonala was born.

(31) Palace of Duke Chao, younger brother of Tzŭ Hsi.

(32) Palace of Duke Kuei Hsiang, elder brother of Tzŭ Hsi and father of the present Empress Dowager.

(33) At this point was erected the scaffolding from which guns were trained on the Legations. The soldiers on duty here were quartered in the house of Ching Shan.

(34) The execution ground where were put to death the Reformers of 1898 and the Ministers who, in 1900, protested against the attack on the Legations.

(35) The residence, in 1861 of Tsai Yüan, hereditary Prince Yi, who was put to death by Tzŭ Hsi for usurping the Regency.

(36) Residence of Tuan Hua, the Co-Regent with Tsai Yüan, also allowed to commit suicide in 1861.

(37) The Imperial Clan Court, in which is the “Empty Chamber,” where the usurping Princes met their death.

(38) Residence of the “Beileh” Tsai Ying, son of Prince Kung, cashiered for complicity in the Boxer rising.

(39) The site of the Chan-Ta-ssu, a famous Lama Temple, destroyed by the French in 1900 for having been a Boxer drilling ground.

(40) Residence of the Chief Eunuch, Li Lien-ying.

(41) Now the Belgian Legation premises, but formerly the residence of the Boxer protagonist, Hsü T’ung, that fierce old Imperial Tutor whose ambition it was to have his cart covered with the skins of foreign devils.

(42) The Imperial Canal, by way of which the Old Buddha used to proceed in her State barge to the Summer Palace.

(43) The graves of the Empress Dowager’s parents. They are adorned with two marble pillars, bearing laudatory inscriptions.

(44) Here was erected the temporary railway station at which the Empress alighted on her return from exile.

(45) In the north-west corner of the enceinte of the Chien Men, a shrine at which the Empress Dowager and the Emperor sacrificed to the tutelary god of the dynasty (Kuan Yü), the patron saint of the Boxers.

(46) At this point many Christians were massacred on the night of 13th June, 1900.

(47) Palace of Prince Chuang, the Boxer leader, mentioned by Ching Shan as the place where the Christians were tried.

(48) Residence of Yüan Ch’ang, where he was arrested for denouncing the Boxers.

(49) Residence of the Grand Secretary, Wang Wen-shao.

(50) Residence of Yang Li-shan, the President of the Board of Revenue, executed by order of Prince Tuan.

(51) Residence of Duke Lan, the Boxer leader. At present occupied by Prince Pu Chün, the deposed Heir to the Throne and a most notorious reprobate.

(52) Tzŭ Ning Kung, or Palace of Maternal Tranquillity, where the Empress Dowager Tzŭ An resided during most of the years of the Co-Regency.

(53) Chang Ch’un Kung, or Palace of Perpetual Spring, where Tzŭ Hsi resided during the reign of T’ung-Chih.

(54) Residence of the actors engaged for Palace performances.

(55) The Nei Wu Fu, or Imperial Household Department Offices.

(56) The Taoist Temple (Ta Kao Tien), where the Emperor prays for rain or snow.

(57), (58) In these two Palaces resided the chief Imperial concubines. After Tzŭ Hsi’s resumption of the Regency in 1898, Kuang Hsü and His Consort occupied small apartments at the back of her Palace, on the brief visits of the Court to the Forbidden City.

(59) Chung Ho Tien, or Throne Hall of Permanent Harmony. Here H.M. Kuang Hsü was arrested in September 1898 and taken away to confinement in the “Ocean Terrace.”

I
THE PARENTAGE AND YOUTH OF YEHONALA

The family of Yehonala, one of the oldest of the Manchu clans, traces its descent in direct line to Prince Yangkunu, whose daughter married (in 1588) Nurhachu, the real founder of Manchu rule in China and the first direct ancestor of the Ta Ching Emperors. Yangkunu was killed at Mukden in 1583, in one of his raids upon the territories which still owed allegiance to the degenerate Chinese sovereign Wan Li. His clan lived and flourished in that region, near the Corean border, which is dominated by the Long White Mountain, the true cradle of the Manchu stock. He and his people seem to have acquired the arts of war, and much lust of conquest, by constantly harassing the rich lands on their ever-shifting borders, those rich lands which to-day seem to be about to pass under the yoke of new invaders. Yangkunu’s daughter assumed the title of Empress by right of her husband’s conquests, and her son it was who eventually wrested the whole of Manchuria from the Ming Dynasty and reigned under the name of Tien-Ts’ung.

Into this clan, in November 1835, was born Yehonala, whose life was destined to influence countless millions of human beings, Yehonala, who was to be thrice Regent of China and its autocratic ruler for over half a century. Her father, whose name was Hui Cheng, held hereditary rank as Captain in one of the Eight Banner Corps. Considering the advantages of his birth, he was generally accounted unsuccessful by his contemporaries; at the time of his death he had held no higher post than that of an Intendant of Circuit, or Taotai. Holding this rank in the province of Anhui, he died when his daughter was but three years of age. His widow and family were well cared for by a kinsman named Muyanga, father of her who subsequently became Empress Consort of Hsien-Feng and Co-Regent with Yehonala. From him the children received every advantage of education.

Many unfounded and ridiculous stories have been circulated in recent years attributing to the Empress Dowager humble, and sometimes disgraceful, antecedents. Many of these are nothing more than the fruit of Yellow Journalism, seeking sensational material of the kind which appeals to the iconoclastic instincts of its readers. Others, however, undoubtedly owe their origin to the envy, hatred and malice of Palace intrigues, to the initiative of the Iron-capped Princes and other high officials of the elder branch of the Imperial family, many of whom were addicted to besmirching the family and character of Tzŭ Hsi in order to inflict “loss of face” on the Yehonala clan. In this way, and because mud thrown from above usually sticks, their malicious stories were freely circulated, and often believed, in Peking and in the South: witness the writings of K’ang Yu-wei and his contemporaries.[1]

To cite an instance. One of these mythical stories used to be told, with every appearance of good faith, by Prince Tun, the fifth son of the Emperor Tao-Kuang. This Prince cherished a grudge against Tzŭ Hsi because of his disappointed ambitions: adopted himself out of the direct line of succession, he had nevertheless hoped, in 1875, that his son would have been chosen Emperor. The story, as he used to tell it, was that when the Empress’s mother had been left a widow with a large family (including the future ruler of China) they lived in the most abject poverty at the prefectural city of Ningkuo, where her husband had held office and died. Having no funds to pay for her return to Peking, she would have been reduced to beggary had it not been that, by a lucky accident, a sum of money intended for another traveller was delivered on board of her boat at a city on the way, and that the traveller, on learning of the mistake and being moved to pity at the sight of the family’s destitution, insisted on her keeping the money. Twenty-five years later, when Tzŭ Hsi had become the all-powerful Regent, this official appeared for audience at Peking, when, remembering the benefits received at his hands, the Empress raised him from his knees and expressed her gratitude for his kindness. The story is prettier than many which emanate from the same source, and original, too, in the idea of a Manchu official dying at his provincial post in abject poverty, but unfortunately for the truth of the narrative, it has been established beyond shadow of doubt that neither the wife nor the family of Tzŭ Hsi’s father were with him at the time of his death. They had gone on ahead to Peking, in anticipation of his early return thither to take up a new appointment in the White Banner Corps.

Before proceeding further, it may be well to refer briefly to the Yehonala clan and its position in relation to the elder branch of the Imperial family, a question of no small importance, past and future, in its effect on the history of modern China. Jealousy and friction there have always been between the Imperial house and this powerful patrician clan, since the first Yehonala became de facto ruler of the Empire after the collapse of the Tsai Yüan conspiracy, but their relations became more markedly strained after the coup d’état in 1898, and although the wholesome fear of the Empress Dowager’s “divine wrath” prevented any definite cleavage, the possibilities of trouble were ever latent in the Forbidden City. Recent events at Peking, and especially the dismissal of the Chihli Viceroy, Tuan Fang, for alleged irreverence at the funeral ceremonies of the late Empress Dowager, have emphasised the divisions in the Manchu camp and the dangers that beset its Government, now bereft of the strong hand of Tzŭ Hsi. It is difficult for foreigners to form any clear idea of the actual conditions of life and of party divisions in the Palace, confused as they are by intricate questions of genealogy, of inter-marriage and adoptions by relatives, of ancient clan feuds. It should, however, be explained that the Imperial Clansmen (known in their own tongue as Aisin Gioros) divided into the Yellow and Red Girdles, are the descendants respectively of Nurhachu himself and of that ruler’s ancestors, by virtue of which ancestry they consider themselves (and the Chinese would recognise the claim) to be the sang pur and highest nobility of the Manchu Dynasty. The Yehonala clan, although in no sense of Royal blood (as marriages between the sovereign and female members of a family do not entitle that family to claim more than noble rank) owes its great power not only to its numbers, but to the fact that it has given three Empresses Dowager to the Empire; but, above all, to the great prestige and personal popularity of Tzŭ Hsi. If recent events are to be interpreted in the light of history, and of her significant death-bed mandate, the present leaders of the Yehonala clan are determined that the present Empress Dowager, the widow of Kuang-Hsü, shall follow in the footsteps of her august aunt, and control the business of the State, at least during the Regency. And, thanks to Tzŭ Hsi’s far-seeing statecraft, the young Emperor is a grandson of Jung Lu, and may be expected therefore to reverence the policy handed down by the Old Buddha.

The Regent, Prince Ch’un, with his two Sons, the Present Emperor (standing) and Prince P’u Chieh.

One long-standing cause of suspicion and dissension between the parties in the Palace arises from the fear of the elder descendants of Tao-Kuang (of whom Prince P’u Lun and Prince Kung are the chief representatives) that the present boy-Emperor, or his father, the Regent, will hereafter elevate the founder of his branch, the first Prince Ch’un, to the posthumous rank of Emperor, a species of canonisation which Europeans might consider unimportant, but which, in the eyes of the Chinese, would constitute a sort of posthumous usurpation on the part of the junior branch of the Imperial clan, since the first Prince Ch’un would thus be placed on a footing of equality with Nurhachu, the founder of the Dynasty, and would practically become the founder of a new line. The first Prince Ch’un had himself foreseen the possibility of such an occurrence, and had realised that it could not fail to lead to serious trouble, for which reason, as will be seen hereafter, he had taken precautions to prevent it. It has not escaped the attention of those whose business it is to watch the straws that float down the stream of high Chinese policy that, since the accession of the present child-Emperor to the Throne, the ancestral sacrifices made at the mausoleum of the first Prince Ch’un have been greatly elaborated in pomp and circumstance, while in official documents his name has been given “double elevation,” that is to say, in the eyes of the literati he is made to rank on the same level as a reigning Emperor. It is commonly believed by those Chinese who are in a position to speak with authority on the subject, that when the Emperor attains his majority, he will be led to confer further posthumous honours upon his grandfather, including that of “triple elevation,” which would place him on a footing of equality with a deceased Emperor, and entitle him to worship at a special shrine in the Temple of the Ancestors of the Dynasty. From a Chinese constitutional point of view, the consequences of such a step would be extremely serious and difficult of adjustment.

The Old Buddha was a strong partisan, and during her lifetime her immediate kinsmen were practically above the law, basking in the sunshine of her protection or making hay thereby, so that there was always a strong undercurrent of friction between them and the Yellow and Red Girdles, friction of which echoes frequently reached the tea-houses and market places of the capital. Tzŭ Hsi delighted to snub the Aisin Gioros; in one Decree she forbade them to reside in the business quarter of the city, on the ground that she had heard it said that some of them were making money by disreputable trades. She was by no means beloved of the Iron-capped princes and other noble descendants of Nurhachu, who, while they feared her, never ceased to complain that she curtailed their time-honoured privileges.

An interesting example of her masterful methods of dealing with these hereditary aristocrats occurred when one of the Imperial Dukes ventured to build himself a pretentious house in the immediate vicinity of the Imperial City, and overlooking a considerable portion of the palace enclosure. No sooner was the building completed than the Old Buddha confiscated it, reprimanding the owner for his lack of decorum in daring to overlook the Palace grounds, and forthwith she bestowed it upon her younger brother, the Duke Chao.

Another example of her clannishness, and of the difficulties which it created for the local authorities, occurred upon the establishment of the new Police Board at Peking, three years after the return of the Court from exile in 1902. The Grand Councillor, Hsü Shih-ch’ang, a Chinese by birth, and a favourite of Her Majesty, was placed at the head of this new Board, but he soon realised that the lot of his policemen, when dealing with the members of the ruling clan, was by no means a happy one. Her Majesty’s third brother, the Duke Kuei Hsiang, was a particularly hardened offender, absolutely declining to recognise police regulations of any kind, and inciting his retainers to “gain face” by driving on the wrong side of the road and by committing other breaches of the regulations. On one occasion a zealous policeman went so far as to arrest one of the Duke’s servants. Hsü Shih-ch’ang, hearing of the occurrence, promptly ordered the man’s release, but the Duke, grievously insulted, insisted upon an abject apology from the head of the Board in person. Thrice did the unfortunate Hsü call at the Duke’s palace without gaining admission, and it was only after he had performed a kowtow before the Duke in the open courtyard outside the palace that his apology was accepted. An idea of the importance of this incident in the eyes of the Pekinese, and of the power of the clansmen, may be inferred from the fact that Hsü subsequently became Viceroy of the Manchurian provinces, later President of the Ministry of Posts and Communications, and in August, 1910, was elevated to the Grand Council. On this occasion, however, the Old Buddha, learning of the incident, “excused” Hsü from further attendance at the Grand Council, and shortly afterwards he was transferred to Mukden.

Yehonala’s mother, the lady Niuhulu, survived her husband for many years, residing in his house in “Pewter Lane” (Hsi-la-hu-t’ung), quite close to the Legation quarter. When her daughter became Empress Mother, she received the rank of Imperial Duchess. She appears to have been a lady of great ability and good sense, distinguished even amongst the members of a clan always noted for the intelligence of its women kind. After living to a ripe old age, she was buried beside her husband in the family graveyard which lies without the city to the west, in the vicinity of the Europeans’ race-course, where her daughter’s filial piety was displayed by the erection of an honorific arch and the customary marble tablets. When, in January 1902, the Empress Dowager returned from exile by railway from Cheng-ting fu, she gained great kudos from the orthodox by declining to enter the capital by the Hankow railway line, because that line ran close to her parents’ graves, and it would have been a serious breach of respect to their memory to pass the spot without reverently alighting to make obeisance. She therefore changed her route, entering Peking from the south, to the great admiration of all her people.

Of Yehonala’s childhood there is little to record except that among her youthful playmates was a kinsman, Jung Lu, who in after years was to play so prominent a part in many a crisis of her career. By common report she had been betrothed to him from birth. This report is not verifiable, but there is no doubt that the great influence which Jung Lu exercised over her, far greater than that of any of her family or highest officials, was founded in their early youth. K’ang Yu-wei and other Chinese officials opposed to the Manchu rule have not hesitated to assert that he was on terms of improper intimacy with her for years, dating from the flight to Jehol, and before the decease of her husband the Emperor.

Yehonala’s education followed the usual classical course, but the exceptional alertness and activity of her mind, combined with her inordinate ambition and love of power, enabled her to rise superior to its usually petrifying influences and to turn her studies to practical account in the world of living men. She learned to paint skilfully and to take real pleasure in the art; she was an adept at the composition of verses, as classically wooden in form as anything produced by the most distinguished of English public schools. At the age of sixteen she had mastered the Five Classics in Chinese and Manchu, and had studied to good purpose the historical records of the twenty-four Dynasties. She had beyond doubt that love of knowledge which is the beginning of wisdom, and the secret of power, and she had, moreover, the chroniclers aver, a definite presentiment of the greatness of her destiny.

Upon the death of the Emperor Tao-Kuang in 1850, his eldest surviving son, aged nineteen, ascended the Throne under the reign-title of Hsien-Feng. After the expiry of the period of mourning (twenty-seven months) during which the new Emperor may not marry, a Decree was issued commanding that all beautiful Manchu maidens of eligible age should present themselves at the Imperial Household Office which would make from them a selection for the Emperor’s harem. Prior to his accession, Hsien-Feng had married the eldest daughter of Muyanga, but she had died before his coming to the Throne. Among the maidens who obeyed the nuptial Edict were Muyanga’s second daughter, Sakota, and the young Yehonala. On the 14th of June, 1852, about sixty of the beauty and fashion of the Manchu aristocracy appeared before the critical eye of the widow of Tao-Kuang, who selected twenty-eight from among them, and these she divided into the four classes of Imperial concubines, viz., “Fei,” “P’in,” “Kuei Jen,” and “Ch’ang Tsai.” Sakota thus became a “P’in,” and Yehonala a “Kuei Jen” or “honourable person.” With rare exceptions, these Imperial concubines are much more the servants of their mother-in-law than the wives of their sovereign. In theory, their number is limited to seventy, but this number is seldom maintained; beside them, there are within the Palace precincts some two thousand female Manchus, employed as handmaidens and general servants under the direction of the eunuchs. In all domestic matters of the household, the widow of the Emperor last deceased exercises supreme authority, and although precedent allows the Emperor to inspect the ladies selected, he has no voice in their disposition or the determination of their rank.

Thus Yehonala left her home in Pewter Lane to become an inmate of the Forbidden City, cut off henceforth from all direct intercourse with her own people. An aged tiring woman who served her from the time of her first entry into the Palace until her death, is our authority for the following interesting description of the only visit which she ever paid to her family. It was in January 1857, nine months after the birth of her son, the heir to the Throne, that, by special permission of the Emperor, she was allowed to leave the Palace. Early in the morning, eunuchs were sent to announce to her mother that her daughter, the Concubine Yi, was coming to visit her at mid-day. There was much joyful excitement amongst the family and its friends at this rare honour. All the neighbours in Pewter Lane turned out to see the eunuchs and the yellow-draped chair. The mother and all the members of the household (including some of an elder generation) ranged themselves on either side of the entrance courtyard as the chair was borne within. At the head of the steps leading to the inner courtyard the eunuchs in attendance requested her to descend; she then entered the main room, where she took the seat of honour. Her family approached respectfully to salute her, all kneeling except her mother and the elder relatives. A banquet was then served at which, by special arrangement, the mother took a seat lower than that of the daughter, thus recognising her position as mother of the Heir Apparent. All present were most favourably impressed by Yehonala’s unaffected and affectionate disposition; she seemed quite unspoiled by the formalities and splendours of Court life, talking with all the old vivacity as a daughter of the house, showing the keenest interest in the family’s affairs, and particularly in the education of her sisters.

The banquet lasted till late in the afternoon, Yehonala asking and answering innumerable questions. As the short January day drew to its close, the eunuchs requested her to prepare to return to the Palace. She therefore took an affectionate farewell of her family, expressing sincere regret that her life must be cut off from theirs, but hoping that some day the Emperor might again permit her to visit them. Her mother, she said, would, in any case, be allowed to come and see her in the Palace. After distributing presents to all the members of her family, she entered her palanquin and was borne away. She never saw her home again, but in later years her mother used frequently to visit her in the Forbidden City.

Upon entering the Palace, Yehonala proceeded to establish herself firmly and speedily in the good graces of Tao-Kuang’s widow; through her influence at first, and later by virtue of her own charm, she soon became first favourite with her weak and dissolute lord; and when, in April 1856, she crowned his long disappointed ambitions by presenting him with an heir to the Throne, her position was completely assured. At the time of her entering the Palace, the Taiping rebellion was causing great uneasiness at the capital. In March 1853, the rebels took Nanking, the southern capital. Yehonala, who had already made it her business to read, and advise on, all Memorials from the provinces, used her growing influence with the Son of Heaven to secure the appointment of Tseng Kuo-fan as Commander-in-Chief, and to provide him with funds for the raising of train-bands in Hunan, with which, and with the help of General Gordon, Tseng eventually suppressed the rebellion. Thus early she showed her superiority to environment and the fetters of tradition, displaying at a moment of national danger that breadth of mind and quick decision which distinguished her. By all official precedent, Tseng Kuo-fan was not available for service, being in mourning for his mother, but it was ever Yehonala’s opinion that precedents were meant to be subordinate to the State and not the State to precedents, wherein lies the mark of the born ruler.

In August 1855 the widow of Tao-Kuang died and Yehonala, in recognition “of her dutiful ministrations,” was raised to the rank of “P’in,” her colleague Sakota having in the meanwhile become Empress Consort.

It was the common belief of Chinese writers at this time that the reign of Hsien-Feng would witness the end of the Dynasty, which was held to have “exhausted the mandate of Heaven.” All over the Empire rebellion was rife; the sovereign himself was a weak debauchee, incapable of inspiring either loyalty or affection in his people. In the eyes of the literati he was a degenerate, having none of the scholarly tastes which had made his five predecessors famous in history, nor any disposition to follow their example in the compiling of monumental editions of the classics and dictionaries, which have endeared their memory to scholars. It was, moreover, considered ominous that no heir had yet been born to him, though he was now twenty-five, several of his predecessors having provided for the succession before they were fifteen. When, therefore, in April 1856, Yehonala gave birth to a son, and at the same time the rebels were driven from the provinces of Hunan and Kiangsi, it was felt that the tide of evil had turned and that Heaven’s favour once more smiled upon the Throne.

At this period, the health of the Emperor, stricken with paralysis, had completely broken down and Yehonala, by virtue of her position as mother of the Heir Apparent, and even more by reason of her masterful character, became the real ruler of the Empire. Her colleague, the Empress Consort, took little or no active interest in the business of government. In actual rank, Yehonala had risen to the position of a concubine of the first grade “Fei” and was generally known in the metropolis as the “Kuei Fei, Yi,” the last word being her honorific title, meaning “feminine virtue.”

Her advice on foreign affairs at this period was generally of an aggressive character, and the fact is not matter for wonder when we bear in mind her youth, her pride of race and her complete ignorance of foreign countries and their resources. On the return of the special Envoy Ch’i Ying, who had been sent to endeavour to induce Lord Elgin to leave Taku and whose mission had ignominiously failed, it was to the haughty Yehonala that common report credited the Decree which ordered him to be presented with the “silken cord” of self-despatch, as a mark of “the Throne’s benevolent leniency.” To her also was ascribed the Emperor’s refusal to permit the High Commissioner Yeh at Canton to negotiate with the British on trade questions, a decision which led directly to the capture of that city by the foreign barbarian in the following year. In the records left by chroniclers and diarists of that time it is generally noticeable that the Emperor’s opinions and doings are ignored and that all the business of the Imperial City and the Empire had come to depend on the word of Yehonala, a fact in itself sufficiently remarkable in a country where no woman is supposed to rule, and particularly remarkable when we bear in mind that she was at this time only a concubine and twenty-two years of age.

To prevent confusion arising from the several names and titles of the Empress Dowager, it should be explained that her family or clan name of Yehonala was that by which she was known to the world of Peking before and at the time of her selection for the Imperial harem. In the Palace, until her accession to the rank of Empress Mother (Empress of the West), she was still Yehonala, but more usually described as the “Yi” concubine. As co-Regent and Empress Mother, her official designation, Imperially decreed, was Tzŭ Hsi, to which many other honorifics were added. To the mass of the people she was either the Empress Dowager (Huang T’ai Hou) or the Old Buddha, and towards the end of her reign this last affectionately respectful title was universally used in the North.

The Imperial Daïs in the Chiao-Tal Hall.

Photo, Ogawa, Tokio.

II
THE FLIGHT TO JEHOL

The causes and history of the invasion of North China by the allied forces of England and France are too well known to need re-stating here, but the part played by Yehonala in the stirring days which preceded and followed the flight to Jehol are not familiar to European readers. Most interesting details are given on this subject by a certain Doctor of Letters and member of the Hanlin Academy, whose diary was printed privately in narrative form several years later, and from this document the following extracts are taken. It was originally entitled “A Record of Grief Incurable” and, as will be noted, it is primarily a monument of filial piety, into which the doings of the barbarians, and the already dominant personality of Yehonala, are artlessly interwoven, with a certain quality of sincerity that attracts. The narrative itself is full of human interest.

“In the 7th Moon of the ‘Keng Shen’ year (August 1860), five or six days after my mother fell sick, rumours began to circulate that the barbarians had already reached Taku. It was generally known that many Memorials had reached the Throne from the metropolitan and provincial officials, but as no mention of them had appeared in the Gazette, it was only natural that there should be a very widespread feeling of uneasiness and many alarming rumours. So far, however, there had been no fleeing from the city. His Majesty was seriously ill, and it was known that he wished to leave for the north, but the Imperial Concubine Yi and Prince Seng dissuaded him from this and assured him that the barbarians would never enter the city.

“At this time my mother was suffering from dysentery, but she ordered the servants to keep it from me. It was only one day, when I noticed a prescription lying on her table, that I realised that she was indeed seriously ill. Doctor Liu was in attendance, as usual, but I never had any confidence in him or his methods, which seemed to me far too drastic. Nevertheless he had advised and attended her for seven years, and my mother and all her household placed implicit confidence in him. Alas, the Ancients have rightly said that a good son should know something of the principles of medicine, and surely my ignorance has been the first cause of my mother’s death. Though I should give up my life a hundred times, how can I ever atone for this?

“During the next few days, people began to leave Peking, for the report was spread that our troops had been defeated at Taku, and that a Brigadier General was among the slain; the garrison had fled from Pei T’ang and the forts were in the hands of the barbarians. Prince Seng had been ordered by Edict not to fight a pitched battle, so that our forces were idly confronting the enemy. Nothing definite was known as to the real cause of our defeat, and the people, being kept in ignorance, gradually got over their first alarm.

“On the 13th of the 7th Moon, I noticed a change for the worse in my mother’s condition, and straightway applied for ten days’ leave of absence from my official duties. I kept her ignorant of the political situation and urged her to abstain from worry of every kind. But every-day the news was worse, and people began to leave the city in thousands.

“On the following day, Magistrate Li Min-chai looked in to say good-bye, as he was leaving to join the troops in Anhui. He expressed strong disapproval of Dr. Liu’s prescription and gave me one of his own. My mother was averse to taking his medicine, but I persuaded her to do so. In the night she was suddenly seized with shortness of breath, and hastily I sent for Mr. Li, who assured me that this was in no way due to his medicine. My mother, however, insisted upon returning to Dr. Liu’s prescription, so all I could do was to urge him to compound it of drugs less strong and more suited to a patient of my mother’s advanced years.

“My mother then bade me to prepare her coffin as she was certain that her death was near. Fortunately I had bought the wood eight years before at Mukden, and had stored it in a coffin shop in Peking, whence I now had it fetched. We set carpenters to work in our court-yard, and by the 20th, the coffin was finished. The wood was beautifully thick, and the whole appearance of the coffin most creditable. Never could I have expected that at such a time of haste and general disorder so perfect a piece of work could have been produced. The carpenters assured me that at the present time such a coffin would cost at least a thousand taels in Peking.[2] This comforted me not a little.

“Next morning the lacquer shop people sent over to put on the first coating of lacquer, in which at least two pounds were used. We then sent for the tailor and six assistants to make the grave clothes and purchased the materials for my mother’s ceremonial ‘going away dress.’ I had a long sable robe made up, but next day, as my mother appeared to be slightly better, I decided to postpone having the long outer robes prepared. Rumours were now rife that the barbarians had already reached T’ungchou, and were going to bombard Peking on the 27th, so that everyone was escaping who could leave the city. On the 27th, we put on the second coating of lacquer.

“On that day, our troops captured the barbarian leader Pa Hsia-li (Parkes) together with eight others, who were imprisoned in the Board of Punishments. Thereupon the whole city was in an uproar, and it became known that His Majesty was preparing to leave on a tour northwards. But the Concubine Yi persuaded some of the older officials to memorialise, urging him to remain, none of which Memorials have been published. All the Manchu and Chinese officials were now sending their families away and their valuables, but the large shops outside the main gate were doing business as usual. My mother’s condition remained much the same, and I applied for another ten days’ leave.

“On the 1st of the 8th Moon, we applied another coating of lacquer to the coffin. On the same day Dr. Liu changed my mother’s medicine, but, the dysentery continued unabated.

“On the 4th my mother called me to her bedside and said: ‘I cannot possibly recover. See that all is prepared for the burial. I shall take no food to-day.’ I felt as if a knife had been thrust into my vitals, and sent straightway for the tailor to hurry on with the ceremonial robes. My friend, P’an Yu-shih, called and recommended a purgative, but my mother was very angry, and refused point-blank to take it. In the night she had a violent attack of vomiting, which seemed to relieve her—so much so, that I told the tailor not to be in too great a hurry. Next morning the robes were finished, but my mother thought the coverlet too heavy, and I substituted therefor a lighter material, silk. To this she objected as being too luxurious and more expensive than she had any right to expect; she observed that her parents-in-law had not had grave-wrappings of such valuable stuff. Meanwhile the confusion in Peking was hourly increasing, and huge crowds were hurrying from the city. Most of the city gates were closed for fear of the barbarians, but the ‘Chang-yi’ gate in the southern city was still open.

“On the 7th, our troops engaged the barbarians outside the Ch’i Hua gate. The van was composed of untrained Mongol cavalry, who had never been in action. No sooner had the barbarians opened fire than they turned as one man, broke their ranks and stampeded upon the infantry in their rear. Many were trampled to death, and a general rout followed, our men fleeing in every direction and the barbarians pressing on to the city walls.

“Certain Princes and Ministers besought the Concubine Yi to induce the Emperor to leave on a tour. His Majesty was only too anxious to start at once, but the Concubine Yi persuaded two of the Grand Secretaries to memorialise against his doing so, and in response to this a Decree was issued stating that under no circumstances would the Emperor leave his capital. Another Decree was put out by the Concubine Yi offering large rewards to any who should slay the barbarians. It was generally thought that the Emperor would now forgo his intended departure.

“Early next morning we heard the news of another engagement outside the Ch’i Hua gate, upon which news His Sacred Majesty, attended by all his concubines, the Princes, Ministers and Dukes, and all the officers of the Household, left the city in a desperate rout and disorder unspeakable, affording a spectacle that gave the impression that hordes of barbarians were already in close pursuit. As a matter of fact, the foreigners were still at a considerable distance, and at the Summer Palace, where the Court lay, there was nothing whatsoever to cause the slightest apprehension. I cannot understand why His Majesty was allowed to leave; up to the very last the Yi Concubine begged him to remain in his Palace, as his presence there could not fail to awe the barbarians, and thus to exercise a protecting influence for the good of the city and people. How, said she, could the barbarians be expected to spare the city if the Sacred Chariot had fled, leaving unprotected the tutelary shrines and the altars of the gods? She begged him to bear in mind that episode in the Chou Dynasty, when the Son of Heaven fled his capital, ‘his head covered with dust,’ and was forced to take refuge with one of his feudatory Princes. The Chinese people have always regarded this as a humiliating event in the history of their country, but the present flight of the Court appears more humiliating still.

“Meantime my mother’s condition was becoming critical, and I had scant leisure for considering the political situation. Every official of any standing had either left the capital by this time or was leaving, and all the merchants who could afford it were sending their families away. The cost of transport was prohibitive for many; the price of a cart with one mule to go to Cho-chou was twenty taels, and to Pao-ting fu (60 miles) they charged thirty taels. In my case there could be no question of removing my mother, and there was nothing for it therefore but to sit still and face the situation.

“As the dysentery grew more acute every day, with Dr. Liu’s permission I tried Dr. Yang’s prescription. It was, however, too late, and nothing could help her now. On the morning of the 12th she was in extremis, and had lost the power of swallowing; so we sent for Li, the tailor, to put a few finishing touches on the burial robes, and to prepare the ‘cockcrow pillow’ and coverlets. At 11 P.M. she passed away, abandoning her most undutiful son. Alas, there is no doubt that her death lies at my door, because of my ignorance of medicine. Smiting my body against the ground, I invoke Heaven, but ten thousand separate deaths could not atone for my sins.

“We arrayed her, then, in her robes. First her handmaiden put on the inner garments, a chemise of white silk, then a jacket of grey silk, and outside that a wadded robe of blue satin. Then were put on the robe and mantle of State, with the badge of her official rank, the jade girdle and necklace of amber. After the gold hair ornaments had been placed in position, the Phœnix hat was set upon her head; red mattresses were laid upon the couch, and we placed her in a comfortable position, with her head reclining on the ‘cockcrow’ pillow of red satin. Not a friend came near us, and every door in the neighbourhood was closed. Next morning I lined the coffin with red satin, and then padded it with straw to prevent it shaking, and at 3 P.M. I invited my mother to ascend into her ‘long home.’

“The city was in a terrible tumult, and a friend came in to advise me to bury my mother temporarily in a temple outside the city. It would not be safe, he said, to inter her in the courtyard of this house, for the barbarian is suspicious by nature, and will assuredly search every house in Peking as soon as the city is taken. It was impossible for me to consider calmly what might happen if they were to find and to desecrate my mother’s coffin. I remembered what has been told of their doings in Canton under similar circumstances.

“On the 14th, the ‘Chang-yi’ gate was opened, and I found a temple, suitably situated, which the priest was willing to allow me to rent. I prepared therefore to watch over my mother’s remains, sending my family in the meanwhile to live with an old pupil of mine at Pa-chou. Only the two western gates of the Chinese city were still open, and as the Hata Men and the Ch’ien Men had been closed for four days, the stream of traffic through the Shun-chih Men caused perpetual blocks in that gateway. All the small pedlars, hawkers and barbers were fleeing the city, but still the large business houses remained open.

“On the 19th I conveyed my mother’s remains to the temple; I found all quiet there, but my progress through the city gate was very slow because of the crowd. On the 23rd there were but few people abroad, and these clustering together in small groups and speaking in low voices. Suddenly, a little after mid-day, an immense blaze was seen to the north-west, and speedily it was reported that the barbarians had seized Hai-tien and the Summer Palace. Our army is said to number half a million men, and yet it seems that not one of them dare oppose the barbarians’ advance. They have about a thousand of cavalry, yet they move about at will in our midst as if in an uninhabited wilderness! ’Tis passing strange! The troops of Prince Seng and General Sheng have retreated to the Te-sheng gate.

“On the 24th all the shops were closed, and the higher the price of vehicles, the greater the number of people to wish to engage them. The poorer class were using wheelbarrows, on which they packed their most valuable moveables for flight.

“Prince Kung sent an Envoy to the barbarians’ camp with a despatch asking for an armistice. On arriving in the vicinity of the camp, however, the messenger saw the barbarians pointing rifles at him, so that he turned and fled.

“On the afternoon of the 24th, vast columns of smoke were seen rising to the north-west, and it was ascertained that the barbarians had entered the Summer Palace, and after plundering the three main halls, leaving them absolutely bare, they had set fire to the buildings. Their excuse for this abominable behaviour is that their troops got out of hand, and had committed the incendiarism. After this they issued notices, placarded everywhere, in very bad Chinese, stating that unless terms of peace had been arranged before mid-day on the 29th, they would then bombard Peking, in which case all inhabitants who did not wish to share the fate of the city had better remove themselves to a safe distance.

“On this day it was reported that The Sacred Chariot had reached Jehol in safety, but His Majesty had been greatly alarmed, and had issued a Decree expressing regret for his failure to commit suicide on the approach of the invaders. The Emperor is reported to be ill, and it is said that the Princes Tsai Yüan and Tuan Hua are trying to get themselves appointed to the Grand Council. Should the Emperor die (lit. ‘when ten thousand years have passed’) the Yi concubine will be made Empress Dowager, but at present she is reported to be at variance with the Princes, who are endeavouring to prejudice the Emperor against her.

“I learnt that all was quiet at the temple where my mother’s coffin rests. Troops were passing there daily, but, so far, none had occupied it. On the 29th, my servant-boy, Yung ’Erh, came to tell me that troops from Tientsin in the pay of the barbarians had occupied the temple, but on proceeding thither I found them to be General Sheng’s men. Prince Seng’s troops were also near at hand, so that, if a bombardment had taken place, what could have prevented the destruction of the temple, and what would then have become of my mother’s remains? I therefore decided to engage wheelbarrows and handcarts, at six taels apiece, to take my family to Pao-ting fu, and I arranged with the undertakers to hire bearers for the coffin.

“At 11 A.M. of the same day the barbarians entered the city by the Anting gate, occupying its tower and the wall adjoining. One large cannon and four small ones were placed in position on the wall, and a five-coloured flag hoisted there. With the exception of the officials entrusted with the duty of negotiating, not one remained in the city. Two days ago the prisoner Parkes, and his companions, were sent back to the enemy with every mark of courtesy. Scarcely had they reached their camp when a special Decree, post-haste from Jehol, ordered Prince Kung to decapitate them all forthwith as a warning to the bandits who had dared to invade the sacred precincts of the Palace. As the Yi concubine had urged their execution from the very first, it would seem as if her influence were again in the ascendant.

“On the 1st of the 9th Moon, the ‘Chang-yi’ gate was closed, but I managed to leave the city by the Hsi-pien Men, where I was nearly crushed to death in the enormous crowd. Upon my arrival at the temple, I had a nice wadded cover made to put over the coffin, and then hurried back to the city to arrange for the cortège leaving next morning. The President of the Board of Finance, Liang Hai-lou, was hiding in the temple precincts with his family and chief concubine, all wearing common clothes and unshaven. This is a good example of the condition to which the very highest had been reduced.

“Next morning, on reaching the temple, I found the coffin-bearers and transport coolies on the spot. But, unfortunately, in my hurry, I failed to notice that the undertakers had supplied the frame, on which the coffin is carried, of a size smaller than had been agreed upon, so that instead of sixteen bearers there were but eight. We started, however, and the procession’s appearance of panic-stricken fugitives was most distressing to contemplate. But what could I do? The first and only object in my mind was to protect my mother’s coffin. I have omitted to state that my small servant-boy, Yung ’Erh, had started to accompany the coffin on foot. But, after they had started, it occurred to me that the lad could never stand so long a journey, and that should my mother be aware of it, she would be extremely anxious about him. Therefore, I quickly engaged another wheelbarrow for Yung ’Erh, and bade the coolies hurry after the procession.

“On returning home I felt uneasy about the jolting which my mother’s coffin must have experienced on the undersized frame. I went, therefore, to the undertakers and expostulated with them for having cheated me. After much altercation they agreed to change the frame, but I was to pay two taels more for the larger size. I subsequently learned that they failed to keep their promise, but there was no good to be got by suing them for breach of faith. They are sordid tricksters. Yung ’Erh wrote, however, to assure me that the party had reached Pao-ting fu in safety, and that the coffin had not been jolted in the least. On removing the wrappings the lacquer was found to be undamaged.

“The barbarians were now in full possession of the city, and rumours were rife on all sides. Everyone in Peking—there were still a good many people—was terrified, and the Manchus were sending their families from the Tartar to the southern (Chinese) city to save their women from being outraged by the barbarian bandits. The condition of the people was indeed deplorable in the extreme. One of the Censors had sent a Memorial to Jehol, reproaching the Emperor for the pass to which he had brought his people, and for the neglect of ancestral worship caused by his absence. He blamed His Majesty for listening to evil advisers, and besought him to return to his capital.

“The minds of the people were becoming more than ever disturbed, because it was now reported that the negotiations for peace had so far failed, either because Prince Kung would not entertain the barbarians’ conditions, or because the latter were too utterly preposterous.

“On the 6th, a despatch arrived from the British barbarians, accusing China of having violated all civilised usage in torturing to death their fellow-countrymen. For this they demanded an indemnity of 500,000 taels. At the same time came a despatch from the Russian barbarians, saying that they had heard that England was demanding this indemnity, but they (the Russians) were prepared to use their influence and good offices to persuade the British to abate their claims. Prince Kung was of opinion that, even if they should be successful in this proposed mediation, China would only save some 100,000 taels, and for this she would place herself under heavy obligations to Russia. So he replied, declining the offer on the ground that the British claim had already been accepted by China, and that further discussion of the matter was therefore impossible. Thereupon the Russians wrote again, saying that if China had definitely accepted the British terms there was, of course, nothing more to be said, but they asked Prince Kung to note that they had induced England to forgo half of the indemnity of two million taels originally asked, as a set-off to China for the destruction of the Summer Palace. On the 9th, Prince Kung forwarded the 500,000 taels to the British barbarians.

“The whole sixteen articles of the barbarians’ demands have finally been accepted without modification. The only thing that our negotiators asked was the immediate withdrawal of the invading army, and to obtain this they were prepared to yield everything. Therefore, the barbarians openly flout China for her lack of men. Woe is me; a pitiful tale, and one hard to tell! When the Yi concubine heard of Prince Kung’s complete surrender to the barbarians she reproached the Emperor for allowing his brother to negotiate, and she implored him to re-open hostilities. But His Majesty was dangerously ill, and refused to leave Jehol, so that our revenge must be postponed for the time being.”

H.I.H. P’u Ju, Cousin of the Present Emperor, Son of the Boxer Prince Tsai-Ying, and Grandson of Prince Kung.

Bearing in mind the frequent allusions made by the Hanlin diarist to the Emperor’s indecision of purpose at the time of the advance of the British and French armies on Peking, it is reasonable to assume that Yehonala prompted, if she did not write, the following vigorous Edict, which appeared on the 3rd day of the 8th Moon in the 10th year of Hsien-Feng (6th September 1860):—

“Swaying the wide world, we are nevertheless animated by one and the same instinct of benevolence to all. We have never forbidden England and France to trade with China, and for long years there has been peace between them and us. But three years ago the English, for no good cause, invaded our city of Canton, and carried off our officials into captivity. We refrained at that time from taking any retaliatory measures, because we were compelled to recognise that the obstinacy of the Viceroy Yeh had been in some measure a cause of the hostilities. Two years ago the barbarian Commander Elgin came north, and we then commanded the Viceroy of Chihli, T’an Ting-hsiang, to look into matters preparatory to negotiations. But the barbarian took advantage of our unreadiness, attacking the Taku forts and pressing on to Tientsin. Being anxious to spare our people the horrors of war, we again refrained from retaliation and ordered Kuei Liang to discuss terms of peace. Notwithstanding the outrageous nature of the barbarians’ demands, we subsequently ordered Kuei Liang to proceed to Shanghai in connection with the proposed Treaty of Commerce, and even permitted its ratification as earnest of our good faith.

“In spite of all this the barbarian leader Bruce again displayed intractability of the most unreasonable kind and once more appeared off Taku with a squadron of warships in the 8th Moon. Seng Ko Lin Ch’in thereupon attacked him fiercely and compelled him to make a hasty retreat. From all these facts it is clear that China has committed no breach of faith and that the barbarians have been in the wrong. During the present year the barbarian leaders Elgin and Gros have again appeared off our coasts, but China, unwilling to resort to extreme measures, agreed to their landing and permitted them to come to Peking for the ratification of the Treaty.

“Who could have believed that all this time these barbarians have been darkly plotting and that they had brought with them an army of soldiers and artillery, with which they attacked the Taku forts from the rear, and, having driven out our forces, advanced upon Tientsin! Once more we ordered Kuei Liang to go to Tientsin and endeavour to reason with them, in the hope that they might not be lost to all sense of propriety, and with the full intention that their demands, if not utterly unreasonable, should be conceded. To our utter astonishment, Elgin and his colleague had the audacity to demand an indemnity from China; they asked, too, that more Treaty ports should be opened, and that they should be allowed to occupy our capital with their army. To such lengths did their brutality and cunning lead them! But we then commanded Prince Yi and Mu Yin, the President of the Board of War, to endeavour to induce in them a more reasonable spirit and to come to some satisfactory arrangement. But these treacherous barbarians dared to advance their savage soldiery towards Tungchow and to announce their intention of compelling us to receive them in audience.

“Any further forbearance on our part would be a dereliction of our duty to the Empire, so that we have now commanded our armies to attack them with all possible energy and we have directed the local gentry to organise train-bands, and with them either to join in the attack or to block the barbarians’ advance. Hereby we make offer of the following rewards:—For the head of a black barbarian, 50 taels, and for the head of a white barbarian, 100 taels. For the capture of a barbarian leader, alive or dead, 500 taels, and for the seizure or destruction of a barbarian vessel, 5,000 taels. The inhabitants of Tientsin are reputed brave. Let them now come forward and rid us of these pestilential savages, either by open attack or by artifice. We are no lovers of war, but all our people must admit that this has been forced upon us.

“As to the barbarians’ seizure of portions of our territory in Kuangtung and Fukhien, all our subjects are alike our children and we will issue large rewards to any of them in the south who shall present us with the head of a barbarian chief.

“These barbarians live in the remote parts of the earth, whence they come to China for purposes of trade. Their outrageous proceedings have, we understand, been encouraged by abominable traitors among our own subjects. We now command that all the Treaty ports be closed and all trade with England and France stopped. Subjects of other submissive States are not to be molested, and whensoever the British and French repent them of their evil ways and return to their allegiance, we shall be pleased to permit them to trade again, as of old, so that our clemency may be made manifest. But should they persist in their wicked violation of every right principle, our armies must mightily smite them, and pledge themselves solemnly to destroy utterly these evil-doers. May they repent while yet there is time!”

Three days later Yehonala was present at the morning audience, when the Emperor made the following statement:—

“We learn that the barbarians continue to press upon our capital. Their demands were all complied with, yet they insist upon presenting to us in person their barbarous documents of credentials, and demand that Prince Seng shall withdraw his troops from Chang-Chia wan. Such insolence as this makes further parley impossible. Prince Seng has gained one great victory already, and now his forces are holding the enemy in check at Palich’iao.”

Orders were issued that the landing of troops from the warships which had appeared off Kinchou should be stoutly resisted.

On the 7th of the Moon His Majesty sacrificed at the Temple of Confucius, but on the next morning he was afraid to come into the city from the Summer Palace, although he wished to sacrifice to the tutelary deities and inform them of his intended departure. Early on the following day Prince Kung was appointed Plenipotentiary in the place of Prince Yi (Tsai Yüan) and the Emperor, despite the brave wording of his Decree, fled from the capital, after making obeisance to the God of War in a small temple of the Palace grounds. In the Decree announcing his departure, the flight was described as an “autumn tour of inspection.”[3]

The Court started in utter confusion, but proceeded only some eighteen miles on the road northwards from Peking, stopping for the first night in a small temple. Here a Decree was issued calling upon all the Manchurian troops to hasten to Jehol for the protection of the Court. On the evening of the following day a Memorial was received from Prince Kung, reporting on the latest doings of the barbarians, but His Majesty ordered him, in reply, to take whatever steps he might think fit to deal with the situation. It was out of the question, said the Rescript, for the Emperor to decide on any course of action at a distance: in other words, the Throne divested itself of further responsibility.

On the 11th, the Court lay at the Imperial hunting lodge north of Mi-Yun hsien. The Chinese chronicler records that the Emperor was too sick to receive the Grand Council, and delegated his duties to Yehonala, who thereupon issued the following Decree:—

“We are informed that the pestilent barbarians are pressing upon our capital, and our Ministers have asked us to summon reinforcements from the provinces. Now the highest form of military art is to effect sudden surprises, carefully pre-arranged. The barbarians’ superiority lies in their firearms, but if we can only bring them to a hand-to-hand engagement they will be unable to bring their artillery to bear, and thus shall our victory be assured. The Mongol and Manchu horsemen are quite useless for this kind of warfare, but the men of Hupei and Ssŭ-ch’uan are as agile as monkeys and adepts at the use of cover in secret approaches. Let them but surprise these bandits once, and their rout is inevitable. Therefore let Tseng Kuo-fan, the Viceroy of Hukuang, send up at least three thousand of his best troops to Peking, and let as many be despatched from Ssŭ-ch’uan. Prince Seng’s troops have been defeated again and again, and the capital is in great danger. At such a crisis as this, there must be no delay; it is our earnest hope that a sufficient force will speedily be collected, so that we may be rid of this poisonous fever-cloud. For bravery and good service, there will be great rewards. A most important Decree.”

At the Court’s halting place at Pa-Ko shih, close to the Great Wall, a Memorial came in from Prince Seng Ko Lin Ch’in, stating that small scouting parties of the barbarian troops had been seen in the neighbourhood of Peking, but that as yet there had been no general bombardment. A Rescript was issued as follows:—

“Inasmuch as it would appear that the pertinacity of these barbarians will only increase with opposition, it seems desirable to come to terms with them as soon as possible. With reference to the French barbarian Gros’s petition to be permitted to discuss matters with Prince Kung in person, at Peking, we command the Prince to receive him. But should the bandits attempt to approach the city in force, Prince Seng should take them in the rear and cut off their retreat. If by any chance, however, Peking should be already taken, let the Mongol regiments be sent up to the Great Wall for the protection of our person.”

After a leisurely journey, the Court reached Jehol on the 18th. On the 20th, the opinion of the advisers of the Emperor seemed to be in favour of continuing the war at all costs. A Decree was issued, referring to the fact that the foreign troops had dared to encamp near the Summer Palace, and forbidding Prince Kung to spare the lives of any captured barbarians upon any pretext whatsoever. To this Prince Kung replied stating that the prisoners had already been released and that the Anting gate had been surrendered to the foreigners. Prince Kung, in fact, was statesman enough to realise that the only chance for China lay in submission; he therefore ignored the Imperial Decrees. Before long the Emperor was persuaded to allow negotiations to be resumed, and on the 15th of the 9th Moon he confirmed the Treaty, which had been signed in Peking, in the following Edict:—

“Prince Kung, duly appointed by us to be Plenipotentiary, concluded, on the 11th and 12th days of this Moon, Treaties of Peace with the British and the French. Hereafter amity is to exist between our nations in perpetuity, and the various conditions of the Treaty are to be strictly observed by all.”

III
THE TSAI YÜAN CONSPIRACY

It was originally intended that the Emperor Hsien-Feng should return from Jehol to Peking in the spring of 1861, and a Decree was issued to that effect. In January, however, his illness had become so serious that travelling was out of the question, and this Decree was rescinded.

At Jehol, removed from the direct influence of his brothers, and enfeebled by sickness, the Emperor had gradually fallen under the domination of the Prince Yi (Tsai Yüan) with whom were associated, as Grand Councillors, the Prince Tuan Hua and the Imperial Clansman Su Shun. These three, recognising that the Emperor’s end was near and that a Regency would be necessary, determined on securing the power for themselves. Prince Yi was nominally the leader of this conspiracy, but its instigator and leading spirit was Su Shun. Tuan Hua, whose family title was Prince Cheng, was the head of one of the eight princely Manchu families, descended in the direct line from Nurhachu’s brother. Su Shun was foster-brother to this Prince. In his youth he was a conspicuous figure in the capital, famous for his Mohawk tendencies, a wild blade, addicted to hawking and riotous living. He had originally been recommended to the notice of the Emperor by the two Princes and soon won his way into the dissolute monarch’s confidence and goodwill. From a junior post in the Board of Revenue, he rose rapidly, becoming eventually an Assistant Grand Secretary, in which capacity he attained an unenviable reputation for avarice and cruelty. He had made himself hated and feared by persuading the Emperor to order the decapitation of his chief, the Grand Secretary Po Chun,[4] on the pretext that he had shown favouritism as Chief Examiner for the Metropolitan Degree,—the real reason being that he had offended the two Princes by his uncompromising honesty and blunt speech. It was at this period that he first came into conflict with the young Yehonala, who, dreading the man’s growing influence with the Emperor, endeavoured to counteract it, and at the same time to save the life of the Grand Secretary; she failed in the attempt, and Su Shun’s position became the stronger for her failure. All those who opposed him were speedily banished or degraded. The Court was terrified, especially when it was realised that Yehonala was out of favour, and Su Shun took care to give them real and frequent cause for alarm. At his instance, all the Secretaries of the Board of Revenue were cashiered on a charge of making illicit profits by cornering the cash market. The charge was possibly well-founded, since such proceedings are part of a Metropolitan official’s recognised means of subsistence, but coming from the notoriously corrupt Su Shun, it was purely vindictive, as was shown by his subsequent action; for upon this charge he obtained the arrest of over a hundred notables and rich merchants whom he kept in custody of no gentle kind until they had ransomed themselves with enormous sums. Thus was founded the great fortune which enabled him to conspire with the Princes Yi and Cheng[5] for the supreme power, and which led him eventually to his ruin. To this day, many of his millions lie in the Palace vaults, to which they were carried after his impeachment and death—millions carefully hoarded by Tzŭ Hsi and buried during the Court’s flight and exile in 1900.

It was chiefly because of the advice of Su Shun that the Emperor fled his capital at the approach of the Allies, in spite of the urgent appeals of Yehonala and the Grand Council. By his advice also most of the high officials and Metropolitan Ministers were prevented from accompanying the Court, by which means the conspirators were able to exercise steadily increasing influence over the Emperor, and to prevent other advice reaching him. It was only the supreme courage and intelligent grasp of the situation shown by Yehonala, that frustrated the conspiracy at its most critical moment. Immediately after the death of the Emperor, and while the plotters were still undecided as to their final plans, she sent an urgent message secretly to Prince Kung which brought him with all speed to Jehol, where, by the help of Jung Lu and other loyal servants, she put into execution the bold plan which defeated the conspiracy and placed her at the head of China’s government. On the day when, the game hopelessly lost, the usurping Regents found themselves in Yehonala’s hands and heard her order their summary trial by the Court of the Imperial Clan, Su Shun turned to his colleagues and bitterly reproached them. “Had you but taken my advice and slain this woman,” he said, “we should not have been in this plight to-day.”

To return, however, to the beginning of the conspiracy. At the outset, the object of Prince Yi was to alienate the Emperor from the influence of his favourite concubine, Yehonala. With this object they informed him of the intrigue which, by common report, she was carrying on with the young Officer of the Guards, Jung Lu, then a handsome athletic man of about twenty-five. The Empress Consort they regarded as a negligible factor, whose good-natured and colourless personality took little interest in the politics of the day; but if their plot was to succeed, Yehonala must either be dismissed from the Court for good and all, or, at the very least, she must be temporarily relegated to the “Cold Palace,” as is called the place where insubordinate or disgraced concubines are isolated. They knew that, however successful their plans at Jehol, there must always be danger in the event of the Emperor returning to Peking, where access to his person is not possible at all times for officials (even those nearest to the Throne), whereas Yehonala would be in a position, with the help of her eunuchs, to recover his favour and her power. Emphasising, therefore, the alleged misconduct of the young concubine, they quoted the precedent of a certain Empress Consort of Ch’ien-Lung who, for less grievous disrespect (shown to the Emperor’s mother), was imprisoned for life. Thus, by inventions and suggestions, they so worked on the sick man’s mind that he finally consented to have Yehonala’s infant son, the Heir Apparent, removed from her care, and authorised the child’s being handed over to the wife of Prince Yi, who was summoned to the hunting-lodge Palace for that purpose. At the same time, the conspirators thought it well to denounce Prince Kung to the Emperor, his brother, accusing him of treachery, of conniving with the foreigners against the Throne, and of abusing his powers as Plenipotentiary. Prince Yi had been for years Prince Kung’s sworn enemy.

The further intentions of the conspirators, instigated by Su Shun, were to massacre all Europeans in the capital and to put to death, or at least imprison for life, the Emperor’s brothers. Accordingly they drafted in advance the Decrees necessary to justify and explain these measures, intending to publish them immediately after the Emperor’s death, which was now imminent. But here an unforeseen obstacle presented itself, the first of many created for them by the far-seeing intelligence of Yehonala; for they found that she had somehow managed to possess herself of the special seal, which inviolable custom requires to be affixed to the first Edict of a new reign, in proof of validity of succession,—a seal, in the personal custody of the Emperor, which bears the characters meaning “lawfully transmitted authority.” Without this seal, any Decrees which the usurpers might issue would lack something of legal finality and, according to Chinese ideas, their subsequent cancellation would be justifiable. But Prince Yi did not feel himself strong enough to risk a crisis by accusing her or taking overt steps to gain possession of it.

Angry with his favourite concubine by reason of the reports of her intimacy with Jung Lu, and his sickness ever increasing, the Emperor lingered on in Jehol all the summer of that year, his duty in the ancestral sacrifices at Peking being taken by Prince Kung. On the 4th of the 6th Moon, the day before his thirtieth birthday, he issued the following Decree in reply to a Memorial by the Court of Astronomers, which had announced an auspicious conjunction of the stars for the occasion:—

“Last month the Astronomers announced the appearance of a comet in the north-west, which intimation we received as a solemn warning of the impending wrath of Heaven. Now they memorialise saying that the stars are in favourable conjunction, which is doubtless a true statement, in no way inspired by their desire to please us. But since we came to the Throne, we have steadily refused to pay any attention to auspicious omens, and this with good reason, in view of the ever-increasing rebellions in the south and the generally pitiable condition of our people. May the present auspicious conjunction of the stars portend the dawning of a happier day, and may heaven permit a speedy end to the rebellion. In token of our sincerity, we desire that the Astronomical Court shall refrain from reporting to the Chronicler’s Office the present favourable omen for inclusion in the annals of our reign, so that there may be ascribed to us the merit of a devout and sober mind.”

On the following morning the Emperor received the congratulations of his Court in a pavilion of the Palace grounds, but Yehonala was excluded from this ceremony. This was His Majesty’s last appearance in public; from this date his illness became rapidly worse.

On the 7th of the 7th Moon Yehonala contrived to despatch a secret courier to Prince Kung at Peking, informing him of the critical condition of his brother and urging him to send with all haste a detachment of the Banner Corps to which the Yehonala clan belonged. Events now moved swiftly. On the 16th, the Grand Councillors and Ministers of the Presence, all adherents of Tsai Yüan’s faction, entered the Emperor’s bedroom and, after excluding the Empress Consort and the concubines, persuaded the Emperor to sign Decrees appointing Tsai Yüan, Tuan Hua and Su Shun to be Co-Regents upon his decease, with full powers. Yehonala was to be expressly forbidden from exercising any form of control over the Heir Apparent. As the necessary seal of State had been taken by Yehonala and could not be found, these proceedings were irregular. At dawn on the following day the Emperor died, and forthwith appeared the usual valedictory Decree, prepared in advance by the conspirators, whereby Tsai Yüan was appointed to be Chief Regent, Prince Kung and the Empress Consort being entirely ignored.

In the name of the new Emperor, then a child of five, a Decree was issued, announcing his succession, but it was observed to violate all constitutional precedent in that it omitted the proper laudatory references to the Imperial Consort. On the following day, however, the Regents, fearing to precipitate matters, rectified the omission in an Edict which conferred the rank of Empress Dowager both on the Empress Consort and on Yehonala. The chroniclers aver that the reason for this step lay in the Regents’ recognition of Yehonala’s undoubted popularity with the troops (all Manchus) at Jehol, an argument that weighed more heavily with them than her rights as mother of the Heir Apparent. They hoped to rid themselves of this condition of affairs after the Court’s return to Peking, but dared not risk internal dissensions by having her removed until their positions had been made secure at the capital. That they intended to remove her was subsequently proved; it was evident that their position would never be secure so long as her ambitious and magnetic personality remained a factor of the situation: but it was necessary, in the first instance, to ascertain the effect of the Regency at Peking and in the provinces.

Tsai Yüan’s next move was to publish Decrees, in the names of the Joint Regents, by virtue of which they assumed charge of the Heir Apparent and by which the title of “Chien Kuo” (practically equivalent to Dictator) was conferred on the Chief Regent, a title heretofore reserved exclusively for brothers or uncles of the Emperor.

When the news reached Peking, a flood of Memorials burst from the Censorate and high officials. The child Emperor was implored to confer the Regency upon the two Empresses, or, as the Chinese text has it, to “administer the Government with suspended curtain.”[6] Prince Kung and the Emperor’s other brothers were at this time in secret correspondence with Yehonala, whom they, like the Censorate, had already recognised as the master-mind of the Forbidden City. They urged her to do all in her power to expedite the departure of the funeral cortège for the capital. To secure this end, it was necessary to proceed with the greatest caution and diplomacy, for several of the late Emperor’s wives had been won over to the side of the usurpers, who could also count on a certain number of the Manchu bodyguard, their own clansmen. The influence of Su Shun’s great fortune was also no inconsiderable factor in the situation. The man was personally unpopular with the people of Peking, because of his abuse of power and too frequent connection with speculations in bank-note issues and cash, which cost the citizens dear, but his vaults were known to be full to over-flowing, and there is no city in the world where money buys more political supporters than in Peking. Su Shun’s career has had its counterpart, in everything except its sanguinary dénouement, in the capital to-day.

Her Majesty Tzŭ Hsi in the Year 1903.

At the moment the position of the Emperor’s family was prejudiced, and the aims of the conspirators assisted, by the political situation. With the capital occupied by foreign troops, and many of the provinces in the throes of a great rebellion, the people might be expected to welcome a change of rulers, and the ripe experience of the usurping Regents in all matters of State was undeniable. But the virile and untiring energies of Yehonala, ably supported by Jung Lu and other faithful followers, soon put a new complexion on affairs, and the situation was further modified in her favour by the success of her nominee, the Commander-in-Chief, Tseng Kuo-fan, in capturing the city of An-ch’ing (in Anhui) from the rebels, a victory that was regarded as of good augury to her cause. Thereafter her courage and diplomacy enabled her to play off one opponent against another, gaining time and friends until the conspirators’ chance was gone. Her own aims and ambitions, which had been voiced by her friends in the Censorate, were, however, to some extent impeded by the fact that a House-law of the Dynasty forbids the administration of the Government by an Empress Dowager, while there were quite recent precedents for a Regency by a Board, in the cases of the Emperors Shun-Chih and K’ang-Hsi. In neither of these instances had the Empress Tai-Tsung had any voice in the Government. The precedent for Boards of official Regents had, however, come to be recognised as inauspicious, because the several Regents of K’ang-Hsi’s minority had either been banished or compelled to commit suicide. It is probable, too, that Prince Kung, in instigating and supporting the claims of the Empresses, failed to appreciate Yehonala’s strength of character, and believed that a women’s Regency would leave the supreme power in his own hands.

A Manchu, who accompanied the flight to Jehol, describing his experiences, lays stress upon Yehonala’s unfailing courage and personal charm of manner, to which was due her popularity with the Imperial Guards and her eventual triumph. At the most critical period of the conspiracy she was careful to avoid precipitating a conflict or arousing the suspicions of the usurpers by openly conferring with Jung Lu, and she employed as her confidential intermediary the eunuch An Te-hai (of whom more will be heard later). By means of this man daily reports were safely despatched to Prince Kung at Peking, and, in the meanwhile, Yehonala affected an attitude of calm indifference, treating Prince Yi with a studied deference which lulled his suspicions.

On the 11th of the 8th Moon, the Board of Regents, after meeting to discuss the situation, issued a Decree condemning in strong terms a proposal put forward in a Memorial by the Censor, Tung Yüan-ch’un, that the two Empresses should be appointed Co-Regents, and referring to the death-bed Decree of the late Emperor as their own warrant of authority. At the same time they announced, in the name of the young Emperor, that the funeral cortège would start on its journey to the capital on the second day of the next Moon. This was the step for which Yehonala had been working and waiting. As Ministers of the Presence, the Regents were perforce obliged to accompany the coffin throughout the entire journey (some 150 miles) to the capital, and the great weight of the catafalque, borne by one hundred and twenty men, would necessarily render the rate of progress very slow through the stony defiles of the hills. Resting places would have to be provided at stages of about fifteen miles along the route to shelter the Imperial remains and the attendant officials by night, so that the Regents might count on a journey of ten days at least, and longer in the event of bad weather. To the Empresses, the slow progress of the cortège was a matter of vital advantage, inasmuch as they were not to take part in the procession, and, travelling ahead of it, could reach the capital in five days with swift chair-bearers. Dynastic custom and Court etiquette prescribe that upon the departure of the funeral procession, the new Emperor and the consorts of the deceased sovereign should offer prayers and libations, and should then press on so as to be ready to perform similar acts of reverence on meeting the cortège at its destination. Yehonala thus found herself in a position of great strategic advantage, being enabled to reach the capital well in advance of her enemies, and she speedily laid her plans with Prince Kung to give them a warm reception.

Tsai Yüan and his colleagues were well aware that they were placed at grave disadvantage in having to remain behind the young Empress, with every prospect of serious trouble ahead; they, therefore, decided to have Yehonala and the Empress Consort assassinated on the road, and to that end gave orders that they should be escorted by the Chief Regent’s personal bodyguard. Had it not been for Jung Lu, who got wind of the plot, the Dowagers would assuredly never have reached the capital alive. Acting with the promptitude which Yehonala inspired, he deserted the funeral cortège by night with a considerable following of his own men, and hastened on to the protection of the Empresses, overtaking them before they reached Ku-pei K’ou, at the end of the pass from the plains into Mongolia, which was the spot where the assassination was to have taken place.

Heavy rains had fallen just after the departure of the procession from Jehol. The roads became impassable, and the Empresses were compelled to seek shelter in the Long Mountain gorge, where no sort of accommodation had been provided. The cortège was then ten miles in their rear. Yehonala, mindful ever of the proprieties, sent back several men of her escort with a dutiful enquiry, in the name of her colleague and herself, as to the safety of the Imperial coffin. The reply, in the form of an Edict by Prince Yi and his Co-Regents, reported that the catafalque had reached the first resting place in safety; whereupon Yehonala, asserting as of right the prerogatives of supreme authority, donated to the bearers a thousand taels from her Privy Purse in recognition of their arduous services. Prince Yi, knowing full well that his own danger was increasing every hour, and would continue so long as the Empresses remained free to work against him, nevertheless played bravely the part prescribed for him, conforming in the grand manner to the traditions of his position. He forwarded a Memorial to the Empresses, humbly thanking them for their solicitude for the Emperor’s remains. Yehonala, in reply, praised him for his faithful devotion to duty. Thus, on the road to Death, they played at Etiquette. Both these documents are filed in the Dynastic records and afford remarkable evidence of the supreme importance which Chinese and Manchus alike attach to forms and the written word even at the most critical moments. Similar instances could be cited at the height of the Boxer chaos.

The rains having ceased, the Empresses were able to proceed on their journey, and having come safely through the hill passes under Jung Lu’s protection, they were free from further danger of ambush. They reached Peking on the 29th of the 9th Moon, three full days’ journey ahead of the procession. Immediately upon their arrival a secret Council was held, at which were present the Emperor’s brothers, together with the Ministers and Imperial clansmen known to be loyal to their cause. Long and anxiously did they confer. Although the Empress Mother was in possession of the seal of legitimate succession, there was no known precedent for so drastic a step as the summary, and possibly violent, arrest of high officers of State convoying the Imperial coffin. Such a course, it was felt, would be regarded as disrespectful to the late Emperor and an inauspicious opening to the new reign. The consensus of opinion was, therefore, on the side of slow and cautious measures, and it was decided thus to proceed, conforming to all the outward observances of dynastic tradition. The coffin once arrived, the first step would be to deprive the Regents of their usurped authority; the rest would follow.

The cortège was due to arrive at the north-west gate of the city on the morning of the 2nd of the 10th Moon, and on the previous evening Prince Kung posted a large force of troops at this point to prevent any attempt at a coup de main by Tsai Yüan’s followers. The boy Emperor, accompanied by the Empresses Dowager, came out to meet the coffin as it approached the city, and with him were the late Emperor’s brothers and a great following of officials. As the catafalque passed through the gate, the Imperial party knelt and performed the prescribed acts of reverence. Before the coffin came the Imperial insignia, and behind it a large body of Manchu cavalry. Prince Yi and his Co-Regents, having performed their duty in bringing the coffin safely to the city, next proceeded, as required by custom, to make formal report in person to the young Emperor, upon fulfilment of their charge. For this purpose they were received in a large marquee erected just inside the city gate. Both Empresses were present, together with the late Emperor’s brothers and the Grand Secretaries Kuei Liang and Chou Tsu-p’ei.

Yehonala, calmly assuming, as was her wont, the principal rôle and all attributes of authority, opened the proceedings by informing Prince Yi that the Empress Consort and she herself were grateful to him and to his colleagues for the services which they had rendered as Regents and Grand Councillors, of which duties they were now relieved. Prince Yi, putting a bold face on it, replied that he himself was Chief Regent, legally appointed, that the Empresses had no power to divest him of authority properly conferred by the late Emperor, and that, during the minority of the new Emperor, neither she herself nor any other person was entitled to attend audience without his express permission.

“We shall see about that,” said Yehonala, and forthwith gave orders to the attendant guards to place the three Regents under arrest. The Imperial party then hastened to the Palace to be ready to meet the coffin upon its arrival at the main entrance to the Forbidden City, for, however acute the crisis, the dead take precedence of the living in China. The deposed Regents quietly followed. All hope of escape or resistance was out of the question, for the streets were lined with troops faithful to Yehonala’s cause. Her triumph was complete, essentially a triumph of mind over matter. It was her first taste of the pomp and circumstance of supreme power.

Forthwith the Empresses proceeded to regularise their position by issuing the following Decree, which bore the Great Seal of “Lawfully transmitted authority”:—

“Last year the coasts of our Empire were disturbed and our capital was in danger, misfortunes entirely due to the mismanagement of affairs by the Princes and Ministers to whom they had been entrusted. Prince Yi (Tsai Yüan) in particular and his colleagues failed to deal satisfactorily with the peace negotiations, and sought to lessen their responsibility by their treacherous arrest of the British emissaries, thus involving China in charges of bad faith. In consequence of these their acts, the Summer Palace was eventually sacked by the British and French troops and the Emperor was forced, greatly against his will, to seek refuge in Jehol.

“Later, the Ministers of the newly established Tsungli Yamên were able to arrange matters satisfactorily, and peace was restored to the capital. Thereupon His late Majesty repeatedly summoned the Grand Council to decide upon a date for his return to Peking, but Tsai Yüan, Su Shun and Tuan Hua conspired together, and, by making him believe that England and France were not sincere in regard to peace, were able to prevent his return and thus to oppose the will of the people.

“Subsequently His Majesty’s health suffered severely from the cold climate of Jehol and from his arduous labours and anxiety, so that he died on the 17th of the 7th Moon. Our sorrow was even as a burning fire, and when we consider how wickedly deceitful has been the conduct of Tsai Yüan and his colleagues, we feel that the whole Empire must unite in their condemnation. On ascending the Throne, it was our intention to punish them, but we kept in mind the fact that to them the Emperor had given his valedictory instructions, and we therefore forbore, whilst observing carefully their behaviour. Who could possibly have foretold their misdeeds?

“On the 11th of the 8th Moon, a Memorial was presented to us by the Censor Tung Yüan-ch’un, at an audience of the eight Grand Councillors, in which it was asked that the Empresses Dowager should for the time being, and during our minority, administer the Government, that one or two of the Princes should advise them and that a high official should be appointed as tutor to ourselves. These suggestions met with our entire approval. It is true that there exists no precedent in the history of our Dynasty for an Empress Dowager to act as Regent, but the interests of the State are our first concern, and it is surely wiser to act in accordance with the exigencies of the time than to insist upon a scrupulous observance of precedent.[7]

“We therefore authorised Tsai Yüan to issue a Decree concurring in the Censor’s proposals; but he and his colleagues adopted an insolent tone towards us and forgot the reverence due to our person. While pretending to comply with our wishes, they issued a Decree quite different from that which we had ordered, and promulgated it in our name. What was their object? They professed to have no idea of usurping our authority, but what else was their action but usurpation?

“Undoubtedly they took advantage of our extreme youth and of the Empresses’ lack of experience in statecraft, their object being to hoodwink us. But how could they hope to hoodwink the entire nation? Their behaviour displays monstrous ingratitude for His late Majesty’s favours, and any further leniency on our part would be a just cause of offence to the memory of the departed sovereign, and an insult to the intelligence of the Chinese people. Tsai Yüan, Su Shun and Tuan Hua are hereby removed from their posts. Ching Shou, Mu Yin, Kuang Tu-han and Chiao Yu-ying are removed from the Grand Council. Let Prince Kung, in consultation with the Grand Secretaries, the six Boards and the nine Ministries consider, and report to us as to the proper punishment to be inflicted upon them, in proportion to their respective offences. As regards the manner in which the Empresses shall administer the Government as Regents, let this also be discussed and a Memorial submitted in reference to future procedure.”

The Empresses duly performed the proper obeisances to the Imperial coffin at the eastern gate of the Palace, escorting it thence to its temporary resting place in the central Throne Hall.

In the security of Peking, and confident of the devotion of the troops, Yehonala now proceeded to act more boldly. She issued a second Decree in her own name and that of the Empress Consort, ordering that the three principal conspirators be handed over to the Imperial Clansmen’s Court for the determination of a severe penalty. Pending the investigation, which was to be carried out under the Presidency of Prince Kung, they were to be stripped of all their titles and rank. The vindictive autocrat of the years to come speaks for the first time in this Edict.

“Their audacity in questioning our right to give audience to Prince Kung this morning shows a degree of wickedness inconceivable, and convicts them of the darkest designs. The punishment so far meted out to them is totally inadequate to the depth of their guilt.”

Against Su Shun, in particular, the Empress’s wrath burned fiercely. His wife had insulted her in the days of her disgrace at Jehol, and Yehonala had ever a good memory for insults. Next morning she issued the following Decree for his especial benefit:—

“Because of Su Shun’s high treason, his wanton usurpation of authority, his acceptance of bribes and generally unspeakable wickedness, we commanded that he be degraded and arrested by the Imperial Clansmen’s Court. But on receipt of the Decree, Su Shun dared to make use of blasphemous language in regard to ourselves, forgetful of the inviolable relation between Sovereign and subject. Our hair stands on end with horror at such abominable treason. Moreover he has dared to allow his wife and family to accompany him, when on duty accompanying the Imperial coffin from Jehol, which is a most disgraceful violation of all precedent.[8] The whole of his property, both at Peking and at Jehol, is therefore confiscated, and no mercy shall be shown him.”

As Su Shun’s property was worth several millions sterling at the lowest estimate, the Empress Dowager thus acquired at one stroke the sinews of war and a substantial nucleus for that treasure hoard which henceforward was to be one of the main objects of her ambition, and a chief source of her power. During the present Dynasty there is a record of one official wealthier than Su Shun, namely Ho Sh’en, a Grand Secretary under Ch’ien Lung, whose property was similarly confiscated by that Emperor’s successor.

But Yehonala’s lust of vengeance was not yet appeased. Her next Decree, issued on the following day, gives evidence of that acquisitive faculty, that tendency to accumulate property and to safeguard it with housewifely thrift, which distinguished her to the end:—

“Su Shun was erecting for himself a Palace at Jehol, which is not yet completed. Doubtless he has vast stores of treasure there. Doubtless also he has buried large sums of gold and silver somewhere in the vicinity of his Jehol residence, in anticipation of the possible discovery of his crimes. Let all his property in Jehol be carefully inventoried, when a Decree will be issued as to its disposal. Let all his property be carefully searched for treasure, to be handed over when found. Any attempt at concealment by the Jehol authorities will entail upon them the same punishment as that which is to be inflicted upon Su Shun.”

On the 6th of the 10th Moon, Prince Kung and the Imperial Commission sent in their report on the quite perfunctory enquiry into the charges against Tsai Yüan and the other conspirators. In the following Decree the offenders were finally disposed of:—

“The Memorial of our Imperial Commission recommends that, in accordance with the law applying to cases of high treason, the punishment of dismemberment and the lingering death be inflicted upon Tsai Yüan, Tuan Hua and Su Shun. Our Decrees have already been issued describing their abominable plot and their usurpation of the Regency.

“On the day of His late Majesty’s death, these three traitors claimed to have been appointed a Council of Regency, but, as a matter of fact, His late Majesty, just before his death, had commanded them to appoint us his successor, without giving them any orders whatsoever as to their being Regents. This title they proceeded to arrogate to themselves, even daring to issue orders in that capacity and without the formality of our Decree. Moreover they disobeyed the personal and express orders given them by the Empresses Dowager. When the Censor Tung Yüan-ch’un petitioned that the Empresses should assume the government, they not only dared to alter the Decree which we issued in reply, but they openly asserted at audience their claim to be our Regents and their refusal to obey the Empresses. If, said they, they chose to permit the Empresses to see Memorials, this was more than their duty required. In fact, their insubordination and violent rudeness found expression in a hundred ways. In forbidding us to give audience to our uncles and to the Grand Secretaries, they evidently meant to set us at variance with our kindred. The above remarks apply equally to all three traitors.

“As to Su Shun, he insolently dared to seat himself upon the Imperial Throne. He would enter the Palace precincts unbidden, and whether on duty or not. He went so far as to use the Imperial porcelain and furniture for his own purposes, even refusing to hand over certain articles that we required for ourselves. He actually demanded an audience with the Empresses separately, and his words, when addressing them, indicated a cunning desire to set one Empress against the other, and to sow seeds of discord. These remarks apply to the individual guilt of Su Shun.

“Her Majesty the Empress Dowager, and Her Sacred Majesty the Empress Dowager, our mother, duly informed the Commission of Enquiry of these facts, and they have to-day given audience to all the Princes and Ministers to enquire of them whether the guilt of these three traitors admits of any extenuating circumstances. It is unanimously determined that the law allows of no leniency being shown to such flagrant treason and wickedness as theirs. When we reflect that three members of our Imperial kindred have thus rendered themselves liable to a common felon’s death in the public square, our eyes are filled with tears. But all these their misdeeds, in usurping the Regency, have involved our tutelary deities in the direst peril, and it is not only to ourselves but to our illustrious ancestors that they must answer for their damnable treason. No doubt they thought that, come what may, they were sure of pardon, because of their having received the mandate of His late Majesty, but they forgot that the mandate which they have claimed was never legally issued, and if we were now to pardon them we should render the law of no effect for all time and prove unfaithful to the trust reposed in us by our late father. The punishment of dismemberment and the lingering death, which the Commission recommends, is indeed the proper punishment for their crimes, but the House-law of our Dynasty permits of leniency being shown, to a certain extent, to members of the Imperial Family. Therefore, although, strictly speaking, their crimes allow of no indulgence, we decide that they shall not suffer the penalty of public disgrace. In token of our leniency, Tsai Yüan and Tuan Hua are hereby permitted to commit suicide, and Prince Su and Mien Sen are ordered to proceed forthwith to the ‘Empty Chamber,’[9] and command the immediate fulfilment of this order. It is not from any feeling of friendliness towards these traitors that we allow this, but simply to preserve the dignity of our Imperial family.

“As to Su Shun, his treasonable guilt far exceeds that of his accomplices, and he fully deserves the punishment of dismemberment and the slicing process, if only that the law may be vindicated and public indignation satisfied. But we cannot make up our mind to impose this extreme penalty and therefore, in our clemency, we sentence him to immediate decapitation, commanding Prince Jui and Tsai Liang to superintend his execution, as a warning to all traitors and rebels.”

Note.—The hereditary Princedoms of Yi and Cheng which were forfeited by the conspiring Princes after the death of Hsien-Feng, in 1861, were restored by the Empresses Regent to commemorate their thanksgiving at the suppression of the Taiping rebellion and the recapture of Nanking (1864). In an Edict on the subject, Tzŭ Hsi recalled the fact that the original patent of the Princedom of Yi was given to a son of the Emperor K’ang-Hsi in 1723 and was to endure, according to the word of that Monarch, until “the T’ai Mountain dwindles to the size of a grindstone, and the Yellow River shrinks to the width of a girdle.” After referring to the main features of the Tsai Yüan conspiracy and the guilt of the traitors, Tzŭ Hsi proceeded “We permitted these Princes to commit suicide because they were ungrateful to ourselves, and had brought disrepute on the good name of their ancestors. If these are now conscious of their descendants’ misdeeds, while they wander beside the Nine Springs,[10] how great must be the anguish of their souls! At the time we were advised by our Princes and Ministers of State, to put an end for ever to these Princely titles, and we did so in order to appease widespread indignation. Since then, however, we have often thought sorrowfully of the achievements of these Princely families during the early reigns of our Dynasty, and now the triumph of our arms at Nanking provides us with a fitting occasion and excuse to rehabilitate these Princedoms, so that the good name of their founders may remain unblemished. We therefore hereby restore both titles as Princes of the blood with all the estates and dependencies appertaining thereto, and we command that the genealogical trees of these two Houses be once more placed upon our Dynastic records in their due order, it being always understood that the usurping Princes Tuan Hua and Tsai Yüan, together with their descendants in the direct line for two generations, are expressly excluded from participation in these restored privileges. Original patents of the Princes of Yi and Cheng are hereby restored, together with their titles, to the Dukes Cheng Chih and Tsai Tun. And take heed now both of you Princes, lest you fall away from the ancient virtue of your Houses! See to it that you long continue to enjoy our favour by adding fresh lustre to your ancestral good name!”

The intention was undoubtedly well meant, but the Houses of Yi and Cheng continued to incur the displeasure of the gods. The next Prince Yi but one, was permitted to commit suicide in 1900, for alleged complicity in the Boxer rising, but it is significant that his name was not on any Black List drawn up by the foreign Powers, and that his death was due to his having incurred the displeasure of the Old Buddha at a time when her nerves were not particularly good, and when she was therefore liable to hasty decisions. As to the House of Cheng, the holder of the title in 1900 committed suicide on the day when the Allies entered the city, a disappointed patriot of the best Manchu model.

Tzŭ Hsi’s wrath against Su Shun found further vent three years after his death in a Decree which debarred his sons and descendants from ever holding public office, this punishment being inflicted on the ground that he had allowed personal spite to influence him, when consulted by the Emperor Hsien-Feng regarding the penalty to be inflicted on an offending rival.

IV
THE FIRST REGENCY

Although the collapse of the Tsai Yüan conspiracy, and the stern justice administered to its leaders, rendered Yehonala’s position secure and made her de facto ruler of the Empire (for her colleague was, politically speaking, a negligible quantity, or nearly so), she was extremely careful, during the first years of the Regency, to avoid all conspicuous assumption of power and to keep herself and her ambitions in the background, while she omitted no opportunity of improving her knowledge of the art of government and of gaining the support of China’s leading officials. For this reason all the Decrees of this period are issued in the name of the Emperor, and Tzŭ Hsi’s assumption of authority was even less conspicuous than during her period of retirement at the Summer Palace after the conclusion of Kuang-Hsü’s minority. The first Regency (1861-1873) may be described as Tzŭ Hsi’s tentative period of rule, in which she tasted the sweets, while avoiding the appearance, of power. During the second Regency (1875-1889), while her name appeared only occasionally as the author of Imperial Decrees, she was careful to keep in her hands all official appointments, the granting of rewards and punishments and other matters of internal politics calculated to increase her personal popularity and prestige with the mandarinate. The “curtain was not suspended” during Kuang-Hsü’s minority, as he was the nominee of the Empresses, whereas the Emperor T’ung-Chih held his mandate direct from the late Emperor, his father. It was not until the final Regency (1898-1908), which was not a Regency at all in the strict sense of the word but an usurpation of the Imperial prerogative during the lifetime of the sovereign, that, assured of the strength of her position, she gave full rein to her love of power and, with something of the contempt which springs from long familiarity, took unto herself all the outward and visible signs of Imperial authority, holding audience daily in the Great Hall of the Palace, seated on the Dragon Throne, with the puppet Emperor relegated to a position of inferiority, recognised and acclaimed as the Old Buddha, the sole and undisputed ruler of the Empire.

At the outset of her career, she appears to have realised that the idea of female rulers had never been popular with the Chinese people; that even the Empress Wu of the eighth century, the greatest woman in Chinese history, was regarded as a usurper. She was aware that the Empress Lü (whose character, as described by historians, was not unlike her own), to whom was due the consolidation of power that marked the rise of the Han Dynasty, enjoys but scant respect from posterity. On the other hand, she knew—for the study of history was her pastime—that the Empresses Dowagers of the past had often wielded supreme power in the State, principles and precedents notwithstanding, and their example she determined to follow. Upon the taking off of the three chief conspirators, the Censors and Ministers urged her to deal in similar drastic fashion with their aiders and abettors, and Prince Kung was anxious, if not for revenge, at least for precautions being taken against those who had had the ear of the late Emperor during the last months of his reign. But Yehonala showed statesmanlike forbearance: early in life she realised that a few victims are better than many, and that lives spared often mean whole families of friends. After cashiering Prince Yi’s remaining colleagues of the Grand Council, she dealt leniently with other offenders. When, for instance, Chen Tu-en, President of the Board of Civil Appointments, was impeached on the ground that it was he who had first persuaded the Emperor to flee to Jehol against her advice, and that, after the Emperor’s death, he alone of all the high officials at the capital had been summoned to Jehol by the usurping Regents, she contented herself with removing him from office, though his guilt was clearly proved. Another official, a Minister of the Household, who had endeavoured to further the aims of the conspirators, by dissuading Hsien-Feng from returning to Peking in the spring of 1861, on the plea that an insurrection was impending, was also cashiered. But there was nothing in the nature of a general proscription, in spite of the pecuniary and other advantages which usually commend retaliation to the party in power at Peking. In an able Decree, Tzŭ Hsi let it be understood that she wished to punish a few only, and those chiefly pour encourager les autres. It was always a characteristic of hers that, when her ends were safely secured, she adopted a policy of watchful leniency: moderata durant. In this instance she was fully aware of the fact that Tsai Yüan and his colleagues would never have had the opportunities, nor the courage, to conspire for the Regency had they not been assured of the sympathy and support of many of the higher officials, but she preferred to let the iron hand rest in its velvet glove unless openly thwarted. She would have no proscriptions, no wreaking of private grudges and revenges. It was this characteristic of hers that, as will be seen in another place, obtained for her, amongst the people of Peking in particular, a reputation for almost quixotic gentleness, a reputation which we find expressed in frequent references to the “Benign Countenance,” or “Benevolent Mother,” and which undoubtedly represented certain genuine impulses in her complex nature. So, having crushed the conspiracy, she contented herself with exhorting all concerned to “attend henceforth strictly to their duty, avoiding those sycophantic and evil tendencies which had brought Chen Tu-en and Huang Tsung-ban to their disgrace.” In another Decree she emphasised the principle that sins of omission are not much less grave than overt acts, roundly censuring the Princes and Ministers of her Government for having failed to denounce the conspirators at once, and charging them with cowardice. It was fear and nothing else, she said, that had prevented them from revealing the truth; and then, with one of those naïve touches which makes Chinese Edicts a perpetual feast, she added that, should there be any further plots of usurpers, she would expect to be informed of their proceedings without delay. Above all, she bade the Imperial Clan take warning by the fate of the three conspirators, and intimated that any further attempts of this kind would be far more severely dealt with.

One of the first steps of the Regency was to determine the title of the new reign. The usurping Princes had selected the characters “Chi-Hsiang,” meaning “well-omened happiness,” but to Yehonala’s scholarly taste and fine sense of fitness, the title seemed ill-chosen and redundant, and as she wished to obliterate all memory of the usurpers’ régime, she chose in its place the characters “T’ung-Chih,” meaning “all-pervading tranquillity,” probably with one eye on the suppression of the rebellion and the other on the chances of peace in the Forbidden City. As far as all good augury for the Emperor himself was concerned, one title was, as events proved, no more likely to be effective than the other.

On the same day as the proclamation of the new reign was made by Edict, the Empresses Dowager issued a Decree explaining, and ostensibly deprecating, the high honour thrust upon them.

“Our assumption of the Regency was utterly contrary to our wishes, but we have complied with the urgent request of our Princes and Ministers, because we realise that it is essential that there should be a higher authority to whom they may refer. So soon as ever the Emperor shall have completed his education, we shall take no further part in the Government, which will then naturally revert to the system prescribed by all dynastic tradition. Our sincere reluctance in assuming the direction of affairs must be manifest to all. Our officials are expected loyally to assist us in the arduous task which we have undertaken.”

Exterior of the Ch’ien Ch’ing Palace.

Photo, Ogawa, Tokio.

Following upon this, a Decree was issued in the name of the Emperor, which represented the boy as thanking their Majesties the Regents and promising that, so soon as he came of age, he would endeavour, by dutiful ministrations, to prove his gratitude.

For the procedure of Government it was then arranged that the Empresses should daily hold joint audiences in the side Hall of the main Palace. At these, and at all except the great Court ceremonies, the Emperor’s great-uncle and four brothers were excused from performing the “kotow,” the Emperor’s respect for the senior generation being thus indirectly exhibited.

Upon their acceptance of the Regency, honorific titles were conferred upon both Empresses. Each character in these titles represents a grant from the public funds of 100,000 taels per annum (say, at that time, £20,000). Thus the Empress Consort became known by the title of Tzŭ An (Motherly and Restful) while Yehonala became Tzŭ Hsi (Motherly and Auspicious), one being the Empress of the Eastern, and the other of the Western Palace. At various subsequent periods, further honorific characters, in pairs, were added unto them, so that, on her seventieth birthday, Tzŭ Hsi was the proud possessor of sixteen. On that occasion she modestly and virtuously refused the four additional characters with which the Emperor Kuang-Hsü (not unprompted) desired to honour her. Tzŭ An lived to receive ten in all; both ladies received two on their thirtieth birthdays, two on the Emperor T’ung-Chih’s accession, two just before his death in recognition of their “ministrations” during his attack of small-pox, and two on their fortieth birthdays. Tzŭ Hsi received two more on her fiftieth birthday, two on Kuang-Hsü’s marriage, and two on her sixtieth birthday. Tzŭ Hsi’s complete official designation at the end of her life was not easy to remember. It ran, “Tzŭ-Hsi-Tuan-yu-K’ang-yi-Chao-yu-Chuang-ch’eng-Shou-kung-Ch’in-hsien-Ch’ung-hsi-Huang Tai-hou,” which, being translated, means “The Empress Dowager, motherly, auspicious, orthodox, heaven-blessed, prosperous, all-nourishing, brightly manifest, calm, sedate, perfect, long-lived, respectful, reverend, worshipful, illustrious and exalted.”

At the beginning of the Regency it suited Yehonala to conciliate and humour Prince Kung. In conjunction with her colleague, she therefore bestowed upon him the titles of “I-Cheng Wang,” or Prince Adviser to the Government, and by special Decree she made the title of “Ch’in Wang,” or Prince of the Blood (which had been bestowed upon him by the late Emperor), hereditary in his family for ever.[11] Prince Kung begged to be excused from accepting the former honour, whereupon ensued a solemn parade of refusal on the part of the Empresses, one of whom, as events proved, certainly wanted no adviser. Eventually, after much deprecation, Their Majesties gave way as regards the hereditary title, but on the understanding that the offer would be renewed at a more fitting season. Yehonala who, in her better moments of grateful memory, could scarcely forget the brave part which Prince Kung had played for her at Jehol, made amends by adopting his daughter as a Princess Imperial, granting her the use of the Yellow palanquin. The influence of this Princess over Tzŭ Hsi, especially towards the end, was great, and it was strikingly displayed in 1900 on behalf of Prince Tuan and the Boxer leaders.

Ignorant at the outset of many things in the procedure of Government routine, feeling her way through the labyrinth of party politics and foreign affairs, afraid of her own youth and inexperience, it was but natural that Tzŭ Hsi should have recourse to the ripe wisdom of the late Emperor’s brother and be guided by his opinion. But as time went on, as her knowledge of affairs broadened and deepened, her autocratic instincts gradually asserted themselves in an increasing impatience of advice and restraint. As, by the study of history and the light of her own intelligence, she gained confidence in the handling of State business and men, the guidance which had previously been welcome became distasteful, and eventually assumed the character of interference. Despotic by nature, Tzŭ Hsi was not the woman to tolerate interference in any matter where her own mind was made up, and Prince Kung, on his side, was of a disposition little less proud and independent than her own. When the young Yehonala began to evince a disposition to dispense with his advice, he was therefore not inclined to conceal his displeasure, and relations speedily became strained. As Tzŭ Hsi was at no pains to hide her resentment, he gradually came to adopt a policy of instigating her colleague, the Empress of the East, to a more independent attitude, a line of action which could not fail to produce ill-feeling and friction in the Palace. In the appointment of officials, also, which is the chief object and privilege of power in China, he was in the habit of promoting and protecting his own nominees without reference to Yehonala, by direct communications to the provinces. Eye-witnesses of the events of the period have recorded their impression that his attitude towards both Empresses at the commencement of the Regency was somewhat overbearing; that he was inclined to presume upon the importance of his own position and services, and that on one occasion at audience, he even presumed to inform the Empresses that they owed their position to himself, a remark which Tzŭ Hsi was not likely to forget or forgive.

At the audiences of the Grand Council, it was the custom for the two Empresses to sit on a raised daïs, each on her separate Throne, immediately in front of which was suspended a yellow silk curtain; they were therefore invisible to the Councillors, who were received separately and in the order of their seniority, Prince Kung coming first in his capacity as “adviser to the Government.” Beside their Majesties on the daïs stood their attendant eunuchs; they were in the habit of peeping through the folds of the curtain, keeping a careful eye upon the demeanour of the officials in audience, with a view to noting any signs of disrespect or breach of etiquette. Strictly speaking, no official, however high his rank, might enter the Throne room unless summoned by the chief eunuch in attendance, but Prince Kung considered himself superior to such rules, and would enter unannounced. Other breaches of etiquette he committed which, as Her Majesty’s knowledge of affairs increased, were carefully noted against him; for instance, he would raise his voice when replying to their Majesties’ instructions (which were always given by Tzŭ Hsi), and on one occasion, he even ventured to ask that Tzŭ Hsi should repeat something she had just said, and which he pretended not to have understood. His attitude, in short (say the chroniclers), implied an assumption of equality which the proud spirit of the young Empress would not brook. Living outside the Palace as he did, having free intercourse with Chinese and foreign officials on all sides, he was naturally in a position to intrigue against her, did he so desire. Tzŭ Hsi, on the other hand, was likely to imagine and exaggerate intrigues, since nearly all her information came from the eunuchs and would therefore naturally assume alarming proportions. There is little doubt that she gradually came to believe in the possibility of Prince Kung working against her authority, and she therefore set herself to prove to him that his position and prerogatives depended entirely upon her good will.

She continued watching her opportunity and patiently biding her time until the occasion presented itself in the fourth year of the Regency (April, 1865). In a moment of absent-mindedness or bravado, Prince Kung ventured to rise from his knees during an audience, thus violating a fundamental rule of etiquette originally instituted to guard the Sovereign against any sudden attack. The eunuchs promptly informed their Majesties, whereupon Tzŭ Hsi called loudly for help, exclaiming that the Prince was plotting some evil treachery against the persons of the Regents. The Guards rushed in, and Prince Kung was ordered to leave the presence at once. His departure was speedily followed by the issue of an Imperial Decree, stating that he had endeavoured to usurp the authority of the Throne and persistently overrated his own importance to the State. He was accordingly dismissed from his position as adviser to the Government, relieved of his duties on the Grand Council and other high offices in the Palace; even his appointment as head of the Foreign Office, or Tsungli Yamên, was cancelled. “He had shown himself unworthy of their Majesties’ confidence,” said the Edict, “and had displayed gross nepotism in the appointment of high officials: his rebellious and usurping tendencies must be sternly checked.”

A month later, however, Tzŭ Hsi, realising that her own position was not unassailable, and that her treatment of this powerful Prince had created much unfavourable comment at Court and in the provinces, saved her face and the situation simultaneously, by issuing a Decree in the name of herself and her colleague, which she described as a Decree of explanation. In this document she took no small credit to herself for strength of character and virtue in dealing severely with her near kinsmen in the interests of the State, and pointed to the fact that any undue encouragement of the Imperial clansmen, when inclined to take a line of their own, was liable, as history had repeatedly proved, to involve the country in destructive dissension. Her real object in inflicting punishment on the Prince for treating the Throne with disrespect was to save him from himself and from the imminent peril of his own folly. But now that several Memorials had been sent in by Censors and others, requesting that his errors be pardoned, the Throne could have no possible objection to showing clemency and, the position having been made clear, Prince Kung was restored to the position of Chamberlain, and to the direction of the Foreign Office. The Prince, in fact, needed a lesson in politeness and, having got it, Her Majesty was prepared to let bygones be bygones, it being clearly understood that, for the future, he should display increased energy and loyalty as a mark of his sincere gratitude to their Majesties.

A week later, Tzŭ Hsi, in order to drive the lesson home, issued the following Decree in the name of the Empresses Regent.

“We granted an audience this morning to Prince Kung in order to permit him to return thanks for his re-appointment. He prostrated himself humbly and wept bitterly, in token of his boundless self-abasement. We naturally took occasion to address to him some further words of warning and advice, and the Prince seemed genuinely grieved at his errors and full of remorse for misconduct which he freely acknowledged. Sincere feeling of this kind could not fail to elicit our compassion.

“It is now some years since we first assumed the burden of the Regency and appointed Prince Kung to be our chief adviser in the Government; in this position his responsibility has been as great as the favour which we have bestowed upon him. The position which he has occupied in special relation to the Throne, is unparalleled; therefore we expected much from him and, when he erred, the punishment which we were compelled to inflict upon him was necessarily severe. He has now repented him of the evil and acknowledged his sins. For our part we had no prejudice in this matter, and were animated only by strict impartiality; it was inconceivable that we should desire to treat harshly a Councillor of such tried ability, or to deprive ourselves of the valuable assistance of the Prince. We therefore now restore him to the Grand Council, but in order that his authority may be reduced, we do not propose to reinstate him in his position as ‘adviser to the Government.’ Prince Kung, see to it now that you forget not the shame and remorse which have overtaken you! Strive to requite our kindness and display greater self-control in the performance of your duties! Justify our high confidence in you by ridding your mind of all unjust suspicions and fears.”

In the autumn of this year, 1865, took place the burial of the late Emperor, Hsien-Feng, the preparation of whose tomb had been proceeding for just four years. With him was buried his consort Sakota, who had died in 1850, a month before her husband’s accession to the Throne; her remains had been awaiting burial at a village temple, seven miles west of the capital, for fifteen years. As usual, the funeral ceremonies and preparation of the tombs involved vast expenditure, and there had been considerable difficulty in finding the necessary funds, for the southern provinces, which, under ordinary circumstances would have made the largest contributions, were still suffering severely from the ravages of the Taiping rebellion. The Emperor’s mausoleum had cost nominally ten million taels, of which amount, of course, a very large proportion had been diverted for the benefit of the officials of the Household and others.

The young Emperor, and the Empresses Regent proceeded, as in duty bound, to the Eastern Tombs to take their part in the solemn burial ceremonies. Prince Kung was in attendance; to him had fallen the chief part in the preparation of the tomb and in the provision of the funds, and Her Majesty had no cause to complain of any scamping of his duties. The body of the Emperor, in an Imperial coffin of catalpa wood, richly lacquered and inscribed with Buddhist sutras, was borne within the huge domed grave chamber, and there deposited in the presence of their Majesties upon its “jewelled bedstead,” the pedestal of precious metals prepared to receive it. In the place of the concubines and eunuchs, who in prehistoric days used to be buried alive with the deceased monarch, wooden and paper figures of life size were placed beside the coffin, reverently kneeling to serve their lord in the halls of Hades. The huge candles were lighted, prayers were recited, and a great wealth of valuable ornaments arranged within the grave chamber; gold and jade sceptres, and a necklace of pearls were placed in the coffin. And when all was duly done, the great door of the chamber was slowly lowered and sealed in its place.

Next day the Empresses Dowager issued a Decree in which Prince Kung’s meritorious acts are graciously recognised, and their Majesties’ thanks accorded to him for the satisfactory fulfilment of the funeral ceremonies.

“Prince Kung has for the last five years been preparing the funeral arrangements for his late Majesty and has shown a due sense of decorum and diligence. To-day, both the late Emperor and his senior consort have been conveyed to their last resting place, and the great burden of our grief has been to some extent mitigated by our satisfaction in contemplating the grandeur of their tombs, and the solemn ceremonies of their burial. No doubt but that the spirit of His Majesty in Heaven has also been comforted thereby. We now feel bound to act in accordance with the fraternal affection which always animated the deceased Emperor towards Prince Kung, and to bestow upon him high honours. But the Prince has repeatedly declined to accept any further dignities, lest perchance he should again be tempted to arrogance. His modesty meets with our approval, and we therefore merely refer his name to the Imperial Clan Court, for the selection of a reward. But we place on record the fact that as Grand Councillor he has been of great service to us, and has of late displayed notable circumspection and self-restraint in all matters.

“The Decree which we issued last Spring was caused by the Prince’s want of attention to small details of etiquette, and if we were obliged to punish him severely, our motives have been clearly explained. No doubt everyone in the Empire is well aware of the facts, but as posterity may possibly fail to realise all the circumstances, and as unjust blame might fall upon the memory of Prince Kung, if that Decree were allowed to remain inscribed amongst the Imperial Archives, thus suggesting a flaw in the white jade of his good name, we now command that the Decree in which we announced Prince Kung’s dismissal from office be expunged from the annals of our reign. Thus is our affection displayed towards a deserving servant, and his good name preserved untarnished to all time.”

The Empress Dowager was essentially a woman of moods, and these Imperial Decrees simply reflect the fact, at the beginning of her autocratic rule, as they did until its close. Four years later Prince Kung was to incur her deep and permanent dislike by conspiring with her colleague to deprive her of her favourite, the chief eunuch An Te-hai.

V
TSENG KUO-FAN AND THE TAIPING REBELLION (1864)

The first years of Yehonala’s Co-Regency, during which she was steadily acquiring the arts and crafts of Government, and gradually relegating her easy-going colleague to the background, were joyfully associated in the minds of her subjects with the decline and final collapse of the great rebellion which had devastated the best part of the Empire since 1850. Chinese historians (a body of writers who depend largely on each others’ writings for material) agree in attributing the final deliverance from this scourge to the ability and courage of the famous Viceroy Tseng Kuo-fan,[12] and for once their praises are well-deserved, for this military scholar like his fellow provincial and colleague, Tso Tsung-t’ang,[13] was a man of the heroic breed of philosophers which, with all its faults, the Confucian system has always produced, and continues to produce, to the great benefit of the Chinese people, a man whose name ranks high among China’s worthies, a household word for honesty and intelligent patriotism.

It was one of the secrets of Tzŭ Hsi’s success as a ruler that she recognised and appreciated merit whenever she found it, and especially the merit of a military commander: it was only when she allowed her superstitious tendencies to outweigh her judgment that she failed. For the character and talents of Tseng Kuo-fan she had the highest respect, due, no doubt, in the first instance to the effect of his military despatches, stirring tales of camp and siege, on her imaginative mind, but later to personal acquaintance with his sterling qualities. With the single exception of Jung Lu, probably no high official ever stood so high in her affectionate esteem, and Jung Lu was a Manchu kinsman, while Tseng came from one of the proverbially independent gentry families of Hunan. From a Chinese narrative of the Taiping rebellion, we are able to obtain a very clear impression, not only of Tseng’s character and of his conception of patriotism but also of the remarkable and undisputed position of autocratic power already at that time enjoyed by the youthful Empress Tzŭ Hsi. Before turning to this narrative, however, certain points in connection with the final defeat of the Taipings deserve to be noted, events with which Englishmen were prominently identified, but which, as recorded by British eye-witnesses, confirm our doubts as to the historical value of Imperial Edicts and Chinese official despatches.

The Emperor Hsien-Feng had died in exile and defeat at Jehol in August 1861. The Summer Palace had been destroyed by the British and French forces, peace had been restored, and the Co-Regency of the Empresses Dowager had commenced. One of the first acts of Prince Kung, in his capacity as “Adviser to the Government” after the conclusion of the Peace Convention of October 1860, was to invoke the aid of his country’s conquering invaders against the Chinese rebels, whose strong position on the Yangtsze was causing the Court ever increasing anxiety. It is an illuminating example of Chinese methods of government, not without parallels and value to-day, that even while the British and French forces were concentrating at Shanghai for their invasion of north China, high Chinese officials in the Yangtsze provinces had not hesitated to invoke their aid against the rebels, and had been chagrined at a refusal which appeared to them unwise since it ignored the interests of British trade at its most important centre. The history of the “Ever-Victorious Army” need not be referred to here. It kept the rebels in check in the province of Kiangsu throughout the year 1862, and in February 1863 the British Government sanctioned the lending of “Chinese Gordon” to take command of that force, which was speedily to turn the tide of war in favour of the Imperialists and effectively to pave the way for Tseng Kuo-fan’s final restoration of law and order. Soochow, the provincial capital, was regained in December 1863, and in the following July the fall of the rebel capital (Nanking) and the death of the rebel “King” practically ended the insurrection. A considerable number of Europeans, including a French Admiral, had given their lives to win back China for the Manchu Dynasty, although at the outset public opinion was in favour of strict neutrality and there were many, even then, who thought China would be well rid of her degenerate rulers: nevertheless, the triumphant Edict in which is recorded Tseng Kuo-fan’s capture of Nanking contains no word of reference to Gordon and the invaluable help which he rendered, and, as will be seen, Tseng’s only reference to the British Commander is to accuse him of having recommended the inhuman treatment of a defenceless prisoner. In accordance with the invariable classical tradition, he ascribes his success to “the consummate virtue and wisdom” of the late Emperor Hsien-Feng; the tradition represents, in conventional phraseology, the Oriental conception of the divine right of kings, and their infallibility (a conception which we find reproduced almost verbatim in the modern Japanese Generals’ modest reports of their greatest victories), and it is incompatible in China with any reference to the existence, much less the services, of foreign barbarians. The fact is worth noting, for Tseng was an exceptionally intelligent and courageous man who could, sooner than most men, have ventured on a new departure; and he knew full well that this same Gordon, who had steadily driven the rebels before him, cane in hand for over a year, had come hot-foot to the task from the sacking of the Manchu sovereigns’ Summer Palace!

But Yehonala’s joy at the fall of Nanking was unfeignedly great, and the Decree in which, in the name of the boy Emperor, she records the event and rewards the victors, is a brilliant example of her literary style. We take the following extracts from this document, as of permanent interest and throwing light on the character of Tzŭ Hsi.

Decree on the Fall of Nanking.

“An express courier from Tseng Kuo-fan, travelling two hundred miles a day, has just arrived, bearing the red banner of decisive victory and a Memorial describing the capture of Nanking, the suicide by burning of the rebel Prince, the complete destruction of the Taiping host and the capture of two of their leading commanders. Perusal of this Memorial fills us with the deepest joy and gratitude, which all our people will share. The leader of the long haired rebels[14] Hung Hsiu-ch’uan first raised his standard of revolt in the thirtieth year of Tao-Kuang (1850); from Kuangsi the movement spread gradually through Hunan, Hupei and the Yangtsze provinces to Chihli itself and Shantung, until scarcely a spot in the whole Empire but bore the footprints of the rebel armies. In the third year of Hsien-Feng (1853) they took Nanking and there established the seat of their Government. Uncounted thousands of our subjects have fallen victims to their savage crimes. The cup of their guilt has indeed overflowed. Gods and men alike hold them in abhorrence.

“Our Imperial father, in the majesty of his wrath, and in all reverence to Heaven, began a punitive campaign against them and named Kuan Wen, the Viceroy of Wu-Ch’ang, to be his Imperial Commissioner for the war. This officer successfully cleared the Hupei region of rebels and then marched eastwards towards Kiangsu in order to extirpate them there also. Later, Tseng Kuo-fan was made Viceroy of Nanking and Imperial Commissioner for the campaign in Kiangsu and Anhui, and he achieved great results, proportionate to his high responsibility.

“On the death of our late father (1861), half the cities of Kiangsu and Chekiang had been retaken by our forces, and it was a source of grief to His Majesty, recorded in his valedictory Decree, that he could not have lived to see the end of the rebellion. Upon our succeeding to the goodly heritage of the Throne, obeying our late father’s commands and listening to the sage counsel of the Empresses Regent, we promoted Tseng Kuo-fan to be an Assistant Grand Secretary and gave him full powers as Commander-in-Chief over the four provinces of Kiangsu, Kiangsi, Anhui and Chekiang, so as to secure an undivided plan of campaign.

“Ever since his appointment he has adopted a policy of masterful strategy in combination with the forces of P’eng Yu-lin and Tseng Kuo-ch’uan,[15] attacking the rebels both by land and by water. Over a hundred cities have been recaptured and over a hundred thousand rebels, who were advancing to the relief of Nanking, have been slain and ‘their left ears cut off.’[16] Nanking was thus completely invested and its relief became impossible. Early this month the outer defences of the city were taken and some thirty thousand rebels put to the sword, but their so-called King and his desperate followers were still at bay in the inner city, fighting fiercely to the end.

“Tseng Kuo-fan now reports that after the capture by our troops of the outer city ramparts, the rebels greatly strengthened the inner defences. Our men succeeded in taking the ‘Dragon’s Elbow’ hill and a general bombardment followed. Mining and counter-mining went on furiously in the vicinity of the chief forts amidst desperate encounters. At dawn on the 16th all our forces were collected, and by springing a mine under the wall of the city a breach was made some sixty yards in width. Our men rushed the gap, burst into the city and were advancing on all sides when the rebels from the wall exploded a magazine, and many of our men were slain. A panic was only averted by our leaders cutting down a number of those who were attempting to fly.

[Here follows a detailed description of the fighting, which we omit.]

“By 1 A.M. flames were bursting from the Palace of the ‘Heavenly King’ and the residences of other rebel leaders. One of them rushed from the main Palace Hall with one thousand followers and sought refuge in some houses near the south gate of the city. After some seven hundred of his men had been slain, he was captured, and on his person were found two Imperial seals of jade and one official seal of gold. At 3 A.M. about a thousand of the rebels, disguised in our uniforms, escaped through the tunnel at the Gate of Heavenly Peace but our cavalry pursued them and captured or destroyed the whole force at Hu-Shu chen, where their leader, the ‘Glorious Prince,’ was taken alive. On being examined, this leader whose name was Li Wan-ts’ai, admitted that seven of the so-called Princes of the Taipings had been slain by our forces, while seeking to escape under cover of darkness, on the night of our entrance into the city.

“According to the evidence of other rebels, the arch-leader Hung Hsiu-ch’uan, had committed suicide by taking poison a month before. He had been buried in the court-yard of his Palace, and his son, the so-called Boy-Prince, had succeeded to the usurped title. He also had committed suicide by burning when the city fell. Another of their chiefs, one Li Hsiu-cheng, had been wounded and was in hiding at a spot near by, where our men found him together with the elder brother of the ‘Heavenly King.’ During these three days, over a hundred thousand rebels were killed, of whom some three thousand were their so-called Princes, generals, and high officers.

“This glorious victory is entirely due to the bountiful protection of Heaven, to the ever-present help of our Ancestors, and to the foresight and wisdom of the Empresses Regent, who, by employing and promoting efficient leaders for their armies, have thus secured co-operation of all our forces and the accomplishment of this great achievement, whereby the soul of our late father in Heaven must be comforted, and the desire of all people fulfilled. For ourselves we feel utterly unworthy of this crowning triumph, and we are truly distressed at the thought that our late father could not live to witness this consummation of his unfinished plans. This rebellion has now lasted fifteen years, during twelve of which Nanking has been held by the rebels. They have devastated about a dozen provinces, and have captured some hundreds of cities. Their final defeat we owe to our Generals, ‘who have been combed by the wind and bathed in the rain,’ and who have undergone every conceivable hardship in bringing about the destruction of these unspeakable traitors. We are therefore bound to recognise their exceptional services by the bestowal of exceptional rewards. Tseng Kuo-fan first contributed to this glorious end by raising a force of militia in Hunan and a fleet of war-vessels with which he won great victories, saving his province from complete ruin. He re-captured Wu-Ch’ang, cleared the whole province of Kiangsi, and, advancing eastwards, recovered city after city. That glorious success has finally crowned our efforts is due chiefly to his masterly strategy and courage, to his employment of able subordinates and to his remarkable powers of organisation. We now confer upon him the title of Senior Guardian of the Throne, a marquisate of the first rank, hereditary in perpetuity, and the decoration of the double-eyed peacock’s feather.

[Here follows a long list of officers rewarded, beginning with Tseng Kuo-fan’s brother, above mentioned, who was given an earldom.]

“As soon as the troops have found the body of the usurper known as the ‘Heavenly King,’ Hung Hsiu-ch’uan, let it be dismembered forthwith and let the head be sent for exhibition in every province that has been ravaged by his rebellion, in order that the public indignation may be appeased. As to the two captured leaders, let them be sent in cages to Peking, in order that they may be examined and then punished with death by the lingering process.”

A further Decree announced that the Emperor would go in person to offer thanksgiving and sacrifice at all Imperial Temples and shrines, and make sacrifice to deities of the chief mountains and rivers of the Empire.

A Chinese diarist of the rebellion, referring to the manner in which the ‘Heavenly King’ met his death, says:—

“From the moment that the Imperialists captured Ch’u-yung, the rebels, pent up in Nanking like wild beasts in a cage, were in a hopeless plight. From the commencement of the 4th Moon, the city was completely invested, and without hope of relief. They were living on reduced rations of one meagre meal a day. The ‘Heavenly King’ caused roots and leaves to be kneaded and rolled into pellets which he had served out to his immediate followers, the rebel chiefs, saying, ‘This is manna from Heaven; for a long time we in the Palace have eaten nothing else.’ He gave orders that every household should collect ten loads of this stuff for storage in the Palace granaries; some of the more ignorant people obeyed the order, but most of the rebels ignored it.

“The rebel Li Hsiu-ch’eng, known as the ‘Patriotic Prince,’ escaped from Ch’u-yung and made his way to Nanking. Upon entering the city, he had drums beaten and bells rung as a signal for the ‘Heavenly King’ and his followers to ascend to the Throne Chamber for the discussion of the perilous situation. Hung Hsiu-ch’uan came, and boastfully ascending the Throne, spake as follows ‘The Most High has issued to me his sacred Decree. God the Father, and my Divine elder brother (Christ) have commanded me to descend unto this world of flesh and to become the one true lord of all nations and kindreds upon earth. What cause have I then for fear? Remain with me, or leave me, as you choose: my inheritance of this Empire, which is even as an iron girdle of defence, will be protected by others if you decline to protect it. I have at my command an angelic host of a million strong: how then could a hundred thousand or so of these unholy Imperialists enter the city’? When Li Hsiu-ch’eng heard this nonsensical boasting, he burst into tears and left the hall.

“But before the middle of the 5th Moon, Hung Hsiu-ch’uan had come to realise that the city was doomed, and on the 27th day, having abandoned all hope, he procured a deadly poison which he mixed with his wine. Then raising the cup on high, he cried, ‘It is not that God the Father has deceived me, but it is I who have disobeyed God the Father.’ After repeating this several times he drank the poison. By midnight the measure of his iniquity was full, and, writhing in agony, he died. Even his last words showed no true repentance, although they amounted to an admission of guilt. When his followers learned what had happened, they wrapped his body in a coverlet of yellow silk, embroidered with dragons and then, following the rule of their religion, buried it, uncoffined, in a corner of the Palace ground. They then placed on the Throne the rebel’s son, the so-called Boy-Emperor, but they tried to keep secret the news of the ‘Heavenly King’s’ death. It eventually leaked out, however, and the courage of the besieged dropped to the last depths of despair.”

In his Memorial to the Throne, Tseng Kuo-fan described the exhumation of the rebel Emperor’s body.

“Even the feet of the corpse were wrapped in dragon embroideries,” he says; “he had a bald head and a beard streaked with grey. After examining the body I beheaded it and then burnt it on a large bonfire. One of the concubines in the usurper’s palace, a woman named Huang, who had herself prepared the body for burial, told me that the ‘Heavenly King’ seldom showed himself to his Court, so that they were able to keep his death a secret for sixteen days. I am sending his bogus seals to Peking that they may be deposited in the Imperial Archives Department.”

The Memorial then proceeds:—

“The prisoner Li Hsiu-ch’eng, known as the ‘Patriotic Prince,’ was minutely cross-examined by myself, and his statement, which he wrote out with his own hand, extends to some thirty thousand words. He narrated in detail the first causes of the rebellion and described the present position of the rebels still at large in Shensi and elsewhere. He strongly advised that we should not be too hard on the defeated rebels from Kuangtung and Kuangsi, on the ground that severity would only lead to an increase of the anti-dynastic feeling in those provinces. It seems to me that there is much sense in his advice.

“All my staff were most anxious that Li Hsiu-ch’eng should be sent to Peking in a cage, and even the foreigner Gordon, when he called to congratulate me, strongly urged this course. But it seems to me that the high prestige of our Sacred Dynasty needs no such sending of petty rebels to Peking as trophies or prisoners of war. The ‘Heavenly King’s’ head is now being sent round those provinces which were laid waste by the rebellion, and this should suffice. Besides, I feel that there would be some risk of Li starving himself to death on the journey, or that a rescue might even be attempted, for this Li was extraordinarily popular with the common people. After the fall of the city, some peasants gave him shelter, and when he was finally captured the people of the village where he was taken decoyed and slew one of our men in revenge. After he had been put in his cage here, another rebel leader, the so-called ‘Pine Prince,’ was brought into camp. As soon as he caught sight of Li, he went down on his knees and saluted him most respectfully, I therefore decided to behead him and the sentence was duly carried out on the 6th instant.

“The two elder brothers of the ‘Heavenly King’ were men of a cruel and savage nature, who committed many foul and impious crimes. Li detested them both heartily. When captured, they were in a dazed state, and could only mumble ‘God the Father, God the Father.’ As I could get no information from them, and as they were sick unto death, I had them both beheaded, two days before the execution of Li Hsiu-ch’eng. I am now in receipt of your Majesties’ Decree, approving my action and ordering me to forward the heads of the three rebel chiefs to the various provinces in order that public indignation may be appeased. I have duly suspended the heads from long poles, and the sight of them has given great and general satisfaction.

“And now, victory being ours, I am led to the reflection that this our Dynasty surpasses all its predecessors in martial glory and has suppressed several rebellions by achievements which shed lustre on our history. The Ssŭ-ch’uan and Hupei rebellion of half a century ago was, however, limited to four provinces, and only some twenty cities were held by the rebels. The insurrection of Wu San-kuei, in the reign of K’ang-Hsi, overran twelve provinces, and the rebels captured some three hundred cities and towns. But this Taiping rebellion has been on a scale vaster than any before, and has produced some great leaders in its armies. Here in Nanking not a single rebel surrendered. Many burned themselves alive rather than be taken. Such things are unparalleled in history, and we feel that the final happy issue is due to the consummate virtue and wisdom of his late Majesty, which alone made victory possible. By dint of careful economy in the Palace, he was able to set aside large sums for the equipment of adequate forces. Most careful in his choice of leaders, he was lavish of rewards; all wise himself, yet was he ever ready to listen to the advice of his generals. Your Majesties the Empresses and the Emperor have faithfully carried out and even amplified these principles, and thus you have succeeded in wiping out these usurpers and have shed great glory on your reign. We, who so unworthily hold your high command, grieve greatly that His Majesty did not live to see his work crowned with triumph.”

For four years after the collapse of the rebellion, Tseng Kuo-fan remained at Nanking as Viceroy. (The Hunanese still regard that post as belonging by prescriptive right to a Hunanese official.) His only absence was during a brief expedition against the Mahomedan rebels in Shantung. In September 1868 he was appointed Viceroy of Chihli, and left for Peking at the end of the year, receiving a remarkable ovation from the people of Nanking. In Peking he was received with great honours, and in his capacity of Grand Secretary had a meeting with the Council on the morning after his arrival, followed immediately by an Audience, to which he was summoned and conducted by one of the Princes. The young Emperor was sitting on a Throne facing west, and the Empresses Regent were behind him, screened from view by the yellow curtain, Tzŭ An to the left and Tzŭ Hsi to the right of the Throne. In the Chinese narrative of the rebellion to which we have already referred, the writer professes to report this audience, and several that followed, practically verbatim, and as it affords interesting information as to the manner and methods of Tzŭ Hsi on these occasions, the following extracts are worthy of reproduction. It is to be observed that the writer, like all his contemporaries, assumes ab initio that the Empress Tzŭ An, though senior, is a negligible quantity and that the whole interest of the occasion lies between Tzŭ Hsi and the official in audience.

Upon entering the Throne room, Tseng fell upon his knees, as in duty bound, and in that position advanced a few feet, saying “Your servant Tseng Kuo-fan respectfully enquires after Your Majesties’ health.” Then removing his hat and performing the kowtow, he humbly returned thanks for Imperial favours bestowed upon him. These preliminaries completed, he rose and advanced a few steps to kneel on the cushion prepared for him below the daïs. The following dialogue then took place:—

Her Majesty Tzŭ Hsi. When you left Nanking, was all your official work completed?

Tseng. Yes, quite completed.

Tzŭ Hsi. Have the irregular troops and braves all been disbanded?

Tseng. Yes, all.

Tzŭ Hsi. How many in all?

Tseng. I have disbanded over twenty thousand irregulars and have enrolled thirty thousand regulars.

Tzŭ Hsi. From which province do the majority of these men hail?

Tseng. A few of the troops come from Hunan, but the great majority are Anhui men.