China under the Empress Dowager

by J. O. P. Bland; Sir E. Backhouse

In October, the foreign Ministers were also received at the Summer Palace, and on the 20th of that month the Court returned to the Lake Palace for the winter. On this, her last State progress, the Empress Dowager approached the city as usual in her State barge, by the canal which joins the Summer Palace Lake with the waters of the Winter Palace, proceeding in it as far as the Temple of Imperial Longevity, which is situated on the banks of this canal. It was observed that as she left the precincts of the Summer Palace she gazed longingly towards the lofty walls that rise from the banks of the lake, and from thence to the hills receding into the far distance. Turning to the “Lustrous” concubine who sat at her feet, she expressed her fears that the critical condition of the Emperor would prevent her from visiting her favourite residence for a long time to come.

View, from the K’un Ming Lake, of the Summer Palace.

The Old Buddha sat in a cane chair on the raised deck of her magnificent barge adorned with carved dragons and phœnixes; she was surrounded by her favourite eunuchs, and half a dozen of the chief ladies of the Court. As she descended from the barge, supported by two eunuchs, and entered the sedan chair which bore her to within the temple precincts, her vivacity and good spirits formed a subject of general comment. She performed the usual sacrifices at the Temple of Imperial Longevity, a shrine which she had liberally endowed; but it was remembered after her death, as an unfortunate omen, that the last stick of incense failed to ignite. Upon leaving the temple she begged the priests to chant daily liturgies and to pray for her longevity, in view of her approaching birthday.

After leaving the temple precincts she proceeded with her ladies-in-waiting to the Botanical and Zoological Gardens, which lie just outside the “West-Straight gate” of the city. On arrival at the gates, she insisted upon descending from her sedan chair, and made the entire round of the gardens on foot. She expressed interest and much pleasure at the sight of animals which she had never seen before, and announced her intention of frequently visiting the place. She asked numerous questions of the keepers, being especially interested in the lions, and created much amusement amongst her immediate entourage by asking the director of the gardens (a Manchu official of the Household) for information as to where the animals came from, a subject on which he was naturally quite uninformed. “You don’t seem to know much about zoology,” she observed, and turned from the crestfallen official to address one of the keepers in a most informal manner. The chief eunuch, Li Lien-ying, wearied by such unwonted exercise, implored Her Majesty not to tire herself, but the Old Buddha took pleasure, clearly malicious, in hurrying him round the grounds. The occasion was unusual and remarkably informal, and the picture brings irresistibly to the English mind memories of another strong-minded Queen and her inspection of another garden, where heads were insecure for gardeners and Cheshire cats. Eye-witnesses of that day’s outing commented freely on their Imperial Mistress’s extraordinary spirits and vitality, predicting for her many years of life.

Her Majesty, whose memory on unexpected subjects was always remarkable, referred on this occasion to the elephant which had been presented to her by Tuan Fang upon his return from Europe, and which, together with several other animals for which she had no fitting accommodation in the Palace grounds, was the first cause and first inmate of the Zoological Gardens. The elephant in question had originally been in charge of the two German keepers who had accompanied it from Hagenbeck’s establishment; these men had frequently but unsuccessfully protested at the insufficient rations provided for the beast by the Mandarin in charge. Eventually the elephant had died of slow starvation, and the keepers had returned to Europe, after obtaining payment of their unexpired contracts, a result which brought down upon the offending official Her Majesty’s severe displeasure. She referred now to this incident, and expressed satisfaction that most of the animals appeared to be well cared for, though the tigers’ attendant received a sharp rebuke.

After Her Majesty’s return to the Winter Palace, everything was given over to preparations for the celebration of her seventy-third birthday on the 3rd of November. The main streets of the city were decorated, and in the Palace itself arrangements were made for a special theatrical performance to last for five days. A special ceremony, quite distinct from the ordinary birthday congratulations of the Court, was arranged for the Dalai Lama, who was to make obeisance before Her Majesty at the head of his following of priests. The health of His Majesty did not permit of his carrying out the prescribed ceremony of prostration before Her Majesty’s Throne in the main Palace of Ceremonial Phœnixes; he therefore deputed a Prince of the Blood to represent him in the performance of this duty, and those who knew its deep significance on such an occasion realised that the condition of his health must indeed be desperate. This impression was confirmed by the fact that he was similarly compelled to abandon his intention of being present at a special banquet to be given to the Dalai Lama in the Palace of Tributary Envoys. The high priest, who had been compelled to kneel outside the banquet hall to await the arrival of His Majesty, was greatly incensed at this occurrence.

The Empress Dowager, with the Chief Eunuch, Li Lien-Ying.

At eight in the morning of the birthday His Majesty left his Palace in the “Ocean Terrace” and proceeded to the Throne Hall. His emaciated and woe-begone appearance was such, however, that the Old Buddha took compassion upon him, and bade his attendant eunuchs support him to his palanquin, excusing him from further attendance. Later in the day she issued a special Decree praising the loyalty of the Dalai Lama, and ordering him to return promptly to Thibet, “there to extol the generosity of the Throne of China, and faithfully to obey the commands of the Sovereign power.” The Empress Dowager spent the afternoon of her birthday in the congenial amusement of a masquerade, appearing in the costume of the Goddess of Mercy, attended by a numerous suite of concubines, Imperial Princesses, and eunuchs, all in fancy dress. They picnicked on the lake, and Her Majesty appeared to be in the very highest spirits. Unfortunately, towards evening, she caught a chill, and thereafter, partaking too freely of a mixture of clotted cream and crab apples, she had a return of the dysenteric complaint from which she had suffered all through the summer. On the following day she attended to affairs of State as usual, reading a vast number of Memorials and recording her decision thereon, but on the 5th of November neither she nor the Emperor were sufficiently well to receive the Grand Council, so that all business of government was suspended for two days. Upon hearing of Her Majesty’s illness, the Dalai Lama hastened to present her with an image of Buddha, which, he said, should be despatched forthwith to her mausoleum at the hills, the building of which had just been completed under the supervision of Prince Ch’ing.[127] The high priest urged all haste in transmitting this miracle-working image to her future burial-place; if it were done quickly, he said, her life would be prolonged by many years, because the unlucky conjunction of the stars now affecting her adversely would avail nothing against the magic power of this image. The Old Buddha was greatly reassured by the Dalai Lama’s cheerful prognostications, and next morning held audience as usual. She commanded Prince Ch’ing to proceed without delay to the tombs, and there to deposit the miraculous image on the altar.[128] She ordered him to pay particular attention to the work done at the mausoleum, and to make certain that her detailed instructions had been faithfully carried out. Prince Ch’ing demurred somewhat at these instructions, inquiring whether she really wished him to leave Peking at a time when she herself and the Emperor were both ill. But the Old Buddha would brook no argument, and peremptorily ordered him to proceed as instructed. “I am not likely to die,” she said, “during the next few days; already I am feeling much better. In any case you will do as you are told.” On Monday, November 9th, both the Empress Dowager and the Emperor were present at a meeting of the Grand Council, and a special audience was given to the Educational Commissioner of Chihli province, about to leave for his post. At this audience the Old Buddha spoke with some bitterness of the increasing tendency of the student class to give vent to revolutionary ideas, and she commanded the Commissioner of Education to do all in his power to check their political activities.