China under the Empress Dowager

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

At the close of a long and exciting day, Her Majesty retired to rest on the 14th of November, weary with her labours but apparently much improved in health. Next morning she arose at her usual hour, 6 A.M., gave audience to the Grand Council and talked for some time with the late Emperor’s widow, with the Regent and with his wife, the daughter of Jung Lu. By a Decree issued in the name of the infant Emperor, she assumed the title of Empress Grand Dowager, making Kuang-Hsü’s widow Empress Dowager. Elaborate ceremonies were planned to celebrate the bestowal of these new titles, and to proclaim the installation of the Regent. Suddenly, at noon, while sitting at her meal, the Old Buddha was seized with a fainting fit, long and severe. When at last she recovered consciousness, it was clear to all that the stress and excitement of the past few days had brought on a relapse, her strength having been undermined by the long attack of dysentery. Realising that her end was near, she hurriedly summoned the new Empress Dowager, the Regent and the Grand Council to the Palace, where, upon their coming together, she dictated the following Decree, speaking in the same calm tones which she habitually used in transacting the daily routine of Government work:—

“By command of the Empress Grand Dowager: Yesterday I issued an Edict whereby Prince Ch’un was made Regent, and I commanded that the whole business of Government should be in his hands, subject only to my instructions. Being seized of a mortal sickness, and being without hope of recovery, I now order that henceforward the government of the Empire shall be entirely in the hands of the Regent. Nevertheless, should there arise any question of vital importance, in regard to which an expression of the Empress Dowager’s opinion is desirable, the Regent shall apply in person to her for instructions, and act accordingly.”

The significance of the conclusion of this Decree is apparent to anyone familiar with Chinese Court procedure and with the life history of the Empress herself. Its ingenious wording was expressly intended to afford to the new Empress Dowager and the Yehonala Clan an opportunity for intervention at any special crisis, thus maintaining the Clan’s final authority and safeguarding its position in the event of any hostile move by the Regent or his adherents. And the result of this precaution has already been shown on the occasion of the recent dismissal of Tuan Fang[129] from the Viceroyalty of Chihli for alleged want of respect in connection with the funeral ceremonies of the Empress Dowager, an episode which showed clearly that the Regent has no easy game to play, and that the new Empress Dowager, Lung Yu, has every intention to defend the position of the Clan and to take advantage thereof along lines very similar to those followed by her august predecessor.

After issuing the Decree above quoted, the Empress Dowager, rapidly sinking, commanded that her valedictory Decree be drafted and submitted to her for approval. This was done quickly. After perusing the document, she proceeded to correct it in several places, notably by the addition of the sentence, “It became my inevitable and bounden duty to assume the Regency.” Commenting on this addition, she volunteered the explanation that she wished it inserted because on more than one occasion her assumption of the supreme power had been wrongfully attributed to personal ambition, whereas, as a matter of fact, the welfare of the State had always weighed with her as much as her own inclinations, and she had been forced into this position. From her own pen also came the touching conclusion of the Decree, that sentence which begins: “Looking back over the memories of these fifty years,” etc. She observed, in writing this, that she had nothing to regret in her life, and could only wish that it might have lasted for many years more. She then proceeded to bid an affectionate farewell to her numerous personal attendants and the waiting maids around her, all of whom were overcome by very real and deep grief. To the end her mind remained quite clear, and, at the very point of death, she continued to speak as calmly as if she were just about to set out on one of her progresses to the Summer Palace. Again and again, when all thought the end had come, she recovered consciousness, and up to the end the watchers at her bedside could not help hoping (or fearing, as the case might be with them) that she would yet get the better of Death. At the last, in articulo mortis, they asked her, in accordance with the Chinese custom, to pronounce her last words. Strangely significant was the answer of the extraordinary woman who had moulded and guided the destinies of the Chinese people for half a century: “Never again,” she said, “allow any woman to hold the supreme power in the State. It is against the house-law of our Dynasty and should be strictly forbidden. Be careful not to permit eunuchs to meddle in Government matters. The Ming Dynasty was brought to ruin by eunuchs, and its fate should be a warning to my people.” Tzŭ Hsi died, as she had lived, above the law, yet jealous of its fulfilment by others. Only a few hours before she had provided for the transmission of authority to a woman of her own clan: now, confronting the dark Beyond, she hesitated to perpetuate a system which, in any but the strongest hands, could not fail to throw the Empire into confusion. She died, as she had lived, a creature of impulse and swiftly changing moods, a woman of infinite variety.

At 3 P.M., straightening her limbs, she expired with her face to the south, which is the correct position, according to Chinese ideas, for a dying sovereign. It was reported by those who saw her die that her mouth remained fixedly open, which the Chinese interpret as a sign that the spirit of the deceased is unwilling to leave the body and to take its departure for the place of the Nine Springs.

Thus died Tzŭ Hsi; and when her ladies and handmaidens had dressed the body in its Robes of State, embroidered with the Imperial Dragon, her remains and those of the Emperor were borne from the Lake Palace to the Forbidden City, through long lines of their kneeling subjects, and were reverently laid in separate Halls of the Palace, with all due state and ceremony.

The valedictory Decree of Tzŭ Hsi, the last words from that pen which had indeed been mightier than many swords, was for the most part a faithful reproduction of the classical models, the orthodox swan song of the ruler of a people which makes of its writings a religion. Its text is as follows:—

The Valedictory Mandate of Her Majesty Tz’ŭ-Hsi-Tuan-Yu-K’ang-I-Chao-Yü-Chuang-Cheng-Shou-Kung-Ch’in-Hsien-Ch’ung-Hsi, the Empress Grand Dowager, declareth as follows:—

“I, of humble virtue, did reverently receive the appointment of the late Emperor Hsien-Feng, which prepared for me a place amongst his Consorts. When the late Emperor T’ung-Chih succeeded in early childhood to the Throne, there was rebellion still raging in the land, which was being vigorously suppressed. Not only did the Taiping and turbaned rebels engage in successive outbreaks, but disorder was spread by the Kuei-chou aborigines and by Mahomedan bandits. The provinces of the coast were in great distress, the people on the verge of ruin, widespread distress confronting us on all sides.

“Co-operating then with the senior Consort of Hsien-Feng, the Empress Dowager of the Eastern Palace, I undertook the heavy duties of Government, toiling ever, day and night. Obeying the behests of His late Majesty, my husband, I urged on the Metropolitan and provincial officials, as well as the military commanders, directing their policies and striving for the restoration of peace. I employed virtuous officials and was ever ready to listen to wise counsel. I relieved my people’s distress in time of flood and famine. By the goodwill and bounty of Heaven, I suppressed the rebellions and out of dire peril restored peace. Later, when the Emperor T’ung-Chih passed away and the Emperor Kuang-Hsü, now just deceased, entered by adoption upon the great heritage, the crisis was even more dangerous and the condition of the people even more pitiable. Within the Empire calamities were rife, while from abroad we were confronted by repeated and increasing acts of aggression.