China under the Empress Dowager

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

Ceiling and Pillars of the Tai Ho Tien.

Photo, Ogawa, Tokio.

In his later years he felt and expressed great grief at the condition of his country, and particularly in regard to the strained relations between the Empress Dowager and the Emperor. He traced the first causes of these misfortunes to the war with Japan, and never ceased to blame his colleague, the Imperial Tutor Weng T’ung-ho, for persuading the Emperor to sign the Decree whereby that war was declared, which he described as the act of a madman. Weng, however, was by no means alone in holding the opinion that China could easily dispose of the Japanese forces by land and by sea. It was well-known at Court, and the Emperor must have learned it from more than one quarter, that several foreigners holding high positions under the Chinese Government, including the Inspector-General of Customs (Sir Robert Hart), concurred in the view that China had practically no alternative but to declare war in view of Japan’s high-handed proceedings and insulting attitude. Prestige apart, it was probable that the Emperor was by no means averse to taking this step on his own authority, even though he knew that the Empress Dowager was opposed to the idea of war, because of its inevitable interference with the preparations for her sixtieth birthday; at that moment, Tzŭ Hsi was living in quasi-retirement at the Summer Palace. After war had been declared and China’s reverses began, she complained to the Emperor and to others, that the fatal step had been taken without her knowledge and consent, but this was only “making face,” for it is certain that she had been kept fully informed of all that was done and that, had she so desired, she could easily have prevented the issue of the Decree, and the despatch of the Chinese troops to Asan. Sun Chia-nai’s reputation for sagacity was increased after the event, and upon the subsequent disgrace and dismissal of Weng T’ung-ho he stood high in Her Majesty’s favour. Nevertheless his loyalty to the unfortunate Emperor remained unshaken.

In 1898, his tendencies were theoretically on the side of reform, but he thoroughly disapproved of the methods and self-seeking personality of K’ang Yu-wei, advising the Emperor that, while possibly fit for an Under-Secretaryship, he was quite unfitted for any high post of responsibility. When matters first approached a crisis, it was by his advice that the Emperor directed K’ang to proceed to Shanghai for the organisation of the Press Bureau scheme. Sun, peace-loving and prudent, hoped thereby to find an outlet for K’ang Yu-wei’s patriotic activities while leaving the Manchu dovecots unfluttered. Later, after the coup d’état, being above all things orthodox and a stickler for harmonious observance of precedents, he deplored the harsh treatment and humiliation inflicted upon the Emperor. It is reported of him that on one occasion at audience he broke down completely, and with tears implored the Empress Dowager not to allow her mind to be poisoned against His Majesty, but without effect.

Upon the nomination of the Heir Apparent, in 1900, which he, like many others, regarded as the Emperor’s death sentence, he sent in a strongly worded Memorial against this step, and subsequently denounced it at a meeting of the Grand Council. Thereafter, his protests proving ineffective, he resigned all his offices, but remained at the capital in retirement, watching events. At the commencement of the Boxer crisis, unable to contain his feelings, he sent in a Memorial through the Censorate denouncing the rabid reactionary Hsü T’ung, whom he described as “the friend of traitors, who would bring the State to ruin if further confidence were placed in him.” Throughout his career he displayed the courage of his convictions, which, judged by the common standard of Chinese officialdom, were conspicuously honest. He was a man of that Spartan type of private life which one finds not infrequently associated with the higher branches of Chinese scholarship and Confucian philosophy; it was his boast that he never employed a secretary, but wrote out all his correspondence and Memorials with his own hand.

A pleasing illustration of his character is the following: He was seated one day in his shabby old cart, and driving down the main street to his home, when his driver collided with the vehicle of a well-known Censor, named Chao. The police came up to make enquiries and administer street-justice, but learning that one cart belonged to the Grand Secretary Sun, they told his driver to proceed. The Censor, justly indignant at such servility, wrote a note to Sun in which he said: “The Grand Secretary enjoys, no doubt, great prestige, but even he cannot lightly disregard the power of the Censorate.” Sun, on receiving this note, proceeded at once on foot in full official dress to the Censor’s house, and upon being informed that he was not at home, prostrated himself before the servant, saying: “The nation is indeed to be congratulated upon possessing a virtuous Censor.” Chao, not to be outdone in generosity, proceeded in his turn to the residence of the Grand Secretary, intending to return the compliment, but Sun declined to allow him to apologise in any way.

TUAN FANG

In 1898, Tuan Fang was a Secretary of the Board of Works; his rapid promotion after that date was chiefly due to the patronage of his friend Jung Lu. For a Manchu, he is remarkably progressive and liberal in his views.

In 1900, he was Acting-Governor of Shensi. As the Boxer movement spread and increased in violence, and as the fears of Jung Lu led him to take an increasingly decided line of action against them, Tuan Fang, acting upon his advice, followed suit. In spite of the fact that at the time of the coup d’état he had adroitly saved himself from clear identification with the reformers and had penned a classical composition in praise of filial piety, which was commonly regarded as a veiled reproof to the Emperor for not yielding implicit obedience to the Old Buddha, he had never enjoyed any special marks of favour at the latter’s hands, nor been received into that confidential friendliness with which she frequently honoured her favourites.