China under the Empress Dowager

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

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.”