China under the Empress Dowager

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

The Memorials and remonstrances of many high officials emphasised the seriousness of this question of the legitimacy of the Imperial succession to the nation at large, and its profound effect on the fundamental principles of ancestor worship. Nevertheless, having delivered their souls, the Mandarinate, led by the Peking Boards, were disposed to acquiesce in the fait accompli; in any case, there was no sign of organised opinion in opposition to the will of the Empress Dowager. The irregularity was evidently serious, and Heaven would doubtless visit the sins of the Throne, as usual, on the unoffending “stupid people”; but the individualism and mutual suspicion that peculiarly distinguish the Chinese official world, precluded all idea of concerted action or remedial measures.

One official, however, had the full courage of his convictions, and, by the time-honoured expedient of self-destruction, focussed the attention of the nation on the gravity of the question, as no amount of fine writing could have done. Resort to suicide by indignant patriots, as a proof of their sincere distress, is a practice praised and justified alike by historians in China and Japan, and there is no denying that, as an argument against all forms of despotism, it has the crowning merit of finality. It has, moreover, certain qualities of deliberate courage and cultured philosophy that bring irresistibly to mind the Roman patrician at his best, and which fully account for the distinction which such a death confers amongst a people that loves its orthodoxies, as it loves peace, undisturbed.

The name which will go down in Chinese history, as the defender of the national and true faith in connection with the illegal succession of the infant Emperor Kuang-Hsü, is that of the Censor, Wu K’o-tu, an upright and fearless scholar of the best type. For the reasons stated in his farewell Memorial, he waited four years after the death of the Emperor T’ung-Chih, hoping against hope that the widespread dissatisfaction of the literati and officials would take definite form, and lead the Empress Dowager to regulate the future succession, and to placate the disinherited ghost of T’ung-Chih, by the issue of a new Decree. Disappointed in this hope, he seized the classically correct occasion of the late Emperor’s funeral (1879) to commit suicide near his grave, taking care to leave behind him a swan-song which, as he knew, will live long in the memory of scholars and officials throughout the Empire. His death had the immediate effect of convincing Tzŭ Hsi of error. Realising the strength of public opinion underlying the Censor’s protest, she endeavoured at once to placate his accusing spirit by giving the pledges for which he had pleaded, in regard to provision in the future of a successor to T’ung-Chih. Nor was it on this occasion only that the death of Wu K’o-tu influenced her actions and disturbed her superstitious mind. In after years, and especially at the time of the flight to Hsi-an, she recognised his influence, and the punishment of her misdeed, in the disasters which had overtaken the Throne.

As an example of the principles of action, and the calm frame of mind which are the fine flower of the Confucian system of philosophy, and, therefore, worthy of our close and sympathetic study, we give the full story of the death of this patriotic protestant, as well as a translation of his Memorial.

His suicide took place in a small temple at Ma-shen ch’iao, close to the mausoleum of T’ung-Chih. His minutely detailed instructions for the disposal of his remains, with the least possible trouble to his family and friends, bespeak the gentleman and the scholar. To the priest in charge of the shrine, a “bad man,” he addressed the following characteristic letter:—

“Priest Chou, be not afraid. I have no desire to bring evil upon you. I was compelled to borrow the use of your plot of hallowed ground, as a spot appropriate for the death of an honest man. Inform now the Magistrate at once, and see that the Memorial enclosed in my despatch box is forwarded without delay. Buy for me a cheap coffin and have it painted black inside. My clothes are all in order, only the leather soles of my boots require to be cut off before you lay me in your coffin. I have cut my finger slightly, which accounts for the blood stains that you may notice. Twenty taels will be ample for my coffin. I should not think that the Magistrate will need to hold an inquest. Please have a coating of lacquer put on the coffin, to fill up any cracks in the joints, and have it nailed down, pending the Empresses’ decision as to my remains. Then, buy a few feet of ground adjoining the late Emperor’s tomb, and have me buried quickly.[32] There is no need for me to be buried in my ancestral cemetery; any spot is a good enough resting place for a loyal and honest man.

“You will find forty-five taels in my box, of which you may keep the balance after paying for my coffin and burial expenses. As to my watch, and the other articles on my person, it is known at my home exactly what I brought here with me. You must see to it that no one is permitted to insult my corpse, and my son will be deeply grateful to you for performing these last offices for me, in his place. You need not fear that the Magistrate’s underlings will make trouble for you, but be careful not to tamper with the box containing my Memorial to the Empresses.

“You can cut my body down to-morrow morning, and then have it placed in some cool and shady spot. Fearing that possibly you might come in by accident and find me hanging, I have taken a dose of opium, so as to make certain of death. If you should dare to meddle with my private affairs, as you have been trying to do these past few days, it will only lead to your being mixed up in the case, which might bring you to grief.

“All I ask of you is that you notify the Magistrate at once, and that you do not allow women and children to come in and gaze upon my remains. There is nothing strange or abnormal here; death had become an unavoidable duty. Those who understand me, will pity; that is all. The last earnest instructions of Wu K’o-tu.”

Next, to his son, he expressed his dying wishes in a letter which embodies many of the Confucian scholar’s most cherished ideals and beliefs, a document pathetic in its simple dignity, its pride of ancient lineage and duty well done according to his lights.