“As to the forty taels[35] which you will find on my person, you will hand over to the Taoist priest, Chou, any balance there may remain after he has paid for my coffin and burial expenses. On arriving at Chi Chou, go at once and see the Magistrate, to whom I have written; thence proceed to the temple, where you must give them some extra money to compensate them for all the trouble they have had. Thereafter return to Peking, and there await the Empresses’ decision in regard to my case.
“See to it that my small debts are all paid, that my life may end in fitting and harmonious dignity. At a moment like this, I am naturally agitated in mind. It is hard to foretell what the decision of the Empresses may be, but at least my conscience is clear, and what does anything else matter? For your own personal safety, I do not think you need have any fear.
“Present my compliments to Chang Chih-tung: I only wish I could have had more of the old time talks with him. Go also to the Marquis Tso Tsung-t’ang. He has not treated me well of late, but slanders poisoned his sympathy, at which I do not wonder. The memory of his former kindnesses is precious to me, and I know that he will never let you starve.
“Your wife, in giving birth to my grandchildren, has conferred blessings upon me; you must never think of allowing her parents to provide for you. Leave therefore at once for our family home. There must be no delay about this. As to the Taoist priest, it irks me to make use of people in this way. He is a bad man; yet must we bear with him. Tell him that I regret having put his temple to this purpose; he need only spend ten taels on my coffin and a few taels more for the little plot of ground to bury me in. I am a worthless official and deserve nothing better than this.
“Why have I delayed so long? Because I did not wish to disturb the Empresses with the news of my death at this critical time. All the Decrees which have appeared since the Emperor Kuang-Hsü came to the Throne have moved me greatly, and much have I deplored my inability to serve Their Majesties better. In days of old, loyal servants of the State were wont to commit suicide as an act of remonstrance against the degeneracy of their Sovereigns. Not for a moment are the Empresses to be compared to monarchs like Ming Huang of the T’ang Dynasty, who deserted his capital before the invader, or Li Tsung, of the Sungs, whose foolishness led to the Mongol wars. Nevertheless my death is due to the same principles as those which actuated those faithful Councillors.
“Go home now, and teach your children to study. Do not open my Memorial to the Empresses. It is sealed, and I have asked the local Magistrate to forward it for presentation.”
His Memorial to the Throne was, in fact (as the letter to his son plainly indicates), an indictment of the degeneracy of the ruler of the Empire; incidentally, it throws much light on the orthodox point of view in regard to the question of the Imperial succession. Its preamble sets forth the object with which it was written, and in the hope of which the writer died, namely, to induce the Empress Dowager to determine the future succession, providing an heir to the Emperor T’ung-Chih, in accordance with precedent and the laws of the Dynasty. The text of this remarkable document is as follows:—
“I, your worthless servant, have heard that the fact of a nation being well governed does not necessarily preclude all possibility of anarchy, nor does a nation at peace dismiss altogether from mind the chances of violent disturbance; should anarchy and rebellion be regarded as possibilities too remote to merit a thought, it were idle and superfluous to advise the Sovereign of so perfect a State. To ask the Imperial wisdom to see danger where no real peril exists would be simply inviting evil omens.
“On a former occasion I, your guilty servant, wittingly incurred danger of death or imprisonment, because, in the heat of indignation, I dared to remonstrate with the Throne. At that time the Princes and Ministers about your Throne asked permission to subject me to a criminal enquiry, but His late Majesty T’ung-Chih was pleased to spare me, so that I neither suffered death by the headsman’s sword nor imprisonment, nor did I run the risk of further exciting the Imperial wrath by my evidence before a criminal court. Thrice have I deserved, without receiving, the penalty of death. Without desiring my forfeit life, it was granted me, so that my last few years have been, as it were, a boon at the hands of His late Majesty.
“But on the 5th day of the 12th Moon of the 13th year of T’ung-Chih the earth was rent and heaven itself was shaken by the great catastrophe, and on that day their Majesties the Empresses Dowager issued the following Decree: ‘The departed Emperor has mounted the Dragon and is become a guest on high, leaving no heir to the Throne. We are compelled to appoint Tsai T’ien, son of Prince Ch’un, to be heir to His Majesty Hsien-Feng, to enter on the great inheritance as the new Emperor. When to him an heir shall be born, he shall become son by adoption to the late Emperor T’ung-Chih.’