Part 27

Then to the Emperor, who stood trembling with grief and wrath, she said: “Get into your cart and hang up the screen, so that you be not recognised” (he was wearing a long gown of black gauze and black cloth trousers). Swiftly then the Old Buddha gave her orders. “P’u Lun, you will ride on the shaft of the Emperor’s cart and look after him. I shall travel in the other cart, and you, P’u Chün (the Heir Apparent) will ride on the shaft. Li Lien-ying, I know you are a poor rider, but you must shift as best you can to keep up with us.” At this critical moment it seemed as if the Old Buddha alone retained her presence of mind. “Drive your hardest,” she said to the carters, “and if any foreign devil should stop you, say nothing. I will speak to them and explain that we are but poor country folk, fleeing to our homes. Go first to the Summer Palace.” Thereupon the carts started, passing out through the northern gate of the Palace (The Gate of Military Prowess) while all the members of the Household and the Imperial Concubines prostrated themselves, wishing their Majesties a long life. Only the three Grand Councillors followed on horseback, a rendezvous having been arranged for other officials at the Summer Palace. My neighbour Wen Lien, the Comptroller of the Household, followed their Majesties at a distance, to see them safely out of the city. They left by the “Te-sheng-men,” or Gate of Victory, on the north-west side of the city, where for a time their carts were blocked in the dense mass of refugees passing out that way.

4 P.M.—The Sacred Chariot of Her Majesty reached the Summer Palace at about 8 A.M. and Their Majesties remained there an hour. Meanwhile, at 6 A.M., Prince Ch’ing, just before starting for the Summer Palace, sent a flag of truce to the Japanese Pigmies who were bombarding the city close to the “Chi Hua” Gate on the east of the city. The gate was thrown open and the troops swarmed in.

My son En Ming was on duty at the Summer Palace with a few of his men, when the Imperial party arrived, all bedraggled and dust-begrimed. The soldiers at the Palace gate could not believe that this was really their Imperial mistress until the Old Buddha angrily asked whether they failed to recognise her. The carts were driven in through the side entrance, and tea was served. Her Majesty gave orders that all curios, valuables, and ornaments were to be packed at once and sent off to Jehol; at the same time she despatched one of the eunuchs to Peking to tell the Empress[96] to bury quickly every scrap of treasure in the Forbidden City, hiding it in the courtyard of the Ning Shou Palace.

The Princes Tuan, Ching, Na, and Su joined Their Majesties at the Summer Palace; a few Dukes were there also, as well as Wu Shu-mei and Pu Hsing of the higher officials. About a dozen Secretaries from the different Boards, and three Clerks to the Grand Council, accompanied the Court from this point. General Ma Yu-k’un, with a force of 1,000 men escorted Their Majesties to Kalgan, and there were, in addition, several hundreds of Prince Tuan’s “Heavenly Tiger” Bannermen, fresh from their fruitless attacks on the Legations. Jung Lu is still endeavouring to rally his troops.

I have just heard of the death of my old friend, Hsü T’ung, the Imperial Tutor and Grand Secretary. He has hanged himself in his house and eighteen of his womenfolk have followed his example. He was a true patriot and a fine scholar. Alas, alas! From all sides I hear the same piteous story; the proudest of the Manchus have come to the same miserable end. The betrothed of Prince Ch’un, whom he was to have married next month, has committed suicide, with all her family. It is indeed pitiful.[97]

Thus, for the second time in her life, the Old Buddha has had to flee from her Sacred City, like the Son of Heaven in the Chou Dynasty, who “fled with dust-covered head.” The failure of the southern provinces to join in the enterprise has ruined us. Prince Tuan was much to blame in being anti-Chinese. As Confucius said, “By the lack of broad-minded tolerance in small matters, a great design has been frustrated.” After all, Jung Lu was right—the Boxers’ so-called magic was nothing but child’s talk. They were in reality no stronger than autumn thistledown. Alas, the bright flower of spring does not bloom twice!

My wife and the other women, stupidly obstinate like all females, intend to take opium. I cannot prevent them from doing so, but, for myself, I have no intention of doing anything so foolish. Already the foreign brigands are looting in other quarters of the city, but they will never find my hidden treasure, and I shall just remain here, old and feeble as I am. My son, En Ch’u, has disappeared since yesterday, and nearly all my servants have fled. There is no one to prepare my evening meal.

(_Here the Diary ends. The old man was murdered by his eldest son that same evening; all his women folk had previously taken poison and died._)

_Vermilion Decree of H.M. Kuang Hsü, 24th day, 12th Moon of 25th year (January, 1900), making Prince Tuan’s son Heir Apparent._

“In days of our tender infancy we succeeded by adoption to the Great Inheritance, and were favoured by the Empress Dowager, who graciously ‘suspended the curtain’ and administered the Government as Regent, earnestly labouring the while at our education in all matters. Since we assumed the reins of government, the nation has passed through severe crises, and our sole desire has been to govern the Empire wisely in order to requite the material benevolence of Her Majesty as well as to fulfil the arduous task imposed on us by His late Majesty.

“But since last year our constitution has been sore-stricken with illness, and we have undergone much anxiety lest the business of the State should suffer in consequence. Reflecting on the duty we owe to our sacred ancestors and to the Empire, we have therefore besought Her Majesty to administer the Government during the past year. Our sickness has so far shown no signs of improvement, and it has prevented us from performing all the important sacrifices at the ancestral shrines and at the altars of the gods of the soil.

“And now at this acute crisis, the spectacle of Her Majesty, labouring without cease in the profound seclusion of her Palace, without relaxation or thought of rest, has filled us with dismay. We can neither sleep nor eat in the anxiety of our thoughts. Reflecting on the arduous labours of our ancestors from whom this great Heritage has descended to us, we are overwhelmed by our unfitness for this task of government. We bear in mind (and the fact is well known to all our subjects) that when first we succeeded by adoption to the Throne, we were honoured with a Decree from the Empress Dowager to the effect that so soon as we should have begotten an heir, he should become the adopted son of His Majesty T’ung-Chih. But our protracted sickness renders it impossible for us to hope for a son, so that His late Majesty remains without heir. This question of the succession is of transcendent importance, and our grief, as we ponder the situation, fills us with feelings of the deepest self-abasement, and renders illusive all hope of our recovery from this sickness.

“We have accordingly prostrated ourselves in supplication before our Sacred Mother, begging that she may be pleased to select some worthy person from among the Princes of the Blood as heir to His Majesty T’ung-Chih, in order that the Great Inheritance may duly revert to him. As the result of our repeated entreaties Her Majesty has graciously consented, and has appointed P’u Chün, son of Prince Tuan, as heir by adoption to His late Majesty. Our gratitude at this is unbounded, and obediently we obey her behests, hereby appointing P’u Chün to be Heir Apparent and successor to the Throne. Let this Decree be made known throughout the Empire.”

Seldom has history seen so tragically pathetic a document. It was not only a confession of his own illegality and an abdication, but his death-warrant, clear writ for all men to read. And the poor victim must perforce thank his executioner and praise the “maternal benevolence” of the woman whose uncontrollable love of power had wrecked his life from the cradle.

_Memorial from the Censorate at Peking to the Throne at Hsi-an, describing the arrest of En Hai, the murderer of the German Minister, Baron von Ketteler._[98]

This Memorial affords a striking illustration of the sympathy which animated, and still animates, many of those nearest to the Throne in regard to the Boxers and their anti-foreign crusade, and their appreciation of the real sentiments of the Empress Dowager, even in defeat. It also throws light on the Chinese official’s idea of heroism in a soldier.

“A spy in Japanese employ, engaged in searching for looted articles in the pawnshops of the district in Japanese military occupation, found among the unredeemed pledges in one shop a watch bearing Baron von Ketteler’s monogram. The pawnbroker said that it had been pledged by a bannerman named En Hai, who lived at a carters’ inn of the Tartar city. This spy was a man named Te Lu, a writer attached to the Manchu Field Force, of the 8th squad of the ‘Ting’ Company. He went at once and informed the Japanese, who promptly sent a picquet to the inn mentioned. Two or three men were standing about in the courtyard, and the soldiers asked one of them whether En Hai was there. ‘I’m the man,’ said he, whereupon they took him prisoner. Under examination, En was perfectly calm and showed no sort of emotion. The presiding Magistrate enquired ‘Was it you who slew the German Minister?’ He replied ‘I received orders from my Sergeant to kill every foreigner that came up the street. I am a soldier, and I only know it is my duty to obey orders. On that day I was with my men, some thirty of them, in the street, when a foreigner came along in a sedan chair. At once I took up my stand a little to the side of the street, and, taking careful aim, fired into the chair. Thereupon the bearers fled: we went up to the chair, dragged the foreigner out, and saw that he was dead. I felt a watch in his breast pocket and took it as my lawful share; my comrades appropriated a revolver, some rings and other articles. I never thought that this watch would lead to my detection, but I am glad to die for having killed one of the enemies of my country. Please behead me at once.’

“The interpreter asked him whether he was drunk at the time. He laughed and said, ‘Wine’s a fine thing, and I can put away four or five catties at a time, but that day I had not touched a drop. Do you suppose I would try to screen myself on the score of being in liquor?’ This En Hai appears to have been an honest fellow; his words were brave and dignified, so that the bystanders all realised that China is not without heroes in the ranks of her army. On the following day he was handed over to the Germans, and beheaded on the scene of his exploit. We, your Memorialists, feel that Your Majesties should be made acquainted with his meritorious behaviour, and we therefore report the above facts. We are of opinion that his name should not be permitted to fall into oblivion, and we trust that Your Majesties may be pleased to confer upon him honours as in the case of one who has fallen in battle with his face to the foe.”

XVIII

IN MEMORY OF TWO BRAVE MEN

The Memorial of the Censors given in the last chapter, recording the arrest and execution of the Manchu soldier who shot the German Minister defenceless in his chair, took occasion to congratulate the Empress and the nation on possessing such brave defenders; and to do the man justice, he met his end with a fine courage. But with fuller knowledge and a clearer insight, the scholars of the Empire might well put forward claims to real heroism, moral courage of the rarest kind, in the case of Yüan Ch’ang and Hsü Ching-ch’eng, the two Ministers who, as we have shown, so nobly laid down their lives for what they knew to be their country’s highest good. So long as China can breed men like these, so long as the Confucian system contains moral force sufficient to produce Stoic scholars of this type, the nation has no cause to despair of its future. We make no apology for insisting on the claims of these two men to our grateful admiration, or for reproducing their last Memorials, in which they warned the Old Buddha of her folly, and, by denouncing the Boxers, braved all the forces of anarchy and savagery which surged about the Dragon Throne. Already their good name stands high in the esteem of their countrymen. _Et prevalebit_: their courage and unselfish patriotism have been recognised by their canonisation in the Pantheon of China’s worthies, under an Edict of the present Regent.

Shortly after their execution the following circular letter _pour faire part_ was addressed by the sons of Yüan Ch’ang to the relatives and friends of the family:—

_Notice sent by the Yüan family to their relatives regarding the death of Yüan Ch’ang, September, 1900._

After the usual conventional formulæ of grief and self-abasement, this circular letter proceeds as follows:—

“We realise that it was because of his outspoken courage in resisting the evil tendencies of the times that our parent met his untimely death, and we now submit the following report of the circumstances for the information of our relatives and friends.

“When, in the 5th Moon of this year, the Boxer madness commenced, our late father, in his capacity as a Minister of the Foreign Office, felt extremely anxious in regard to the situation, and his anxiety was shared by his colleague, Hsü Ching-ch’eng. On three occasions when the Princes and Ministers were received in audience, my father expressed his opinion to the Throne that the Boxers were utterly unreliable. ‘I have been in person,’ he said, ‘to Legation Street, and have seen the corpses of Boxers lying on all sides. They had most certainly been shot, proving that their unholy rites availed them nothing. They should be exterminated and not used as Government forces.’ On hearing this advice, the Emperor, turning to Hsü Ching-ch’eng, enquired whether China is strong enough to resist the foreigners or not, and other questions bearing on the position of the Foreign Powers abroad. Hsü replied without hesitation that China was far too weak to think of fighting the whole world. His Majesty was so much impressed by what he had heard that he caught hold of Hsü by the sleeve and seemed much distressed. Hsü sorrowfully left the presence, and proceeded with our father to draft the first of their joint Memorials.

“Later on, when the bombardment of the Legations was in full swing, our father observed to Hsü, ‘This slaughtering of Envoys is a grave breach of all international law. If the Legations are destroyed and the Powers then send an expedition to avenge them, what will become of our country? We must oppose this folly, you and I, even at the risk of our lives.’ So they put in their second Memorial, which never appeared in the Gazette, but which so frightened the Boxer princes and Ministers that they slackened for a while in their attacks on the foreigners. The preservation of the Legations on this occasion was really due to this Memorial, and from this moment the enemies of Hsü and our father became more than ever bent on revenge.

“In the last few days of the 6th Moon (July 15th to 25th) the foreign armies were massing for their march on Peking, and our father said to Hsü, ‘We are only waiting for death. Why should we delay it any longer?’ So they handed in their third Memorial. In this document they declared that the situation was becoming desperate, that even the Princes of the Blood and the Ministers of the Grand Council had come to applaud these Boxers, and to assist in deceiving their Majesties. There was only one way left to avoid dire peril and hold back the foreign armies, and that was to put an end to these Boxers, and to do this it was necessary to begin by beheading their leaders among the Princes and Ministers. Having sent in this Memorial, our father said to our mother ‘Things have now come to such a pass that, whether I speak out or keep silence, my death is certain. Rather than be murdered by these treacherous Ministers, I prefer to die at the hands of the public executioner. If only by my death I can convince the Throne of the peril of the situation, I shall die gladly.’

“We all crowded round our father and wept. Calmly he spake to us, saying, ‘I am giving my life for the State. What other thought have I now? You must decide for yourselves whether you will remain in Peking or return to our home in the south.’ He then gave us a solemn admonition in regard to our duties of loyalty and patriotism.

“On the second day of the 7th Moon, (July 27th) he was arrested and taken to the Board of Punishments. Next day, at 1 P.M., ‘his duty was finally consummated.’ The execution ground was crowded with a mob of Boxers. Angrily some of them asked him why he had borne a grudge, and spoken evil, against the ‘Patriotic Harmony Militia.’ Our father mockingly answered ‘A statesman speaks out in obedience to a sense of duty. How should such as you understand?’

“We were informed by the gaolers that our father and Hsü had chatted quietly and contentedly in prison. They had asked for paper and ink, and had written over twenty sheets, but this document was found by the Boxers and burned. Was it, we wonder, a valedictory Memorial to the Throne, or a last mandate to their families? We cannot say, and we shall never know. Alas, alas, that we, undutiful sons as we are, should have to bear this crowning sorrow! We have failed in our duty both as sons and as men. Our mother still survives, and our father’s burial remains to be attended to, so that we feel bound to go on, drawing the breath of pain, so as to perform our duty to our lamented sire. On the 8th of this Moon we propose to carry his remains to a place of temporary sepulture in the Garden of ‘Wide Friendship’ at Hangchow, and shall escort our mother to her home. We shall set up the tablet of our father in a building adjoining his temporary grave, and there weep and lament.”

If to meet an undeserved doom with high courage is heroism, then these men were indeed heroes. In reading their Memorials—and especially the last of them—one is inevitably and forcibly reminded of the best examples in Greek and Roman history. In their high-minded philosophy, their instinctive morality and calm contemplation of death, there breathes the spirit of Socrates, Seneca and Pliny, the spirit which has given European civilisation its classical models of noble fortitude and many of its finest inspirations, the spirit which, shorn of its quality of individualism, has been the foundation of Japan’s greatness. In the last of these three Memorials, their swan-song, there rings the true heroic note, clear-seeing, earnest and fearless. The first, though forwarded in the name of Yüan alone, was drafted conjointly with Hsü Ching-ch’eng. Hsü, well-known in diplomatic circles by his having been Minister in St. Petersburg and Berlin, had not the same high reputation for personal integrity and disinterested patriotism as his friend, but whatever his former failings, he made full amends by the unflinching nobility of purpose that led to his death.

_Yüan Ch’ang’s First Memorial against the Boxers, Dated 20th June, 1900._

“Ever since the 16th day of the Moon (June 12th), when the Boxers first burst into Peking, your Majesties have been giving audience daily to all the Princes and Ministers of State. The weight of the nation’s sorrow has afflicted your Sacred Persons, and you have sought the advice of us, your humble servants, in your anxious desire that a policy may be devised whereby peace should be restored to the shrines of your ancestors and to the Chinese people. But we have failed so far to avert calamity, and thus to bring comfort to our sorrowing Sovereigns; grievous indeed are our shortcomings, which fill us with shame and dismay.

“Humbly I recall to your Majesties’ memories a Decree which was issued in the 7th Moon of the 13th year of Chia-Ch’ing. Therein it is recorded that, in the provinces of Shantung and Honan, a dangerous conspiracy had been organised by evil-doers under the name of the ‘Eight Diagram’ Society. These latter day Boxers are, in fact, merely the descendants of the ‘White Lily’ sect, and your Majesties have already decreed their extermination. It was only last year that the District Magistrate of Wu Chiao, in Shantung, drew up a memorandum giving a very full account of this sect, and two months ago the Governor of Shantung (Yüan Shih-k’ai), replying to your Majesties’ enquiries, reported that these Boxers were in no way deserving of Imperial favour, and could never be enrolled as Government troops. No statement could be more explicit. Furthermore, the ex-Governor, Yü Hsien, reporting in connection with the case of a leader of this sect named Chu Hung-teng, or ‘Chu of the Red Lamp,’ stated that this impostor claimed to be a descendant of the Ming Dynasty; he had so worked upon the ignorant people that the whole district was in a state of unrest, and these treasonable proceedings increased and spread until the Imperial forces arrested and executed the ringleaders. Their purely mythical claims to invulnerability were clearly disproved by the fact that their execution presented no difficulties.

“When seeking information on this subject last year, I was informed by General Ch’eng Wen-ping that five years ago (in 1895) he was stationed at a post on the Chihli frontier, infested by robbers, who there went by the name of the ‘Golden Bell’ Society, and were brothers of the ‘Golden Lamp.’ On one occasion some fifty of these men desired to join General Ch’eng’s forces, but upon his putting their alleged powers to the test, by firing bullets at them and stabbing them with swords, blood flowed in the most natural manner, so that these magic workers died. I mention the fact to show the absurdity of this superstition; it proves, beyond doubt, that the organisers of these Societies are dangerous and treasonable rogues, harbouring evil designs against the Dynasty, especially when they claim to be descendants of the Mings. They have, however, collected an enormous following, and should be dealt with as rebels, which they undoubtedly are.