Part 30

Supplementing this Decree, the Empress, possibly instigated by some of the master-minds of the Grand Council, proceeded to prepare the way for a time-honoured, and invariably successful, device of Chinese statecraft, namely, the creation of dissension and jealousy between the Powers, and to this end she addressed telegrams to the Emperor of Russia, Queen Victoria, the Emperor of Japan, and other rulers. It is typical of the infantile _naïveté_ of Chinese officials in such matters of foreign policy, that copies of these extraordinary messages, intended solely to mislead public opinion abroad, should have been sent in to the (still besieged) Legations with the cards of Prince Ch’ing, and the Ministers of the Tsungli Yamên.[103] It is certain that these artless telegrams, as well as the conciliatory instructions subsequently sent to China’s representatives abroad, were but the outward and visible signs of Tzŭ Hsi’s inward and spiritual misgivings caused by the fall of the Taku Forts, the capture of the native city of Tientsin, and the massing of the armies of the Allies for the advance on her capital. If possible, she would therefore make friends in advance among the humane, and invariably gullible, sovereigns of Europe, making good use of her knowledge of their little weaknesses in matters of foreign policy, and be ready to pose in due course as the innocent victim of circumstance and fate. But “in the profound seclusion of her Palace” she continued to hope against hope for the Boxers’ promised victories and the fall of the Legations which she was so carefully “protecting.”

And here let us briefly digress. Students of modern Chinese history, desirous of applying its latest lessons to future uses, will no doubt observe, that in advising the Throne either for peace or war, all Chinese and Manchu officials (no matter how good or bad from our point of view, how brave or cowardly, how honest or corrupt) agree and unite in frankly confessing to their hatred of the foreigner and all his works. This sentiment, loudly proclaimed by the simple-minded braggart Boxers, is politely re-echoed by the _literati_, and voiced with equal candour by the picked men of the Government, men like Yuan Shih-k’ai, Jung Lu, and Liu K’un-yi. Those who pose as the friends of foreigners merely advocate dissimulation as a matter of expediency. The thought should give us pause, not only in accepting at their current value the posturings and pronouncements of the _monde diplomatique_ at Peking, and the reassurances given as to our excellent relations with such-and-such officials, but it should also lead us to consider what are the causes, in us or in them, which produce so constant and so deep a hatred? If we study the Memorials of high Chinese officials for the past fifty years, the same unpleasant feature presents itself at every turn. We may meet with exceptional cases, here and there, like Yüan Ch’ang, who will profess respect for the European, but even his respect will be qualified and never go to the length of intimate friendship. Our perennial gullibility, that faculty which makes the Chinese classical “allurements” invariably successful with the foreigner, accounts, no doubt, to some extent for the Chinese official’s contempt for our intelligence, and for our failure to learn by experience. It is fairly certain that the Boxers of to-morrow will be pooh-poohed (if not applauded) in advance by our Chinese Secretariats, as they were in 1900. But for the Chinese official’s unchanging hostility towards us, no such explanation offers, and it is perhaps, therefore, most satisfactory to our _amour propre_ to assume that his attitude is dictated by feelings similar to those which inspired Demetrius of the Ephesians, ostensibly fearful for the cult of Diana, but in reality disturbed for his own livelihood.

To return. The following are translations of the telegrams sent under date 3rd July, by order of the Empress Dowager, to the Emperor of Russia, Queen Victoria, and the Emperor of Japan. The text of those which were sent at the same time to the Presidents of the French and American Republics, and which were dated, curiously enough, on the 19th of June (the Taku Forts fell on the 16th), have been published in Monsieur Cordier’s most accurate and painstaking work, _Les Relations de la Chine_, Vol. III.

Telegram dated 3rd July:—

“To the Emperor of Russia:—Greeting to your Majesty! For over two hundred and fifty years our neighbouring Empires have enjoyed unbroken relations of friendship, more cordial than those existing between any other Powers.

“Recent ill-feeling created between converts to Christianity and the rest of our people have afforded an opportunity to evil-disposed persons and rebels to create disturbances, and the result has been that the foreign Powers have been led to believe that the Throne itself is a party to their proceedings and is hostile to Christianity. Your Majesty’s representative at my Court (M. de Giers) has actually requested our Foreign Office to suppress the rebellion and thus to allay the suspicions of the Powers. But at the time that he made this request, Peking was thoroughly infested with rebels, who had stirred up the people and gained for themselves no small prestige. Not only our soldiery but the mass of the people were burning for revenge against those who practised the foreign religion, and even certain Princes of our Imperial Clan joined in the movement, declaring that there was no room in the Celestial Kingdom for Christianity and the ancient religions of the soil. My chief anxiety has been lest any precipitate action on the part of the Government might lead to some dire catastrophe (_i.e._, the destruction of the Legations), and I feared, too, that the anti-foreign movement might break out simultaneously at the Treaty Ports in the South, which would have made the position hopeless. I was doing my utmost to find a way out of the dilemma when the foreign Powers, evidently failing to realise the difficulties of our situation, precipitated matters by the bombardment and capture of the Taku Forts: now we are confronted with all the dire calamities of war, and the confusion in our Empire is greater than ever before. Amongst all the Powers, none has enjoyed such friendly relations with China as Russia. On a former occasion I deputed Li Hung-chang to proceed to your Majesty’s capital as my special Envoy; he drew up on our behalf and concluded with your country a secret Treaty of Alliance, which is duly recorded in the Imperial Archives.

“And now that China has incurred the enmity of the civilised world by stress of circumstances beyond our power to control, I must perforce rely upon your country to act as intermediary and peacemaker on our behalf. I now make this earnest and sincere appeal to your Majesty, begging that you may be pleased to come forward as arbitrator, and thus to relieve the difficulties of our situation. We await with anxiety your gracious reply.”

On the same day the Empress Dowager addressed Her Majesty Queen Victoria in a telegram which was sent in the Emperor’s name and forwarded through the Chinese Minister in London. Its text runs as follows:—

“To your Majesty, greeting!—In all the dealings of England with the Empire of China, since first relations were established between us, there has never been any idea of territorial aggrandisement on the part of Great Britain, but only a keen desire to promote the interests of her trade. Reflecting on the fact that our country is now plunged into a dreadful condition of warfare, we bear in mind that a large proportion of China’s trade, seventy or eighty per cent., is done with England: moreover, your Customs duties are the lightest in the world, and few restrictions are made at your sea-ports in the matter of foreign importations; for these reasons our amicable relations with British merchants at our Treaty Ports have continued unbroken for the last half century, to our mutual benefit.

“But a sudden change has now occurred and general suspicion has been created against us. We would therefore ask you now to consider that if, by any conceivable combination of circumstances, the independence of our Empire should be lost, and the Powers unite to carry out their long plotted schemes to possess themselves of our territory, the results to your country’s interests would be disastrous and fatal to your trade. At this moment our Empire is striving to the utmost to raise an army and funds sufficient for its protection; in the meanwhile we rely upon your good services to act as mediator, and now anxiously await your decision.”

Again, in the name of the Emperor and through the Chinese Minister at Tokio, the following message was addressed to the Emperor of Japan:—

“To your Majesty, greeting!—The Empires of China and Japan hang together, even as the lips and the teeth, and the relations existing between them have always been sympathetic. Last month we were plunged in deep grief when we learned of the murder of the Chancellor of your Legation in Peking; we were about to arrest and punish the culprits when the Powers, unnecessarily suspicious of our motives, seized the Taku Forts, and we found ourselves involved in all the horrors of war. In face of the existing situation, it appears to us that at the present time the Continents of Europe and Asia are opposed to each other, marshalling their forces for a conflict of irreconcilable ambitions; everything therefore depends upon our two Asiatic Empires standing firm together at this juncture. The earth-hungry Powers of the West, whose tigerish eyes of greed are fixed in our direction, will certainly not confine their attention to China. In the event of our Empire being broken up, Japan in her turn will assuredly be hard pressed to maintain her independence. The community of our interests renders it clearly imperative that at this crisis we should disregard all trifling causes of discord, and consider only the requirements of the situation, as comrade nations. We rely upon your Majesty to come forward as arbitrator, and anxiously await your gracious reply to this appeal.”

These remarkable effusions have been inscribed in the annals of the Dynasty, by order of Her Majesty, those same annals from which all her Boxer Edicts have been solemnly expunged for purposes of historic accuracy. One cannot but hope that, in process of time, consideration of facts like these may cure European diplomacy and officialdom generally of its unreasoning reverence for the Chinese written character, a species of fetish-worship imbibed from the native pundit and aggravated by the sense of importance which knowledge of this ancient language so frequently confers.

These Imperial messages throw into strong relief the elementary simplicity of China’s foreign policy, a quality which foreigners frequently misunderstand, in the general belief that the Oriental mind conceals great depths of subtlety and secret information. Looking at these documents in the light of the known facts of China’s political situation at that moment, and stripping them of all artificial glamour, it becomes almost inconceivable that any Government should publish to the world and file in its archives such puerile productions. But it is frequently the case that this very kindergarten element in Chinese politics is a stumbling-block to the elaborate and highly specialised machinery of European diplomacy, and that, being at a loss how to deal with the suspiciously transparent artifices of the elderly children of the Waiwupu, the foreigner excuses and consoles himself by attributing to them occult faculties and resources of a very high order. If one must be continually worsted, it is perhaps not unwise to attribute to one’s adversary the qualities of Macchiavelli, Talleyrand and Metternich combined. As far as British interests are concerned, one of the chief lessons emphasised by the events of the past ten years in China is, that the reform of our diplomatic machinery (and particularly of the Consular service) is urgently needed, a reform for which more than one British Minister has vainly pleaded in Downing Street.

XX

THE FLIGHT FROM PEKING AND THE COURT IN EXILE

The diarist, Ching Shan, has described in detail the flight of the Empress Dowager and Emperor from Peking, before dawn, on the morning of the 15th August. From an account of the Court’s journey, subsequently written by the Grand Secretary, Wang Wen-shao, to friends in Chekiang, and published in one of the vernacular papers of Shanghai, we obtain valuable corroboration of the diarist’s accuracy, together with much interesting information.

Wang Wen-shao overtook their Majesties at Huai-lai on the 18th August; for the past three days they had suffered dangers and hardships innumerable. On the evening of the 19th they had stopped at Kuanshih (seventy _li_ from Peking), where they slept in the Mosque. There the Mahommedan trading firm of “Tung Kuang yü” (the well-known contractors for the hire of pack animals for the northern caravan trade) had supplied them with the best of the poor food available—coarse flour, vegetables, and millet porridge—and had provided mule litters for the next stage of the journey. As the troops of the escort had been ordered to remain at some distance behind, so long as there was any risk of pursuit by the Allies’ cavalry, their Majesties’ arrival was unannounced, and their identity unsuspected. As they descended from their carts, travel-stained, weary, and distressed, they were surrounded by a large crowd of refugee idlers and villagers, eager for news from the capital. An eye-witness of the scene has reported that, looking nervously about him, the Emperor said, “We have to thank the Boxers for this,” whereupon the Old Buddha, undaunted even at the height of her misfortunes, bade him be silent.

Next day they travelled, by mule litter, ninety _li_ (thirty-two miles), and spent the night at Ch’a-Tao, just beyond the Great Wall. Here no preparations of any kind had been made for their reception, and they suffered much hardship, sleeping on the brick platform (_k’ang_) without any adequate bedding. But the Magistrate of Yen-Ch’ing chou had been able to find a blue sedan-chair for Her Majesty, who had thus travelled part of the day in greater comfort. Also at midday, stopping to eat at Chü-yung kuan, Li Lien-ying, the chief eunuch, had obtained a few tea cups from the villagers.

On the 16th they travelled from Ch’a-Tao to Huai-lai, a hard stage of fifty _li_. Some of the officials and Chamberlains of the Court now joined their Majesties, so that the party consisted of seventeen carts, in addition to the Old Buddha’s palanquin and the Emperor’s mule litter. As the _cortège_ advanced, and the news of their flight was spread abroad, rumours began to be circulated that they were pretenders, personating the Son of Heaven and the Old Buddha, rumours due, no doubt, to the fact that Her Majesty was still wearing her hair in the Chinese manner, and that her clothes were the common ones in which she had escaped from the Forbidden City. In spite of these rumours the Magistrate of Huai-lai, a Hupeh man (Wu Yung), had received no intimation of their Majesties’ coming, and, when the Imperial party, accompanied by an enormous crowd, entered his Yamên, he had no time to put on his official robes, but rushed down to receive them as he was. After prostrating himself, he wanted to clear out the noisy and inquisitive rabble, but the Old Buddha forbade him, saying, “Not so; let them crowd around us as much as they like. It amuses me to see these honest country folk.” Here, after three days of coarse fare, the Empress Dowager rejoiced once more in a meal of birds’-nest soup and sharks’ fins, presented by the Magistrate, who also furnished her with an outfit of woman’s clothing and suits for the Emperor and the Heir Apparent, for all of which he received Her Majesty’s repeated and grateful thanks.

It was here, at Huai-lai, while the Court was taking a day’s rest, that Wang Wen-shao came up with them. He was cordially, even affectionately, greeted by the Old Buddha, who condoled with him on the hardships to which he had been exposed, and insisted on his sharing her birds’-nest soup, which, she said, he would surely enjoy as much as she had done after so many and great privations. She rebuked the Emperor for not greeting the aged Councillor with warm thanks for his touching devotion to the Throne.

From Huai-lai, Prince Ch’ing was ordered to return to Peking to negotiate terms of peace with the Allies. Knowing the difficulties of this task, he went reluctantly; before leaving he had a long audience with Her Majesty, who assured him of her complete confidence in his ability to make terms, and bade him adopt a policy similar to that of Prince Kung in 1860.

Wang Wen-shao’s account of the first part of the Court’s journey is sufficiently interesting to justify textual reproduction.

“Their Majesties fled from the palace at the dawn of day in common carts. It was only after their arrival at Kuanshih that they were provided with litters. The Emperor and Prince P’u Lun rode on one cart until their arrival at Huai-lai, where the District Magistrate furnished a palanquin, and later on, at Hsüan-hua, four large sedan chairs were found for the Imperial party. It was at this point that the Emperor’s Consort overtook their Majesties.

“So hurried was the flight that no spare clothes had been taken; the Empress Dowager was very shabbily dressed, so as to be almost unrecognisable, the Chinese mode of hair-dressing producing a very remarkable alteration in her appearance. On the first night after leaving Peking, they slept, like travellers of the lowest class, on the raised brick platform of the inn, where not even rice was obtainable for the evening meal, so that they were compelled to eat common porridge made of millet. In all the disasters recorded in history, never has there been such a pitiful spectacle.

“It was only after reaching Huai-lai that their condition improved somewhat, but even then the number of personal attendants and eunuchs was very small, and not a single concubine was there to wait upon the Old Buddha. For the first few days’ flight, neither Prince Li, nor Jung Lu, nor Ch’i Hsiu (all of them Grand Councillors), were in attendance so that Her Majesty nominated Prince Tuan to serve on the Council. She reviled him at the outset severely, reproaching him for the misfortunes which had overtaken the Dynasty, but as time went on, as he shared with her the privations and troubles of the day’s journey, she became more gracious towards him. This was to some extent due to the very great influence which Prince Tuan’s wife exercised at Court.

“When I reached Huai-lai, the Court consisted of the Princes Tuan, Ching, Na, Su, and P’u Lun, with a following of high officials led by Kang Yi, and some twenty Secretaries. General Ma’s troops and some of the Banner Corps of Prince Tuan formed the Imperial escort; and they plundered every town and village on their line of march. This, however, is hardly remarkable, because all the shops had been closed and there were no provisions to be purchased anywhere.

“To go back for a few days. Yü Lu (Viceroy of Chihli) shot himself in a coffin shop at a place south of the Hunting Park, and Li Ping-heng took poison after the defeat of his troops at T’ungchow. The Court’s flight had already been discussed after the first advance of the Allies from T’ungchow towards Peking; but the difficulty in providing sufficient transport was considered insuperable. On the 19th of the Moon a steady cannonade began at about midnight, and, from my house in Magpie Lane, one could note, by the volume of sound, that the attack was steadily advancing closer to the city, and eventually bullets came whistling as thick as hail. The bombardment reached its height at about noon on the 20th, when news was brought that two gates of the Imperial City had been taken by storm. I was unable to verify this report. It was my turn for night duty at the Palace, but after the last audience, I was unable to enter the Forbidden City, as all its gates were barred. It was only at 7 A.M. on the 21st inst. (August 15th) that I was able to gain admittance to the Forbidden City, and then I learned that their Majesties had hurriedly fled. On the previous day five urgent audiences with the Grand Council had been held; at the last of these only Kang Yi, Chao Shu ch’iao, and myself were present. Sadly regarding us, the Old Buddha said, ‘I see there are only three of you left. No doubt all the rest have fled, leaving us, mother and son, to our fate. I want you all to come with me on my journey.’ Turning to me she then said, ‘You are too old. I would not wish you to share in all this hardship. Follow us as best you can later on.’ The Emperor expressed his wishes in the same sense.

“By this time it was nearly midnight, and they still hesitated about leaving the city; judge then of my surprise to learn that, at the first streak of dawn, their Majesties had left the city in indescribable disorder and frantic haste. I could not return to my house that day because all the gates of the Imperial City were closed, but at 10 A.M. on the following day, I made my way out of the Houmen.[104] On my way I came across Jung Lu; he had fainted in his chair, and had been forsaken by his cowardly bearers. He said: ‘This is the end. You and I never believed in these Boxers; see now to what a pass they have brought the Old Buddha. If you see Her Majesty, tell her that I have gone to rally the troops, and that, if I live, I will join her later on.’