Part 38

“Up to the present the study of European methods has gone no further than a superficial knowledge of the languages, literature and mechanical arts of the West, but it must be evident that these things are not the essentials upon which European civilisation has been founded. The essential spirit of that civilisation is to be looked for in the fact that real sympathy and understanding exists between rulers and people, that officials are required to be truthful in word and courageous in action. The teachings handed down to us by our sacred ancestors are really the same as those upon which the wealth and power of European countries have been based, but China has hitherto failed to realise this and has been content to acquire the rudiments of European languages or technicalities, while changing nothing of her ancient habits of inefficiency and deep-rooted corruption. Ignoring our real needs we have so far taken from Europe nothing but externals; how can we possibly hope to advance on such lines? Any reforms to be effective and permanent must be made with a real desire for efficiency and honesty.

“We therefore hereby decree and command that the officials concerned shall now make close enquiry and comparison as to the various systems of government in force in European countries with special reference to those which obtain in China to-day, not only as regards the constitution of the Court and central government, but also concerning those things which make for the prosperity of our subjects, such as the system of examinations and education, the administration of the army and the regulation of finance. They will be required to report as to what changes are advisable and what institutions should be abolished; what methods we should adopt from abroad and what existing Chinese institutions should be retained. The things we chiefly need are a constant supply of men of talent, a sound basis of national finance, and an efficient army. Reports on these matters must be forwarded within two months, and upon them we shall humbly address Her Majesty, and ask for her decision before we take any definite action.

“Whilst the Court was in residence at T’ai-yüan we urgently called upon our subjects to assist us, and many Memorials were received, but as a general rule the advice they tendered was either stupid plagiarism taken from newspaper articles or else the narrow and bigoted views of untravelled scholars. They frequently sounded quite reasonable, but were in reality sheer nonsense, their principal characteristic being overweening conceit, which effectively prevented any breadth of argument. Very few of the suggestions advanced were practicable, for the reason that in recommending any course of action writers laid stress upon its alleged advantages without realising its drawbacks. There are many who talk glibly of reform and the wealth and power of foreign States, but deceive themselves as to the real origin of all knowledge; on the other hand your bigoted Confucianist will discourse endlessly upon the doctrines of the Sages, without in the least realising the needs of the present day. It is now for you, our officials, to steer a reasonable midway course, avoiding both these defects in submitting your proposals. We desire that your views shall be elaborated in the fullest detail for our consideration in determining upon a course of action.

“The first essential, however, more important even than the devising of new systems, is to secure men of administrative ability. Without talent no system can be made to succeed. If the letter of our projected reforms be not illuminated and guided by this spirit of efficiency in our officials then must all our hopes of reforming the State disappear into the limbo of lost ideals. We fully recognise that foolish adherence to the system of promotion by seniority has been one of the main factors in bringing about a condition of affairs that is almost incurable. If we would now be rid of it, our first step evidently is to think no more of selfish interests, but to consider the commonwealth only and to secure efficiency by some new and definite method, so that competent persons only may be in charge of public affairs. But if you, our officials, continue to cling to your ancient ways, following the ruts of procrastination and slothful ease; should you persist in evading responsibility, serving the State with empty catch-words while you batten on the fruits of your misdeeds, assuredly the punishment which the law provides stands ready, and no mercy will be shown you! Let this Decree be promulgated throughout the land.”

It will be observed that in this Decree the Emperor is made to renounce and condemn the Reformers of 1898 and all their works. This, however sincerely convinced Her Majesty might be of the necessity for remedial measures, was only natural. For it was never one of the weaknesses of this masterful woman to make direct confession of error for the benefit of her own immediate entourage; not thus is prestige maintained in the atmosphere of an Oriental Court. She was now prepared to adopt many of the reforms which K’ang Yu-wei and his friends had advocated, but for all-important purposes of “face” it must be made quite clear that, in her hands, they were something radically different and superior. In promulgating her new opinions she could not afford to say anything which might be construed as direct justification of that reform movement which she herself had so ruthlessly suppressed. And so the “stupid people” must clearly understand that her present programme was by no means “revolutionary” like that of K’ang Yu-wei and his fellow-“conspirators.” Nevertheless, her proposals for reform went as far as theirs, and, in some cases, even further, the only real difference being that in this case she, the Old Buddha, was a prime mover, where before she had been an opponent.

Looking back on the six years of her life and rule which followed the return from exile, there can be but little doubt of the sincerity of her conversion to reform, although there is no reason to believe that her sentiments towards foreigners had undergone any change for the better. The lesson which had been brought home to her with crushing force in the rise and fall of the Boxer movement and in the capture of Peking, was that national inefficiency means national extinction, a lesson which not all the statesmen of western lands have fully learned. She had realised that the material forces of the western world were not to be met and overthrown by quotations from the classics, and that, if China was to continue to exist as an independent State she must follow the example of Japan and put her house in order with equipment and defences adapted from western models. And with Tzŭ Hsi to realise was to act, a quality which, more than all others, distinguished her from the ruck of her Manchu kinsmen and officials, sunk in their lethargic fatalism and helplessness.

The situation which confronted her at the outset was anything but simple. Apart from the time-honoured privileges of the Imperial clans, whose arrogant ignorance she had come to appreciate at its proper value, she must needs be cautious in handling the susceptibilities of the provincial gentry and _literati_, the backbone of China’s collective intelligence. At the same time, as far as the foreign Powers were concerned, she must be careful to preserve to the full that dignity on which her prestige with her own people depended, that “_l’empire c’est moi_” attitude which had been rudely shaken by the events of 1900. Not as the chastened penitent would she appear in their eyes, but as the innocent and injured victim of circumstances beyond her control. There were, in fact, several distinct rôles to be played, and none of them were easy.

The Edict issued from Hsi-an in February 1901 had been warmly applauded by scholars throughout the Empire as a literary feat of the first order, but most of the provincial officials (justified by all tradition and experience) regarded it as merely a classical “obiter dictum,” and proceeded, therefore, in their old way, certain in their minds that the Old Buddha was only amusing herself, as was her wont, by throwing dust in the eyes of the barbarian, and that she would not be displeased if her lieutenants were to proceed slowly in carrying them into effect. Unto the end, even in the face of the earnest exhortations of her valedictory Decree, there were many provincial officials who, for reasons of personal prejudice and self-interest, professed to believe that the Old Buddha had been merely playing a part, but we can find nothing in her official or private record during these six years to justify that belief. Just before her return to Peking she issued an Edict in which her own convictions were very clearly indicated:—

“Ever since my sudden departure from the capital a year ago,” she declared, “I have not ceased for a moment to brood over the causes of our national misfortunes and to feel deep remorse. Now, thanks to the protection of our tutelary deities, I am about to return to the capital. Whenever I think of the reasons for our undoing and the causes of our collective weakness I sincerely deplore the fact that I have not long ago introduced the necessary reforms, but I am now fully determined to put in force all possible measures for the reform of the State. Abandoning our former prejudices, we must proceed to adopt the best European methods of government. I am firmly determined to work henceforward on practical lines, so as to deliver the Empire from its present rotten state. Some of the necessary measures will naturally require longer periods of preparation than others, but after my return to Peking they must one and all gradually be introduced.

“In view of the urgent importance of this matter, Jung Lu and his colleagues have urged me to make a clear statement of my intentions and to declare without possibility of hesitation or doubt the irrevocable decision of the Throne, so that every official in the land may be stimulated to sincere and unremitting co-operation. For this reason I issue the present Decree solemnly recording my opinion that the condition of the Empire permits of no further evasion or delay in the matter of reform. Therein lies our only hope for the future. Myself and the Emperor, in the interests of all that we hold dear, have no alternative but to face, and steadily to pursue, this new policy; we must make up our minds what are the things to strive for, and employ the right men to help us to attain them. We are, as mother and son, of one mind, endeavouring only to restore our fallen fortunes. You, our people, can best serve by united efforts to this end.”

Tzŭ Hsi had not only realised the immense superiority of the material forces of the western world, but she had also been convinced of the immense intellectual and political forces which education and increased means of communication were steadily creating amongst her own subjects, forces with which, as she perceived, the effete and ignorant Manchus would have to reckon sooner or later. It is quite plain from her Edicts on this delicate subject that she realised clearly the dangers which threatened the Manchu rule. She saw that their class privileges, the right to tribute, and all the other benefits of sovereignty which the founders of the Dynasty had won by force of arms and opportunity, had now become an anachronism, and must in the near future involve the Manchus themselves in serious dangers and difficulties, unless, by fusion, means could be found to avert them. Among the rules laid down by the founders of the Dynasty for the maintenance of the pure Manchu stock, was that which forbade intermarriage with Chinese. This law, though frequently violated in the garrisons of the south, had remained generally effective within the Metropolitan province, where it had served its purpose of maintaining the ruling class and its caste. But the Empress had now come to understand that if China was to be preserved as a sovereign State, it must be rather by means of Chinese energy and intelligence grafted on to the Manchu stock, than by the latter’s separate initiative. In January 1902, immediately after her return to Peking, she gave effect to her convictions on this subject in a remarkable Decree whereby she recommended that, for the future, Manchus and Chinese should intermarry. “At the time of the founding of our Dynasty,” she says, “the customs and languages of the two races were greatly different, and this was in itself reason sufficient for prohibiting intermarriage. But at the present day, little or no difference exists between them, and the time has come, therefore, to relax this law for the benefit of the Empire as a whole, and in accordance with the wishes of our people.” In the same Edict Her Majesty deprecated the Chinese custom, which the Manchus had never adopted, of foot-binding, and urged that the educated classes should unite to oppose a custom so injurious to health and inhuman in practice. There was, however, to be no compulsion in this matter. In one respect only did she desire to adhere to the exclusive Manchu traditions, namely, as regards the selection of secondary wives for the Imperial harem, who must continue to be chosen exclusively from Manchu families; she did not desire “to incur any risk of confusion or dissension in the Palace, nor to fall into the error committed by the Ming Dynasty, in the indiscriminate selection of concubines, a matter affecting the direct and legitimate succession to the Throne.” Nor would she expose her kinsmen to the risk of conspiracy against the Dynasty which would certainly occur if the daughters of the great Chinese houses were admitted to the Palace. The law had been laid down once and for all by Nurhachu, and it was binding on every occupant of the Dragon Throne, namely, “no Manchu eunuchs, no Chinese concubines.”

Her next step, in a decree which frankly deplored the hopeless ignorance of her kinsmen, was to authorise the Imperial clansmen and nobles to send their sons to be educated abroad, so that perchance the lump of their inefficiency might yet be leavened. Eligible youths, between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five, and of good physique, were to be selected and their expenses would be defrayed by the Government.

This much for the Manchus; but in regard to the whole question of education, which she declared to be the very root of all China’s difficulties, she perceived, after prolonged consultations with Yüan Shih-k’ai and Chang Chih-tung, that so long as the classical system continued, with its strong hold of tradition upon the masses, it must constitute the chief obstacle to any effective reform of the body politic. After much careful deliberation she decided that unless the whole system of classical examinations were abolished, root and branch, no tinkering with western learning could be of any practical use. The ancient system of arguing in a circle, which for over two centuries had characterised the ideal essay and hypnotised the ideal official, must undoubtedly triumph over all other educational methods, so long as it remained part of the official curriculum. Her Majesty took pains to point out by Edict that colleges had undoubtedly existed in the days of that model ruler, the Regent Duke Chou, more than two thousand five hundred years ago, on lines not greatly different from those of the foreign Universities of the present day; she proved also that the classical essay system was, so to speak, quite a recent innovation, having been introduced for the first time under the Ming Dynasty, about A.D. 1390. Eventually, in 1904, upon the advice of Yüan Shih-k’ai, approved by Chang Chih-tung, a Decree was issued finally abolishing the old system of examinations and making graduation at one of the modern colleges the only recognised path to official employment. At the same time, realising that the training of students in Japan, which had been proceeding on a very large scale, had produced a body of revolutionary scholars most undesirable in the eyes of the Government, she gave orders that arrangements should be made for sending more students in future to Europe and America.

This epoch-making announcement was followed by several other important Decrees, notably that which ordered the complete abolition of the opium traffic within a period of ten years, a Decree, which, embodying a sincere and powerful consensus of public opinion, has produced most unexpected results, marvellously creditable to the moral sense and recuperative energies of the Chinese race. The contrast is most striking between the widespread reform effected under this Edict, and the almost complete failure of those which set forth to reform the Metropolitan administration; these, thanks to the steady passive resistance of the mandarin in possession, resulted merely in perpetuating the old abuses under new names. The one new Ministry created at that time, and saluted by foreigners as a sign of genuine progress, was that of Posts and Communications (Yu-Ch’uan pu), which has been a byword for corrupt practices since its establishment, and a laughing stock among the Chinese themselves for inefficiency and extravagance.

After dealing with education, the Old Buddha turned her attention to a question which had frequently figured in recent Memorials of progressive officials, namely, the abolition of torture and other abuses prevalent in the so-called judicial system of the Empire. She realised that if China were ever to obtain the consent of the western Powers to the abolition of the foreigner’s rights of extra-territoriality, she must devise and enforce civil and criminal codes similar to those of civilised countries. Her Edict on this subject, though in form excellent, seems to lack something of the conviction which marks her other Decrees of this period; it is very different, for instance, from those dealing with the abolition of opium and the reform of education. Its principles were obviously contrary to all her previous ideas and practice, and it is only fair to say that its result, in spite of much drafting of codes, has been little or none, as far as the barbarous practices of the provincial Yamêns are concerned. She decreed that, pending the introduction of the criminal code, decapitation should be the extreme penalty of the law; dismemberment and mutilation were to be abolished as barbarous; branding, flogging, and the vicarious punishment of relatives were to cease. These savage penalties, she observed, were originally introduced into China under the Ming Dynasty, and had only been adopted by the Manchus, with other Chinese customs, against their own more merciful instincts.

Finally, in deference to the unmistakable and growing tendencies of public opinion in the south, Tzŭ Hsi took the first steps towards the introduction of constitutional government by sending an Imperial Commission (under Duke Tsai Tsê) to study the various systems in force in foreign countries, and their results. The return of this Mission was followed in the autumn of 1905 by the issue of the famous Decree in which she definitely announced her intention to grant a constitution, which should come into effect sooner or later, according to circumstances and the amount of energy or procrastination displayed by the officials and people in preparing themselves for the change. As an example of subtle argument calculated to appeal to the Chinese mind, the document is a masterpiece in its way. It says:—

“Ever since the foundation of the Dynasty one wise sovereign after another has handed down sage counsels to posterity; it has always been their guiding principle that methods of Government should be modified and adapted to meet the exigencies of the moment and changing conditions. China’s great and increasing danger to-day is largely due to her unwise adherence to antiquated methods; if we do not amend our educational and political systems, we shall be violating the spirit which animated our Imperial ancestors, and shall disappoint the best hopes of our people. Our Imperial Commissioners have reported to us that the prosperity and power of foreign nations are largely due to principles of constitutional government based on the will of the people, which assures bonds of union and sympathy between the Sovereign and his subjects. It is therefore our duty to consider by what means such a Constitution may be granted as shall retain the sovereign power in the hands of the Throne, and at the same time give effect to the wishes of the people in matters of administration. Our State being at present unprepared, and our people uneducated, any undue haste is inadvisable, and would lead to no practical results. We must first reform the official system, following this by the introduction of new laws, new methods of education, finance and military organisations, together with a police system, so that officials and people may come to realise what executive government means as a foundation and preparation for the granting of a Constitution.”

It was not to be expected that even Tzŭ Hsi could frame so radical and comprehensive a programme of change without incurring the strongest opposition and criticism of those to whom the established order meant loaves and fishes: at Peking, however, owing to the absence of an outspoken press, the opposition ran beneath the surface, exercised in the time-honoured form of dogged adherence to the ancient methods by the officials and bureaucrats on whose goodwill all reform ultimately depends. Against anyone less masterful and less popular than Tzŭ Hsi the Clansmen would undoubtedly have concerted other and more forcible measures, but they knew their Old Buddha and went in wholesome fear of her wrath. It was only her exceptional position and authority that enabled her to introduce the machinery for the establishment of constitutional government, based on the Japanese model, and there is reason to believe that even at this moment many conservative Manchus do not regard that measure seriously.

But despite the promise of constitutional government, public opinion in the south, never restrained in its utterances by the free-lances of the vernacular press of Hongkong and Shanghai, was outspoken in condemnation of Her Majesty’s new policy, criticising her policy in general on the ground of her undignified truckling to Europeans. Lacking alike her masculine intelligence and courageous recognition of hard facts, making no allowance for the difficulties with which she was encompassed, and animated in many instances by a very real hatred of the Manchu rule, they attacked her in unmeasured terms of abuse; while the foreign press of the Treaty Ports, naturally suspicious of her motives and mindful of her share in the anti-foreign rising, was also generally unsympathetic, if not hostile. In both cases knowledge of the woman’s virility and vitality was lacking. Her critics failed to realise that, like most mortals, the Empress was a mixture of good and bad, of wisdom and error, largely swayed by circumstances and the human equations around her, as well as by an essentially feminine quality of mutability; but withal, and above all, a born leader of men and a politician of the very first order.