Part 41

Shortly afterwards four more physicians, who had come up from the provinces, were admitted to see His Majesty. That same afternoon he had a serious relapse, and from that day forward never left his palace. On the following morning he sent a dutiful message (or it was sent for him) enquiring after the Empress Dowager’s health, she being also confined to her room and holding no audiences. The Court physicians reported badly of both their Imperial patients: being fearful as to the outcome, they begged the Comptroller-General of the Household to engage other physicians in their place. The Grand Council sent a message to Prince Ch’ing, directing him to return to Peking with all haste, his presence being required forthwith on matters of the highest importance. Travelling night and day, he reached the capital at about eight o’clock in the morning of the 13th, and hastened to the palace. He found the Old Buddha cheerful and confident of ultimate recovery, but the Emperor was visibly sinking, his condition being comatose, with short lucid intervals. His last conscious act had been to direct his Consort to inform the Empress Dowager that he regretted being unable to attend her, and that he hoped that she would appoint an Heir Apparent without further delay. Whether these dutiful messages were spontaneous or inspired, and indeed, whether they were ever sent by the Emperor, is a matter upon which doubt has been freely expressed.

Immediately after the arrival of Prince Ch’ing, an important audience was held in the Hall of Ceremonial Phœnixes. Her Majesty was able to mount the Throne, and, although obviously weak, her unconquerable courage enabled her to master her physical ailments, and she spoke with all her wonted vehemence and lucidity. A well-informed member of the Grand Council, full of wonder at such an exhibition of strength of will, has recorded the fact that she completely led and dominated the Council. There were present Prince Ch’ing, Prince Ch’un, the Grand Councillor Yüan Shih-k’ai, and the Grand Secretaries Chang Chih-tung, Lu Ch’uan-lin and Shih Hsü.

Her Majesty announced that the time had come to nominate an Heir to the Emperor T’ung-Chih, in accordance with that Decree of the first day of the reign of Kuang-Hsü, wherein it was provided that the deceased Sovereign’s ancestral rites should be safeguarded by allowing him precedence over his successor of the same generation. Her choice, she said, was already made, but she desired to take the opinion of the Grand Councillors in the first instance. Prince Ch’ing and Yüan Shih-k’ai then recommended the appointment of Prince P’u Lun, or, failing him, Prince Kung. They thought the former, as senior great-grandson of Tao-Kuang, was the more eligible candidate, and with this view Prince Ch’un seemed disposed to agree. The remaining Grand Councillors, however, advised the selection of Prince Ch’un’s infant son.

After hearing the views of her Councillors, the Old Buddha announced that long ago, at the time when she had betrothed the daughter of Jung Lu to Prince Ch’un, she had decided that the eldest son of this marriage should become Heir to the Throne, in recognition and reward of Jung Lu’s lifelong devotion to her person, and his paramount services to the Dynasty at the time of the Boxer rising. She placed on record her opinion that he had saved the Manchus by refusing to assist in the attack upon the Legations. In the 3rd Moon of this year she had renewed her pledge to Jung Lu’s widow, her oldest friend, just before she died. She would, therefore, now bestow upon Prince Ch’un as Regent, the title of “Prince co-operating in the Government,” a title one degree higher than that which had been given to Prince Kung in 1861, who was made “Adviser to the Government” by herself and her co-Regent.

Upon hearing this decision, Prince Ch’un arose from his seat and repeatedly kowtowed before Her Majesty, expressing a deep sense of his own unworthiness. Once more Yüan Shih-k’ai courageously advanced the superior claims of Prince P’u Lun: he was sincerely of opinion that the time had come for the succession to be continued along the original lines of primogeniture; it was clear also that he fully realised that Prince Ch’un was his bitter enemy. The Old Buddha turned upon him with an angry reprimand. “You think.” she said, “that I am old, and in my dotage, but you should have learned by now that when I make up my mind nothing stops me from acting upon it. At a critical time in a nation’s affairs a youthful Sovereign is no doubt a source of danger to the State, but do not forget that I shall be here to direct and assist Prince Ch’un.” Then, turning to the other Councillors, she continued:—“Draft two Decrees at once, in my name, the first, appointing Tsai-feng, Prince Ch’un, to be ‘Prince co-operating in the Government’ and the second commanding that P’u Yi, son of Prince Ch’un, should enter the palace forthwith, to be brought up within the precincts.” She ordered Prince Ch’ing to inform the Emperor of these Decrees.

Kuang-Hsü was still conscious, and understood what Prince Ch’ing said to him. “Would it not have been better,” he said, “to nominate an adult? No doubt, however, the Empress Dowager knows best.” Upon hearing of the appointment of Prince Ch’un to the Regency, he expressed his gratification. This was at 3 P.M.; two hours later the infant Prince had been brought into the Palace, and was taken by his father to be shown both to the Empress Dowager and the Emperor. At seven o’clock on the following morning the physicians in attendance reported that His Majesty’s “nose was twitching and his stomach rising,” from which signs they knew that his end was at hand. During the night, feeling that death was near, he had written out his last testament, in a hand almost illegible, prefacing the same with these significant words:—

“We were the second son of Prince Ch’un when the Empress Dowager selected Us for the Throne. She has always hated Us, but for Our misery of the past ten years Yüan Shih-k’ai is responsible, and one other” (the second name is said to have been illegible). “When the time comes I desire that Yüan be summarily beheaded.”

The Emperor’s consort took possession of this document, which, however, was seen by independent witnesses. Its wording goes to show that any conciliatory attitude on the part of the Emperor during the last year must have been inspired by fear and not by any revival of affection.

Later in the day a Decree was promulgated, announcing to the inhabitants of Peking and the Empire that their sovereign’s condition was desperate, and calling on the provinces to send their most skilful physicians post-haste to the capital so that, perchance, His Majesty’s life might yet be saved. The Decree described in detail the symptoms, real or alleged, of Kuang-Hsü’s malady. It was generally regarded as a perfunctory announcement of an unimportant event, long expected.

At 3 P.M. the Empress Dowager came to the “Ocean Terrace” to visit the Emperor, but he was unconscious, and did not know her. Later, when a short return of consciousness occurred, his attendants endeavoured to persuade him to put on the Ceremonial Robes of Longevity, in which etiquette prescribes that sovereigns should die. It is the universal custom that, if possible, the patient should don these robes in his last moments, for it is considered unlucky if they are put on after death. His Majesty, however, obstinately declined, and at five o’clock he died, in the presence of the Empress Dowager, his consort, the two secondary consorts, and a few eunuchs. The Empress Dowager did not remain to witness the ceremony of clothing the body in the Dragon Robes, but returned forthwith to her own palace, where she gave orders for the issue of his valedictory Decree and for the proclamation of the new Emperor.

The most interesting passage of the Emperor’s valedictory Decree was the following:—“Reflecting on the critical condition of our Empire, we have been led to combine the Chinese system with certain innovations from foreign countries. We have endeavoured to establish harmony between the common people and converts to Christianity. We have reorganised the army and founded colleges. We have fostered trade and industries and have made provision for a new judicial system, paving also the way for a Constitutional form of government, so that all our subjects may enjoy the continued blessings of peace.” After referring to the appointment of the Regent and the nomination of a successor to the Dragon Throne, he concludes (or rather the Empress concluded for him) with a further reference to the Constitution, and an appeal to his Ministers to purify their hearts and prepare themselves, so that, after nine years, the new order may be accomplished, and the Imperial purposes successfully achieved.

The Old Buddha appeared at this juncture to be in particularly good spirits, astonishing all about her by her vivacity and keenness. She gave orders that a further Decree be published, in the name of the new Emperor, containing the usual laudation of the deceased monarch and an expression of the infant Emperor’s gratitude to the Empress Dowager for her benevolence in placing him on the Throne.

It will be remembered that the Censor Wu K’o-tu committed suicide at the beginning of Kuang-Hsü’s reign, as an act of protest at the irregularity in the succession, which left no heir to the Emperor T’ung-Chih, that monarch’s spirit being left desolate and without a successor to perform on his behalf the ancestral sacrifices. The child, P’u Yi, having now been made heir by adoption to T’ung-Chih, in fulfilment of the promise made by Tzŭ Hsi at the time of this sensational suicide, it appeared as if the irregularity were about to be repeated, and the soul of Kuang-Hsü to be left in a similar orbate condition in the Halls of Hades, unless some means could be found to solve the difficulty and meet the claims of both the deceased Emperors. In the event of Kuang-Hsü being left without heir or descendant to perform the all-important worship at his shrine, there could be but little doubt that the feelings of the orthodox would again be outraged, and the example of Wu K’o-tu might have been followed by other Censors. The Empress Dowager, realising the importance of the question, solved it in her own masterful way by a stroke of policy which, although without precisely applicable precedent in history, nevertheless appeared to satisfy all parties, and to placate all prejudices, if only by reason of its simplicity and originality. Her Decree on the subject was as follows:—

“The Emperor T’ung-Chih, having left no heir, was compelled to issue a Decree to the effect that so soon as a child should be born to His Majesty Kuang-Hsü, that child would be adopted as Heir to the Emperor T’ung-Chih. But now His Majesty Kuang-Hsü has ascended on high, dragon-borne, and he also has left no heir. I am, therefore, now obliged to decree that P’u Yi, son of Tsai Feng, the ‘Prince co-operating in the Government,’ should become heir by adoption to the Emperor T’ung-Chih, and that, at the same time, he should perform joint sacrifices at the shrine of His Majesty Kuang-Hsü.”

To those who are acquainted with the tangled web of Chinese Court ceremonial and the laws of succession, it would seem that so simple (and so new) an expedient might suitably have been adopted on previous similar occasions, since all that was required was to make the individual living Emperor assume a dual personality towards the dead, and one cannot help wondering whether the classical priestcraft which controls these things would have accepted the solution so readily at the hands of anyone less masterful and determined than Tzŭ Hsi.

In a subsequent Decree the Empress Dowager handed over to the Regent full control in all routine business, reserving only to herself the last word in all important matters of State. The effect of this arrangement was to place Prince Ch’un in much the same position of nominal sovereignty as that held by Kuang-Hsü himself, until such time as the young Emperor should come of age, or until the death of the Empress Dowager. In other words, Tzŭ Hsi had once more put in operation the machinery by which she had acquired and held the supreme power since the death of her husband, the Emperor Hsien-Feng. There is little doubt that at this moment she fully expected to live for many years more, and that she made her plans so as to enjoy to the end uninterrupted and undiminished authority. In her Decree on this subject, wherein, as usual, she justifies her proceedings by reference to the critical condition of affairs, she states that the Regent is to carry on the Government “subject always to the instructions of the Empress Dowager,” and there can be no doubt that had she lived the Emperor’s brother would no more have been permitted any independent initiative or authority than the unfortunate Kuang-Hsü himself.

XXVII

TZŬ HSI’S DEATH AND BURIAL

At the close of a long and exciting day, Her Majesty retired to rest on the 14th of November, weary with her labours but apparently much improved in health. Next morning she arose at her usual hour, 6 A.M., gave audience to the Grand Council and talked for some time with the late Emperor’s widow, with the Regent and with his wife, the daughter of Jung Lu. By a Decree issued in the name of the infant Emperor, she assumed the title of Empress Grand Dowager, making Kuang-Hsü’s widow Empress Dowager. Elaborate ceremonies were planned to celebrate the bestowal of these new titles, and to proclaim the installation of the Regent. Suddenly, at noon, while sitting at her meal, the Old Buddha was seized with a fainting fit, long and severe. When at last she recovered consciousness, it was clear to all that the stress and excitement of the past few days had brought on a relapse, her strength having been undermined by the long attack of dysentery. Realising that her end was near, she hurriedly summoned the new Empress Dowager, the Regent and the Grand Council to the Palace, where, upon their coming together, she dictated the following Decree, speaking in the same calm tones which she habitually used in transacting the daily routine of Government work:—

“By command of the Empress Grand Dowager: Yesterday I issued an Edict whereby Prince Ch’un was made Regent, and I commanded that the whole business of Government should be in his hands, subject only to my instructions. Being seized of a mortal sickness, and being without hope of recovery, I now order that henceforward the government of the Empire shall be entirely in the hands of the Regent. Nevertheless, should there arise any question of vital importance, in regard to which an expression of the Empress Dowager’s opinion is desirable, the Regent shall apply in person to her for instructions, and act accordingly.”

The significance of the conclusion of this Decree is apparent to anyone familiar with Chinese Court procedure and with the life history of the Empress herself. Its ingenious wording was expressly intended to afford to the new Empress Dowager and the Yehonala Clan an opportunity for intervention at any special crisis, thus maintaining the Clan’s final authority and safeguarding its position in the event of any hostile move by the Regent or his adherents. And the result of this precaution has already been shown on the occasion of the recent dismissal of Tuan Fang[129] from the Viceroyalty of Chihli for alleged want of respect in connection with the funeral ceremonies of the Empress Dowager, an episode which showed clearly that the Regent has no easy game to play, and that the new Empress Dowager, Lung Yu, has every intention to defend the position of the Clan and to take advantage thereof along lines very similar to those followed by her august predecessor.

After issuing the Decree above quoted, the Empress Dowager, rapidly sinking, commanded that her valedictory Decree be drafted and submitted to her for approval. This was done quickly. After perusing the document, she proceeded to correct it in several places, notably by the addition of the sentence, “It became my inevitable and bounden duty to assume the Regency.” Commenting on this addition, she volunteered the explanation that she wished it inserted because on more than one occasion her assumption of the supreme power had been wrongfully attributed to personal ambition, whereas, as a matter of fact, the welfare of the State had always weighed with her as much as her own inclinations, and she had been forced into this position. From her own pen also came the touching conclusion of the Decree, that sentence which begins: “Looking back over the memories of these fifty years,” etc. She observed, in writing this, that she had nothing to regret in her life, and could only wish that it might have lasted for many years more. She then proceeded to bid an affectionate farewell to her numerous personal attendants and the waiting maids around her, all of whom were overcome by very real and deep grief. To the end her mind remained quite clear, and, at the very point of death, she continued to speak as calmly as if she were just about to set out on one of her progresses to the Summer Palace. Again and again, when all thought the end had come, she recovered consciousness, and up to the end the watchers at her bedside could not help hoping (or fearing, as the case might be with them) that she would yet get the better of Death. At the last, _in articulo mortis_, they asked her, in accordance with the Chinese custom, to pronounce her last words. Strangely significant was the answer of the extraordinary woman who had moulded and guided the destinies of the Chinese people for half a century: “Never again,” she said, “allow any woman to hold the supreme power in the State. It is against the house-law of our Dynasty and should be strictly forbidden. Be careful not to permit eunuchs to meddle in Government matters. The Ming Dynasty was brought to ruin by eunuchs, and its fate should be a warning to my people.” Tzŭ Hsi died, as she had lived, above the law, yet jealous of its fulfilment by others. Only a few hours before she had provided for the transmission of authority to a woman of her own clan: now, confronting the dark Beyond, she hesitated to perpetuate a system which, in any but the strongest hands, could not fail to throw the Empire into confusion. She died, as she had lived, a creature of impulse and swiftly changing moods, a woman of infinite variety.

At 3 P.M., straightening her limbs, she expired with her face to the south, which is the correct position, according to Chinese ideas, for a dying sovereign. It was reported by those who saw her die that her mouth remained fixedly open, which the Chinese interpret as a sign that the spirit of the deceased is unwilling to leave the body and to take its departure for the place of the Nine Springs.

Thus died Tzŭ Hsi; and when her ladies and handmaidens had dressed the body in its Robes of State, embroidered with the Imperial Dragon, her remains and those of the Emperor were borne from the Lake Palace to the Forbidden City, through long lines of their kneeling subjects, and were reverently laid in separate Halls of the Palace, with all due state and ceremony.

The valedictory Decree of Tzŭ Hsi, the last words from that pen which had indeed been mightier than many swords, was for the most part a faithful reproduction of the classical models, the orthodox swan song of the ruler of a people which makes of its writings a religion. Its text is as follows:—

_The Valedictory Mandate of Her Majesty Tz’ŭ-Hsi-Tuan-Yu-K’ang-I- Chao-Yü-Chuang-Cheng-Shou-Kung-Ch’in-Hsien-Ch’ung-Hsi, the Empress Grand Dowager, declareth as follows:—_

“I, of humble virtue, did reverently receive the appointment of the late Emperor Hsien-Feng, which prepared for me a place amongst his Consorts. When the late Emperor T’ung-Chih succeeded in early childhood to the Throne, there was rebellion still raging in the land, which was being vigorously suppressed. Not only did the Taiping and turbaned rebels engage in successive outbreaks, but disorder was spread by the Kuei-chou aborigines and by Mahomedan bandits. The provinces of the coast were in great distress, the people on the verge of ruin, widespread distress confronting us on all sides.

“Co-operating then with the senior Consort of Hsien-Feng, the Empress Dowager of the Eastern Palace, I undertook the heavy duties of Government, toiling ever, day and night. Obeying the behests of His late Majesty, my husband, I urged on the Metropolitan and provincial officials, as well as the military commanders, directing their policies and striving for the restoration of peace. I employed virtuous officials and was ever ready to listen to wise counsel. I relieved my people’s distress in time of flood and famine. By the goodwill and bounty of Heaven, I suppressed the rebellions and out of dire peril restored peace. Later, when the Emperor T’ung-Chih passed away and the Emperor Kuang-Hsü, now just deceased, entered by adoption upon the great heritage, the crisis was even more dangerous and the condition of the people even more pitiable. Within the Empire calamities were rife, while from abroad we were confronted by repeated and increasing acts of aggression.

“Once again it became my inevitable and bounden duty to assume the Regency. Two years ago I issued a Decree announcing the Throne’s intention to grant a Constitution, and this present year I have promulgated the date at which it is to come into effect. Innumerable affairs of State have required direction at my hands and I have laboured without ceasing and with all my might. Fortunately, my constitution was naturally strong, and I have been able to face my duties with undiminished vigour. During the summer and autumn of this year, however, I have frequently been in bad health, at a time when pressing affairs of State allowed me no repose. I lost my sleep and appetite, and gradually my strength failed me. Yet even then I took no rest, not for a single day. And yesterday saw the death of His Majesty Kuang-Hsü; whereat my grief overwhelmed me. I can bear no more, and so am I come to the pass where no possible hope of recovery remains.

“Looking back upon the memories of these last fifty years, I perceive how calamities from within and aggression from without have come upon us in relentless succession, and that my life has never enjoyed a moment’s respite from anxiety. But to-day definite progress has been made towards necessary reforms. The new Emperor is but an infant, just reaching the age when wise instruction is of the highest importance. The Prince Regent and all our officials must henceforth work loyally together to strengthen the foundations of our Empire. His Majesty must devote himself to studying the interests of the country and so refrain from giving way to personal grief. That he may diligently pursue his studies, and hereafter add fresh lustre to the glorious achievements of his ancestors, is now my most earnest prayer.

“Mourning to be worn for only twenty-seven days.

“Cause this to be everywhere known!

“Tenth Moon, 23rd day (November the 15th).”