China under the Empress Dowager

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.”