When the wrath of the Powers had been appeased by the death and banishment of the leading Boxers, and when the Empress Dowager had come to realise that her future policy must be one of conciliation and reform, she proceeded first of all to adjust the annals of her reign for the benefit of posterity, in the following remarkable Edict (13th February, 1901):—
“In the summer of last year, the Boxers, after bringing about a state of war, took possession of our Capital and dominated the very Throne itself. The Decrees issued at that time were the work of wicked Princes and Ministers of State, who, taking advantage of the chaotic condition of affairs, did not hesitate to issue documents under the Imperial seal, which were quite contrary to our wishes. We have on more than one previous occasion hinted indirectly at the extraordinary difficulty of the position in which we were placed, and which left us no alternative but to act as we did. Our officials and subjects should have no difficulty in reading between the lines and appreciating our meaning.
“We have now punished all the guilty, and we hereby order that the Grand Secretariat shall submit for our perusal all Decrees issued between the 24th day of the 5th moon and the 20th day of the 7th moon (20th June to 14th August), so that all spurious or illegal documents may be withdrawn and cancelled. Thus shall historical accuracy be attained and our Imperial utterances receive the respect to which they are properly entitled.”
Having thus secured the respect of posterity, Tzŭ Hsi proceeded to make the “amende honorable,” (with due regard to the Imperial “face,”) for so many of her sins as she was prepared to admit. In another Decree, in the name of the Emperor, which gives a Munchausen account of the Throne’s part and lot in the crisis of 1900, and a pathetic description of her own and the Emperor’s sufferings during the flight, she makes solemn confession of error and promise of reform. As an example of the manner in which history is made in China, the Edict is of permanent interest and value.
“A Penitential Decree
“26th day, 12th moon of Kuang-Hsü’s 26th year (Feb. 13th, 1901).
“Last summer the Boxers sowed the seeds of rebellion, which led to our being involved in a war with friendly Powers. Thereafter, our Capital being thrown into a state of great disorder, we escorted the Empress Dowager, our mother, on a progress of inspection throughout the Western Provinces. To Prince Ch’ing and to the Grand Secretary Li Hung-chang we entrusted full powers, and bade them negotiate with the foreign Ministers for the cessation of hostilities and a Treaty of peace. These Plenipotentiaries having lately telegraphed to us the twelve principal clauses of the proposed protocol, we have consented thereto, but at the same time have instructed them carefully to scrutinise their various provisions in the light of China’s ability to fulfil them.
“It having been accorded to us to retrieve our disastrous mistakes, we are in duty bound to promulgate this Penitential Decree, and to let every one of our subjects know how vast and harassing were the perplexities with which the Throne has been beset.
“There are ignorant persons who believe that the recent crisis was partly caused by our government’s support of the Boxers; they must have overlooked our reiterated Decrees of the 5th and 6th moons, that the Boxers should be exterminated, and the Christians protected. Unfortunately these rebels and their evil associates placed us in a position from which it was impossible to escape; we exhausted every possible effort of strong remonstrance, appalled at the impending ruin of our Empire. Events moved swiftly until, on the 21st of the 7th moon, our Capital fell; on that day, both Her Majesty the Empress Dowager and ourselves decided to commit suicide in the presence of the tutelary deities of our Dynasty and the gods of the soil, thus making atonement and offering propitiation to the spirits of our nine Imperial ancestors. But, at the critical moment of dire lamentation and confusion, we were seized by our Princes and Ministers, and forcibly led away from that place where bullets fell like rain, and where the enemies’ guns gathered thick as forest trees. Hastily, and with souls perturbed, we started on our Western tour. Were not all these disasters caused by the Boxers? The imminent danger of her sacred Majesty, the overwhelming ruin of our ancestors’ inheritance, our prosperous Capital turned to a howling wilderness, its ravines filled with the dead bodies of our greatest men: how can it possibly be said that the Throne could protect the rebels who brought such disasters upon us?
“There was, however, an explicable cause for the Boxer movement and for its disastrous results.” (The Decree proceeds here to ascribe blame to local Magistrates for not administering even justice between Christians and non-Christians, and thus producing a state of discontent and unrest, which afforded opportunities to the Boxers. The latter received a further impetus by reason of the inefficiency of the Imperial troops sent to quell the first rising. Finally, references are made to the evil advice and ignorance of the highly placed clansmen and Ministers of State who favoured the Boxer cause. This Decree is in fact a complete justification of the views expressed in the three memorials by Yüan Ch’ang and Hsü Ching-ch’eng, for which these patriotic officials laid down their lives. After describing the entry of the Boxers into Peking, and lamenting the position of the Throne as resembling “a tail which is too big to wag,” the Decree proceeds):—“Nevertheless, and while the Legations were being besieged, we repeatedly directed our Ministers of the Tsungli Yamên to put a stop to hostilities, and at the same time to keep up communication with the foreign Ministers, assuring them of our kindly and sympathetic regard. This latter order, however, was not carried out because of the continuous artillery and rifle fire between the besiegers and the besieged, and it was impossible for us, under such conditions, to insist upon its execution. Supposing, by some horrible fatality, the Legations had actually fallen, how could China have hoped to preserve her integrity? To the Throne’s strenuous efforts is really due the avoidance of such a dreadful catastrophe, and the gifts of wine, fruit and water-melons to the besieged Legations, were an indication of Her Majesty’s benevolent intentions. It was but natural and right that the friendly Powers should appreciate these our feelings, and the fact that at such a crisis they have respected the integrity of our Empire as a Sovereign State, goes to prove that the Allies attribute no longer any blame to the Throne. This, however, only adds to our wrath at the ignorance and violence of our offending subjects; when we look back upon the past, we are filled with shame and indignation. We are convinced that, in these peace negotiations, the foreign Powers will not attempt to extract from us more than we are able to concede. We have ordered Prince Ch’ing and Li Hung-chang, negotiating this Treaty, to continue patiently in friendly discussion, maintaining all questions of vital principle, while recognising the special circumstances which attach to any given case. Foreign Powers are lovers of justice, and they are bound to consider what China is capable of doing if they wish to see this negotiation brought to a successful conclusion. To this end we expect that our Plenipotentiaries will display their virtue of patriotism to the very best of their ability.
“At the time of the terror in Peking, our provincial authorities were ordered to keep the peace in their respective provinces, and to take no part in provoking hostilities. If the Southern and Eastern parts of our Empire enjoyed full protection from disorders, the fact was solely due to our Decrees, which insisted upon the rigid maintenance of peace. The trade of foreign Powers was in no way injured, our Viceroys and Governors being able to preserve normal conditions in those parts of our Empire. As regards the Southern provinces, however, which are always talking loudly of strengthening their defences, it cannot be gainsaid that, upon the outbreak of any trouble, they fall into a state of hopeless confusion. Caring nothing for the innumerable difficulties which beset our Throne, they stand idly by, contenting themselves with delivering oracular opinions and catch-words, and they even go so far as to reproach their Sovereign, the father of his people. We would have them bear in mind that when our Imperial chariot departed in haste from the Forbidden City, the moaning of the wind and the cry of the heron overhead seemed to our startled ears as the tramp of an advancing enemy. As we fled through Ch’ang-ping chou northward to Hsüan-hua, we personally attended on the wants of the Empress Dowager. We were both clad in the meanest of garments, and to relieve our hunger we were scarcely able to obtain a dish of beans or porridge. Few of our poorest subjects have suffered greater hardships of cold and hunger than befell us in this pitiful plight. We wonder whether those who call themselves our faithful Ministers and servants have ever taken real thought of their bounden duty towards their afflicted and outraged Sovereigns?
“To sum up the matter in a word, is it not the case that, when either our Statesmen or our people are guilty of any offence, it is upon our Imperial persons that the blame must fall? In recalling this fact to mind, we do not desire to rake up bygone offences, but rather because it is our duty to warn our subjects against their repetition. For the past twenty years, whenever difficulties have arisen with foreign nations, it has been our duty to issue solemn warnings and reproofs. But the saying which is in common use, that we ‘sleep on brushwood and taste gall’ has, by lapse of time, become almost meaningless; when we talk of putting our house in order, and reforming our finances, the words have no real significance. The time of danger once over, favouritism and the neglect of public business go on as of old; as of old, money purchases rank, and the Throne continues to be persistently misled. Let our officials ask themselves in the silence of the night watches whether, even had there been no Boxer rebellion, China could possibly have become a great Power? Even before these disasters occurred there was great difficulty in maintaining our position as a nation, and now, after this awful visitation, it must be obvious to the dullest amongst us that our weakness and poverty have been greatly increased. To our Ministers of State, who have received high favour from the Throne, we would say that, at this time of our nation’s history, it is essential to display new qualities of integrity and patriotism. Taxation should now be re-arranged in such a manner as to enable us to repay the foreign indemnities, while bearing in mind the poverty of the lower classes of the people. In the selection of officials, good character should be considered the first essential, and men of talent should be encouraged to the utmost.
“The whole duty of a Minister of State may be summed up in two words: to abolish corrupt tendencies, and to put off the abuses of former days. Justice and energy should be the principles guiding towards economical and military efficiency; on this the spirit of the nation and its future depend as upon its very life blood.
“For nearly thirty years our mother, the Empress Dowager, has laboured without ceasing to instruct us and train us in the right way, and now, at one blow, all the results of her labour are brought to nought. We cannot but remember the abomination of desecration which has overthrown our ancestral shrines and the temples of our gods. Looking to the North, we think upon our Capital ruined and profaned, upon the thousands of our highest officials whose families have lost their all, of the millions of our subjects whose lives and property have been sacrificed in this cataclysm. We can never cease to reproach ourselves: how then should we reproach others? Our object in issuing this solemn warning is to show that the prosperity or the ruin of a State depends solely upon the energy or apathy of its rulers and people, and that the weakness of an Empire is the direct result of rottenness in its administration. We desire to reiterate our commands that friendly relations with foreign Powers are to be encouraged, that at the same time our defences are to be strengthened, that freedom of speech and the employment of trustworthy servants are to be encouraged. We expect obedience to these commands, and sincere patriotism from our subjects. Earnestly the Empress Dowager and ourselves pray that it may be brought home to our Ministers of State, that only out of suffering is wisdom developed, and that a sense of duty insists upon unceasing effort. Let this Decree be made known throughout the entire Empire.”
This Edict was issued in February, coincidently with Her Majesty’s acceptance of the conditions imposed by the Powers in the peace negotiations at Peking. From that date until, in June, the terms of the Protocol were definitely settled by the plenipotentiaries, her attitude continued to be one of nervous apprehension, while the discomfort of life at Hsi-an, as well as the advice repeatedly given her by Jung Lu and the provincial Viceroys, combined to make her look forward with impatience to the day when she might set out for her capital.
There remained only one source of difficulty, namely, the presence of Prince Tuan’s son, the Heir Apparent, at her Court. Tzŭ Hsi was well aware that she could hardly look for cordial relations with the representatives of the Powers at Peking, or for sympathy abroad, so long as this son of the Boxer chief remained heir to the Throne. It would clearly be impossible, in the event of his becoming Emperor, for him to consent to his father remaining under sentence of banishment, and equally impossible to expect the Powers to consent to Prince Tuan’s rehabilitation and return. Yet the youth had been duly and solemnly appointed to succeed to the Throne, a thing not lightly to be set aside. Once again the Old Buddha showed that the sacred laws of succession were less than a strong woman’s will.
Politics apart, it was common knowledge that Tzŭ Hsi had for some time repented of her choice of Prince Tuan’s ill-mannered, uncouth son as Heir Apparent. More than once had she been brought to shame by his wild, and sometimes disgraceful, conduct. Even in her presence, the lad paid little heed to the formalities of Court etiquette, and none at all to the dignity of his own rank and future position. Tzŭ Hsi was therefore probably not sorry of the excuse for deposing him from that high estate. In the Decree cancelling his title to the Throne, she observed that his father, Prince Tuan, had brought the Empire to the verge of ruin, and that the guilt which he had thus incurred towards his august ancestors could never be wiped out. In order to save the “face” of the Heir Apparent and her own, in a difficult position, the Edict describes him as being fully convinced of the impossibility of his succeeding to the Throne under existing conditions, and that he himself had therefore petitioned Her Majesty to cancel her previous decision. In granting this request and directing him to remove himself forthwith from the Palace precincts, the Empress conferred upon him the rank of an Imperial Duke of the lowest grade, excusing him at the same time from performance of any official duties in that capacity. By this decision she meant to mark the contempt into which the Heir Apparent had fallen, for the rank thus granted him was a low one, and, without any official duties or salary, he was condemned to a life of poverty and obscurity. This fallen Heir to the Dragon Throne is a well-known figure to-day in the lowest haunts of the Chinese City at Peking: a drunkard and disreputable character, living the life of a gambler, notorious only as a swashbuckler of romantic past and picturesque type,—one who, but for adverse fate and the accursed foreigner, would have been Emperor of China at this moment.
Having deposed him, the Empress let it be known that the selection of an heir to the disconsolate shade of T’ung-Chih would be postponed “until a suitable candidate should be found,” an intimation generally understood to mean that the vital question of providing an heir in legitimate and proper succession to the Throne could not well be determined until China’s foreign relations, as well as her internal affairs, had been placed upon a basis of greater security. It is curious to note how, in all such utterances, it appears to have been tacitly understood that the Emperor Kuang Hsü was a “bad life.”
Thus, in exile, the Old Buddha wore philosophically the white sheet of penance and burned the candle of expiation, preparatory to re-entering anon upon a new lease of power in that Peking where, as she well knew, the memory of the foreigner is short and his patience long. In June, 1901, the terms of peace were settled; on the 7th September the Peace Protocol was solemnly signed by the representatives of all the Powers, that “monument of collective inefficiency” which was to sow the seeds of trouble to last for many years to come. At Hsi-an “in the profound seclusion of the Palace” she knew remorse, not unstimulated by fear; on the return journey to her capital (from 20th October, 1901, to 6th January, 1902), while preparing her arts and graces to captivate the barbarian, she was still a victim to doubt and apprehension. Meanwhile, at Peking, the mandarin world, reassured by the attitude of the peace negotiators and their terms, was fast shedding its garments of fear and peacocking as of yore, in renewed assurance of its own indisputable superiority. Evidence of this spirit was to be met with on all sides, gradually coming to its fine flower in the subsequent negotiations for the revision of the commercial Treaties, and bringing home once more, to those who study these things, the unalterable truth of the discovery made years ago by one of the earliest British representatives in China, namely, that “this people yields nothing to reason and everything to fear.”
One of the most remarkable instances of this revival of the mandarin’s traditional arrogance of superiority occurred, significantly enough, in connection with the penitential mission of the Emperor’s brother, Prince Ch’un (now Regent) to Berlin, an episode which threatened for a moment to lead to a rupture between Germany and China. By Article 1 of the Peace Protocol, Prince Ch’un had been specially designated for this mission to convey in person to the German Emperor the regrets of the Chinese Government for the murder of Baron von Ketteler. He left Peking for the purpose on the 12th July, 1901, with definite instructions as to the manner in which the Chinese Government’s regrets were to be expressed. The German Emperor’s proposals as to the form of ceremony to be followed in this matter were regarded by Prince Ch’un as incompatible with his instructions, and it will be remembered that, after some hesitation on the part of the German Government, the Chinese policy of passive resistance eventually carried the day. The following telegraphic correspondence on the subject is of permanent interest. Prince Ch’un (whose personal name is Tsai Feng) telegraphed from Germany on the 26th September to the Peace Plenipotentiaries, Prince Ch’ing and Li Hung-chang, as follows:—
“I have duly received the Grand Council’s message, and note that I am commanded to act as circumstances may require, and that a middle course is suggested as expedient. I fully appreciate the intelligent caution of your policy, and fortunately had already taken steps to act in the sense indicated. On the 14th of this moon the German Emperor had given orders to stop preparations for the ceremony, but as I noticed that the Royal train had not been withdrawn nor had his aide-de-camp left my suite, I inferred that there was a possibility of his yielding the points in dispute. Accordingly, after a long discussion of the situation with Yin Ch’ang, I directed him to write in German to Jeng-yintai[119] requesting his friendly intervention at the Foreign Office with a definite explanation that China could not possibly agree that the mission should be received kneeling, that Germany had nothing to gain on insisting upon such a procedure, and that the only result of a fiasco would be to make both countries appear extremely ridiculous. I therefore begged that the Emperor should accede to my personal appeal and waive the point. At the same time I requested the German gentleman who acts as Chinese Consul for Bavaria to address the Foreign Office to the same effect, and with a request that we might enter upon discussion of the point. Four days later I directed Lü Hai-huan to return to his post at Berlin to make such arrangements as might be possible, and on the following day I telegraphed to him a summary of the Grand Council’s views on the matter. In the afternoon of the 20th I received the Consul for Bavaria, who informed me that he had received a telegram from the Foreign Office inquiring when I proposed to start for Berlin, and hoping that I would do so speedily, as the Emperor had now consented to waive the question of our kneeling, but required that only Yin Ch’ang should accompany me when presenting the letter of regret, the remainder of my suite to remain in another place.
“The same evening I received a message from Lü Hai-huan, stating that the Emperor would undoubtedly receive me, and that, since all other difficult questions had been settled, His Majesty wished to leave for the country in a few days. Under these circumstances I did not consider it advisable to insist too strictly on minor details of etiquette, being pressed for time, and I therefore requested the German Emperor’s Chamberlain to have a special train prepared for my journey. We reached Potsdam at 3 P.M. on the 21st[120]; I was met by a General sent by the Emperor with his state carriage. Myself and my suite were lodged in the Palace, where every attention was shown to us, and it was arranged that I should fulfil my mission on the following day, after depositing a wreath on the grave of the late Empress. On the morning of the following day I visited her tomb, and at noon the state carriage came to take me to the New Palace, where, after being ushered into the Emperor’s presence, I read aloud Their Majesties’ complimentary letter. The members of my suite were awaiting in an adjoining apartment. After the ceremony I was escorted back to my residence, and at 2 P.M. the Emperor came to call upon me. He was very cordial and remained talking with me for a long time. By his orders a steam launch was provided for me, in which I visited the Lake and Peacock Island; on the following day I saw a review of the troops, and was presented to the Empress. The Emperor begged me to remain longer in Berlin, suggesting that I should visit the arsenals and inspect the fleet under Prince Henry at Stettin. I could scarcely decline these polite attentions, and after visiting the Empress I took lodging in an hotel at Berlin. Thanks to the glorious prestige of our Empire, matters have thus been satisfactorily settled, and the knowledge that my mission has been satisfactorily carried out will, I hope, bring comfort to Their Imperial Majesties in their anxiety. I beg that you will memorialise the Throne accordingly. Tsai Feng.”
The Empress Dowager was pleased to express her approval of the result of this mission, which in the eyes of the Chinese Government was undoubtedly one of those diplomatic triumphs which China appears to attain most easily when her material resources have completely failed. Reading the above despatch, it is difficult to realise that the Prince’s mission had for its object the expiation of a brutal murder committed, with the full approval of the Chinese Government and Court, on the representative of a friendly nation. The opinion is commonly believed, held by the Legations at Peking, that the present Regent has learned much since he returned from that penitential mission to the German capital. During the present year his brothers have been engaged on missions ostensibly intended to acquire knowledge for the sorely-needed reorganisation of China’s army and navy, missions which have been received with royal honours by almost every civilised Power; but there are many close observers of the changing conditions at Peking who see in these missions merely a repetition of farces that have often been played before, and an attempt to gain prestige in the eyes of the Chinese people for the Regent’s family and the Court, rather than any definite intention or desire to reform the official system.
His Highness Prince Tsai Hsün.
Brother of the late Emperor and Present Regent—recently head of the Naval Mission to Europe and America.