Chapter XV: Tzŭ Hsi Resumes the Regency (1898)

Kuang Hsü’s reign was over; there remained to him only the Imperial title. He had had his chance; in the enthusiasm of youth and new ideas he had played a desperate game against the powers of darkness in high places, and he had lost. Once more, as after the death of T’ung-Chih, Tzŭ Hsi could make a virtue of her satisfied ambitions. She had given her nephew a free hand, she had retired from the field, leaving him to steer the ship of State: if he had now steered it into troublous and dangerous seas, if, by common consent, she were again called to take the helm, this was the doing of Heaven and no fault of hers. She could no more be blamed for Kuang Hsü’s folly than for the vicious habits and premature death of her son, which had brought her back to power 23 years before. It was clear (and there were many voices to reassure her of the fact) that the stars in their courses were working for the continuance of her unfettered authority, and that any trifling assistance which she might have given them would not be too closely scrutinised.

Kuang Hsü’s reign was over; but his person (frail, melancholy tenement) remained, and Tzŭ Hsi was never enamoured of half measures or ambiguous positions. From the day when the pitiful monarch entered his pavilion prison on the “Ocean Terrace,” she began to make arrangements for his “mounting the Dragon” and “visiting the Nine Springs” in the orthodox classical manner, and for providing the Throne with another occupant whose youth, connections and docility would enable her to hold the Regency indefinitely. Nevertheless, because of the turbulent temper of the southern provinces and possible manifestations of Europe’s curious sympathy with the Emperor’s Utopian dreams, she realised the necessity for proceeding with caution and decorum. It was commonly reported throughout the city in the beginning of October that the Emperor would die with the end of the Chinese year.

Kuang Hsü was a prisoner in his Palace, doomed, as he well knew; yet must he play the puppet Son of Heaven and perform each season’s appointed posturings. On the 8th day of the 8th Moon he appeared therefore, as ordered by his attendants, and in the presence of his whole Court performed the nine prostrations and other proper acts of obeisance before Her Majesty Tzŭ Hsi, in recognition of his own nonentity and her supreme authority. In the afternoon, escorted by a strong detachment of Jung Lu’s troops, he went from the Lake Palace to sacrifice at the Altar of the Moon. Thus, pending the _coup-de-grâce_, the wretched Emperor went through the empty ceremonies of State ritual; high priest, that was himself to be the next victim, how bitter must have been his thoughts as he was borne back with Imperial pomp and circumstance to his lonely place of humiliation!

Tzŭ Hsi then settled down to her work of government, returning to it with a zest by no means diminished by the years spent in retreat. And first she must justify the policy of reaction to herself, to her high officials, and the world at large. She must get rid of offenders and surround herself with men after her own heart.

A few days after the Autumn festival and the Emperor’s melancholy excursion, Her Majesty proceeded to remind the Imperial Clansmen that their position would not protect them against the consequences of disloyalty; she was always much exercised (remembering the Tsai Yüan conspiracy) at any sign of intriguing amongst her Manchu kinsmen. In this case her warning took the form of a Decree in which she sentenced the “Beileh” Tsai Ch’u[57] to perpetual confinement in the “Empty Chamber” of the Clan Court. Tsai Ch’u had had the audacity to sympathise with the Emperor’s reform schemes; he had also had the bad luck to marry one of Tzŭ Hsi’s nieces and to be upon the worst of terms with her. When therefore he advised the Emperor, in the beginning of the Hundred Days, to put a stop, once and for all, to the Old Buddha’s interference in State affairs, the “mean one of his inner chamber” did not fail to report the fact to Her Majesty, and thus to enlist her sympathies and activities, from the outset, on the side of the reactionaries.

At the time immediately following the _coup d’état_, public opinion at the Capital was divided as to the merits of the Emperor’s proposed reforms and the wisdom of their suppression, but the political instincts of the tribute-fed metropolis are, generally speaking, dormant, and what it chiefly respects is the energetic display of power. So that, on the whole, sympathy was with the Old Buddha. She had, moreover, a Bismarckian way of guiding public opinion, of directing undercurrents of information through the eunuchs and tea-house gossip, in a manner calculated to appeal to the instincts of the _literati_ and the _bourgeois_; in the present instance stress was laid on the Emperor’s lack of filial piety, as proved by his plotting against his aged and august aunt (a thing unpardonable in the eyes of the orthodox Confucianist), and on the fact that he enjoyed the sympathy and support of foreigners—an argument sufficient to damn him in the eyes of even the most progressive Chinese. It came, therefore, to be the generally accepted opinion that His Majesty had shown deplorable want of judgment and self-control, and that the Empress Dowager was fully justified in resuming control of the government. This opinion even came to be accepted and expressed by those Legations which had originally professed to see in the Emperor’s reforms the dawn of a new era for China. So elastic is diplomacy in following the line of the least resistance, so adroit (in the absence of a policy of its own) in accepting and condoning any _fait accompli_, that it was not long before the official attitude of the Legations—including the British—had come to deprecate the Emperor’s unfortunate haste in introducing reforms, reforms which every foreigner in China had urged for years, and which, accepted in principle by the Empress since 1900, have again been welcomed as proof of China’s impending regeneration. In June 1898, the British Minister had seen in the Emperor’s Reform Edicts proof that “the Court had at last thoroughly recognised a real need for radical reform.”[58] In October, when the Chief Reformer (K’ang Yu-wei) had been saved from Tzŭ Hsi’s vengeance by the British Consul-General at Shanghai and conveyed by a British warship to the protection of a British Colony (under the mistaken impression that England would actively intervene in the cause of progress and on grounds of self-interest if not of humanity), we find the tide of expediency turned to recognition of the fact that “the Empress Dowager and the Manchu party were seriously alarmed for their own safety, and looked upon the Reform movement as inimical to Manchu rule”![58] And two months later, influenced no doubt by the impending season of peace and good will, the Marquess of Salisbury is seriously informed by Sir Claude Macdonald that the wives of the foreign Representatives, seven in all, had been received in audience by the Empress Dowager on the anniversary of her sixty-fourth birthday, and that Her Majesty “made a most favourable impression, both by the personal interest she took in all her guests and by her courteous amiability.”[58] On which occasion the puppet Emperor was exhibited, to comply with the formalities, and was made to shake hands with all the ladies. And so the curtain was rung down, and the Reform play ended, to the satisfaction of all (or nearly all) concerned.

Nevertheless, the British Minister and others, disturbed at the persistent rumours that “the Empress Dowager was about to proceed to extreme steps in regard to the Emperor,”[58] went so far as to warn the Chinese Government against anything so disturbing to the European sense of fitness and decency. Foreign countries, the Yamên was told, would view with displeasure and alarm his sudden demise. When the news of the British Minister’s intervention became known in the tea-houses and recorded in the Press, much indignation was expressed: this was a purely domestic question, for which precedents existed in plenty and in which foreigners’ advice was inadmissible. The Emperor’s acceptance of new-fangled foreign ideas was a crime in the eyes of the Manchus, but his enlistment of foreign sympathy and support was hateful to Manchus and Chinese alike.

Matters soon settled down, however, into the old well-worn grooves, the people satisfied and even glad in the knowledge that the Old Buddha was once more at the helm. In the capital the news had been sedulously spread—in order to prepare the way for the impending drama of expiation—that Kuang Hsü had planned to murder Her Majesty, and his present punishment was therefore regarded as mild beyond his deserts.[59] Scholars, composing essays appropriate to the occasion, freely compared His Majesty to that Emperor of the Tang Dynasty (A.D. 762) who had instigated the murdering of the Empress Dowager of his day. Kuang Hsü’s death was therefore freely predicted and its effects discounted; there is no doubt that it would have caused little or no comment in the north of China, however serious its consequences might have been in the south. The public mind having been duly prepared, the Empress Dowager, in the name of the prospective victim, issued a Decree stating that the Son of Heaven was seriously ill; no surprise or apprehension was expressed, and the sending of competent physicians from the provinces to attend His Majesty was recognised as a necessary concession to formalities. “Ever since the 4th Moon,” said this Decree (_i.e._, since the beginning of the hundred days of reform), “I have been grievously ill; nor can I find any alleviation of my sickness.” It was the _pro formâ_ announcement of his impending despatch, and as such it was received by the Chinese people.

Amongst the doctors summoned to attend His Majesty was Ch’en Lien-fang, for many years the most celebrated physician in China. The following account of his experiences at the capital and the nature of his duties, was supplied by himself at the time, to one of the writers, for publication in _The Times_.

“When the Edict was issued calling upon the provincial Viceroys
and Governors to send native doctors of distinction to Peking
to advise in regard to the Emperor’s illness, Chen Lien-fang
received orders from the Governor at Soochow to leave for the
north without delay. This in itself, apart from the uncongenial
and unremunerative nature of the duty (of which Ch’en was well
aware), was no light undertaking for a man of delicate physique
whose age was over three score years and ten; but there was no
possibility of evading the task. He according left his large
practice in the charge of two confidential assistants, or
pupils, and, having received from the Governor a sum of 6,000
taels for travelling expenses and remuneration in advance, made
his way to Peking and reported for duty to the Grand Council.
When he arrived there, he found three other native physicians
of considerable repute already in attendance, summoned in
obedience to the Imperial commands. Dr. Déthève, of the French
Legation, had already paid his historical visit to the Emperor,
and his remarkable diagnosis of the Son of Heaven’s symptoms
was still affording amusement to the Legations. The aged native
physician spoke in undisguised contempt both of the French
doctor’s comments on the case and of his suggestions for its
treatment. His own description of the Emperor’s malady was
couched in language not unlike that which writers of historical
novels attribute to the physicians of Europe in the Middle
Ages; he spoke reverently of influence and vapours at work in
the august person of his Sovereign, learnedly of heat-flushings
and their occult causes, and plainly of things which are more
suited to Chinese than to British readers. Nevertheless, his
description pointed clearly to disease of the respiratory
organs—which he said had existed for over twelve years—to
general debility, and to a feverish condition which he ascribed
to mental anxiety combined with physical weakness. Before he
left Peking (about the middle of November) the fever had abated
and the patient’s symptoms had decidedly improved; the case
was, however, in his opinion, of so serious a nature that he
decided to leave it, if possible, in the hands of his younger
_confrères_—an object which by dint of bribing certain Court
officials he eventually achieved. Asked if he considered the
Emperor’s condition critical, he replied oracularly that if he
lived to see the Chinese New Year his strength would thereafter
return gradually with the spring, and the complete restoration
of his health might be expected.

“Some few days after his arrival in Peking, Ch’en was summoned
to audience by orders conveyed through a member of the Grand
Council; the Emperor and the Dowager Empress were awaiting
his visit in a hall on the south side of the Palace. The
consultation was curiously indicative of the divinity which
hedges about the ruler of the Middle Kingdom; suggestive,
too, of the solidity of that conservatism which dictates
the inner policy of China. Ch’en entered the presence of
his Sovereign on his knees, crossing the apartment in that
position, after the customary kowtows. The Emperor and the
Dowager Empress were seated at opposite sides of a low table
on the daïs, and faced each other in that position during the
greater part of the interview. The Emperor appeared pale and
listless, had a troublesome irritation of the throat, and was
evidently feverish; the thin oval of his face, clearly defined
features, and aquiline nose gave him, in the physician’s eyes
(to use his own words), the appearance of a foreigner. The
Empress, who struck him as an extremely well-preserved and
intelligent-looking woman, seemed to be extremely solicitous
as to the patient’s health and careful for his comfort. As it
would have been a serious breach of etiquette for the physician
to ask any questions of His Majesty, the Empress proceeded to
describe his symptoms, the invalid occasionally signifying
confirmation of what was said by a word or a nod. During this
monologue, the physician, following the customary procedure at
Imperial audiences, kept his gaze concentrated upon the floor
until, at the command of the Empress, and still kneeling, he
was permitted to place one hand upon the Emperor’s wrist. There
was no feeling of the pulse; simply contact with the flat of
the hand, first on one side of the wrist and then on the other.
This done, the Empress continued her narrative of the patient’s
sufferings; she described the state of his tongue and the
symptoms of ulceration in the mouth and throat, but as it was
not permissible for the doctor to examine these, he was obliged
to make the best of a somewhat unprofessional description. As
he wisely observed, it is difficult to look at a patient’s
tongue when his exalted rank compels you to keep your eyes
fixed rigidly on the floor. The Empress having concluded
her remarks on the case, Ch’en was permitted to withdraw
and to present to the Grand Council his diagnosis, together
with advice as to future treatment, which was subsequently
communicated officially to the Throne. The gist of his advice
was to prescribe certain tonics of the orthodox native type
and to suggest the greatest possible amount of mental and
physical rest.”[60]

The aged physician’s oracular forecast was justified. The Emperor lived to see the New Year and thereafter to regain his strength, a result due in some degree to the Empress Dowager’s genuine fear of foreign intervention, but chiefly to her recognition of the strength of public opinion against her in the south of China and of the expediency of conciliating it. In the Kuang provinces there was no doubt of the bitterly anti-Manchu feeling aroused by the execution of the Cantonese reformers: these turbulent southerners were fierce and loud in their denunciations of the Manchus and all their works, and it would not have required much to fan the flames of a new and serious rebellion. The south was well aware, for news travels swiftly in China, that the Emperor’s life was in danger and that the close of the year was the time fixed for his death, and from all sides protests and words of warning came pouring from the provinces to the capital, addressed not only to the metropolitan boards but to the Throne itself. Amongst these was a telegram signed by a certain Prefect of Shanghai named Ching Yüan-shan, who, in the name of “all the gentry, scholars, merchants and public of Shanghai,” referred to the Edict which announced the Emperor’s illness and implored the Empress, the Clansmen and the Grand Council to permit his sacred Majesty to resume the government “notwithstanding his indisposition,” and to abandon all thoughts of his abdication. He described the province of Kiangsu as being in a state of suppressed ferment and frankly alluded to the probability of foreigners intervening in the event of the Emperor’s death. Tzŭ Hsi was much incensed with this courageous official, not because he actually accused her of premeditating murder, but because he dared threaten her with its consequences. She gave orders that he be summarily cashiered, whereupon, fearing further manifestations of her wrath, he fled to Macao. But his bold words undoubtedly contributed to saving the Emperor’s life.

Of all the high provincial authorities, one only was found brave and disinterested enough to speak on behalf of the Emperor; this was Liu K’un-yi, the Viceroy of Nanking. He was too big a man to be publicly rebuked at a time like this and Tzŭ Hsi professed to admire his disinterested courage; but she was highly incensed at his action, which contrasted strongly with the astute opportunism of his colleague, the scholarly magnate Chang Chih-tung, Viceroy of Wuch’ang, who had been an ardent advocate of the reformers so long as the wind blew fair in that quarter. Only six months before he had recommended several progressives (amongst them his own secretary, Yang Jui) to the Emperor’s notice, and just before the storm burst he had been summoned to Peking by Kuang Hsü to support His Majesty’s policy as a member of the Grand Council. No sooner had the Empress Dowager declared herself on the side of the reactionaries, however, and the Emperor had failed in his attempt to win over Yüan Shih-k’ai and his troops, than Chang telegraphed to the Old Buddha warmly approving her policy, and urging strong measures against the reformers. The advice was superfluous; Tzŭ Hsi, having put her hand to the plough, was not the woman to remove it before her work was well done.

On the 11th day of the 8th Moon, she summoned Jung Lu to the capital to assist her in stamping out the reform movement. The Board of Punishments had just sent in a memorial urging the appointment of an Imperial Commission for the trial of K’ang Yu-wei’s colleagues. Tzŭ Hsi, in reply, directed them to act in consultation with the Grand Council and to cross-examine the prisoners “with the utmost severity.” At the same time she ordered the imprisonment in the Board’s gaol of Chang Yin-huan,[61] the Emperor’s trusted adviser and friend who, she observed, “bears an abominable reputation.” This Edict took occasion to state that the Throne, anxious to temper justice with mercy, would refrain from any general proscription or campaign of revenge, “although fully aware that many prominent scholars and officials had allowed themselves to be corrupted by the reformers.”

The Empress’s next step, advised by Jung Lu, was to issue a Decree, in the name of the Emperor, in which she justified the policy of reaction and reassured the Conservative party. The document is an excellent example of her methods. While the Emperor is made to appear as convinced of the error of his ways, all blame for the “feelings of apprehension” created by the reform movement is relegated to “our officials’ failure to give effect to our orders in the proper way,” so that everybody’s “face” is saved. The following abridged translation is of permanent interest, for the same arguments are in use to-day and will undoubtedly be required hereafter, when the Manchus come to deal with the impending problems of Constitutional Government:—

“The original object of the Throne in introducing reforms
in the administration of the government was to increase the
strength of our Empire and to ameliorate the condition of our
subjects. It was no sudden whim for change, nor any contempt
for tradition that actuated us; surely our subjects must
recognise that our action was fully justifiable and indeed
inevitable. Nevertheless, we cannot shut our eyes to the fact
that feelings of apprehension have been aroused, entirely
due to the failure of our officials to give effect to our
orders in the proper way, and that this again has led to the
dissemination of wild rumours and wrong ideas amongst the
ignorant masses of the people. For instance, when we abolished
six superfluous government boards, we did so in the public
interest, but the immediate result has been that we have been
plagued with Memorials suggesting that we should destroy and
reconstruct the whole system of administration. It is evident
that, unless we explain our policy as a whole, great danger
may arise from the spread of such ideas, and to prevent
any such result we now command that the six metropolitan
departments which we previously abolished be re-established
exactly as before. Again, our original intention in authorising
the establishment of official newspapers, and allowing all
and sundry of our subjects to address us, was to encourage
the spread of knowledge and to improve our own sources of
intelligence. Unfortunately, however, the right of addressing
the Throne has been greatly abused, and the suggestions which
have reached us in this way have not only been trivial and
useless on many occasions, but have recently shown a tendency
towards revolutionary propaganda. For this reason the right
to memorialise the Throne will in future be strictly reserved
in accordance with the established and ancient custom. As for
official newspapers, we have come to the conclusion that they
are quite useless for any purposes of the government, and
that they only lead to popular discontent; they are therefore
abolished from this day forth. The proper training grounds for
national industry and talent are Colleges, and these are to go
on as before, it being the business of the local officials,
acting upon public opinion in their respective districts, to
continue the improvement of education on the lines laid down;
but there is to be no conversion of temples and shrines into
schools, as was previously ordered, because this might lead to
strong objection on the part of the people. Generally speaking,
there shall be no measures taken contrary to the established
order of things throughout the Empire. The times are critical,
and it behoves us, therefore, to follow in government matters
the happy mean and to avoid all extreme measures and abuses.
It is our duty, without prejudice, to steer a middle course,
and it is for you, our officials, to aim at permanence and
stability of administration in every branch of the government.”

Jung Lu was now raised to membership of the Grand Council, and given supreme command of the northern forces and control of the Board of War; he thus became the most powerful official in the Empire, holding a position for which no precedent existed in the annals of the Manchu Dynasty. He had once more proved loyal to the Empress and faithful to the woman whom he had served since the days of the flight to Jehol; and he had his reward. It was natural, if not inevitable, that the part played by Jung Lu in the crisis of the _coup d’état_ should expose him to severe criticism, especially abroad; but, from the Chinese official’s point of view, his action in supporting the Empress Dowager against her nephew, the Emperor, was nothing more than his duty, and as a statesman he showed himself consistently moderate, sensible, and reliable. The denunciations subsequently poured upon him by the native and foreign Press at the time of the Boxer rising were the result, partly of the unrefuted falsehoods disseminated by K’ang Yu-wei and his followers, and partly of the Legations’ prejudice (thence arising) and lack of accurate information. As will hereafter be shown, all his efforts were directed towards stemming the tide of that fanatical outbreak and restraining his Imperial mistress from acts of folly. Amidst the cowardice, ignorance and cruelty of the Manchu Clansmen his foresight and courage stand out steadily in welcome relief; the only servant of the Throne during Tzŭ Hsi’s long rule who approaches him in administrative ability and disinterested patriotism is Tseng Kuo-fan (of whose career a brief account has already been given). From this time forward until his death (1903) we find him ever at Tzŭ Hsi’s right hand, her most trusted and efficient adviser; and her choice was well made. As will be seen in a later chapter, there was a time in 1900, when the Old Buddha, distraught by the tumult and the shouting, misled by her own hopes, her superstitious beliefs and the clamorous advice of her kinsfolk, allowed Prince Tuan and his fellow fanatics to undermine for a little while Jung Lu’s influence. Nevertheless (as will be seen by the diary of Ching Shan) it was to him that she always turned, in the last resort, for counsel and comfort; it was on him that she leaned in the dark hour of final defeat,—and he never failed her. She lived to realise that the advice which he gave, and which she sometimes neglected, was invariably sound. Amidst all the uncertainties of recent Chinese history this much is certain, that the memory of Jung Lu deserves a far higher place in the esteem of his countrymen and of foreigners than it has hitherto received. Unaware himself of many of the calumnies that had been circulated about him at the time of the Court’s flight, he was greatly hurt, and his sense of justice outraged, by the cold reception given him by the Legations after the Court’s return to Peking. Thereafter, until his death, he was wont to say to his intimate friends that while he would never regret the stand he had taken against the Boxers, he could not understand or forgive the hostility and ingratitude shown him by foreigners. “It was not for love towards them,” he observed, on one occasion recorded, “that he had acted as he did, but only because of his devotion to the Empress Dowager and the Manchu Dynasty; nevertheless, since his action had coincided with the interests of the foreigner, he was entitled to some credit for it.”

The Empress Dowager consulted long and earnestly with Jung Lu as to the punishment to be inflicted upon the reformers. He advocated strong measures of repression, holding that the prestige of the Manchu Dynasty was involved. The six prisoners were examined by the Board of Punishments, and Jung Lu closely questioned them as to K’ang Yu-wei’s intentions in regard to the Empress Dowager. Documents found in K’ang’s house had revealed every detail of the plot, and upon the Grand Council recommended the execution of all the prisoners. There being no doubt that they had been guilty of high treason against Her Majesty, it seemed clearly inadvisable to prolong the trial, especially as there was undoubtedly a risk of widening the breach between Manchus and Chinese by any delay in the proceedings, at a time when party spirit was running high on both sides. The Old Buddha concurred in the decision of the Grand Council, desiring to terminate the crisis as soon as possible; accordingly, on the 13th day of the Moon, the reformers were executed. They met their death bravely, their execution outside the city being witnessed by an immense crowd. It was reported that amongst the papers of Yang Jui were found certain highly compromising letters addressed to him by the Emperor himself, in which the Empress Dowager was bitterly denounced. There was also a Memorial by Yang impeaching Her Majesty for gross immorality and illicit relations with several persons in high positions, one of whom was Jung Lu; this document had been annotated in red ink by the Emperor himself. It quoted songs and ballads current in the city of Canton, referring to Her Majesty’s alleged vicious practices, and warned the Emperor that, if the Manchu dynasty should come now to its end, the fault would lie as much with Tzŭ Hsi and her evil deeds as was the case when the Shang dynasty (of the 12th Century B.C.) fell by reason of the Emperor Chou Hsin’s infatuation for his concubine Ta Chi, whose orgies are recorded in history. Yang Jui had compared the Empress Dowager’s life at the Summer Palace with the enormities committed by this infamous concubine in her palace by the “Lake of Wine”; small wonder then, said Tzŭ Hsi’s advocates in defence of drastic measures, that, having seen for herself, in the Emperor’s own handwriting, that these treasonable utterances met with his favour and support, Her Majesty was vindictively inclined and determined to put an end, once and for all, to his relations with the Reform party.

The edict which ordered the execution of the Reform leaders was drafted by the Empress Dowager herself with the aid of Jung Lu, but with cynical irony it was issued in the name of the Emperor. It was written in red ink as an indication of its special importance, a formality usually reserved for decrees given by the Sovereign under his own hand. After laying stress upon the necessity for introducing reforms in the country’s administration, and on the anxiety felt by the Throne in regard to the increasing difficulties of government, this Decree proceeded to state that K’ang Yu-wei and his followers, taking advantage of the necessities of the moment, had entered into a rebellious conspiracy, aiming at the overthrow of the Throne itself; fortunately, their treacherous intentions had been disclosed, and the whole plot revealed. The Decree continued as followed:—

“We are further informed that, greatly daring, these traitors
have organised a secret Society, the objects of which are to
overthrow the Manchu dynasty for the benefit of the Chinese.
Following the precepts of the Sages, We, the Emperor, are
in duty bound to propagate filial piety as the foremost of
all virtues, and have always done so, as our subjects must
be fully aware. But the writings of K’ang Yu-wei were, in
their tendency, depraved and immoral; they contain nothing
but abominable doctrines intended to flout and destroy the
doctrines of the Sages. Originally impressed by his knowledge
of contemporary politics, we appointed him to be a Secretary
of the Tsungli Yamên, and subsequently gave him charge of the
establishment of the proposed official newspaper at Shanghai;
but instead of going to his post, he remained for the purposes
of his evil conspiracies at Peking. Had it not been that,
by the protecting influences of our ancestors, his plot was
revealed, appalling disasters must undoubtedly have followed.
K’ang himself, the moving spirit in this conspiracy, has
fled from justice, and we rely upon the proper authorities to
see to it that he be arrested, and that capital punishment be
inflicted upon him.”

The Decree then proceeded to award the death penalty to K’ang Yu-wei’s colleague, Liang Ch’i-ch’ao, a scholar of the highest repute, who subsequently found a refuge in Japan, and there edits a newspaper of high and well-deserved reputation. Next in order of importance were the three Secretaries of the Grand Council, who were awaiting the result of their trial in the Board of Punishments. The Edict added that any delay in their execution might, in the opinion of the Grand Council, lead to a revolutionary movement, and for this reason further formalities of justice in regard to all six prisoners were dispensed with, and their summary decapitation ordered.

After disposing of K’ang Yu-wei’s followers and accomplices, the Decree once more emphasises the heinous guilt of their leader:—

“Our dynasty,” it says, “rules in accordance with the teachings
of Confucius. Such treason as that of K’ang Yu-wei is abhorred
by gods and men alike. Surely the elemental forces of nature
must refuse to protect such a man,[62] surely all humanity must
unite in the extermination of such noisome creatures. As to
those of his followers who, for the most part, were led away by
his immoral doctrines, their number is legion, and the Throne
has taken note of their names, but the Imperial clemency is
all-abounding, and we have decided to go no further with our
enquiries into these treasonable plottings. Let all concerned
now take warning by K’ang’s example. Let them conscientiously
follow the doctrines of the Sages, and turn their hearts to
wisdom in devotion to the Throne.”

Despite the Throne’s “all abounding clemency” and Tzŭ Hsi’s declared intention to take no steps beyond the execution of the six reform leaders, her “divine wrath” continued to be stirred up by the recollection of the personal attacks that had been made against her. Following immediately upon the Decree above quoted, came another whereby Chang Yin-huan was sentenced to banishment to the New Dominion on a vague charge of the usual classical type. His real offence lay in that he had denounced the Empress Dowager for extravagance, and she was the more embittered against him because the British Minister had presumed to intervene with a plea for his life.

In another Decree the proposed visit to Tientsin was cancelled, at the earnest request of Jung Lu, who dreaded the possibility of an attempt on the life of the Empress Dowager. Her feminine curiosity had been stirred by the prospect of a visit to the Treaty port and a change from the seclusion of Peking, but she yielded to the advice of the Commander-in-Chief. At the same time military reorganisation was pressed forward with the greatest energy, and the occasion was taken to bestow _largesse_ on the Chihli troops.

Upon Jung Lu coming to Peking Yü Lu was appointed to succeed him as Viceroy of Chihli. This bigoted official enjoyed in a large measure the confidence of the Empress Dowager. Unusually ignorant, even for a Manchu, and totally devoid of ability, he was subsequently responsible for the growth of the Boxer movement in and around Tientsin. At this particular crisis, however, distrust of the Chinese was rife, and the Old Buddha felt that the presence of a Manchu Viceroy to control the Metropolitan Province was necessary to prevent any organised movement by the revolutionaries.

There now remained unpunished in Peking only one high official who had been in any way publicly associated with the reformers, _i.e._, Li Tuan-fen, President of the Board of Ceremonies. After waiting a few days and finding that his case was not referred to in any of the Edicts, he applied in a Memorial to the Throne that the offence which he had committed (in recommending K’ang Yu-wei and other reformers for government employment) should be suitably punished. The Memorial is in itself a most interesting document, as it throws light on several characteristic features of the internal economy of the Chinese Government. The writer, after admitting his guilt, and expressing astonishment that it has not been brought home to him, placed on record his gratitude for the clemency thus far exercised, and asked that, as his conscience gave him no peace, Her Majesty might be pleased to determine the penalty for his guilt, “to serve as a warning to all officials who may be led to recommend evil characters to the notice of the Throne.” Tzŭ Hsi’s reply was equally interesting, and was issued, as usual, in the name of the Emperor:—

“We have read the Memorial of Li Tuan-fen. This official
has enjoyed our special favour; nevertheless, it was he who
recommended to our notice that base traitor, K’ang Yu-wei, and
he repeated his recommendations at more than one subsequent
audience. His present action in admitting his guilt after
the conspiracy has been exposed indicates a certain amount
of low cunning on his part, which makes it quite impossible
for us to treat him with further leniency. He is therefore
to be cashiered forthwith and banished to the New Dominion,
where he will be kept under close observation by the local
authorities.”[63]

The whole episode and correspondence are strongly suggestive of the sport of a cat with a mouse.

By this time the violent measures of the reactionary party had aroused a storm of indignation in the South, where societies were being organised in support of His Majesty Kuang-Hsü. Newspapers published in the foreign settlements at Shanghai repeated daily the wildest and bitterest denunciations against Her Majesty and Jung Lu, the latter being specially singled out for attack. The writers of these articles, evidently inspired by the fugitive reform leaders, declared that the movement in Peking was essentially anti-Chinese, and that it would undoubtedly end in the appointment of Manchus to all important posts in the Empire. On the other hand, anti-foreign disturbances were fomented in several provinces by those who believed that the Empress Dowager would be gratified by these manifestations of public feeling. This state of affairs was undoubtedly fraught with serious danger, to which the attention of the Empress Dowager was drawn in a very plain-spoken Memorial by a Censor and Imperial Clansman named Hui Chang.

The memorialist congratulated the Throne upon the energetic and successful suppression of K’ang Yu-wei’s treason, an achievement which would redound for ever to the fame of the Old Buddha. He then referred to the position of affairs in South China as follows:—

“Of late many rumours have been in circulation, due to the
fact that the criminals executed by order of the Throne are
all Chinese, and your Majesties are therefore accused of
desiring to promote the interests of Manchus at the expense of
your Chinese subjects. Although it should be well known and
recognised that our dynasty has never held the balance unevenly
between Manchus and Chinese, yet the followers of K’ang Yu-wei
are undoubtedly taking advantage of these rumours, and the
result threatens the State with danger.”

The writer, after referring to the general futility of Edicts, then advised that special honours should be accorded to a few selected Chinese of undoubted loyalty and orthodoxy, by which means public opinion would be reassured. He justly observed that, if those who had been guilty of high treason had been made to suffer the penalty, those who had been consistently loyal should be suitably rewarded. He advised that all those who, during the past few months, had sent in Memorials denouncing the reform movement and rebuking the corrupt tendencies of the so-called new scholarship, should be advanced in the public service. Finally, he made the significant observation, that loyalty and patriotism when displayed by Chinese subjects are of greater value to the integrity of the Empire than these virtues when displayed by Manchus, an indication of statecraft likely to appeal to the acute intelligence of the Old Buddha. The Empress Dowager’s reply, while ostensibly in the nature of a rebuke, was marked by unusual evasiveness on the subject actually at issue. She laid stress only on the strict impartiality of the Throne’s decision, professing to be animated by feelings of abstract justice, and to be free from all manner of prejudice, whether against Manchus or Chinese. The Memorialist was, however, shortly afterwards promoted, and as a proof of her impartiality, the Empress Dowager proceeded, on the same day, to dismiss half-a-dozen high officials, one of whom was a Manchu; and on the ground that Jung Lu himself had recommended one of the reformers for employment, she ordered that he too be referred to the Board of Civil Appointments for the determination of a suitable penalty. This was merely “saving face.”

Stirred, as usual, to activity by anything in the nature of criticism, Her Majesty now issued Decrees in rapid succession. One of these declared the necessity for adequate protection of foreigners in the interior and for the Legations in Peking; another took the form of a homily to the Provincial Authorities in regard to the selection of subordinate officials. A third called for advice from the Provincial Viceroys and Governors, but they were told, at the same time, to avoid criticising on party grounds because “the Throne was fully aware of the motives which usually inspire such attacks.”

Subsequently, the Empress Dowager took occasion in a homily on the whole art of government, to place on record a defence of her policy as head of the Manchus in China. The following extract from this Decree is worth quoting:—

“The test of good government has always been the absence
of rebellion; a State which takes adequate measures for
self-defence can never be in serious danger. By the accumulated
wisdom of six successive Sovereigns, our dynasty has succeeded
in establishing a system of government, based on absolute
justice and benevolence, which approaches very nearly to
perfection. It has been our pleasure to grant immediate relief
in times of flood and famine. When rivers burst their banks,
our first thought has ever been the safety of our people.
Never have we resorted to conscription, or to the levying
of _corvées_. We have always excluded Chinese women from
service as subordinates in the Palace. Surely such evidences
of benevolent solicitude merit the hearty co-operation of all
our subjects, and entitle us to expect that all our people,
high and low, should peacefully pursue their business in life,
so that all men, even the humblest labourers, may enjoy the
blessings of peace. Is it any wonder then, that our soul is
vexed when abominable treachery and the preaching of rebellion
have been permitted to exist and to be spread broad-cast; when
high officials, lacking all proper principles, have dared to
recommend traitors to the Throne, in furtherance of their own
evil designs? When we think of these things, our righteous
indignation almost overwhelms us; nevertheless, we have granted
a general amnesty, and will enquire no further into these base
plottings.”

The Decree concluded with the usual exhortation to the official class, and an appeal for the exercise of ideal virtue.

Her Majesty’s next step was to reinstate certain leading reactionaries, whom the Emperor had recently dismissed, notably Hsü Ying-kuei, who had denounced the reformer Wang Chao. The Emperor’s party was now completely broken up, and he was left without supporters or friends in Peking. The Manchu Treasurer of Kansuh (Tseng Ho) was the last high official to speak in favour of the reform movement, or rather of one of its chief advocates, and, by so doing, to bring down upon him the wrath of the Old Buddha. The Memorial which brought about his summary dismissal from office, never again to be re-employed, referred in terms of regret to the disgrace of Weng T’ung-ho, the Emperor’s tutor.

Her Majesty next turned her attention to the provinces, and administered a severe rebuke to Liu K’un-yi, who, on grounds of ill-health, had asked to be relieved of the Nanking Viceroyalty. Her Majesty, reminding him in the classical phraseology of the high favours showered upon him by the Throne, directed him to abstain from frivolous excuses and to continue in the performance of his duties, exercising more diligence therein, and more care in his selection of subordinate officials.

The audacity of Weng T’ung-ho continued to rankle sorely in Her Majesty’s mind, and to allow him to continue to live in honourable retirement in his native place without loss of rank or other punishment was not in accordance with her ideas of fitness; nor was it likely that Jung Lu, who had always borne a grudge against the Imperial tutor, would do anything to mitigate her wrath against him. In a Decree, issued in the name of the Emperor, she once more vented her spite on this aged and inoffensive scholar, in a manner highly characteristic of her temperament. The Edict is sufficiently interesting to justify the following quotation:—

“When Weng T’ung-ho acted as our Imperial tutor, his method
of instruction left much to be desired; he never succeeded
in explaining the inner meaning of classical or historical
subjects, but would spend his time endeavouring to gain our
favour and distract our attention by showing us curios and
pictures. He would endeavour also to ascertain our views on
current events and matters of policy by discussing questions
of general contemporary interest. During the war with Japan,
for instance, he would at one time profess to advocate peace,
and again he would be all for war, and finally he even advised
us to flee from our capital. He had a habit of exaggerating
facts in order to make them coincide with his own views, and
the result of the foolish and wrongful performance of his
duties is now to be seen in a situation almost irreparable. In
the spring of last year he was all in favour of reform, and
secretly recommended to us K’ang Yu-wei as a man whose ability,
he said, exceeded his own one hundred fold. We, being anxious
above all things to strengthen our Empire at a time of national
danger, reluctantly yielded to K’ang Yu-wei’s advice in regard
to reform. He, however, took advantage of our complaisance to
plot treason. For this Weng T’ung-ho is primarily to blame,
and his guilt is too great to be overlooked. Besides this,
he has incurred our displeasure in several other ways; for
instance, he would allow himself to show annoyance if we
disagreed with his recommendations, and would even attempt to
browbeat us. At such times his language was most improper, and
the recollection of his bullying propensities remains in our
mind most unpleasantly. In a previous Decree we ordered him to
vacate his post and return to his native place, but for his
many offences this in itself is no adequate punishment. We now
order that he be cashiered, never again to be re-employed, and
that henceforth he be held under close supervision of the local
authorities and prohibited from creating trouble, as a warning
to all double-minded officials for the future.”[64]

Weng T’ung-ho lived in his family home (Chang Shu in Kiangsu) until June, 1904, beloved and respected by all who knew him. He was by no means a nonentity like most of the aged officials near the Throne, but rather a person of considerable force of character, and after his dismissal lived always in the hope that he might yet return to serve the Emperor and the cause of reform upon the death of the Old Buddha. Meanwhile, he became a source of considerable trouble and anxiety to the District Magistrate of his native place, as he made it his practice to call on that official three times a month, and, in the guise of a suppliant, to address him, thus, on his knees: “You have orders from the Throne secretly to keep watch over my conduct, and I therefore now attend, as in duty bound, to assist you in carrying out these orders.” As the Magistrate could never be certain that the once all-powerful Grand Secretary might not return to power, his own position was evidently one of considerable embarrassment, especially as the Weng family was the most important of the whole neighbourhood. In the intervals of baiting local officials, the Grand Secretary spent his time in scholarly retirement, and a volume of the letters written by him at this period has since been published; they show the man in a most attractive light, as a scholar and a poet; his light and easy style, combined with a tendency to mysticism and philosophic speculation, has always been highly appreciated by the _literati_. As his fortune had not been taken from him, his old age was probably happier in his native place than had it been exposed to the intrigues and hard work of official life at the Capital; and he died in the enjoyment of a reputation for patriotism and intelligence which extended far beyond his native province, and which, since his death, has greatly increased.

The Empress Dowager, realising that the loyalty of the _literati_ had been greatly shaken by the Emperor’s abolition of the old system of classical studies and public examinations, proceeded to reverse His Majesty’s decision in a Decree which thoroughly delighted the Conservative Party. Scholars throughout the country praised it in unmeasured terms, as a striking example of the Old Buddha’s acute reasoning powers. To a certain extent it may be admitted that the new system of examinations introduced by the Emperor had led, at the outset, to abuses which were absent under the old classical system, where the anonymity of candidates was a cardinal principle. Her Majesty dealt with the question as follows:—

“The ancient system whereby our Dynasty has selected the
scholars at public examinations by means of essays taken from
the Four Books, is based on the principle that the foundation
of all education lies in expounding the fundamental doctrines
of our national Sages and the Standard Commentaries on the
Confucian doctrine. For over two centuries this system has
worked most satisfactorily, and it is only quite lately that
certain meretricious tendencies have sprung up in connection
therewith, and that candidates at these examinations have
succeeded in obtaining degrees by the use of parrot-like
repetitions and empty catch-words. The fault has been wrongly
attributed to the system; it is in reality due to incapable
examiners, who have allowed these abuses to creep in. Critics
have failed to realise the truth in this matter, and have
allowed themselves to abuse the system, going as far as to
assert that the classical subjects in themselves are of no
practical value. They forget that the classical essays set
at these examinations are merely a first stage, a test for
entrance upon an official career, and that, if the candidate
is really a man of ability, the fact that he has been made to
compose verses in accordance with the time-honoured methods
of the T’ang and Sung dynasties will never prevent him from
making his way in the world. But should he be a man in whom
there exists already a tendency towards rash and unorthodox
principles, it may safely be said that to set him essays on
subjects of contemporary interest for the purposes of this
examination would only serve to aggravate the evil and further
to demoralise his nature. For these reasons, therefore, I now
definitely decree that, for the future, the old system shall
be restored, and that public examinations shall henceforward
consist of themes and extracts from the Classics. A special
examination for students of political economy, lately
authorised, has been shown to be productive of evil, and is
therefore abolished. It is the wish of the Throne that these
public examinations shall be in reality a sound test of merit.
Examiners and candidates alike should avoid meretricious
adornments of style, and endeavour to conform strictly to
the classical models. We desire, of course, that studies of
a practical nature should be continued, but these had best
be conducted under the guidance of local officials. It is
certainly desirable that agriculture, and the promotion of
industrial and commercial enterprises, should be placed on a
more effective basis of organisation, but owing to difficulties
of inter-communication and voluminous correspondence, it is
inadvisable that these matters should be centralised at Peking.
Let Bureaux be established at the various provincial capitals,
and let a beginning be made at Tientsin, as a test case and an
example for the rest of the Empire. The Peking Bureau is hereby
abolished.”

_Souvent femme varie_, and the mind of Tzŭ Hsi never ran consistently for long in the same groove. Anxious always as to her popularity with all parties in the State, and with a view to adjusting that nice equilibrium of conflicting forces which constituted the pride of her statecraft and the strength of her rule, we find her next issuing a Decree which set forth the principles by which she professed to be guided. This Decree reflects a certain amount of anxiety and a doubt as to whether the punishment inflicted on the leading reformers might not be severely criticised by the outside world. Her Majesty therefore decrees:—

“From times of remote antiquity it has always been recognised
that the perfect Government is that which is based on
consistent maintenance of the doctrines of the Sages, but, in
practice, the exigencies of any particular crisis must always
justify modification of these principles, so that there can be
no such thing as final and absolute adherence to any particular
principle or method. Recently there have been introduced
certain energetic measures of reform intended to put an end to
the many and increasing abuses which admittedly exist all over
the Empire; but certain evil-disposed persons have made these
reforms the excuse for a revolutionary movement. These we have
punished, so that the flood of treason and rebellion has been
stemmed. This does not mean, however, that we shall fail to
initiate and enforce all such measures, whether of a liberal
or conservative nature, as may be necessary in the interest
and for the welfare of our subjects. Was ever any man deterred
from eating for fear lest a mouthful should choke him? There
can surely be no real misapprehension in the public mind in the
face of all the Decrees which we have issued on this subject,
but we regret to note a marked lack of coherent opinion on the
subject amongst our official advisers, for, at the time when
these treasonable schemes were rife, we received scarcely any
Memorials alluding to this national danger, and no suggestions
for meeting it. It was only when the plot had been discovered
and suppressed that certain attempts were made to acquire
merit by those who thought they had fathomed the motives which
had actuated our action. These misguided persons overlooked
the important fact that it is the public interest, and the
public interest only, which guides the policy of the Throne in
matters of administration. The path we pursue is that of the
just mean, diverging neither to right nor left. Once more would
we admonish you, our officials throughout the Empire, bidding
you purify your hearts and get rid, once and for all, of these
false distinctions between reaction and reform. Let your
Memorials consider only the needs of each day and each case as
they come, and cease to submit haphazard schemes on the chance
of their meeting with our personal approval.”

Her Majesty next turned her attention to the necessities and distressing condition of her people at large, and ordered that measures should once more be taken to prevent the constant destruction of life and property by the Yellow River in Shantung Province. She was under no delusion as to the nature of the measures taken in the part to remedy “China’s Sorrow” which, from time immemorial has been the happy hunting ground of peculating officialdom; nor could she expect that her stereotyped exhortations to virtue in this matter would afford her subjects any particular gratification. Her Majesty alluded to the fact that “frequent repairs to the banks of the Yellow River had not appeared to produce any permanent results,” but the remedy which she applied, viz., a consultation between the Grand Council and the various Ministries with the Censorate, was not very reassuring. Nor was her subsequent decision to send Li Hung-chang, to estimate on the spot the sum required for the construction of effective river conservancy works, calculated to convince the public of the sincerity of her benevolent intentions.

As in the days immediately following her first assumption of power after the overthrow of the Tsai Yüan conspiracy in 1861, the Empress Dowager at this period displayed remarkable activity in every direction, as is shown by the number of her Decrees at this period. After dealing with the Yellow River, she turned her attention to another permanent and crying evil, which for centuries has weighed heavily upon the lower classes of the Chinese people, viz., the interminable delay and heavy cost of legal proceedings and the hardships thus inflicted on all who may be compelled to seek justice at the hands of Chinese officials.

Her Majesty, in her Edict on the subject, showed a very close knowledge of the abuses with which, indeed, all Chinese are fully acquainted, but which official documents usually ignore. It is no doubt largely to her frankness in cases of this kind that the Old Buddha’s widespread reputation for good nature and tender-heartedness may be ascribed. Throughout the country, but especially in the north, it has always been the opinion of the peasantry and of the merchant class, that the Old Buddha was, if anything, too tender-hearted, and that her extreme mildness of disposition, though no doubt laudable, was on many occasions a source of danger. To her untimely “benevolence” the populace in Peking in 1900 undoubtedly ascribed the fact that the foreigners and native Christians were not massacred _en masse_ before the arrival of the relief expedition. In this Decree on the subject of lawsuits, Her Majesty states that she has recently learned that legal proceedings are frequently hung up for several months at a time, and that innocent persons have been detained in custody for indefinite periods pending enquiry.

“Every sort of extortion is apparently practised in these
courts, and their gaolers deliberately obstruct the hearing
of cases unless they are heavily bribed. But if one member of
a family is thrown into prison, it is evident that his whole
household must suffer. Who would willingly enter upon legal
proceedings, unless suffering from injustice too grievous to be
borne, when the myrmidons of the law are able thus to ill-treat
claimants? At the root of the whole evil lies the fact that
the magistrates wilfully delay their business, being deaf to
the needs of the people. From our hearts we pity them, and we
now decree that regulations shall at once be drawn up for the
expediting of outstanding cases. Any delay in this matter will
involve heavy penalties.”

Again, another Edict thus reflects the benevolence of the “Divine Mother” and her desire to conciliate public opinion:—

“In the majority of recent cases of summary executions in the
provinces, the culprits have been guilty of robbery under arms.
However heinous the offences of such criminals, they really
deserve our sincere pity. The excuse generally given for their
folly is that they have been forced into crime by starvation;
under such conditions men are apt to forget that their evil
acts will bring upon them the death penalty. These criminals
are hardy men and resolute; if they could only be turned from
their evil ways to service in our Army or to agriculture, they
might become good citizens: how preferable such a result to
seeing them cast into prison and finally dismembered? Apart
from this consideration, the crimes which they commit involve
their parents and families, a thought sufficient in itself
to disturb their conscience for ever. Here, in the remote
seclusion of our Palace, we think only of our people’s welfare,
and we long for the time when virtue may prevail and punishment
become a thing of the past. We therefore now implore you, our
children, to remember how real is our sympathy in all your
troubles; strive then to be virtuous citizens, and cease from
acts of violence which only bring trouble and misery in their
train. Let this our Decree be made known to the most remote
districts of our Empire, so that all may be aware of our
solicitude and tender regard for our people.”

The Empress Dowager was much incensed at the sympathy for the Emperor shown by foreigners both in China and abroad, a sympathy which was reflected for a time in the attitude of the British Minister and other members of the Diplomatic Body at Peking. Adopting, however, that policy of “conciliation pending a fitting opportunity for hostilities,” which (as will be seen in another place) she had learned from study of the classics, she invited the wives of the foreign Ministers and other Legation ladies to an audience in the Palace at the beginning of the winter, and treated them with such courtesy and consideration that she won their hearts in a day. That her friendliness was entirely assumed, we have learned from her own statements, and there is no doubt that, from this time forward, she came more and more under the influence of the chief reactionary Kang Yi, who, during the absence of Jung Lu on leave, was able to persuade her that the first essential towards improving the country’s military resources was the organisation of bands of militia throughout the Empire. By missionaries who were close observers of events in Shantung and other head-quarters of this patriotic movement, it was soon realised that this military activity was directed primarily against foreigners, and owed its origin in the first instance to the Empress Dowager’s approval of Kang Yi’s policy of violent reaction.

The following Decree, promulgated towards the close of the year may, in a certain sense, be regarded as the beginning and the charter of the Boxer Movement; it was undoubtedly inspired by Kang Yi and his party.

“There has never been a time when the relations between
Sovereign and people could safely dispense with a good
understanding and certain general common objects. It is of
course for the local Magistrates to initiate measures in all
questions of local importance, but no successful national
policy can be maintained unless the gentry and the lower
classes co-operate with the Government. If we consider, for
example, the question of food-supply reserves, the organisation
of police, the drilling of militia or train-bands, and so
forth: they may seem very ordinary matters, but if they are
efficiently handled they may be made of the very greatest
value to the nation; for by making due provision against
famine, the people’s lives are protected, and similarly, by the
organisation of local police, protection is afforded against
bandits. As to the train-bands, they only require to undergo
regular training for a sufficient period to enable us to attain
to the position of a nation in arms. At any crisis in our
country’s affairs their services would then be available and
invaluable.

“We therefore decree that a beginning be now made in the
Provinces of Chihli, Mukden, and Shantung, where all the local
authorities must admonish the gentry and common people, so that
these measures may be carried out with the utmost energy. Where
any organisation already exists for the purposes mentioned, it
need only be remodelled, and brought into line with the general
system. Let steps be taken first at the provincial capitals,
and extended thence throughout the Provinces. Eventually it
is our intention that the system adopted shall be enforced
throughout the Empire, on the basis of the new regulations
adopted in these three Provinces.”

The rest of the Decree consists of the usual exhortations and warnings, and is of no particular interest. It is not certain from this document that the Empress herself understood clearly the forces that were about to be let loose in these so-called military train-bands, and her subsequent vacillation in regard to the Boxers would seem to afford an indication, if not proof, that she acted impulsively and without full knowledge, under the influence of Kang Yi. But the question rapidly increased in importance, so that a few days later we find Her Majesty issuing a second Decree, which shows that the potential power of the train-bands as a national force was gradually impressing itself upon her mind, where, as we know, the hope of revenge on foreigners was ever latent. In this second Decree occurs the following passage:—

“Recent events have caused me the greatest grief and anxiety;
by day and by night, in the seclusion of my Palace, my thoughts
dwell on these matters, and my one object is now to secure the
tranquillity and prosperity of my subjects by the organisation
of adequate military forces. My purposes, set forth in numerous
Decrees, regarding the organisation of a strong army, the
improvement of communications, and the formation of train-bands
and militia, aim all at strengthening the Empire and promoting
the contentment of my people.”

After reiterating the substance of former Decrees, Her Majesty proceeds pathetically to complain “that they have to a large extent been ignored, or merely transmitted by one provincial authority to another, descending from the Governor to the District Magistrate through the usual routine channels, and eventually pigeon-holed as so much waste paper.” She admits frankly that this method of treating Imperial Decrees is quite usual, and that it has the sanction of tradition, but she insists that the time has come for a change, and therefore now directs that all her Decrees are in future to be printed on special Imperial yellow paper, and their contents made known throughout the length and breadth of the Empire.

After further earnest exhortations to patriotism, and to that keen sense of duty which alone can develop efficiency in the public service, she directs that the local officials should keep closer touch with the gentry and the elders of the people, and that officers in command of military forces are to explain clearly to the rank and file the objects which Her Majesty has in view in deciding upon military organisation.

The Decree concludes with the following words:—

“If in times of peace my people are prepared to face all
possible dangers, and to put away from them selfish and ignoble
ease, they will find that, when the hour of trial comes, their
common resolution is in very truth a tower of strength, which
shall not fail to bring about its due reward. By this means
shall the foundations of our Empire be strengthened, and its
prestige increased, and thus shall my purposes be fulfilled,
for which I have issued to you this solemn admonition.”

This Decree was followed by another, in the classical manner, exhorting the troops to practise patriotism, which calls for no especial notice, and certainly produced no more conspicuous effect than her repeated warnings to the provincial Mandarins and her appeals for more energy and intelligence in the public service. Certain writers have pointed to the numerous and plain-spoken Decrees issued by Tzŭ Hsi at this period, as proof that her heart was really set upon effectively reforming the country’s administration, but it is always difficult for foreigners, and even for Chinese outside the Palace, to form any concise idea as to the inner meaning of these lucubrations, and how much of them was, on any particular occasion, to be taken as something outside of the traditional and stereotyped utterances of the Throne. It is certain that she herself failed to exercise the personal influence and example that would have convinced the world of her sincerity, and that she did nothing to put her house of the Forbidden City in order or to do away with the manifest and notorious abuses at her Court.

The Old Buddha concluded this remarkable display of literary and political activity by returning once more to the grievance which rankled most deeply, viz., that the chief conspirator against her sacred authority and person had made good his escape. Professing to believe that the heinousness of K’ang Yu wei’s crimes was not fully realised by her people, she issued another Decree on the subject, in December, as follows:—

“T’an Chung-lin, Viceroy of Canton, has memorialised
stating that he has brought to light, by searches at K’ang
Yu-wei’s birthplace, a large quantity of documents, chiefly
correspondence between the members of K’ang’s party, together
with certain seals, made of stone; all of which he has
forwarded for our personal inspection. These letters contain
a mass of treasonable matter. In one place the suggestion
is actually made that T’an Ssu-t’ung (one of the reformers
executed) should be nominated as President of the Chinese
Republic! The writers ignore the present Dynasty even in dating
their correspondence, and use instead a chronology which
begins with the birth of Confucius; one of them has actually
had the unbounded audacity to describe the present Dynasty as
‘perfectly useless.’ Abominable wickedness of this kind shows
that these men were something worse than ordinary rebels and
parricides. Their correspondence implicates an enormous number
of persons, but, as the Throne desires to show mercy and to
refrain from any further enquiry into this matter, the whole
correspondence has now been burnt by our orders.

“When first we stated in our Decrees the nature of the
treasonable conspiracy that K’ang Yu-wei had organised and of
his revolutionary programme, it was our object to nip rebellion
in the bud. But it would appear, from information which has
reached us, that certain misinformed people still hold to the
opinion and express it, that K’ang Yu-wei was nothing worse
than an over-zealous reformer. We mention therefore this matter
of the correspondence of these traitors, as proving beyond
possibility of doubt that K’ang Yu-wei was indeed a base and
unnatural malefactor, and we feel convinced that our loyal
subjects, from the highest to the lowest, realising this truth,
will now relegate his revolutionary utterances to their proper
position of insignificance. Thus shall right principles triumph
and the wrong be wiped out.”

Thus was Tzŭ Hsi established in her pride of place and thus were sown the seeds of that great upheaval which was soon to shake the Empire to its foundations.