.jpg) |
| Photo, Ogawa, Tokio. |
| Interior of the I Kun Kung. |
| Tzǔ Hsi lived in these Apartments for some time after the death of Tung Chih. |
VIII
Tzǔ Hsi becomes sole regent
The days of mourning for T'ung-Chih being done, his remains disposed of as auspiciously as the Court of Astronomers could desire, and his ghost placated, thanks to Wu K'o-tu, by solemn promises on the part of his mother to provide him with a suitable and legitimate heir in due season, life in the Forbidden City settled down once more into the old grooves under the joint Regency of the Empresses of the Eastern and Western Palaces.
But before long the new Emperor, a nervous and delicate boy, became, all unconsciously, a thorn in the side of the woman who put him on the Throne. As he passed from intancy to boyhood, it was a matter of common knowledge and report in the Palace that he showed a marked preference for the Empress Tzǔ An, who, by her kind and sympathetic treatment, had won the child's heart. In the innocence of his lonely youth he frequented therefore the Eastern Palace, while Tzǔ Hsi, whose pride could brook no rivals, even in the heart of a child, was compelled to look on, and to realise that the forming of the future ruler's mind was in the hands of another woman. There were not lacking those who told her that her colleague, secretly and with ulterior motives, encouraged the boy to oppose and displease her. Under these conditions, it was inevitable that the young Emperor should gradually become a cause of increasing jealousy and friction between the two women.
Tzǔ Hsi undoubtedly resented the boy's predilection as much as her colleague's action in encouraging it. At Court, where everyone and everything is a potential instrument for intrigue and party faction, the young Emperor's attitude could not fail to cause her grave concern. She was well aware that Tzǔ An could never become, of herself, a formidable rival, but should she hereafter enjoy the Emperor's confidence and support, and instigate him to become the centre of a faction against her (which he did), there might be danger in the situation for herself. As the Emperor's minority approached its end, it therefore became the more necessary for her to take all possible precautions. She had no intention of sharing the fate of that Empress Consort of Ch'ien Lung who was banished to the "Cold Palace" and whose honours and titles were taken from her on charges of "wild extravagance, love of the theatre and insubordination to the Emperor's mother."
A further cause of friction occurred between the two Empresses Regent on the occasion of the Imperial progress to the Eastern tombs, in 1880, when the boy Emperor was nine years old. On this occasion, Tzǔ An, evidently prompted by Prince Kung to assert herself and her rights, insisted on taking precedence in all the ceremonies of the ancestral sacrifices at the Imperial Mausolea and at the prostrations which custom decrees shall be made before each of the "Jewelled Cities," as the mounds are called which cover the Imperial grave chambers. When Their Majestics arrived at the grave of Hsien-Feng, there was serious friction. Tzǔ An, as the senior Consort of the deceased monarch, claimed as her right the central position, at the same time relegating her colleague to the place on her right, leaving the place of honour on the left unoccupied. Not content with this, Tzǔ An went on to remind her Co-Regent that, where sacrifices to Hsien-Feng were in question, Tzǔ Hsi was entitled only to claim precedence as a senior concubine, her elevation to the position of Empress Mother having taken place after his decease. As a concubine, etiquette required her, during the sacrifice, to take a position on one side and slightly in the rear, while the vacant place of honour to Tzǔ An's left belonged to the shade of Hsien-Feng's first consort, who had died before his accession, but had been posthumously raised to the rank of Senior Empress. Tzǔ Hsi, realising that this indignity was put upon her at the instigation of Prince Kung and the Princes of the Imperial family, had no intention of submitting, and peremptorily insisted upon taking the position to which her actual rank and authority entitled her. The quarrel was sharp but short. Tzǔ Hsi, as might have been expected, carried the day, but she felt that such a scene before the ancestral tombs, witnessed by a large entourage, was semi-sacrilegious and from every point of view unseemly. She had been made to lose face by the incident — clearly premeditated — and the fact had immediate effect upon her subsequent actions and her relations with her colleague.[1]
At the time of this progress to the tombs, Jung Lu was in command of the Metropolitan Gendarmerie, entrusted with the duty of escorting Their Majesties. Shortly after their return to Peking, however, he incurred her sharp displeasure by reason of conduct which Tzǔ Hsi was not likely to overlook, even in her chief favourite. Ever since the Jehol days of the Tsai Yüan conspiracy, and particularly during the crisis that followed the death of T'ung- Chih, this powerful Manchu had enjoyed her favour and confidence in an unusual degree, and as Comptroller of her Household, he had the right of entrée to the Forbidden City at all times. But in 1880, suffering no doubt from ennui induced by the inactivity of Court life, he committed the indiscretion of an intrigue with one of the ladies of the late Emperor's seraglio. Information of the scandal was laid before Her Majesty by the Imperial tutor Weng T'ung-ho, between whom and Jung Lu there was never love lost. It was commonly rumoured at Court, after the event, that Tzǔ Hsi, leaving nothing to chance, had herself discovered the culprit in the women's quarters of the Palace, a heinous offence. Be this as it may, Jung Lu was summarily, though quietly, deprived of all his posts, and for the next seven years he lived in retirement. In this case Tzǔ Hsi vindicated her pride at the expense of her own comfort and sense of security, and it was not long before she had reason to regret the absence of her most loyal and trusty adviser. Amongst her courtiers she found none to replace him; she missed his wise counsel, courage and fidelity. But having once committed herself to the step of dismissing him, she was unwilling to lose face with him and with her Court by changing her mind. His removal, however, undoubtedly led to increased friction between herself and Tzǔ An, whom she suspected of being a party to Jung Lu's liaison.
Finally, in March 1881, a serious quarrel took place between the two Empresses, on the subject of the influence which the Chief Eunuch Li Lien-ying had come to exercise, and the arrogance of his manner. Tzǔ An complained that this favourite and confidential servant of her colleague ignored her, setting her authority at nought, so that she was mocked even by her own subordinates. She deplored and denounced the existing state of affairs, commenting unpleasantly on the notorious fact that the eunuch was openly known by the title of "Lord of nine thousand years," a title which implied that he was but one degree lower than the Emperor ("Lord of ten thousand years") and entitled to something approximating to Imperial honours.[2]
The quarrel on this occasion was exceedingly bitter, nor was any reconciliation subsequently effected between the Empresses. It is very generally believed, and was freely stated at the time, that, incensed beyond measure and impatient of any further interference with her authority, Tzǔ Hsi brought about the death of her colleague, which was commonly attributed to poison. In the atmosphere of an Oriental Court such charges are as inevitable as they are incapable of proof or disproof, and were it not for the unfortunate fact that those who stood in the way of Tzǔ Hsi's ambitions, or who incurred her displeasure, frequently failed to survive it, we should he justified in refusing to attach importance to the imputations of foul play raised on this and other occasions. But these occasions are too numerous to be entirely overlooked or regarded as simple coincidences. In the present instance, the Empress Tzǔ An fell ill of a sudden and mysterious sickness, and, in the words of the Imperial Decree, she "ascended the fairy chariot for her distant journey" on the evening of the 10th day of the 3rd Moon. In accordance with prescribed custom, she drafted just before her decease a valedictory Decree which, as will be observed, touches hardly at all on the political questions of the day. These, even at the moment of her death, she appeared to leave, as by established right, to her strong-minded colleague. After referring to her position as Senior Consort of the Emperor Hsien-Feng, and recording the fact that during his minority the young Emperor had done justice to his education (in which she had always been much interested), the Edict proceeds as follows:—
"In spite of the arduous duties of the State, which have fully occupied my time, I was naturally of robust constitution and had therefore fully expected to attain to a good old age and to enjoy the Emperor's dutiful ministrations. Yesterday, however, I was suddenly stricken with a slight illness and His Majesty thereupon commanded his physician to attend me; later His Majesty came in person to enquire as to my health. And now, most unexpectedly, I have had a most dangerous relapse. At 7 p.m. this evening I became completely confused in mind and now all hope of my recovery appears to be vain. I am forty-five years of age and for close on twenty years have held the high position of a Regent of the Empire. Many honorific titles and ceremonies of congratulation have been bestowed upon me: what cause have I therefore for regret?"
At her request, and with that modesty which custom prescribes, the period of Imperial mourning was reduced from twenty-seven months to twenty-seven days. There is a human touch in the conclusion of this Decree which seems to preclude the conclusion that Tzǔ Hsi had any hand in its drafting, for it describes Tzǔ An as having been careful to "set a good example of thrift and sobriety in the Palace and to have steadily discountenanced all pomp and vain display in her share of the Court ceremonies." As most of the charges levelled for many years against Tzǔ Hsi by Censors and other high officials referred to her notorious extravagance, this, and Tzǔ An's last request for a modest funeral as the fitting conclusion to a modest life, were a palpable hit.
Tzǔ An was dead. The playmate of her youth, the girl who had faced with her the solemn mysteries of the Forbidden City, the woman who later, because of her failure to provide an heir to the Throne, had effaced herself in favour of the Empress Mother, her poor-spirited rival of many years — Tzǔ An would trouble her no more. Henceforth, without usurpation of authority, Tzǔ Hsi was free to direct the ship of State alone, sole Regent of the Empire.
And with the death of her colleague came the desire to be free from the restraints of advice given by prescriptive tight of long-standing authority, the ambition to be the only and undisputed controller of the nation's destinies, and acknowledged Head of the State. For many years — in fact, since the decapitation of her favourite eunuch, An Te-hai, by Prince Kung[3] and her Co-Regent — she had been on bad terms with that Prince, and jealous of his influence and well-earned reputation for statesmanship. The manner in which, years before, she had taken from him his title of Adviser to the Government has already been described. Unable to dispense with his services, desirous of profiting by his ripe experience, especially in foreign affairs, she had borne with her Prime Minister grudgingly and of necessity. In 1884, however, she felt strong enough to stand alone, and the war with France (caused by the dispute as to China's claims to suzerainty over Tongking) gave her an opportunity and an excuse for getting rid at one stroke of Prince Kung and his colleagues of the Grand Council.
The immediate pretext for their dismissal was the destruction of the Chinese fleet of junks by the French in the Min River, but Her Majesty's real reason was that she believed that the Prince was intriguing against her with the young Emperor, and that he was to some extent responsible for a recent Memorial, in which several Censors had roundly denounced her for depraved morals and boundless extravagance.
Prince Kung accordingly retired from the scene, to remain in unemployed obscurity until 1894, when, after the first disasters of the war with Japan, Tzǔ Hsi, older and wiser, turned to him once more for assistance. He never completely regained the influence with the Empress which he had enjoyed in the earlier days of the first Regency, but after his return to office until his death in 1898, his prestige, especially among foreigners, was great. Tzǔ Hsi, though she loved him not, was forced to admit that he had accepted and borne his degradation with dignity.
After the issue of the above Decree, Prince Kung was succeeded in office by Prince Li, the head of the eight Princely families and a descendant of a younger son of Nurhachi. With him were associated on the Grand Council, amongst others, the elder brother of Chang Chih-tung and Sun Yu-wen.[4] The latter was a bitter enemy of the Imperial Tutor, Weng T'ung-ho. In appointing him to the Council, Tzǔ Hsi followed her favourite tactics of creating dissension among her advisers and maintaining the equilibrium of her own authority as the resultant of their conflicting forces.
Her Majesty's next step aroused a storm of opposition and criticism. She decreed that in all matters of urgency, the Grand Council, before advising the Throne, should confer with the Emperor's father, Prince Ch'un, but added that upon the Emperor's attaining his majority, she would issue further instructions on this subject. This was not only an entirely new and irregular departure, since it made the Emperor's father de facto head of the executive, but it implied the possibility of violation of the solemn pledges given to the nation in 1873, as to the provision of an heir to the Emperor T'ung-Chih. Fears were once more aroused in an acute form that Prince Ch'un might hereafter persuade his son to ignore the ancestral claims of the late Emperor, and thus constitute the house of Ch'un founders of a new line. The Prince would have great inducement to adopt this policy, as it would confer upon him and upon his wife (Tzǔ Hsi's sister) Imperial rank during their lives and Imperial honours after their death. The reign of T'ung-Chih would in that case be practically expunged, going down to posterity dishonoured as the ignominious end of the senior branch of the Ta Ching Dynasty, and the Yehonala clan would become of paramount influence. A wide field would thus be left for future dissensions, treasons, stratagems and Court intrigues. In fact the position thus created would be somewhat similar to that which arose from the rivalry of the Houses of York and Lancaster in English history.
An Imperial Clansman, named Sheng Yü, and other scholars, memorialised in the most urgent terms praying the Empress to cancel this appointment and suggesting that if Prince Ch'un's advice were really needed, it should be given to herself direct and not to the Grand Council.
To these remonstrances Tzǔ Hsi replied:—
"There is no doubt that the sage decisions of former Emperors deserve to be treated with every consideration and respect, but it is to be observed that, ever since I assumed the Regency, I have been by circumstances compelled to confer regularly on confidential business with a Prince of the Blood. You must all be aware that this situation has been forced upon me owing to the exigencies of the times, and was none of my seeking. The Decree in which, some days ago, I appointed Prince Ch'un to be Adviser to the Council, had no reference to ordinary routine business, with which he has no concern, but only to urgent matters of State. I had not, and have not, any intention of giving him a definite appointment, and he himself was most reluctant to accept at my hands even this advisory position; it was because of his repeated entreaties that I promised to issue further instructions in the matter upon the Emperor's reaching his majority. The present arrangement is of a purely temporary nature. You cannot possibly realise how great and numerous are the problems with which I have to deal singlehanded. As to the Grand Council, let them beware of making Prince Ch'un's position an excuse for shirking their responsibilities. In conclusion, I wish that my Ministers would for the future pay more respect to the motives which animate their Sovereign's actions, and abstain from troubling me with their querulous criticisms. The Memorialists' requests are hereby refused."
Rescripts of this kind are curiously suggestive of Queen Elizabeth, and her manner of dealing with similar petitions from her loyal and dutiful subjects.
- ↑ It is curious to note how frequently the Imperial tombs have been the scene of such unseemly wrangles, wherein grievances and passions, long pent up within the Palace precincts, find utterance. A case of this kind occurred in 1909, on the occasion of the burial of Tzǔ Hsi, when the surviving consorts of T'ung-Chih and Kuang-Hsü, having quarrelled with the new Empress Dowager (Lung Yü) on a similar question of precedence, refused to return to the City and remained in dudgeon at the tombs until a special mission, under an Imperial Duke, was sent humbly to beg them to come back, to the no small scandal of the orthodox.
- ↑ This title was originally given to an infamous eunuch of the Court of the Ming Emperor Chu Yü hsiao, who, because of his influence over his dissolute master, was canonised by the latter after his death. The same title was claimed and used by the Eunuch Au Te-hai, vide supra, p. 58.
- ↑ See above, p. 60.
- ↑ Sun remained in high favour until December 1894, when the Emperor was induced by Weng T'ung-ho to dismiss him. At that time the Empress was taking little active part in the direction of affairs, occupy⟨i⟩ng her time with theatricals and other diversions at the Summer Palace, and playing a watching game in politics, so that for a while Sun's life was in real danger.