Empress Dowager Cixi: The Concubine Who Launched Modern China (41 page)

She feared all the time that her prisoner might flee and she would not allow him out of the palaces without accompanying him herself. There was, however, a place outside the Forbidden City where the emperor had to go, but which was forbidden to her as a woman: the Temple of Heaven. (Many considered it ‘the most beautiful piece of architecture in China’.) The emperor had to go there regularly to pray to Heaven for good weather for the harvests, on which the nation’s livelihood depended. The trip involved staying on the site overnight. All Qing emperors treated the ritual with the utmost seriousness.
Emperor Kangxi, for example, attributed the five decades of relative good weather that had led to his successful reign to the sincerity of his praying at the Temple. Cixi believed in this wholeheartedly. But as she could not make the journey herself, and could not be sure that Emperor Guangxu would not flee when he was beyond her reach, she sent princes in his place. Although the proxies were easy to arrange, praying by them was not the same as by the emperor himself. Cixi was permanently fearful that Heaven would interpret the sovereign’s absence as irreverence and as a result would unleash catastrophe on the empire. It was with anguish and desperation that she yearned for a new emperor.

However, to dethrone Guangxu was unthinkable for the Chinese – even though public opinion on the whole welcomed Cixi taking charge. The plot against her life was leaked and was doing the rounds of the teahouses, and the emperor’s involvement, blamed on Wild Fox Kang, was felt to be inexcusable. Many thought that ‘His Majesty had shown deplorable judgment, and that the Empress Dowager was justified in resuming control’. But still, they wanted him to remain the emperor. He was deemed a sacred personage ‘from Heaven’, who was not even to be seen by his subjects (hence the screens that shielded his processions). People preferred to talk about Wild Fox Kang ‘
deceiving the emperor’ and ‘setting Their Majesties against each other’. Viceroys from the provinces, while supporting Cixi’s takeover, wanted her to work with her adopted son. Earl Li, who had privately scorned the emperor, saying that he did ‘not even look like a monarch’, and wished Cixi were in charge, was uncompromisingly opposed to his removal from the throne. When Junglu, Cixi’s closest confidant, sounded him out, the earl leapt to his feet before Junglu had finished talking and raised his voice: ‘How can you possibly entertain the idea! This is treason! It would be disastrous! Western diplomats would protest, viceroys and governors would be up in arms, and there would be civil war in the empire. It would be a total calamity!’
Junglu agreed with Earl Li. In fact he himself had privately been trying to dissuade Cixi from any attempt to dethrone her adopted son.

The legations had made it clear that their sympathy was entirely with Emperor Guangxu. Cixi knew that they regarded her adopted son as the reformer, and her as the anti-reform tyrant. In an attempt to correct this impression and to show that she was friendly towards the West, she invited the ladies of the diplomatic corps to a tea party in the Sea Palace on the occasion of her birthday in 1898. This would be the first time foreign women would enter the court. (The first Western man Cixi had met was Prince Heinrich of Germany earlier that year.)

Before they went, the foreign ladies reacted like girls playing ‘hard to get’. Robert
Hart wrote: ‘first they were not ready the day H.M. wanted them to appear – then when the second appointed day came round they could not go because they could not decide on one interpreter . . . then another difficulty came up . . . so the visit is postponed
sine die
 . . .’

The
party eventually took place on 13 December, many days after her birthday. If Cixi felt put out, which she was bound to, she did not let her feelings mar the occasion. Sarah Conger, wife of the American minister, left a detailed description. At ten o’clock that morning, sedan-chairs were sent over for the ladies:

We formed quite a procession with our twelve chairs and sixty bearers . . . When we reached the first gate of the Winter Palace [Sea Palace] we had to leave our chairs, bearers, mafoos, escorts – all. Inside the gate were seven red-upholstered court chairs in a line, with six eunuch chair-bearers each, and many escorts. We were taken to another gate inside of which was standing a fine railroad coach presented to China by France. We entered this car, and eunuchs dressed in black pushed and hauled it to another stopping place, where we were received by many officials and served with tea . . . After a little rest and tea-sipping, we were escorted by high officials to the throne-room. Our heavy garments were taken at the door, and we were ushered into the presence of the Emperor and Empress Dowager. We stood according to rank (longest time in Peking) and bowed. Our first interpreter presented each lady to Prince Ch’ing [Ching] and he in turn presented us to Their Majesties. Then Lady MacDonald read a short address in English on behalf of the ladies. The Empress Dowager responded through Prince Ch’ing. Another low bow on our part, then each lady was escorted to the throne where she bowed and courtesied [
sic
] to the Emperor, who extended his hand to each.

To Lady MacDonald, it was ‘a pleasant surprise to us all to find [Guangxu] taking part in the Audience . . . A sad-eyed delicate-looking youth showing but little character in his face, he hardly raised his eyes during our reception.’ After greeting the emperor, Mrs Conger went on: ‘We then stepped before Her Majesty and bowed with a low courtesy [
sic
]. She offered both her hands and we stepped forward to her. With a few words of greeting, Her Majesty clasped our hands in hers, and placed on the finger of each lady a heavy, chased gold ring, set with a large pearl.’

The gift of rings, and the manner in which they were given, was common among women. This was an attempt by the empress dowager to claim sisterhood with the Western wives. Then the ladies were treated to a feast, hosted by Princess Ching and other princesses, wearing ‘most exquisite embroideries, rich satins and silks, with pearl decorations’, their fingernails ‘protected by jewelled gold finger shields’. After the feast and tea, they were conducted back to Cixi. Sarah Conger recorded the scene:

To our surprise, there on a yellow throne-chair, sat Her Majesty, the Empress Dowager, and we gathered about her as before. She was bright and happy and her face glowed with goodwill. There was no trace of cruelty to be seen. In simple expressions she welcomed us, and her actions were full of freedom and warmth. Her Majesty arose and wished us well. She extended both hands toward each lady, then, touching herself, said with much enthusiastic earnestness, ‘One family; all one family.’

Next came a Peking Opera performance, after which Cixi bade them goodbye with a theatrical gesture: ‘she was seated in her throne-chair and was very cordial. When tea was passed to us she stepped forward and tipped each cup of tea to her own lips and took a sip, then lifted the cup, on the other side, to our lips and said again, “One family, all one family.” She then presented more beautiful gifts; alike to each lady.’ Mrs Conger, who looks severe in the photographs, gushed after meeting Cixi:

After this wonderful dream-day, so very, very unreal to us all, we reached home, intoxicated with novelty and beauty . . . Only think! China, after centuries and centuries of locked doors, has now set them ajar! No foreign lady ever saw the Rulers of China before, and no Chinese ruler ever before saw a foreign lady. We returned to the British Legation and in happy mood grouped ourselves for a picture that would fix in thought a most unusual day – a day, in fact, of historic import. December 13, 1898, is a great day for China and for the world.

Lady MacDonald took with her as translator Henry Cockburn, Chinese Secretary at the British Legation, ‘a gentleman of over twenty years’ experience of China . . . and is possessed of great ability and sound judgment’. She wrote, ‘Previous to our visit, his opinion of the Dowager-Empress was what I may call the generally accepted one . . . On his return he reported that all his previously conceived notions had been upset by what he had seen and heard, and he summed up her character in four words, ‘amiability verging on weakness!’ Sir Claude reported to London: ‘the Empress Dowager made a most favourable impression by her courtesy and affability. Those who went to the palace under the idea that they would meet a cold and haughty person of strong imperious manners, were agreeably surprised to find Her Majesty a kind and courteous hostess, who displayed both the tact and softness of a womanly disposition.’ Others in the legations shared these views.

Cixi’s image had improved. But the legation men only thought better of her because they had discovered that she had an unexpected ‘womanly disposition’. It was far from the case that they would now favour her over Emperor Guangxu as the ruler of China. Over the following year she was weighed down by the strain of being a permanent prison warden. And the pressure became intolerable when she fearfully contemplated the potential consequence of the monarch persistently failing to pray at the Temple of Heaven. She leapt at a suggestion that an heir-apparent be adopted. The heir-apparent could fulfil the emperor’s duties, and could, in due course, replace the emperor, who would then retire. The adoption had sufficient justification: Emperor Guangxu was in his late twenties and still had no children. It could be argued that he needed to adopt a son to continue the dynastic line. So
the prisoner wrote in his own hand in crimson ink a humble edict announcing that his illness was preventing him from having a natural heir, and so, at his repeated entreaty, the empress dowager had kindly consented to designate an heir-apparent, for the sake of the dynasty.

The heir-apparent was a fourteen-year-old boy called Pujun. His father, Prince Duan, was the son of a half-brother of Emperor Xianfeng, Cixi’s late husband, which provided the legitimacy.

This arrangement immediately set off speculation that Emperor Guangxu was unlikely to remain on the throne for much longer. Those who were dead-set against Cixi insisted that she would now murder him. ‘The foreign ministers began again to look grave. They spoke openly of their fear that Kuang Hsu [Guangxu]’s days were numbered,’ one eye-witness recorded. When Cixi announced the designation of the heir-apparent on 24 January 1900, the foreign
legations pressed for an audience with Emperor Guangxu – unmistakably signalling their support for the imprisoned emperor and their snub for the heir-apparent. They were told that the emperor was in poor health and could not see them. When the diplomatic ladies asked for a repetition of that happy party a year earlier, they were turned down: the empress dowager was ‘too busy with affairs of state’.

^fn1
Emperor Guangxu did not have a taste for luxury. Katharine Carl observed that ‘His Majesty was not much of an epicure. He ate fast, and apparently did not care what it was. When he finished, he would stand up near Her Majesty, or walk around the Throne-room until she had finished.’

22 To War against the World Powers – with the Boxers (1899–1900)

THAT THE FOREIGN
legations took the side of her adopted son embittered the empress dowager. But she was more enraged by how the powers treated her empire after she sought their friendship at the reception for the diplomatic ladies. Soon after she reached out and proclaimed ‘One family; all one family’, she was dealt a nasty blow. At the beginning of 1899, Italy demanded the cession of a naval station on Sanmen Bay, a deep inlet on the east coast of Zhejiang province. This was not so much for some strategic reason as for Italy’s desire to own a slice of China as a status symbol, to keep pace with other European powers.
^fn1
As this acquisition presented no threat to the powers, Britain
gave Italy its consent, as did most of the others. Italian warships then staged a demonstration off the coast near Beijing. It and other powers expected China to fall to its knees at this threat of war, as had hitherto been the case. Robert Hart, on China’s side, was pessimistic:
‘The Italian Ultimatum is in: China to say “yes” in four days or take the consequences! The situation is again critical . . . I fear we must go on from bad to worse. We have no spare money – we have no navy – we have no proper military organization . . . Other powers will follow suit and the
débacle
[
sic
] can’t be far off. It is not China that is falling to pieces: it is the powers that are pulling her to pieces!’ Hart lamented, as he had done during the war with Japan, ‘there is no strong man . . .’

But this time there was a different boss. Westerners saw that, to Italy’s ‘
great surprise, as well as that of everyone else, China returned a stubborn refusal’. The Chinese Foreign Office sent back letters from the minister of the Italian Legation, De Martino, unopened. It explained to Sir Claude MacDonald that it,
‘being unable to accede to this request, and considering that to argue the point with the Italian minister would mean a great expenditure of pen and ink, returned to Signore De Martino his despatches’. Cixi gave orders to prepare for war.
‘There was a bustle of activity throughout the empire,’ noted foreign observers.

In the middle of the crisis, Italy changed the minister at its legation. When the new minister, Giuseppe Salvago Raggi, arrived, he presented his credentials to Emperor Guangxu. Deviating from the protocol by which the head of the Foreign Office received the credentials on his behalf, Emperor Guangxu
‘stuck out his hand to take the letter’, noted Salvago Raggi, whereupon ‘Prince Ching froze’. The Italians interpreted the emperor’s hand as a very significant sign – that China was going out of its way to be nice to them, and that their gunboats had worked. They were deeply disappointed when Chinese officials arrived the following day to explain that what the emperor had done was only an anomaly, and that nothing should be read into it. On 20 and 21 November 1899,
Cixi issued two decrees, in which she expressed her outrage and her resolve: