The Last Manchu

by Henry Pu Yi

  “Let him come,” I angrily replied.

  I met Seishiro Itagaki33 on the afternoon of February 23, 1932, in the presence of an interpreter from the Kwantung Army. Itagaki was a short man with a shaven head, and the blue-white pallor of his clean-shaven face contrasted with the black of his eyebrows and his small moustache. He was the most neatly uniformed Japanese officer I had ever seen; his shirt cuffs were of dazzling whiteness and the creases in his trousers were razor-sharp. This elegance and his habit of gently rubbing his hands made me feel that he was scholarly and graceful.

  First he thanked me for the presents I had sent him and then he went on to say that he had come on the orders of General Honjo, the Commander of the Kwantung Army, to report to me on the “problems of the formation of the new state of Manchukuo.” He elaborated systematically on the “justice” of the actions of the Japanese Army and its “sincerity in helping the Manchurian people to establish a paradise of the Kingly Way.” As he spoke I nodded in approval and in my heart I hoped he would hurry up and answer the question about which I was most concerned. At last he came to the point.

  “The new state will be called ‘Manchukuo’ [Manchuland]. Its capital will be Changchun, which will be renamed Hsinking [New Capital]. This nation will be composed of five races: Manchus, Hans, Mongols, Japanese and Koreans. . .”

  Without waiting for the interpreter to finish translating, he produced from his briefcase the “Declaration of Independence of the Manchu and Mongol People” and the proposed five-colored Manchukuo flag and put them on the table in front of me. Pushing them aside with a trembling hand, and with my lungs ready to burst with rage, I asked:

  “What sort of state is this? Certainly it isn’t the Great Ch’ing Empire!”

  “Naturally, this will not be a restoration of the Great Ch’ing Empire,” answered Itagaki, unflustered. “This will be a new state. The Administrative Committee for the Northeast has passed a unanimous resolution acclaiming Your Excellency head of state. You will be the Chief Executive.”

  The phrase “Your Excellency” enraged me. My blood rushed to my face. Never before had I been thus addressed by the Japanese, and I was not prepared to tolerate the abolition of my imperial title, not even in exchange for the two million square li of territory and the thirty million people of the Northeast. I was so worked up I could scarcely sit still.

  “If names are not right then speech will not be in order,” I shouted, “and if speech is not in order then nothing will be accomplished! The people of Manchuria are longing not for me as an individual, but for the Great Ch’ing Emperor. If you abolish the title, their loyalty will be lost. I must ask the Kwantung Army to reconsider this.”

  Itagaki gently rubbed his hands and, his face wreathed in smiles, he said, “The Manchurian people have already expressed their wishes by acclaiming Your Excellency as head of the new state, and the Kwantung Army is in full agreement with them.”

  “But Japan has an imperial system! How can the Kwantung Army go about founding republics?”

  “If Your Excellency does not like the term ‘republic’ then we will not use it. This will be a state built on the ‘chief executive’ system.”

  “I am very grateful for all the enthusiastic assistance your honorable country has given, but I cannot accept a ‘chief executive system.’ The imperial title has been handed down to me by my ancestors, and were I to abandon it, I would be lacking in loyalty and filial piety.”

  Itagaki seemed most understanding. “The office of chief executive will be for the transitional period. It is perfectly well known that Your Majesty is the twelfth Emperor of the Great Ch’ing Dynasty, and I am sure that after the formation of a national assembly, a constitution will be adopted restoring the monarchial system.”

  “There are no good national assemblies! Furthermore, the first Great Ch’ing Emperor was never given his title by an assembly!”

  The argument continued for over three hours. Itagaki remained calm and continued to smile, while he rubbed his hands gently. Finally, he picked up his leather briefcase as a sign that he did not wish to go on any longer. The smile vanished from his face and, when he addressed me, he reverted from “Your Majesty” to “Your Excellency.” “Your Excellency should think it over carefully,” he said. “We will continue our discussions tomorrow.” With that frosty remark he left me.

  That evening, in an effort to improve the relations between us, I gave a banquet for Itagaki and the next morning he summoned my advisers to the Yamato Hotel and asked them to give me his final decision: “The demands of the Army cannot be altered at all. We will regard rejection as evidence of a hostile attitude and act accordingly. This is our final word.”

  These words, when relayed to me, left me stunned. My legs turned to jelly and I collapsed speechless onto a sofa.

  “Since things have developed to such a stage, there is no use in regrets,” was Lo Chen-yu’s dejected view. “Our only course is to set a time limit of one year for this transitional period and if the imperial system is not restored by then, Your Majesty can resign. Let us see how Itagaki reacts to this condition.”

  Seeing no other way out, I sighed and sent Cheng Hsiao-hsu to see if Itagaki would agree.

  Cheng soon returned, his face beaming, to say that Itagaki had agreed and was going to give a small banquet that evening in honor of “the future Chief Executive.”

  IV

  MY FOURTEEN-YEAR RESTORATION

  19

  Chief Executive of Manchukuo

  AT ITAGAKI’S BANQUET MY THOUGHTS WERE CONFLICTING and I did not know whether to be happy or sad about my future destiny. He had assigned a Japanese prostitute to each of his guests in an effort to make his party festive, and he himself was having a good time and embracing them right and left.

  He drank a lot and laughed aloud, making no effort to conceal his mood of satisfaction. At first, when he still had some control over himself, he drank a toast to me in a most respectful fashion. He smiled a subtle hint of congratulations when he said, “May your future be smooth and may your interests be fulfilled.” This pleased me, but later, as he drank more and more, his face became pale and the situation changed.

  When one of the prostitutes, in broken Chinese, asked me, “Do you make a living as a businessman?” Itagaki roared with laughter.

  After the banquet, my mood of uncertainty persisted for several days until several old Ch’ing courtiers came to visit me after having obtained permission from the Kwantung Army. They were all very happy. Although they claimed to be saddened by my demotion to the rank of Chief Executive, they gave me a long list of historical precedents to illustrate that in the past many founders of new dynasties frequently had to rely on friendly neighbors at the outset of their careers. Their words of encouragement, as well as some favorable divination obtained by one of my high officials, gradually soothed me.

  On February 28, 1932, the All Manchurian Assembly of Mukden, at the direction of the Kwantung Army, passed a resolution declaring the independence of the Northeast and recommending that I become Chief Executive of the new state. I was advised by the Japanese and Cheng Hsiao-hsu that representatives from this conference would come to Port Arthur to petition me and that I should be ready. It was decided that there would be two replies; the first would be a refusal, and the second, to be delivered after the representatives had asked me a second time to assume the role, would indicate my acceptance.

  On March 1, nine representatives of the conference arrived in Port Arthur. Cheng Hsiao-hsu welcomed them on my behalf and gave them my first message. Later I received them personally in audience for twenty minutes. They urged me to accept and I refused politely. On March 5, according to plan, the number of representatives was increased to twenty-nine and they came a second time to “request me” to accept. This time they accomplished their mission.

  The day after I had performed this little show, my wife Wan Jung and I, accompanied by several others including Cheng Hsiao-hsu, returned to Tangkangtzu, where
we spent the night. The next morning we all proceeded to Changchun, arriving at three o’clock on the afternoon of March 8. Even before the train came to a stop, I could hear army bands playing martial music and the shouting of the crowds at the station. As I walked down the platform, I was pleased to see a great number of Japanese gendarmes and soldiers as well as a horde of people dressed both in long Chinese gowns and Western-style clothes. Everyone was waving a small flag and I was deeply moved. The reception more than compensated for the lack of any welcome at the Yingkow dock. One of my aides pointed to some yellow dragon flags in the midst of the Japanese flags. “Those are former imperial bannermen,” he explained. “They have been hoping to see Your Majesty for over twenty years.” Upon hearing this, I couldn’t hold back the tears, for I felt more than ever that I had great expectations.

  As I sat in the automobile, my thoughts went back to the Forbidden City. I recalled the time when I had been ejected from the palace by the Christian General, Feng Yu-hsiang, as well as the affair of the Eastern Mausoleums and the vows I had once taken. My heart became so inflamed by hatreds and desires that I did not notice the sights along the streets of Changchun or the sullen, intimidated faces of the people.

  Before very long we drove into a courtyard and arrived at the “Chief Executive’s Mansion,” which had formerly been an imperial district government office. Even by Changchun standards it was not large and was in a dilapidated state. I was told that this would be my home only temporarily. On the following day, a large parlor, which was hurriedly prepared for me, served as the hall for the ceremonial assumption of my new duties.

  The General Director of the South Manchurian Railway, General Honjo of the Kwantung Army, his Chief of Staff, Itagaki, and other important celebrities came to attend the ceremony. Other participants were former Ch’ing officials, several Manchu and Mongolian princes as well as a number of former war lords and local leaders such as Chang Ching-hui. Some of the lawyers who had handled my divorce were also present.

  For the ceremony I wore a Western-style formal suit. Under the eyes of important Japanese personalities, all of the “founding” officials bowed to me three times and I acknowledged this obeisance with a single bow. Chang Ching-hui, representing the Manchurian people, presented me with the seal of office as Chief Executive. It was wrapped in yellow silk. Cheng Hsiao-hsu then read my “declaration as Chief Executive.”

  The human race must emphasize virtue. But if there is racial prejudice and one race suppresses others and glorifies itself, virtue will decline. The human race must also treasure benevolence. But if there is international conflict and one country damages another in trying to serve itself, benevolence will decline.

  I am founding a new State based on virtue and benevolence. We want to do away with racial bias and conflicts among nations. The Kingly Way and Paradise on Earth will then be realized. I hope all my countrymen will try to understand.

  The foreign guests were received after the ceremony. The Director General of the South Manchurian Railway presented me with a “message of felicitation” and my old tutor Lo Chen-yu read aloud my message of reply. Then we all went out into the courtyard where the flag was raised and we had our pictures taken.

  That same afternoon I took up a pen and signed my first official document as Chief Executive. It was the appointment of Cheng Hsiao-hsu, my former Privy Councilor and the man who had originally tried to help me reform the Household Department in the Forbidden City, as Prime Minister with a mandate from me to form a cabinet. General Honjo as Commander of the Kwantung Army had concurred in this appointment.

  When I walked out of my office I ran into two old courtiers whose faces were sad because they knew they were not on the list of appointees as either cabinet officers or ambassadors. I told them I wished to keep them near me as personal aides. One of them, while sighing, thanked me, but the other said that he had to attend to family matters in Tientsin and requested that I let him go.

  On the following day, Lo Chen-yu came to see me to tender his resignation. In the list of appointments the position he had received was only that of Counselor and he was not satisfied at all. Although I indicated my desire to keep him, he returned to Dairen where he became a dealer in imitation antiques.

  The dragon flags and the army band at Changchun station, the ceremony that was performed on my assumption of duties as Chief Executive, and the messages of felicitation at the reception for foreign guests had impressed me deeply and made me very happy. Since I had already openly appeared in public there was absolutely no turning back, and besides, I thought that if I could maneuver the Japanese well, they would perhaps support my restoration as Emperor. I no longer believed that I had humbled myself by becoming Chief Executive, but actually regarded the position as a “stairway” leading to an Emperor’s throne.

  My main problem seemed to center on how best to utilize this stairway to climb to the throne. After thinking about this for several days, I gave Cheng Hsiao-hsu and Hu Sze-yuan 34 the result of my deliberations. “I want to tell you,” I explained “that I have taken three vows. First of all I wish to change all my past habits. My tutor Chen Pao-shen, more than ten years ago, told me that I was lazy and undignified. I therefore vow from now on never to be that. Second, I am not going to avoid hardships and I vow diligently to restore my ancestral heritage. Third, I hope that heaven will bestow on me an imperial heir to succeed to the Great Ch’ing Dynasty. If my three wishes are fulfilled I can then die with my eyes closed.”

  About a month later, the Chief Executive’s Mansion was moved to a remodeled and refurnished building. In order to show my determination I named it the “Mansion of Respect for the People” and also renamed my office building the “Mansion of Diligence for the People.”

  From this time on I arose early every morning and went to my office to work until night. Since I had vowed to restore my ancestral heritage, I readily accepted the directions of the Kwantung Army so that I could rely on it in the future, and I worked diligently to utilize my position and power as a “sovereign.” But my hard work from morning to night did not continue for very long. I had no business to administer and I soon discovered that the power and authority of the Chief Executive were only shadows without substance.

  20

  Imperial Dreams

  IN THE ORGANIZATIONAL STATUTE OF MANCHUKUO WERE 13 clauses dealing with the authority of the Chief Executive. Article 1 stated that “the Chief Executive controls Manchukuo.” Articles 2, 3 and 4 stipulated that I should direct the “legislative power,” administer the “executive power,” perform the “judicial power” and that I should have the right to issue “emergency decrees” which would have the effect of laws, to set up the “personnel system and appoint officials” and to be “Commander of the Army, Navy and Air forces.” I was also placed in control of “general and special problems, the commutation of punishment, the restoration of civil rights,” and so on. In fact, however, I didn’t even have the power to decide whether or not I could pass out of the door to go for a walk.

  One day I decided to take a stroll to Tatung Park with my wife Wan Jung and two of my younger sisters. Soon after we entered the park, automobiles full of Japanese gendarmes and Chief Executive Mansion Police drove up and asked me to return. Later, the Japanese Advisor to the Chief Executive Mansion told me that in order to preserve my prestige and dignity, as well as for my safety, I could not go out in private, and from that time on, except for special arrangements made by the Kwantung Army, I never left the Executive Mansion.

  After I had worked diligently for a few days I began to have doubts about my prestige and dignity. Although, on the surface, I seemed to be busy from morning to night seeing the new ministers and counselors of cabinet rank, they never talked business with me. Whenever I asked them about “official business” their replies were either to the effect that the problems already had been handled by the Deputy Minister or “we shall have to ask the Deputy Minister about that.” The Deputy Minister was always Japanese
and he did not come to see me.

  Hu Sze-yuan was the first to complain of this situation officially. He agreed with Cheng Hsiao-hsu that all authority in each ministry should belong to the Minister and that important affairs should be decided by the Chief and then handed down through the ministry for administration. The Deputy Minister, he maintained, should not be allowed to have the final say. Cheng replied that since we were using the cabinet system, all political affairs should be decided by the Council of State and each week the Prime Minister could take all important documents and cases passed on by the Council to the Chief Executive for approval. He claimed that this was the procedure followed in Japan. He agreed however, that the Deputy Ministers should not be all powerful and said that he planned to discuss this matter with the Commander of the Kwantung Army.

  Just how Cheng negotiated the matter I was not told, but Hu Sze-yuan subsequently described to me an actual meeting of the State Council so that I could understand the relationship between the Minister and Deputy Minister. At this particular meeting there was a discussion of the salaries of the Ministers and Deputy Ministers. As usual, all the resolutions to be acted upon had been prepared and printed and distributed by the General Administrative Bureau of the Kwantung Army. In the past, the ministers, usually without any discussion, had indicated their approval. But in this case the ministers themselves gave serious thought to the proposal and opinions were expressed, indicating their dissatisfaction. The crucial point was that in the draft resolution it was stipulated that the Japanese officials’ salary scale would be 40 percent higher than the Manchukuo officials. The Minister of Finance argued that “since this is a very complex racial state all the races should be treated equally. Why should the Japanese receive special treatment,” he asked, “and why should they receive higher salaries?” This led to an extensive discussion and various opinions were expressed by the Manchukuo officials. The Director of the General Affairs Bureau then called in the Section Chief for Personnel who had drafted the resolution.